Marie came over before their asses had fully settled on the seats. She turned the coffee cups over and poured for both of them.
“Hey, Ike.” Fuck, he hated that. No matter how much influence he’d earned in this town, he’d not been able to get that name off people’s lips. He supposed he should be glad they’d finally dropped the “Little,” but that had taken his father’s death, even though he’d dwarfed the old man by a good six inches and sixty pounds.
Lilli had pulled a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and was perusing the options. It wasn’t often that people read the menu; almost everybody who ate here was a regular and had long ago memorized the offerings, which hadn’t changed, except for the seasonal flavors of pies and fresh jams, since the day they’d opened.
“Hey, Marie. This is Lilli. Lilli, meet Marie, the best baker in five counties.”
Lilli smiled at her, and Marie smiled warmly back. “Only five? Must be losin’ my edge. What can I get ya, sugar?”
Reading the menu, Lilli ordered. “I’ll have the waffles and eggs—sunny-side up.”
Marie didn’t bother to write the order down. “What meat you want—sausage links, bacon, or ham?”
“Bacon—oh, and can I get fruit instead of the hash browns?”
Isaac dropped his head to hide the smirk he couldn’t control. Marie gave her a look. “Comes with hash browns, not fruit.”
Lilli cocked her head. “Um, okay. Well, how about hold the hash browns and I’ll have fruit extra?”
Okay, he should probably help her out, but he was enjoying it far too much. Marie put her hand on her hip. “It comes. With hash browns. And unless you want a piece of fruit pie or some orange juice, fruit’s not on the menu.”
Lilli blinked, and Isaac took pity on her. “You got the order, Marie. Thanks, hon.”
Clearly vexed, Marie nodded at him and went back to the counter. Then Isaac laughed. He tossed his head back, put his hand on his belly and guffawed. Lilli was just as obviously annoyed as Marie.
“What the fuck was that?”
“You don’t order off the menu at a place like this, Sport. You’d think a country girl from Texas would know that.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Austin’s not country. And I hate potatoes. I can’t even stand to smell them.”
“Nobody hates potatoes.”
“Just told you I did.”
“Well, it’s weird.”
By way of response, she sat back, her arms crossed, and he conceded the point with a shrug. He watched as she poured three creamers and the sugar from three packets into her coffee. That was barely coffee anymore—why the hell even bother? He took a sip of his, black and strong. Then he just watched her. The sun was streaming in through the front window and slanting across her, giving her hair a reddish gleam and making her grey eyes sparkle. He shifted in the booth as his cock filled out a little and caught the seam in his jeans. He had half a mind to bail on the day and take her back to her bare mattress.
“How’d you know there wasn’t trouble?”
Coming out of his increasingly sexual reverie, he shook his head. “Huh?”
She sipped that sweet confection in her cup and gave him a curious look. “You said you were worried there was trouble when you saw my car but not me. But you were all relaxed, leaning back on my deck steps when I got back from my run. How’d you know there wasn’t trouble?”
Because he’d gotten a call from CJ that he’d ridden past her running down the road in her little top and littler shorts. She’d attracted a great deal of attention this morning. She’d attracted attention last night, too. People were interested. And now they were eating together. Again, actually. He rolled his eyes. Town gossips would have them engaged by Saturday.
“Got a call from a brother who saw you on the road. Lots of people saw you, Sport. You might want to cover up some if you’re gonna run all over town. You’ll give the gossips tongue hernias or somethin’.”
Marie brought their breakfasts—waffles, eggs up, and bacon for Lilli, and his usual order of steak, eggs over easy, and biscuits. Hash browns all around. He saw Lilli make a face at them on her plate. He hoped Marie hadn’t seen as she refilled their coffees.
Isaac winked at Marie. “Thanks, hon. You mind leaving the pot?” He needed to fucking mainline the coffee today. His days of pulling all-nighters with impunity were behind him.
Marie set the pot on the table. “You bet, Ike. Let me know if you need anything else.”
