The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (44 page)

Bobby turns back at the corner of the barn
and says, "Have a nice time in that field?"

It takes John a second to figure out what he
is talking about. The kid grins maliciously and turns away, walking
back to their campsite at his leisure.

"Jesus, do you think…" Reagan asks but can't
finish.

"I don't know," John says quietly,
pensively.

"How else would he have known?"

"I don't know," John repeats, although he
does know. He just doesn't want to frighten her further.

That punk and Willie had been in the woods.
That was the reason Molly had growled. It's the same reason she'd
just growled at them again. She was trying in her own way to let
John know of their threat. How had Kelly, Cory or Simon not seen
them leave? They'd probably sneaked away while they were supposed
to be picking corn or apples.

"Come on," he tells Reagan and tugs her
along back to the shed where he deposits her.

He finds the other men and discusses what
has just happened. It's basically harmless, but the fact that it
had happened means that they've let their guards down too much.
He'd thanked God earlier for Huntley's speedy recovery when in fact
he should've been thanking Him that the visitors will be leaving in
two days. Reagan was right. They should've made them leave the same
day they'd been told they were vacating the farm.

The next morning Huntley is finally back on
his feet and back in the house where he can rest and be around the
other kids again which he seems happy about. Grandpa and Grams have
talked to the boy again about staying on at the farm, and according
to them, the kid was more excited to leave his birth father than a
boy should be.

Grams and Hannah are preparing the two
packing crates full of food items for the visitors to take with
them when they leave tomorrow, but it's still early in the day and
breakfast has just wrapped. Reagan is standing near the center
island holding Jacob and helping pack items into the crate, as
well. She and Grandpa have also spent most of the morning before
breakfast in the med shed sanitizing the building and filling two
pill bottles with everything from antacids and out of date allergy
medicine samples left at Grandpa's practice from pharmaceutical
reps to cholesterol meds and children's vitamins. There was no way
in hell they were giving those creeps out there the real
antibiotics and painkillers. It had actually been Grandpa's idea to
put fake meds in the bottles, but when Reagan had tried to laugh
and praise him, he'd only ignored her. It is still funny. She can't
wait to tell John later. Why he is the first one she wants to tell
anything to is still beyond her. But she can't get enough of him…
or the sex.

Annoyingly, Reagan has a hard time
accomplishing simple tasks because her damned, traitorous mind
keeps slinking back to the memories of his hands on her body, his
mouth on hers and on her body, and, in general, everything about
him. She's never felt like this or been so distracted by another
person in her life. They'd somehow found the time to have sex three
more times in the last few days, though there was still work to be
done and chores to manage. John's pursuit, his unbridled,
unstoppable pursuit of her was relentless, and he never took no for
an answer from her. However, she honestly hadn't put up much of a
fight.

"What does this "B" stand for, Mrs.
McClane?" Simon asks as he sets a fourth jar of peaches at the
bottom of the crate.

Reagan startles out of her trance about John
and his stomach muscles and perfect biceps and his many other
perfect parts.

"Never you mind, Simon, and call me Grams.
I've already told you that," Grams says and places two jars of
green beans in the crate, as well.

"Sorry, ma'am," the redhead apologizes,
avoiding eye contact.

Reagan rolls her eyes. What a dork. Reagan
looks at the jars of peaches at the bottom of the crate and sees
the "B" of which Simon speaks. It is a single letter written on the
top of the metal lid in black permanent marker. That is
strange.

"Do you need any more help, Grams?" Cory
asks impatiently.

Grams sends them on their way. Simon and
Cory take off for the barn and also to retrieve Sam who wants to
ride a morning patrol with them. Reagan knows the two teens really
just want to get out for a ride through the fall foliage, and she
doesn't blame them. Grams goes off to collect a few more canned
goods and some of the store-bought items that they don't need
anyways that they have been packing into the crates as filler.

