Move the Sun (Signal Bend Series) (15 page)

“Isaac, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, ready to move on, but she moved to stand in front of him. “Isaac. My mother cut her wrists and bled out in her bathtub. I found her. I was ten.”

He looked down at her with a start. “God.” Something came over him
in a jolt that he could not possibly define, and he grabbed her face and kissed her, fervently, his tongue probing deeply into her mouth. He felt her hands clutching his shirt as she kissed him back. When he pulled away, he searched her face for some kind of clue that she thought making out over their mothers’ suicides was inappropriate, but she simply looked well-kissed. Still, he muttered, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get it.”
She traced the length of the scar on his face.

He closed his eyes at the tender contact.
“Never known anybody who does before. Nobody gets it.”

“I know. Why’d she do it?”

He shook his head again, hating to go to that place. Then he shrugged. “My father was a mean bastard. Best answer I got. She didn’t leave a note. Yours?”

“No note from her, either. I don’t know much. My dad did a purge
after she died. But from what I remember, and what I know now, I think she was bipolar. My most vivid memory of her is her body in the bathtub, and sitting in there with it waiting for somebody to find me, but I also remember that she used to take me ‘adventuring,’”—Lilli made the air quotes around the word—“her word for it was
avventurandosi,
and we’d end up in these crazy places with her freaking out because she didn’t speak very good English, and I had to talk to strangers to try to get back home. I’m guessing that was mania. It wasn’t a great time.” She stopped and furrowed her brow. “Wow. I’ve literally never told that story to another human being, ever.”

Isaac felt the urge to kiss her again, but he tamped it down. “Jesus, Lilli. That’s intense.”

She laughed sadly. “Yeah. Just to get it out of the way, I’m an only child, and my dad died when I was 23. He was awesome.”

“Can I ask how old you are now?”
He knew that was a question a lot of women hated.

She didn’t hesitate.
“33. You?”

“39.”

She grinned. He loved her smile; her mouth was rosy and lovely, and her eyes lit up. “See, look at how much we’re learning. You said ‘was’ when you mentioned your dad. We both orphans?”

“Yeah. He
died twelve years ago. Dropped his bike on an icy road and went under a truck. He was the MC president before me. He was Big Ike, and I was Little Ike until he died. That’s why I hate that fucking name.”

“Did you live here with him?”

“Not since I was 18. I stayed at the clubhouse. Moved back in here after he died.”

“What about your sister?”

“Martha. Don’t know. She’s four years older than me. She left in the dark one night not long after my mom died, and no one’s heard from her since. I get why she left. My old man was already turning his meanness on her. But she left me behind.”

“Did he . . .” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.

Isaac shrugged. “Some. Not so unusual in these parts. Got better when I grew to be a lot bigger than him. Stopped, for the most part, when I started prospecting.” He shook off the melancholy gloom that was beginning to settle on his shoulders. “Anyway, that’s the past. You said your mom’s English wasn’t good?”

Lilli smiled. “So
my
past is still in the present, I see. My mom was born and raised in Italy. My dad was born there, too, but he came over really young. They met when he was stationed in Europe—he was in the Army, too. Special Forces.”

“
He was a badass, then. I see where you get it.” That pleased her, and Isaac was glad of it. But she’d made him curious. “Lilli, what languages do you speak?”

The pleased smiled he’d brought out disappeared, and she looked guarded again, as she contemplated him. Then, she sighed, as if resigned to her fate. She counted them off on her fingers. “English, Italian, French, Spanish, German, Arabic, Farsi, and Hebrew.”

He laughed, loudly, and she looked at him like he was both crazy and rude. “Sorry. It’s just—I don’t get intimidated often, but that did it. How fucking smart are you?”

“Pretty fucking smart, but that’s beside the point. I was raised bilingual. It makes picking up new languages ridiculously easy. No need to be intimidated.” Now she wore a sly grin. “Not
by that, anyway.”

Okay, now he needed to show her that there was something he could do, too.
He took her hand. “Come with me. Get your boots on. I want to show you something.”

When she was appropriately shod, h
e led her out to the largest outbuilding and unlocked the door. She practically shrieked.

“Hah! You locked it!”

Laughing, he said, “Easy, there, Sport. This I lock. The house, I don’t.” He opened the door, and the strong aroma of wood shavings billowed out on the late morning breeze. It was his favorite smell. Well, second favorite now, supplanted by the natural scent of the woman standing with him. He let her go in first, and she stood just inside the doorway and gaped.

“Isaac, what?” She was taking in what he’d spent
most of his life building up. Saws and planes and a massive lathe, chisels and files and rasps, stain and varnish and brushes and wood. A huge work table in the center of the room. All of it neatly organized. He thought this big room was beautiful. He could live in it.

“It’s my woodshop. The furniture and doodads in the house that you like—I made them.”

She turned her gaping face toward him and gaped some more. She went over to his row of shelving units, where he stored the pieces he intended to sell at art shows and craft fairs around the state. She picked up a burled vase that was part of a run he’d turned from some beautiful walnut he’d found near Kansas City. The turnings were his most artistic work.