As soon as Marie walked away from their booth, Lilli started pushing the hash browns away from the rest of her breakfast, as if they were a contaminant. Isaac thought it was cute as hell, and he sat and watched her. She looked up, and he smiled and held her eyes for a second.
Dropping her gaze to his plate, she gestured with her fork. “I didn’t think you ordered.”
“Marie knows my order.”
“You have the same thing every day?” She grinned at him like that was the craziest thing she’d heard today.
He just shrugged. A girl who didn’t like potatoes didn’t get to judge anybody’s food quirks. “How’s your breakfast?”
She had a mouthful of waffles. “Really good, ‘cept for the hash browns.”
He rolled his eyes at her. She was fucking cute.
oOo~
By the time they’d finished their breakfast and were on their way out, the diner had filled just about full, and every eye on the damn place was on them. They had to run the gamut, greeting everyone. He introduced her as Lilli Carson, who’d just moved in to the Olsens’ old place. Lilli was gracious and beautiful, but he could see that she was uncomfortable. So was he. They were being thrown together in a way he hadn’t calculated, and they still hadn’t known each other for even one day.
When they got out of the diner, Lilli turned to him, sliding her sunglasses back on, and said, “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see ya,” and walked quickly to her car. He almost let her go—they had an audience. He didn’t need to turn back to the diner to know he’d see a window full of faces. Anything he did to say goodbye to her in a way appropriate to the morning they’d spent together would further heat up fevered town fantasies.
But he didn’t want to leave it that way. Besides, he needed to keep her close. There were things he needed to learn about her. Couldn’t have her sneaking up on him. So let the town tongues wag. Fuck—give them something to wag about. He caught up with her in four long strides, just as she was reaching for the door handle. Déjà vu. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and, with his other hand on her shoulder, pushed her against the car.
“Where you goin’ so fast?”
She nodded toward the diner. “We have an audience, and I have shit to do. But thanks, really. It’s been a good time.”
He slid his knee between her legs and moved his hand from her shoulder to her neck. “Told ya we’d have fun together. Don’t think I’m done with you yet, Sport.”
She smiled, just a little upturning at the corners of her sweet mouth. “Might be done with you.”
“Are you?”
She looked up at him, that little smile still lifting the corners of her mouth. He pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head so he could see her bright eyes. She hadn’t answered. “So, are you?”
By way of reply, she hooked her hand in the open throat of his shirt and pulled him down. When his lips touched hers, she opened her mouth wide to him. She was so damn hot. Forgetting the audience, forgetting the secrets, even forgetting the bullshit he was going to have to spend the rest of his day dealing with, he leaned his weight into her, letting her feel how incredibly turned on she made him, and kissed her like he was ready to have her right there, standing in the gravel lot of Marie’s, the cross on the steeple of St. John’s Methodist Church making a shadow over them. Because he was. They made out much longer, and he might well do it.
With a frustrated growl, he pulled away. “You get to your errands. I’ll see you. Soon, I think.” He smiled and leaned down a
gain, trying on the sound of her name as a whisper in her ear. “Lilli.”
She cocked her head and gave him an appraising look. Then she pushed away from the car, got in, and drove away.
Isaac went to his bike without even bothering to look back at Marie’s.
~oOo~
Bart was sitting at the bar with two laptops open. The clubhouse had a powerful satellite dish, so internet was not a problem there. Neither was TV. They had a huge sest on the wall and threw open the doors to the town for sports events. The big fights and races. Football. Baseball. Hockey. A lot of people were fans of some or all of the St. Louis teams, and they came to the clubhouse to watch and drink free booze. Just another public service of the Night Horde MC.
Isaac walked up and put his hand on Bart’s shoulder. The youngest member, he was their intelligence officer. Very handy, scary smart, and a serious gadget geek. From what Isaac could tell—and he knew his way around a computer okay—Bart was a gifted hacker. He’d not yet encountered intel he couldn’t get his hands on. So Isaac was concerned to see that he looked stressed out.
Part of that might be the six empty Red Bull cans on the bar. Bart was a big guy—nowhere near as big as Isaac, but six feet, probably 200 pounds, mostly muscle—but six Red Bulls was a shit ton of caffeine.
