LITMIR.BIZ

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out of bricks and other material taken from destroyed buildings. On other days, when Diablo was “active” in her area, Kerry would redirect the helo to a safer LZ. The supplies would be distributed from that location instead. This morning there had been no activity with Diablo, so the original LZ was put into use.

      Her gaze moved to the second Huey, which she knew was bearing the five marines Morgan Trayhern had sent. Morgan had been her lifeline since she’d cobbled the generator and radio together. His deep, soothing voice over the radio day after day had given her hope and kept her sanity intact. Now he had sent her reinforcements to help keep Area Five stable. Morgan had spoken enthusiastically of the leader of this fire team, Corporal Quinn Grayson, who was a marine as well as an EMT. God knew, Area Five needed medical intervention! She could hardly wait to meet him.

      Deep within her, Kerry knew she was still pulverized by shock because of the recent traumatic events. She had felt nothing, emotionally, for two weeks. Now a trickle of hope wound through her pounding heart as the Huey with the marines landed within two hundred feet of her. Kerry spread her feet apart in order to remain standing against the buffeting wind. As the Huey powered down, she saw the door slide open.

      The first marine to jump down had to be Quinn Grayson, Kerry decided. She could tell by the authority in his stance that he was the leader. Tall and broad-shouldered, he clutched an M-16 in his hands as he warily looked around. When he turned and snapped an order, four more marines disembarked, on guard and alert.

      Instantly, as she watched him walk away from the helicopter and eye the knot of people around her, Kerry liked Grayson. He was looking for her, she knew. She was his contact. Stepping forward, she saw him halt and stare at her assessingly. Was she friend or enemy? Pain in the butt or help? Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest for a moment. That was an odd reaction, Kerry thought, as she walked quickly toward him.

      She hadn’t smiled in two weeks, but she did now—a smile of welcome, but also of relief. Although she could carry a heavy load on her broad-shouldered five-foot-eleven frame, this disaster had stressed her out completely. And Grayson looked strong, capable and powerful as he stood there looking at her through narrowed, dark blue eyes. Kerry felt his gaze move over her as she closed the distance between them. Behind her, she heard the footsteps of her volunteers as they moved toward the other Huey. As usual, they would carry the boxes of precious water to the “store” at the other end of the shopping center for distribution.

      As Kerry drew within ten feet of Quinn, her heart soared unexpectedly, with such a rush of happiness that it shook her completely. The marine had an oval face with a firm-looking chin. Though his lips were thinned, she could see he had a wide mouth, with laugh lines deeply indented at each corner. His nose was long and straight, the nostrils flaring as she approached, as if to pick up her scent. He seemed as much wild animal as human to her, and yet the quality of danger surrounding Grayson made Kerry feel secure for the first time since the quake. This marine knew how to protect; she could feel it in her bones. His black brows made dark slashes above his glittering blue gaze. The color of his eyes reminded Kerry of the glacial ice up in Alaska, where she’d taken a cruise with her now deceased husband, Lee Chelton. The color was most unusual—almost unearthly—and Kerry thought it looked like the color of heaven, such was its ethereal beauty. Quinn’s pupils were large and black, and she saw intelligence gleaming there, as well as surprise. Why the surprise? she wondered, as she lifted her hand to wave, her mouth pulling into a relieved smile.

      “Corporal Grayson? I’m Kerry Chelton. Welcome to our little corner of the world.”

      During the helo flight in Area Five, Quinn had decided to keep things on a business level and not be very friendly. Now, as the tall, willowy woman in the sheriff’s deputy uniform held out her cut, dirty hand, he felt his resolve falter. The black-and-white photo he’d seen of Kerry Chelton had done nothing to prepare him for the woman before him now, her short, tousled brown hair rife with gold highlights as it framed her heart-shaped face. Maybe it was the look of relief in her huge gray eyes that touched his hardened heart. Or, maybe it was the way the corners of her mouth softened and her lower lip trembled as she welcomed him.

      Quinn didn’t know what magic was at work, but suddenly he transferred his weapon to his left hand and thrust out his right hand to enclose hers. Kerry Chelton looked utterly worn-out. He saw the dark smudges beneath her incredibly beautiful eyes, which now sparkled with unshed tears. Something inside him made him want to open his arms, pull her into them and hold her. The relief in her gaze, the sudden emotion revealed in her dirt-smudged face, got to him. She was melting his armor with her unsure smile and sparkling tears, Quinn thought as he saw her swallow convulsively, struggling to hold back her emotions. Because he’d been so hurt by a woman, Quinn struggled to remain wary. Somehow this woman was opening him up and he had no control over it. The last thing Quinn wanted was to allow himself to get emotionally close to her.

      Her hand was warm and firm in his, though he was careful of how much pressure he exerted on her long, slender fingers. Shocked by how dirty she was, he reminded himself that none of these people had water to wash or bathe. Her hair was mussed, in dire need of a comb, shampoo and water.

      “I’m Corporal Grayson,” he told her, speaking loudly in order to be heard over the shriek of the helicopters.

      “Pleased to meet you. Come on, let’s go to my ‘office.’” She grinned and pointed toward the shopping center. Wild, fleeting tingles ran up her fingers and arm and cascaded into her heart, which was thumping without pause. Grayson’s stony persona, combined with the fact that he was a marine, gave her such hope. If the truth was known, Kerry wanted to simply fall into his arms to be held. She knew that wasn’t possible—that it was only her knee-jerk reaction in the midst of the shock and trauma—but there was something wonderfully secure about this marine. She’d seen his icy blue eyes turn warm as their hands met in welcome. And the way he’d wrapped his long, strong fingers around hers had made Kerry feel protected and…something else. She couldn’t identify the emotion right now, with all the activity going on around her.

      Quinn raised his hand in a silent order for his team to follow him as Kerry took the lead. On his left shoulder, a radio was attached to the epaulet of the camouflage jacket he wore over his flak vest. Pressing the button and turning his head to speak into it, he told the helicopter pilots of both birds to lift off, that contact had been made.

      The Huey helicopters, flown by Lieutenants Galway and McGregor, had off-loaded the water. The helo’s engine changed pitch and, within a minute, lifted off to head back to Camp Reed. Quinn walked with his men spread out behind him like a V of geese following their leader. They each remained on guard, their rifles locked and loaded. Quinn wasn’t taking any chances. They were in enemy territory as far as he was concerned. Ahead of them, Kerry walked quickly toward a makeshift structure with a roof that was nothing more than a piece of corrugated tin laid awkwardly on top. The “house” had been painstakingly put together with wire, broken blocks and other material obviously retrieved from the destroyed shopping center. The entire three-story mall, which was at least a quarter mile long, had collapsed. Quinn had not seen this level of destruction yet, and he felt stunned by what the powerful quake had done. It was unimaginable to him. Unthinkable. Horrifying.

      Kerry halted in front of the small shack in the midst of the rubble. “This is it, Corporal Grayson.” She gestured toward the hovel. “My home.” It hurt to say those words. Her real home, a block away from the sheriff’s facility, was now nothing but broken brick, shattered glass and a twisted roof.

      Quinn halted near Kerry and looked at the structure. There were several yellow wool blankets strung across the front, one serving as a door. Looking around, he saw the team of volunteers trundling the boxes of bottled water toward the other end of the shopping center.

      Kerry followed his gaze. “They’re taking the water to our distribution center,” she told him.

      “There’s no fighting about who gets what?”

      Shaking her head, Kerry said, “Not yet…but people are real desperate, Corporal. Real desperate.”

      At that moment, a little black-haired girl around seven years old stumbled sleepily from behind the blanketed door. She was

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