“You
made
this?” He nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She carefully set the vase down and ran her fingers lightly over the whole shelf of turnings. Then she went to his stock of carved pieces and spun to face him. She was holding a hummingbird at a lily, the bird no bigger than her palm. Her eyes were damp. “Jesus, Isaac. This is—it’s beautiful. I’m—in awe.”

The hummingbird was no big deal. He’d
price it for twenty bucks, dicker down to fifteen, at a craft fair. He could carve a couple of those in an afternoon. There were a dozen on the shelf right now. But Lilli was carrying that one around with her as she looked at everything in the room. He went to her. “You want that?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”
She blushed. “My nonna loved hummingbirds.” She moved to take it back to the shelf, but he caught her arm and held her.

“Nonna?”

“Grandma. Italian.”

“Keep it.”

“No, Isaac. I’m sorry, you should sell it. It’s so beautiful.”

“Keep it. If you like it, you should keep it. It’s not a big deal to me. Look—there are a bunch on the same shelf you got that one.”

“But this one is the prettiest.” She smiled up at him, her eyes still shimmery. “Thank you.” He was blown away by how much this revelation had affected her.

Now she pushed her hand up his chest and hooked it around his neck, pulling him toward her. Before she kissed him, she whispered, “You astound me,” and brought
his lips to hers.

Isaac was experiencing an acute case of emotional vertigo this morn
ing. He still felt a little unsteady. But he was getting to know this woman, and he was letting her know him. Since the difficult discussion in the kitchen, there was a different atmosphere between them. They weren’t trying to figure each other out. They were relaxed, and he recognized that this was the first time they’d been relaxed together, at least when Lilli was sober.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened their kiss, lifting her off her feet. She hooked her arm, that hand still holding the carved hummingbird, around his back. He set
her on the worktable, then reached back and took the carving out of her hand, setting it on the table, off to the side.

He’d built the table to suit his size, so its surface was right at the level of his hips
. With Lilli sitting in front of him, they were crotch to crotch. She moaned and looped her legs around him, crossing her ankles on his ass.

The feel
of her tongue moving on his, the taste of her, the way he could feel the muscles and tendons in her thighs squeezing him—fuck, everything about this woman made him hard. When she whimpered sweetly and flexed on him, he tore his mouth away from hers with a gasp.

“I want to be inside your sweet pussy right the fuck now. Too sore?”

Her eyes hooded with lust, she smiled and pulled at his belt. “Not for that.”

Isaac growled and
set about getting his woman naked.

INTERLUDE
: 2009

Captain Lillian Accardo climbed down from her Black Hawk helicopter, call sign Big Donna. Her squad was waiting for her—fist bumps, high fives, and hugs all around. Another mission completed; objective secured, all troops back at base. Aside from a black eye Okada got when he came up too quickly behind Miller, no casualties at all.

Chief Pettijohn came toward her, heading to her
ride to do the post-mission check. “All well, Cap?” he asked as he approached.

Lilli stopped and turned back to consider her ride.
“She’s still got that little shimmy in the swash.”

“That’s because she’s such a sexy beast,” he winked and moved on past, toward the copter.

Lilli liked Chief. He was old-school Army, iron-grey crew cut and stub cigar included, but even so, he didn’t have trouble with a chick pilot. More did than didn’t, but she was making her way. It had taken her almost a year to get her own squad fully on board, but she had them now. She was fairly certain most of them had forgotten she had tits, or had just stopped caring. She took pains not to make them especially obvious—not because she feared the men would make inappropriate contact, which she could handle, but because she liked that the only difference they now saw in her was the insignia on her uniform. She wasn’t a piece of ass; she was their superior. She had their respect.

“Hey Cap, we’re in for cards. You i
n?” That was Okada. Lilli smiled but shook her head. “Tempting, but I’ll pass tonight.”
This close to the front, fraternization rules were looser; camaraderie, trust, and morale were paramount. So she could certainly go hang with the enlisted men of her squad if she wanted. But tonight, she wanted some quiet. She nodded to Mendez, her co-pilot, indicating that she had the debrief, and he was off the clock.

She
reported in to Col. Corbett, the battalion Commanding Officer. Corbett had been one she’d had to work to win over. But after scores of successful missions and few casualties—and no troop losses—and after comporting herself solidly in her supervisory position, and proving physically capable, as well—even equal to, if not more capable than, many men in camp—ol’ Corby had warmed up to her.

It didn’t hurt that she was on her third straight
long rotation in camp; with nothing and no one in the States to draw her interest, and loving her job like a calling, she was perfectly content to stay put where she was useful and needed. When she’d requested a third rotation, sitting across from Corby at his insufficient camp desk, he’d contemplated her closely for a long, uncomfortable time, his eyebrows raised. Then, he’d nodded. Since that day, he’d been in her pocket. She was going for a below-zone promotion to Major in a few months; she was fairly certain Corby would do what he could to see that she got it.