Hannah is humming for which Reagan can only
guess why, though it seems like lately Kelly is ignoring her sister
a lot. But nothing ever gets her insanely cheerful sister down.
Reagan moves to the other side of the island to stand next to
her.

"Where's Sue?" Reagan asks as Jacob lays his
fuzzy head on her shoulder.

"Oh, she took Sam out to the greenhouse with
her. She wanted to learn about the plants and how our greenhouse
worked. She's such a nice girl," Hannah remarks.

"Looks like her lesson is gonna get cut
short because the boys are taking her for a ride. And, Hannie, you
think everyone's nice. Hell, you'd probably let those morons out
there stay if we hadn't wanted to throw them out," Reagan tells
her. Hannah slides her hand toward Reagan on the counter, finds her
and takes Jacob, giving him a big kiss on his smushy cheek which he
returns to Hannah with a fistful of slobber.

"Oh, no. They have to go. Kelly said they
were a threat to our farm, so they do need to go," Hannah says
firmly.

Reagan about drops to the deck.

"That's the meanest thing you've ever said,
Hannie," Reagan remarks. "Maybe Kelly isn't such a bad influence on
you after all."

"Well that one lady Jasmine seems kind of
nice, so I sort of feel bad that she has to leave," Hannah says
naively.

"You wouldn't if you saw the way she looks
at the men around here, Kelly included," Reagan says.

"Oh? And why would you care how anyone looks
at the men?" she asks with more intuition than a blind girl should
have.

"I don't!" Reagan retorts quickly, too
quickly.

The screen door slams behind her as John
strides through it with a mega-watt smile and deep dimples. His
damned good looks are sometimes irritating. His black t-shirt is a
size too small for him and clings to his chest and stomach. Beggars
can't be choosers in this new world where the local mall is likely
now a local homeless shelter full of people meaning anyone or
everyone harm who might wish to come there and do a little Saturday
afternoon retail therapy for the latest fashion trends. His hair,
which badly needs another trimming, is sun-kissed with light golden
streaks. And the face? If Reagan stops to think about the severe
cut of his angular jaw, the stubble there or the high cheekbones,
she'll never get anything done.

"Reagan I need your help in the… cattle
barn," he says and gives her a strange look and a cocky grin.

"Um, ok," Reagan agrees as he takes her hand
because there is nobody around to see, and she's not even sure that
he would care. But she sure as hell would. Luckily for John, every
member of the McClane tribe is otherwise engaged with work, patrols
or in the basement digging out useless junk to give to the visitors
in exchange for their children. Derek and Kelly are overseeing the
morons so that they don't try to steal the farm blind. So far the
morning has been rather subdued, but, then again, it is only
9:30.

"I'll watch Jacob. Just go," Hannah
says.

Her sister is sweet-talking to the baby who
giggles back at her. Reagan is fairly sure that the kid is going to
be a spoiled brat.

"Ok, let me just get my shoes and I'll meet
you there," Reagan tells him as he leaves but not before he brushes
her top lip with his thumb and kisses Jacob's forehead. It's
strange how the men at the farm kiss and cuddle on the kids. She
had even seen Kelly swinging Justin around and around in wide
circles in the yard the other day, and he isn't even his uncle, not
technically.

A few minutes later, Reagan is in the cattle
barn searching for John. It would've been easier if he would've
told her exactly where he needs help, but instead she's forced to
search him out. Once she gets to the rear, older part of the barn
where the cattle can come in out of the weather, a hand shoots out
and grabs her wrist which makes her scream. It's only him,
though.

"What the hell? You scared the…" she starts
but is cut off as his mouth swoops down to take hers in a
staggering kiss. He guides her backward until she is against the
smooth, worn wood of the barn wall as he continues to ravage her
mouth.

When he finally lifts his mouth from hers,
she is gasping for air and has one leg hooked around his muscular
thigh in a wanton manner. Reagan's hands slide up his chest, and
she would like to rip his too-tight shirt to shreds. Why is it that
she feels like this about him? Is this even normal? It sure seems
abnormal, but it isn't as if she can discuss it with any of her
family members, especially not her grandparents who'd raised the
girls to believe in abstinence before marriage. She knows that when
Sue had married Derek she'd been a virgin because she'd told Reagan
as much.