“Tell me, bro. What’s the deal?”
Bart raked his hands over his dusky blond crew cut. He spoke quickly, his voice shaking. He was practically tweaking on caffeine. “This wall is military grade, Isaac. Fuck, it’s practically weaponized. I’m worried that I’m gonna get tagged poking around too much more. I’m in full stealth mode, but I feel like I’m leaving a little bit more of my ass hanging out every time I go at that fucker. I don’t get it. If she’s got a secret that needs this kind of security, why did she put a fucking neon sign on top of it? Took me three minutes to find out her history is faked. I been at this wall fourteen hours straight, and I’m nowhere. No. Where. She just does not exist before three months ago.”
That was certainly interesting news. Made Lilli a lot more dangerous. “It’s okay, man. Pull back. Get some rest. I’ll find what we need to know another way. No sense pushing our luck here. Who the fuck knows who’s guarding her story.”
“When I said military grade, boss, I didn’t mean it metaphorically. Ten to one this is military protection. I don’t know what the fuck that means she’s hiding, but I’m sure that’s who’s helping her. Be careful.”
“Noted. Now, I’m serious. Go back and crash. You did good, my brother.”
Bart smiled gratefully and closed his laptops. He trudged to the hallway leading to the dorm rooms. Isaac watched him go, thinking.
With a wave of his hand, Isaac called over LaVonne, one of the regular girls, who gave especially good head. She’d been lolling on one of the couches, reading a magazine. When she saw Isaac call her over, she came right away, adjusting her skirt up and her knit top down.
“Yeah, Isaac?” Nobody attached to the club called him Ike. That, he could control.
“Do me a solid, sugar, and go back with Bart, help him relax.”
She looked a little disappointed at first; Isaac figured she thought he was calling her over to service him. But she recovered quickly and smiled. Bart was a decent looking guy, not a bad hookup for a club girl. There were uglier patches, that was sure. “Sure thing!” LaVonne turned with a little shimmy in her hip and sashayed after him.
Isaac sighed and went behind the bar to pour himself a cup of what was clearly stale, sludgy coffee from much earlier in the morning. He was too tired to wait for a fresh pot, so he chewed on the black goo he’d oozed into his cup.
One problem addressed and not even remotely solved. On to the next. Maybe he’d have better luck there.
INTERLUDE: 1997
“Mr. Accardo, Lilli’s on Line 3 for you.”
“Thanks, Anne.”
Johnny picked up the handset and pressed the blinking button for Line 3. “Hey, Lillibell. What can I do for my little girl?” Not so little any longer. She was graduating high school in two days, and in three months, she’d be headed off to college. He and his mother would be alone.
As soon as she spoke, he knew it was trouble. “Papa, I need you to come home. It’s Nonna.”
~oOo~
Johnny walked up the front walk with a leaden heart. This was the second time in his daughter’s young life that he’d walked into this house when she’d been alone with the body of a woman she loved. Her mother, when she was ten. Now, eight years later, his mother. Her grandmother, her beloved Nonna, the woman who taken the place of mother in her life.
Lilli was sitting quietly on the living room sofa, still the red floral piece Mena had so carefully picked out when they’d bought the house. The living room was rarely in use, and it was strange to see Lilli, wearing jeans and a t-shirt from one of the concerts she’d been to, her hair loose and hanging mostly over her face, sitting in the center of that sofa, her face without affect. He came and sat next to her.
He picked up her hand, lying slack in her lap. “Lilli, talk to me.”
She turned her head. He’d been wrong; her face was not without affect. Her eyes were stormy with feeling. “She’s still on the floor in the kitchen. I called 911, and they came, but when they decided she was dead, they just went away. I’m waiting for someone else to come to take her away.”
Johnny could not even grieve for the loss of his mother, his beautiful, obstreperous, hovering mother, who had filled their lives with the brilliant aroma of Italian love. He would have to set that aside. His daughter was his only concern. He pulled her to his chest and held her tightly. “Tell me what happened, cara.”
