The McClane Apocalypse: Book Two (5 page)

She doesn’t say anything but purses her lips and frowns. John steers his horse closer to hers again. “They’ll be fine. Don’t worry, ok?”

“Yeah,” she finally says on a nod. “I just don’t like leaving them. It’s not like Grams and Hannah would be any help if something happened. You know, something like what happened to the Reynolds?”

John has thought quite a lot about their neighbors who were attacked. He doesn’t like the idea of the same thing happening to the McClanes. He really doesn’t like to think about anything happening to Reagan McClane in particular, though it would only piss her off to know this.

“It won’t. Nobody can sneak in on us anymore. I’ve got the drive set with charges so that they’ll hear if someone comes down it now. The back perimeter is set, too. They’ll be fine,” he says patiently as his horse slips once on loose shale and rights herself again. “We just need to focus on our mission tomorrow. Don’t think about the family when we go in to the city. It’ll just distract you. Leave them in Derek and Kelly’s hands. Trust me. They are more than capable of handling a band of losers like the ones who attacked the Reynolds.” She’s quiet again, processing in her big brain. It makes John grin when she does this, though he doesn’t let her see because he doesn’t want her to think he’s laughing at her.

“When we went to the suburbs for supplies with Derek did you kill very many of those guys?” she asks pointedly.

He really doesn’t want to answer that. She doesn’t need to concern herself with the finer details of that afternoon. He and Derek had killed seven men, but Reagan doesn’t need to know that or know how it was done. There hadn’t been much of an alternative. Men that victimize women and helpless children and take over their homes don’t deserve to live. He also knows they have to spend the next few days alone together, and John doesn’t want her to be at all afraid of him.

“Let’s just focus on tomorrow, ok?” he suggests to which she frowns.

“Fine,” she answers testily and looks away from him. They are back in dense woods again, the ferns of the forest floor brushing against the horses’ legs.

“If anything happens to me tomorrow, I don’t want you to get involved. Just run, ok?” he tells her firmly.

“What do you mean?” her green eyes flash with worry as a sharp wind gust blows her curls in a wild halo about her head.

“I mean don’t try to help me or anything. If I go down, just leave. You have to make it back to the farm with med supplies if we find any. We can’t take the risk of the family not having medical supplies or medicine for the future, especially not with so many little kids living there,” he explains more clearly. The last thing he wants her to do is try to help him and end up getting herself killed- or worse, taken by men and raped and then killed.

“Yeah,” she says but her eyes are full of regret and hesitation. “I could help, though. You know I helped on the night of the Reynolds attack.”

“I know, and you did good, boss. I’m glad you’ll be watching my back when I’m doing things and can’t watch it myself. But if a firefight breaks out or I get shot, then just leave. Don’t try to stick around and take on a group of bad-guys without me. Just head for the farm with the pack horse.” He’s not sure if she is going to listen to him, but hopefully mentioning the kids on the farm will convince her that he’s right.

“Oh, ok,” she mumbles with obvious distress.

“Hey, it’s not gonna come to that, ok?” he tries to appease her. “I won’t let it.”

Her face searches his with uncertainty. A sad, lop-sided smirk touches her full mouth, that mouth with the fuller top lip that makes him so crazy with lust. He grins at her which makes her look away again.

“Unless, of course, you’re the one that shoots me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s probably the more likely scenario,” she teases with an almost-smile.

“Nah, you won’t shoot me. You gotta admit it. I’m growing on you,” he jests with a grin as her fiery eyes widen with shock at his comment. He knows that these kind of statements vex her, but he just can’t stop himself from saying them. He doesn’t have a whole lot of control when it comes to Reagan.

“Growing on my nerves maybe,” she returns and shoots him a sidelong glance from below her dark lashes.

He also doesn’t have a lot of control when it comes to his feelings about her, either. He’d like nothing better than to seduce her when they get this hunting cabin she and her grandfather have set up for the family to use.

“If you say so, boss,” he says and gives her a genuine smile. “Still think you like me just a little maybe.”

Her response is an unladylike snort and, “Get real. Don’t be a moron. I only like that you can help keep my family and the farm safe. I don’t
like
you at all.”

“Sure. But you don’t have to worry about the farm anymore. Your family will always be safe with us there,” he reminds her in a serious tone. This statement causes her to cock her head to the side pensively.

