The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (35 page)

"Sorry," Rick says when he turns back to
them. "It's cool. I get it. Heck, I don't know if I'd want
strangers on my land, either. We'll leave when Huntley gets
better."

"Not if we don't get the RV running," Peter
interjects on a toothy, or toothless in some places, grin.

His comment is weird, but then again, most
of his comments usually are. Kelly finds him unpleasant and
repulsive on every level possible.

"We'll get you another vehicle if it doesn't
get fixed soon," Kelly says as he leans his shoulder against the
railing of the porch. The look of surprise on Peter's face is
priceless.

"What? What do you mean?" he asks in an
almost hysterical tone.

"You can go in a van or a bigger vehicle of
some kind. We'll go out and get one for you," Derek tells him.

"No way. We ain't leaving in something else.
That RV holds all our crap," Peter argues.

"Then we'll get you a delivery truck. But
one way or another, you're leaving," Kelly offers with a grin of
his own. Had Peter actually believed they'd be staying if the RV
didn't start? Get real.

"We got all our stuff in the RV,
though."

His argument is getting even worse. Kelly's
patience is waning thinner.

"Well with eight of you it won't take long
to pack. So if you can't get it running in the next couple of days,
then we'll go out and get a vehicle for you," Derek tells the
uncle.

"You ain't in charge around here, Derek,"
Peter says more brazenly.

His glazed-over eyes flash with bitterness
in the moonlight.

Derek just smiles coolly. "Actually, I am,"
he returns. "Senior officer. I pull rank."

"That don't mean shit anymore," Peter says
and stands slightly taller. "This is still Herb's farm. He's the
one callin' the shots around here."

"Yep, that's right," Derek agrees. "But he's
also put me in charge of security, so when I say it's time to move
on in a new vehicle, you will."

"Where's Herb? I wanna' talk to him right
now," Peter argues.

This time his tone is growing more hostile,
threatening. Reagan had told him and John last week that Peter
could be aggressive when he wanted to be. She also mentioned that
her great-uncle had been in a lot of bar fights which he'd bragged
about when the girls were younger and had probably more gullibly
bought into his line of bullshit. This guy looks like he's had his
ass kicked a lot in life, likely because of his smart mouth. But
for some people, getting their ass kicked didn't matter as long as
they also got their way, be it free drugs, a mooched beer in a bar
or a free place to stay. It isn't happening this time, but if he
wants a free ass kicking, then Kelly is happy to accommodate
him.

"He's in the shed working with the sick,"
Derek says in an increasingly quieter tone.

Peter doesn't miss a beat, though. "Fine,
I'll go out there and talk to him!"

Kelly steps down two steps, making Rick back
up three. It's a good sign. This man has no fight in him. "No, you
won't, Peter. He's busy and doesn't need to be bothered by you. The
doc has been working twelve and fourteen hour shifts taking care of
people. The last thing he needs is to be pestered," Kelly tells
him.

"Then I'll go in and talk to Mary," Peter
says with way too much confidence for his own good.

"Not happening," Derek says.

The major sidesteps closer to Kelly,
effectively creating a wall of Rangers that Peter would have to
come through to breech the house.

"She's my sister, Derek," Peter grinds out
hastily. "I'll talk to her if I damn well want to. Sue, tell your
husband to move!"

"Uncle Peter, Grams is asleep. She's tired
from taking care of all the added responsibilities around here and
helping with kids all day. Let her sleep," Sue tells him from her
seat.

"She's probably tired from having all these
extra people on the farm," Peter insinuates toward Kelly and
Derek.

Derek just laughs at him again.

Hannah goes after this one. "Uncle Peter,
these men have enabled our survival. Did you even know that some
people attacked our neighbors, the Reynolds? Their father, mother
and brother were killed. If it wasn't for Kelly, Derek and John
we'd probably all be dead by now. And they help with the farm work
and repairs."

"Plus, they go on runs for us to the cities
for supplies like you guys
should
be doing," Sue
accuses.

"Besides, Doc is taking care of your
girlfriend," Kelly says with more accusation. "I'd think you
wouldn't want to disturb him with this bullshit for that reason
alone."

