The Survivors: Book One

Hand resting on his unsnapped holster, Marc watched from the lonely doorway, unable to believe he hadn't been able to put her clues together and come up with loud-mouth, sometimes-obnoxious, always-snotty, Lance Corporal Kenn Harrison.

Marc's stomach was full of white, hot anger and he felt himself preparing for battle, even as the pain of seeing her in someone else's arms flooded his heart. Angie had her man back, and he didn't seem at all surprised to see them. Had he been spying? Their moment in the bedroom, right after they'd woken, came to mind, and Marc's gut tightened. What all had Kenn seen? Them in bed together, the kiss…too much.

It implied a lot more than there was, and as their eyes locked over Angie's tense shoulder, the message was clear: She's mine. Go way or I'll kill you! Dog's thick fur began to bristle, golden eyes filling with dislike. When he gave a low growl, Marc put a hand on the big animal's head. "Me too, boy. Me too."

Angela regretted the hug the second Kenny crushed her close. She tried to pull away when his head lowered to hers, but he had a hand tangled tightly in her thick curls, holding her still as his tongue invaded, conquered, revolted.

Kenn ground his mouth against hers, as that distinctive, addictive scent of vanilla filled his nose, wondering how much more Brady would allow before stepping in and getting himself killed.

Ah! Not much at all, Kenn gloated to himself, half turning them to be in the right position as he shoved his tongue deeper. Her Tag-a-long was already moving from his place in the doorway.

Angela picked up the thought and understood he was trying to provoke Marc, catch him off guard. She slammed her boot against Kenn's ankle, leaning her weight into it as she elbowed him in his flat stomach.

Not expecting her to fight, Kenn grunted, letting go. Angela stayed between the two men, only backing up a little as she tried to remember what she'd learned. He would see right now that things had changed.

"What the hell was that for?" Kenn snarled at her, closing the distance between them.

Her eyes narrowed as the Witch said to provoke him now so they could either kill him or be killed, but be done with it. "You wouldn't let go."

Kenn's voice was savage as he leaned toward her, itching to break her crooked nose again, "And I never will!"

His eyes went to the Marine now standing alertly near her bumper, big black-and-gray dog bristling at his side, then back to her. "You have one minute to tell me what you're doing with him! Who is Brady to you?"