“Are you always gonna be there? Don’t you think you’ll leave at some point?” she asks.

“Do you still want me to?” John asks her but can’t control the huskiness that comes into his voice.

Instead of answering, she points ahead and says, “Up there we can stop and water the horses again.”

With luck or by her design in choosing this path to the cabin, they have been able to stop twice at creeks and streams for the horses. He and Reagan don’t drink out of those tributaries, though, per her dictate. She went on and on explaining the different sickness that a person can get from drinking unclean water just like her grandfather had done last week. John didn’t have the heart to tell her. Plus, he likes listening to her gravelly, charming voice.

They dismount near the edge of a creek and stretch their legs and backs. “You need to wash that blood off better, John.”

“Uh, yeah. Guess it’s not cool to go all day with it on my hands like this. You were right about the horses...”

“Duh. Of course I was right!” she quips like a smart mouth.

He laughs aloud which earns him a more subtle grin from her. It’s a rare thing that he’s come to long for. She rarely shows joy of any kind unless it’s over her nieces and nephews at the farm.

“I walked right into that one. But as I was saying,” he jeers. “My mare didn’t like the smell. She did act kinda’ weird.”

Reagan doesn’t answer but tugs a rag and a small bar of soap wrapped in plastic out of her saddle pack and hands them to him.

She looks around nervously and says, “Here, use this; it’ll help to get the deer blood off. You’re gonna have to scrub at it.”

John flinches. He doesn’t like harboring a lie, but there’s no sense in telling her his secret.

They let their horses drink and rest, not needing to hold on tight to their reins because he’s learned they won’t run off. Where the heck were they gonna go anyways? Plus, they probably smell the sweet grain in coffee cans being toted along by the pack horse. They aren’t entirely stupid. They know a satisfying meal awaits them at the end of this long ride.

John lathers up the rag with the yellow soap and scrubs at his hands, nails and forearms until he’s satisfied that he’s removed most or all of the dried, dark patches of blood. He rinses off the rag as best as he can and then scrubs it clean with the soap, as well. When he glances up from his squatted position, Reagan is staring at him strangely. She seems transfixed by the bloody water swirling around his military issue boots. Her fingers tease about on her white tank top where it lies against her flat stomach. She does this sometimes when she seems nervous about something or if he approaches her too closely. John would like to know why, but he doubts he ever will.

“You ok?” he asks quietly. It’s enough to snap her out of her trance and blink hard.

“Uh, yeah,” she stammers and takes a step back when he stands again. He hates this. He hates it when she retreats from him like he’s some sort of monster.

“Ready to get going again?” John asks. “We should try to stay ahead of that storm.”

“You have blood on your cheek,” she informs him and points. When he wipes at apparently the wrong cheek, Reagan steps forward, closing the gap. “Here. Just give me the rag.”

John stoops so that she can wipe at his right cheek, which she does very gently. It’s not the sort of touch he’d expect from her, though she doesn’t touch him skin to skin and is careful to keep the cloth against him. He has to resist the urge to kiss her forehead. Barely.

“Hold still; I’ve almost got it,” she bosses to which he grins down at her. She wrinkles her nose in return. “Done. Now you’re pretty again.”

“Shucks, ma’am,” he says on a tease. She rolls her lovely green eyes and frowns. He places his hand briefly over top of hers to take the rag. Then he follows it with a more serious, “Thanks.”

Reagan doesn’t answer but stares up at him directly. This isn’t something she does often, either. John could stare at her all day, though, and usually does. The last bits of sunshine trickle through the trees behind him and glint off her golden skin and hair. His arm extends of its own volition as he reaches for her.

It’s enough to make her turn away and mumble, “We should go.”

“Right,” he returns and clears his voice. What the heck is it about Reagan?

They mount and continue on in silence. She purposely does not allow room for him to ride beside her on the trail even though there is plenty of room. She’s avoiding him. John’s not completely daft. He’s been around enough women to know how their brains work. Well, he doesn’t usually know how hers works, but he knows enough to figure out that she’s avoiding him. It doesn’t matter. This quiet time gives him space to think more on tomorrow’s events. It doesn’t last long before his mind wanders back to his delectable, curvy riding partner ahead of him.