"What?" Peter asks confusedly.

His tweaked out brain is on overload. Kelly
is wondering if perhaps a punch to the side of his head would
help.

"Your girlfriend? Jennifer? Doc's patient?"
Kelly reminds.

"Oh, yeah right. Her," Peter says with open
disdain.

"We thought she was your girlfriend, Uncle
Peter," Sue inquires with the same disoriented look that the rest
of them are mirroring.

"Yeah, she is. She's my girlfriend," he
blurts, but it lacks believability.

"Perhaps you can talk to Doc in the morning.
You could even visit your supposed girlfriend," Kelly offers with
false amiability that neither he nor the rest of their group feel.
"Might make her feel better. You could hold her hand, help out in
the shed. You know, be Doc's assistant." Peter visibly shivers with
disgust.

"Yeah, Peter, you could help," Sue says with
a smartass tone.

"Fine, I will!" Peter says in a huff.

Rick sort of ducks his head in an awkward
nod, and the two men leave to rejoin their campsite where the punk,
Bobby, has also returned. Kelly had made sure of it by watching
that kid. He doesn't trust him at all.

Sue's voice knocks him out of his daze
thinking about Bobby.

"I don't think we should've told him to bug
Grandpa in the morning. He's too tired to deal with Peter with not
getting sleep and all."

Kelly chuckles once at this before
answering. "I don't think we need to worry about it."

"Why not?" Hannah asks.

"Because, silly, Reagan's on duty in the
morning. You really think she's gonna put up with Peter's shit?"
Kelly answers and they all laugh heartily at this. Nah, Reagan
would give him some nasty clean-up duties out in the shed like
swabbing up bodily fluids or something else disgusting until he
left. She isn't exactly a patient person when it comes to her
great-uncle.

"Hopefully he won't bother Grams," Sue
finally says when they've all had their laugh.

"We'll keep an eye out for him coming toward
the house," Kelly tells her. "Don't worry. I'll put Cory on it. He
seems to do a pretty good job of keeping people away from you,
too."

They laugh again and Sue agrees with
him.

"No shit. Tough ass kid," Derek says. "Well,
bro, we're off to bed. Try to hold down the fort without me."

Kelly chuckles once, razzes Derek and the
other couple goes inside. He immediately takes up Hannah's hand in
his own.

She must feel the tension coming from him.
Her lovely features are marred with worry and stress. She strokes
his hand soothingly.

"Everything will be ok," she says
quietly.

Hannah kisses the backs of his knuckles. He
wishes he could return this sentiment.

There is no way she is getting out of making
love with him tonight, even if it means he has to tie her to the
bed which is not out of the realm of possibilities anyways. When
she'd come upstairs to their room dressed in the black OSU shorts
and black tank he'd chosen for her, he'd just about had Jacob
asleep in his bed not hers, which was calculated and on purpose. He
also propped Jacob with pillows so that the kid doesn't take a
spill onto his head in the middle of the night. Reagan's bed is
bigger and more suited to his plans. And she'd taken one look at
Jacob in John's bed and had made some ridiculous excuse of needing
to study something in one of her creepy medical books. He knows his
brother and wife have gone to bed because he passed them in the
hallway on the second floor on their way to their own bedroom about
an hour ago. But now his shower is done and he wears only loose
cotton loungewear pants that hang loosely on his hips—and nothing
else. As he ascends the stairs that lead to their third floor
space, he has a few seconds to reflect on the sudden change in
their relationship, the sudden and very welcomed change to their
relationship.

He'd simply had enough. He's had enough of
her indifference, her apparent
faked
indifference toward
him. She isn't cold at all, John has found out. She literally melts
in his arms and clings to him like a wanton woman when he kisses
her. She may not like it when other people touch her, but she sure
likes it when he does and John likes it even more. She is amazing,
beautiful and passionate, although she doesn't know just how
passionate. Tonight he'll show her exactly how passionate she can
be. And he isn't about to let her back out of it for all the
gold—or socks—in the world.

When he gets to their room, she is sitting
at her desk and reading. She has put a hoodie on over her tank top,
even though it's warm tonight.