And when John's hands are on her, it is like
nothing she's ever experienced in her life, and it leaves her
wanting more, wanting him. Her body is beginning to crave his
touch, and when he does touch her, she can't breathe. But with John
she doesn't feel the anxiety she normally feels when someone else
touches her.

"What was that about?" Reagan asks. "What
did you need me for?"

"That," he answers easily and grins down at
her. "I just missed you. I've been watching the losers all morning,
and it was getting old so I'm taking a break. Thought I'd check out
the washroom in this barn. Wanna' help?"

He is obviously lying. They don't need to
check out the washroom. He is trying to get her off alone.

"What? Are you serious? I have things I need
to be doing," Reagan complains half-heartedly as she's actually
having a hard time remembering what those things are.

John moves his hands to the wall on either
side of her head and proceeds to kiss her neck, her ear, the base
of her throat above her long-sleeved, button down, flannel shirt.
It's nearly October, and the mild weather of the summer is almost
at an end. The nights are cooler and damp, and the days take longer
and longer to warm enough to where she can wear a tank top.

Reagan yanks him to her using her leg as her
hands clutch at the front of his soft, worn cotton shirt. He seems
a bit more oblivious of the cooler weather than she is, but it also
gives her more opportunity to look at his body. John's fingers dip
into the neckline of her shirt, and with one hand, he unfastens the
top three buttons. She doesn't want to think about where he's
developed this particular skill. He sinks his hand inside and cups
her breast as his mouth moves on hers again. When he pulls back,
she moans against the strained tendons of his neck.

"I love you," he whispers raggedly against
her open mouth.

She hates it when he says this. It seems
contrived, unbelievable. She'd like to explain endorphins, chemical
reactions in the brain and physical attraction versus the
ridiculous love thing to him, but she doesn't want him to stop
kissing her, either. So instead, she does a small hop and is
straddling him with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His
hands move under her to support her weight. He slides them onto her
bottom as he grinds himself against her, making her mad with need
for him.

"We need a crib," John says.

"What?" Reagan asks him, furrowing her brow
as she kisses the base of his throat. Why the hell is he talking
about Jacob right now? Talk about a possible mood killer.

"I want him out of your bed and me in it,"
John tells her gutturally.

His mouth moves against her neck as he lifts
her further into the air. Then he presses his mouth to her breast
through her shirt.

He murmurs, "We have to make a run after
they leave. I want to sleep
with
you, not near you."

"Yes," Reagan answers, sort of. What had he
even said? She is mostly saying 'yes, don't stop what you're
doing,' but he doesn't know this.

"And a high-chair so we don't have to hold
him while we eat and get slopped on," John remarks as he kisses her
neck.

Seriously? Is he going to go through the
whole damn shopping list with her right now?

"High-chair, crib, got it," she repeats
impatiently and John chuckles against her mouth.

She slides her hand between them to press
against his erection. "Oh my God!" Reagan screeches and
freezes.

"You haven't said that before," John jokes
with a chuckle and pulls back. "I mean, I know it's kinda' big, but
you already knew that…"

"What? Shut up. That isn't why I said that,
stupid," she says meanly but doesn't care. He just chuckles at her
again. "I was going to tell you where we could get a crib and a
high-chair."

"Ok," he says with confusion as she squirms
vigorously against him.

"Put me down. John, put me down now," she
says in a rush, and he instantly sets her gently to her feet.
Reagan walks away from him and starts pacing.

"Honey, what is it?" he asks with
concern.

John puts a hand on her shoulder which she
shrugs off. She needs to think for a second.

"Reagan, you're scaring me. Talk to me."

She paces back and forth ten or so feet and
then stops, staring off to the side. John comes to stand directly
in front of her and places both hands on her shoulders this
time.

"Reagan?"