She’d earned it. She worked hard,
she led well, she was smart, and she didn’t back down. But below-zone promotions were rare. She knew her shot was better because she was a female in combat, and there would be good press if she got another early promotion. She wasn’t averse to accepting an advantage. Her sex worked against her 99.99% of the time in her chosen career. If there was a chance for that scale to tip slightly in the other direction, she’d take it.

When she was done with her debrief with Corby, she came out of the command tent and
ran headlong into Captain Ray Hobson. He shoved her off and sneered at her. Hobson had a massive pole up his ass over Lilli. He hated women in camp, he hated women in command, and he damn sure hated a woman several years his junior, in the same rank and doing the same job as he. He hated her with a bitter fire she’d at first found bewildering. Now she hated him right back with an even hotter fire. He was a misogynistic asshole who found every opportunity to try to make her feel small and threatened. Time was, he’d succeeded. Now, Lilli was just waiting for him to touch her. Just once, so she could put the bastard on the ground.

“Sucking up again, Hot Lips?
You were in there awhile. Musta been sucking something. I’m up for nexts.” He grabbed his crotch.

Lilli’s gorge rose at her inability to take him down
for that. But she couldn’t go at him physically, not first. And she wouldn’t report him. With one piece of paper, she’d undo all her hard work. No matter how unjust it was, reporting harassment would lose her the respect of just about everyone in camp. Hell, just about everyone in the Army. She would not give this amoeba the satisfaction.

Instead, she sneered right back at him and said, “
That’s comedy gold, Hobs. You must’ve kept the boys in the frat house howling. One way or another.”

His voice low,
he hissed, “You’re nothin’ but a cunt, Accardo. Never be more than that.”

She brushed past him and
crossed the dusty camp to the mess. She needed to get out of her flight suit, which was blazing hot in the 120F heat, but she was starving. And frankly, right at that moment, she wasn’t feeling like stripping down to take a shower. Privacy was at a premium on a Forward Operating Base, and she felt exposed. It burned her that Hobson could still do that to her, but he could. So she went into the mess, got herself a tasteless chicken sandwich, some chips, and a soda, and sat alone, sweltering and fuming.

She was about halfway through her meal, such as it was, when Lopez, her crew chief
, sat down across from her. She looked up, chewing.

“Permission to speak plainly, Cap?”

Lilli nodded.

He leaned in close. “There’s some guys around here, their dicks shrink right up around a woman like you. Some, they just about turn inside out. Gives ‘em a second asshole where their dick should be.”

Well, that was colorful. And he must have seen her confrontation with Hobson, which sucked. Bad enough she had to deal with it; she didn’t relish anyone knowing about it. “Your point?”

“Just don’t let the assholes get you down
, Cap. We got your back. You should come play cards. Sitting here alone is just… sad. Miller’s wifey sent everybody a personal fan, so it’s only, like, a hundred in our hut.” He lowered his voice even more. “There’s local beer, too. Okada scraped it up.”

“You know I can’t drink with you, Sarge.” Alcohol was
supposed to be banned on base, but Corby didn’t enforce that rule, as long as the troops maintained some control over themselves. These troops saw a lot of action, and he reasoned they needed some ease. Grateful for the privilege, few got drunk. Still, Lilli didn’t want to end up in a bad position. It was entirely possible that she could get called upon to fly unexpectedly, and she wouldn’t risk her men. Plus, she was in charge. Wouldn’t do to get loose and flirty around these guys. She’d worked hard to get them to see her otherwise.

“I know. But we’ll be extra entertaining tonight. C’mon. What else are you gonna do?”

With a sigh and a smile she said, “Gimme 15 for a shower and a change.”

“Excellent! Bring lots of cash for us to take from you!” He put up his fist, and she bumped it.

“Dream on, Lopez. I’ll try to leave you milk money when I’m done.”

After her shower, wearing desert fatigue pants and a loose t-shirt,
her hair braided and coiled again on the back of her head, Lilli joined the poker game. As soon as she came into the hut, the guys made way for her. They dealt her in on the next hand. Several guys had bottles of beer, a kind Lilli didn’t recognize. Others had what would look to a layperson like bottles of regular Listerine. Except the mouthwash had been replaced with whiskey, scotch, or gold tequila and sent over in care packages from home. Contraband, but everybody looked the other way.

Okada waved a brown bottle in her direction and said, “Wanna brewski, Cap? It’s warm and tastes like cat piss, but it gets the job done.”

Seriously. He said
brewski
. He talked like that all the time, like he was an extra in Animal House or something. Lilli thought it was charmingly dorky. “As delightful as that sounds, Okada, I’m gonna let you boys enjoy that on your own.”

Lopez tossed her a bottled water, and they got back to the game, which was competitive as hell but not serious at all. The guys trash talked and made sophomoric jokes. They also gossiped like
they were at a quilting bee. Always remembering her role, Lilli still found a way to be in the mix with the rest of them.

This is what Lilli loved. She loved flying, she loved the adrenaline, the challenge of her job. She loved being good at it. Her job fulfilled her. But this, these guys, this bond—she didn’t need any family but this.
She would die for any one of them; she’d do it without a second thought.