"Nice hoodie," he remarks slyly.

"Um… I was kind of cold," she lies but gets
angry and retorts against him saucily. "Is there something wrong
with it?"

"Yeah, it's not on the floor with the rest
of your clothes," he tells her truthfully, and she gasps and whips
back around to her book.

"Watcha' reading?" John asks though he
really doesn't care all that much. He goes straight to the balcony
and hangs his towel.

"Study on cell dysplasia," she tells him
without looking at him.

Yep, he was right. He doesn't care.

When he re-enters the room, he stalks
straight toward her and takes her book, tossing it aside onto the
desk.

"Hey!" she says.

Her protest is not loud enough to awaken
Jacob who John has observed as sleeping soundly. She jumps out of
her chair, and John grabs both of her wrists before she can start
fighting against him. He yanks her to him and steals a quick kiss
against her inhale of surprise.

"Wait. Just stop, ok?" she asks.

Reagan tries to shrink back from him.

"Why? So you can come up with some
analytical, scientific reason why we don't do this? I don't think
so, boss," John tells her firmly. Feeling her in his arms where she
belongs is like heaven on earth. Finally.

"I don't… but, we're… you're not attracted
to me," she says rather stupidly and looks at him with dread-filled
green eyes.

"Really?" John asks and takes her hand,
pressing it to the front of his pants. "Does that feel like I'm not
attracted to you?" Her bewitching eyes widen, and she yanks her
hand back like she's touched an open flame.

She stammers out a befuddled, "Uh."

"You've been avoiding me for days, and I'm
done being dodged by you," he tells her as he pulls her a bit
closer by tugging her lower back.

"No, I've just been busy. I… I'm not
avoiding you," she lies so terribly.

Reagan squirms against him which isn't
helping her, little does she know. John grins down at her.

"I've waited long enough. No more hiding
from me. And no more avoiding me. Yes, I knew you were, so don't
try to deny it," John tells her pointedly to which she scowls
deeply.

"I'm not attracted to
you
, I mean,"
she tries again and bites her lower lip.

"Do you want me to prove that one wrong,
too?" he asks huskily, raising his right eyebrow to show his
skepticism as he allows his hand to skim down the front of her
sweatshirt between her breasts. She's overcome by a chill. So is
he. Reagan rapidly shakes her head at him and tries to pull back so
John tightens his grip.

"Just stop, ok? Don't. This is… crazy. This
is too fast. I can't think," Reagan admits.

"I know you can't. I like that. You think
too much anyways. Why don't you let me do the thinking tonight? And
too fast? I've wanted you since that day you tried to shoot me. And
Lord help me, I'm not sure why exactly," he tells her and she
puckers at him. John kisses her quickly and stuns her. Reagan jerks
her head to the side.

"Me either, so let me go!" she retorts in a
rage.

He has clearly offended her by saying
that.

She retorts, "Go and sew your oats with
Bambi."

"Kitten," he corrects with a smile, causing
Reagan to get madder and try to jerk her arm free. Not happening.
John tugs gently, and Reagan's in his arms again and he's stroking
her back and then down over her bottom. He murmurs against her neck
and ear. "Yeah, Kitten was the kind of chic I used to be into. I
admit it. But then I met you. And darned if I can explain it but
you're the only woman I want now. Doesn't make sense to me, either.
You're too darn short, and I have stoop just to kiss you. You're
mouthy and it makes me want to spank you, but we can explore that
later. You're a super brain freak, and I'm just an Army grunt.
You've got crazy, messed up hair all the time."

She touches her curls self-consciously,
trying to smooth them. He smiles down at her, and she frowns harder
up at him.

"See? I'm not your type…" she starts.

John ignores her easily enough and continues
on, "But then I got to know you and it just made me want you more.
You cuss like a sailor and do just about everything better than me.
I'm about to show you that I can do something better than you,
though," John promises and kisses her neck before he continues. "I
like your green eyes and your curves and your bad fashion sense."
John allows his hands to roam over her muscular rear again.

"It sounds like you're just complaining
about me so just go fuck Bambi, I mean Kitten!" she corrects
herself in a huff of impatience and wiggles to be free.