Sam reached under the bed and pulled out the newer of the two duffel bags that he’d slung there on the day he’d moved in.
He loosened the Miller’s Knot, pulled out its contents and laid them across the top of his dresser, his blood rushing through his veins like Walker Creek in the spring floods.
First, his digies, still neatly rolled. Night vision camera. Binoculars, various disguises.
And then, inside his old mess kit with a misshapen tube of toothpaste and a plastic razor, he found The Silver Star.
Sam tossed the medal onto the dresser as if it were nothing more valuable than a quarter. He had never set out wanting to lie to Red. He just wanted to be economical with the truth…keep a half-wall up between them to protect her from the bullshit.
If she would have let things go on the way they were, everything would be fine. That’s not how Red operated, though. All those degrees and her obsessive house hunting were proof of that. When Red wanted something, she didn’t stop until she got it.
Now she had her sights set on him. His fear was that once she caught him, she’d be repulsed with what she had found.
* * * *
Sam shot up in bed, still wearing his street clothes. His body was hot, but his hands were freezing. He fell back on his pillow with a forearm slung across his eyes, trying to remember the night terror. Something about a dog. But the dream merely changed shape and then disintegrated. Sam drew his hand down his face, distorting his features. That’s how all his dreams ended, unresolved.
Light from the morning sky filtered in from his open window. A car shushed by on the street. Sam checked his watch. His meeting at the Wine Press commenced in twenty-two minutes.
In boot camp he had seventeen seconds to be out of his room before the end of reveille. Those seventeen seconds had taught him how to be ready for any situation. That with every new day comes responsibility and living the core values of honor, respect, and devotion to duty.
He raced to the shower, cranked the knob, and braced himself for the lash of icy needles on his face.
There was a certain, cold comfort in being uncomfortable. Pain forced him to be in the present.
Briskly, Sam lathered himself from head to toe, the day’s priorities unfolding in his brain. He’d been waiting for this day all week. It was the day Dad’s doctor was supposed to be back. He had the Wine Press meeting to attend to first. Then, another phone call to get the update on Dad’s medical situation.
The consortium was going to be hopping. Today was the first day they were shipping wine for the new wine club. Sam had hired extra hands to come in and help, but it was up to him to supervise.
Finally, after all that was done, he had tonight with Red to look forward to.
As he did every morning, he flicked on the TV to listen to the forecast while he dressed. The weather played a significant role in the annual grape crop. Today was going to be a hot one. There was something about a tropical storm over Hawaii that might bear watching.
One hand pressed the electric razor to his face while the other tugged on a fresh pair of jeans. Then he was out the door, keys in hand, the contents of his duffel still strewn, forgotten, across the dresser.
Chapter 17
Sam’s meeting with the Wine Press ate up his entire Friday morning, but it had been worth it. He walked out of there more than satisfied with the group advertising rate he’d negotiated for his people.
He took his phone off silent to find a number of missed calls and messages. But before he checked any of them, he had to get hold of Dad’s doctor. He punched in the number as he jumped into his van. Following an interminable hold he finally got Dr. Mowbray’s medical assistant.
“Has he seen my message yet?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not back yet.”
Sam felt his blood pressure ratcheting up.
“I’ve been waiting all week. Look, it’s important.”
“If he’s not back today, it should be tomorrow,” she blurted. “His flight’s been delayed by weather.”
Something Sam had heard earlier that morning came back to him. “A tropical storm?”
The assistant paused.
Sam sensed weakness in her hesitation.
“How’d you know that?”
“He’s in Hawaii?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Sam tossed his phone onto the seat of the van and cursed. While his very future hinged on knowing what was wrong, Dad’s doctor was lounging around some pool on Waikiki sucking down Mai Tais.
He could find a new doctor. But that wouldn’t get him the information he needed any faster.
His hands were tied—and there was nothing Sam hated more than not being in control.
He pulled into the back of the consortium where the dock was. What fresh hell was this? From the van, he could see there were problems. Big problems.
Keval was supposed to be in the front of the house manning his computer monitor and welcoming guests. Instead, he was standing on the dock, dwarfed by a circle of burly men.
He slammed the van door and marched over, their irritated expressions ratcheting up his concern.
“What’s going on?”
“Thank heavens you’re back.” Keval’s brow was etched with worry. “The good news is, the computer glitch’s fixed,” he said in a rush. “The bad news is, we got a backlog of orders coming out the wazzoodle—most of them from out of town—and not enough stock to fill them, let alone get them shipped out by the promised date. These guys filled what they could in the first hour. But since then, they’ve been standing around with nothing to do. One of them already left.”
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
“Check your phone. I must’ve called five times.”
Everyone was looking at Sam for answers.
“Pull up the unfilled orders,” he told Keval.
He turned to the extras. “How many vehicles do you have among you?”
“Three,” said a whippet-thin man with sage black eyes in a weathered face. “Couple of us rode together.”
“With my van that makes four. We’re going to have to go get more wine ourselves. I’ll print out a map and divide the area into sections. Some of you are going to have to make multiple trips, but it is what it is. I’ll keep you as close to the bulls-eye as I can. My van holds the most, so I’ll hit the outliers on the perimeter.”
“You’ll pay for our gas?” asked the leader suspiciously.
Sam nodded curtly as he headed for his computer. “I’ll take care of you. You have my word.”
Sam had started his day already looking forward to the night. Dinner with Red and then champagne and watching the sunset from their balcony at the B&B. After that, their first, whole night together. Even if she had assigned them to sexual purgatory, there was no one else he’d rather be with.
But duty before pleasure.
He kept his spirits up around his men. Then, alone on his first run, he added up the miles between wineries. Factoring in the necessary small talk with vintners and the loading and unloading, there was no way he could be showered, dressed, and ready for dinner at seven.