He’s not sure what it even is about Reagan that he finds so fascinating, but he certainly does. She’s completely opposite of the kind of women he used to be attracted to. She’s mouthy, brainy, way smarter than him and bossy. Unfortunately, for him she’s also beautiful, even with her scars, kind-hearted (which he only knows because she’d selflessly saved his brother from dying of blood loss), spirited and something that he can’t put his finger on that he also can’t seem to resist. Most times he can’t decide if he should throttle Reagan or kiss and ravish her into silence. Or both.

A rumble of thunder cracks closer and loud enough to spook his mare, which almost causes him to fall off. A few soft words spoken to her helps calm her back down. Reagan takes a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure he’s still alive and keeps going. Ten minutes later cold, fat rain droplets start plopping down from the leaves overhead. Twenty minutes later and they are being assailed by bucketsful of icy rain mixed with sleet. This day is sucking even more. Killing those two men who were stalking them and not the deer he’d had to lie to Reagan about had been just another crappy part of this day. Keeping her safe is the only thing that matters and if he has to tell the occasional lie to protect her from the harshness of who he can be, then so be it.

Chapter Four

Hannah

She feels her way along the second floor hallway, not a place she goes very often. Normally she sticks to the first floor or the suite of bedrooms that she shares with her grandparents. It’s just easier that way, and Sue and Reagan certainly don’t need her to pick up after them or clean their rooms. Well, maybe Reagan does, but Sue is as self-sufficient and organized as any mom can be. She keeps Ari and Justin on a pretty tight schedule most of the time. Of course, Hannah can hardly blame her since she also has a brand new baby to look after. And as helpful as Derek tries to be, he’s also pretty clueless because he has always been gone, deployed for so much of his kids’ lives.

Hannah comes to Sue and Derek’s bedroom suite and finds the door already open. She knocks on the doorframe anyways. “Sue?”

“Hey, Hannie. What is it? Come on in, honey,” her loving sister calls back quietly. Hannah moves slowly into the room so that she doesn’t bump into anything in case Isaac is asleep. “It’s ok, Hannah. I’m still feeding him.”

“Oh, good. I was just wondering if you could help me,” she asks of Sue as she takes a seat on a nearby sofa next to her sister. Isaac makes tiny sounds as he breastfeeds which causes Hannah to smile. The children on the farm bring everyone such joy. Their grim situation, the grim situation of the entire world now might seem hopeless if it wasn’t for the lightness and possibility for the future they find in the children, who are completely oblivious to the new darkness.

“Sure, Hannie. Watcha’ need?” Sue asks with her usual giving of herself or anything her sisters might need. Her maternal instincts extend far and wide. She was meant to be a mother to more than just her children just as much as Reagan was meant to be a healer.

“Um, well, Kelly’s taking me for a patrol ride with him this morning...”

“Yeah, I know. Good job. I can’t believe you managed to get him to agree to that,” Sue says with a chuckle and finds Hannah’s hand. She gives it a gentle squeeze. Sue is also the only one in the family who is aware of Hannah’s feeling for Kelly and how deeply she cares for him.

“It wasn’t as easy as you might think,” she mumbles and looks at her lap. “I just... I don’t really have much to wear for riding. I have a lot of old clothes. I’m not sure if I should wear what I used to wear with Reagan. I know the jeans were from the second hand store in town that Grams would pick up for me sometimes. I don’t really know what I look like in those jeans. They were pretty baggy. I always had to wear a belt to hold them up. Plus I always just wore one of Grandpa’s old t-shirts. It’s just...”

“Yeah, Grams isn’t exactly a fashion guru. I get it. You want to look nice,” Sue jumps in again. “That’s ok. You should want to look nice if you like Kelly. But, honey, I think you could wear a black garbage bag and he’d still be drooling over you. I know what you mean, though.”

Hannah shrugs with embarrassment. She can’t exactly wear one of her dresses, which she really likes, to go horseback riding with Kelly. This isn’t something she could discuss with Reagan because she’d just get mad and irrational. She wouldn’t like the idea of her being interested in any romantic way with Kelly or with any man for that matter. Her brainy sister is sometimes a little out of touch with reality when it comes to relationships or just relating to people at all. Grams also isn’t someone she wants to discuss her feelings for Kelly with because she could possibly not understand or approve of her wanting Kelly. He is a guest on their farm and at their mercy.