“She was in the kitchen, and I was watching TV in the den. She was singing at the top of her lungs. She sounded terrible, and I couldn’t hear my show over her. I was thinking, ‘shut the fuck up, Nonnie!’ And then she did. I heard a crash, and when I came in, she was just lying on the floor. Her eyes were open. The last thing I thought about her was that I wanted her to shut up.” She began to weep. Johnny was glad of it; the quiet calm unsettled him. It had taken her weeks to come out of a fugue like that after Mena’s death.
“Oh, cara mia. It’s not the last thing you thought about her. You’re thinking about her now. She was singing. She died happy. She died happy.”
He knew it was true. It helped to know it was true.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lilli pulled into the garage of her rented house. She’d had to go all the way to the little shopping center on the far outskirts of the St. Louis suburbs to find everything she needed. Besides the 7 Eleven, there wasn’t even a grocery in Signal Bend. But now, after spending several hours and several hundred dollars, she had a full stock of food and sundries. She had fresh linens for the bed and bath. She had the small appliances that the house had lacked—coffeemaker, toaster oven, things like that. And she had the supplies she needed adapt one of the small extra bedrooms to a room she could work in.
She opened the trunk and started hauling her purchases into the house. She supposed she could have parked on the grass, closer to the house, for the unloading, but she hadn’t thought of it. She didn’t really have a country mindset.
Once she had everything in the house, she spent an hour or so setting things up: getting the new linens in the wash (the rental thankfully had both washer and dryer), organizing the kitchen, trying to make the dreary little hut into something livable. Then she went into the smallest bedroom and started setting that up, too.
It was furnished with a twin-size bed and a small dresser. She pushed both of these to the side and built the small, cheap desk she’d bought. When it was together, she carried one of the chairs from the dinette set in; it would serve fine as a desk chair. She wasn’t sure what to do with the trash she was making; she supposed she’d have to burn most of it, since it was unlikely the town had residential trash pickup. For now, though, she piled it all in the third bedroom. When the furniture was handled, she covered the wind
ows with heavy black paper, then drew the drapes. She changed the doorknob to one that locked. It wasn’t a great security solution; the door itself was only a typical interior door and thus wouldn’t put up much resistance to someone determined to get in, but the lock would slow them down, anyway.
That room set up the way she wanted, she put the linens in the dryer, grabbed the carton that had held the toaster oven, and went back out to the garage. She’d chosen this property for its seclusion, so the precautions she was taking were probably more than she needed. But she was a cautious woman, and sometimes more really was more. She went in the side door of the garage, so that she could leave the overhead closed. With no windows in the building, the garage was near pitch black, only the dim light rimming the doors to ease the gloom. Lilli turned on the overhead fluorescents and opened the trunk of the Camaro.
It looked like the trunk was empty, but Lilli leaned in and pulled the vinyl backing away from the back seat. Instead of the innards of spring and padding one usually finds inside an upholstered seat, the Camaro held a small armory: An M16 assault rifle, an M25 sniper rifle, three semi-automatic handguns, and a small assortment of other types of weapons for melee and mayhem. There was also a satellite phone and a very special laptop hidden in the seat. Lilli collected the latter two items and put them in the toaster oven box. The weapons she left where they were; she had her favorite sidearm in the bedroom already, and she didn’t expect to need the rest for some time yet. She closed up the back of the seat, shut the trunk, and left the garage, turning off the lights and locking it behind her.
When she got back into the house, she took the laptop and satellite phone into the office she’d just set up. She hooked the phone into the laptop, using the satellite connection to access the internet. It had been three days since she’d checked in. Her silence had been scheduled, but it still made her antsy to go so long.
When she got through the labyrinth of security and logged on, she found two new assignments, neither of which looked like it would take a great deal of time—a few hours each—but each with a hard deadline and high clearance. She knew what she’d be doing tonight. She replied, confirming the deadline for their completion. Then she logged out and came back in another way, so she could quietly check with her contact on what she was calling her side job. There was no new message, so she sent one of her own.
Move the Sun (Signal Bend Series) Page 6