With a sinking feeling, he realized had no choice but to call Red and cancel.
Red took the news like a trooper. “I understand. You do what you have to do. And don’t worry about canceling dinner and the B&B, I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re a gem, you know that, Doc?”
“I know what it’s like to have your own business. We’ll have plenty of chances to go on dates.”
No, they wouldn’t. Not after Red found out about the house. She was bound to never want to see him again.
* * * *
The sun was setting when Sam returned from his final run. His van was heavily laden with cases of wine. Both
he and it were covered in a reddish coat of dust from the Jory soil that lent Willamette pinot noir its characteristic earthy taste.
Hungry, hot, and sweaty, he prayed there were still men around to help him unload the van. His biceps were already screaming. But they had all put in way more hours this day than they’d bargained for.
Relief flooded him when he saw the scrappy crew on the dock waiting for him to arrive.
The men formed a human chain from the van to the loading dock. As Sam hefted yet another case down the line, he was surprised to see Red walk out of the building carrying a large tray. Behind her came Keval with a case of bottled water.
Sam straightened and saw the sandwich rolls. She’d brought chow. By the looks of it, enough chow to feed a small army.
The men’s eyes followed where Sam looked. One by one, strained faces melted.
Red threw back her head and laughed at something Keval said. Sam caught her eye and her laugh softened into a warm smile, making him want to drop his case of wine and go over there and lift her off her feet in a bear hug.
Chapter 18
There was nothing left of the sandwiches but the crumbs, and the last laborer had been paid and his hand shaken.
“Sorry again about tonight,” Sam said to Red. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“No apology needed. These things happen. As long as you don’t let work take precedence over your personal life too often.”
Sam halted. “This isn’t just work. It’s my life. I’m dedicated to bring this community together for a common good.”
“Why are you yelling? It’s not a contest of wills.”
“I’m not yelling!”
Red raised an eyebrow.
“Look, Doc,” he said, continuing on his way. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m on a mission.”
“To do what? What’s so urgent that it drives you day and night? You’ve built your new consortium. You’re positioning yourself as a leader of the wine community. What else do you want?”
What he wanted was nothing less than to discover his true identity.
He’d been a sniper, a student, and then a Special Ops agent. It had taken all of that to bring him to the conclusion that the only way he could be the man he wanted to be was by stamping out his childhood once and for all. Only then would he be ready for a real relationship with the woman he had come to love.
Red took his elbow and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. “Whatever happened to make you see the world as such a contentious place?” she asked guilelessly, peering up at him.
He wasn’t about to get into that now.
His arm snaked around her waist. “What do you want to do?”
She shrugged. “I’m happy to just hang out. If you’re not too tired, that is.”
“Give me a shower and I’m good to go.”
They strolled arm in arm the short distance to his place.
Red stopped inside the threshold. “I almost forgot what this looked like. This is the first I’ve been back here since the new consortium was built.”
Sam had converted the old house’s parlor to a reception area when he started the original consortium. It had worked well enough until the business grew big enough to warrant its own building. With the colorful Red standing in it, it looked drabber than ever.
“The only thing I do here is sleep and shower. I eat practically every meal out. You remember what the kitchen looks like.”
Red smiled ruefully. “Avocado appliances. Linoleum floor.”
At least it was clean. He stooped to pick a piece of lint from the carpet. “What do I need a kitchen for? I don’t cook.”
Red gave him a gentle shove. “Go, shower. I’ll find something to do.”
Amazing what a cake of pine tar soap and some half-decent water pressure could do. Sam took longer than usual to wash off his day.
By the time he strode from the bathroom to his bedroom with a towel cinched around his waist, he was whistling—until he saw The Silver Star dangling from Red’s fingertips.
“I promise I wasn’t snooping. There wasn’t anything to do in the living room.”
She was generous, referring to the reception area that way. There were no magazines, no TV. Just a motley collection of mismatched office furniture. Who wouldn’t be bored?
As for his stuff lying openly on the dresser, he had no one to blame but himself.
He forced his feet forward to confront the inevitable.
“I remember this,” she said, fingering the medal. “It was on your uniform at your homecoming. Tell me what it’s for.”
“The Silver Star.”
“I can see that.”
He swallowed. “Awarded by order of the Secretary of Homeland Security for ‘gallantry while in action against an enemy.’”
“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked cautiously.
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, propped his elbows on his spread knees, and hung his head, thinking of how much he could tell her.
Red sat down beside him and rested her hand on the towel covering his thigh. “Sam, I’m a doctor. Nothing you could say is going to have me clutching my pearls.”
He snorted. If she knew half the things he’d done, she’d do more than that. Pearls would be flying off in all directions of the compass.
“Whatever it was, it’s over now. You don’t have to carry it around anymore.”
Some things were impossible to forget.
In the service of his country, nothing was more important than maintaining his cover. Even if it had left his heart shriveled up and pockmarked like an old potato.
“Trust me, Doc, you don’t want me. You don’t want anything to do with me. I’ve done a lot of bad things, most of which I wouldn’t tell you, even if I could.”
“Can you tell me why you crashed your motorcycle into a window?”
He had mentioned that, hadn’t he?
The room started closing in. He couldn’t breathe. He got up and opened the window.
“Sam,” she pleaded to his back. “Talk to me.”
She wanted him to talk?
He’d talk.
He spun around. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in the same room day after day, month after month with the personification of evil, and pretend to share their values?” he bellowed, spittle flying. “That no matter how revolted I was with myself for playing along, my life—the lives of thousands of my fellow citizens—depended on convincing them that I was one of them?”
Rapidly he strode across the small room, unable to bear her inevitable disgust. He slung a forearm along the dresser top and hid his face in it.
“They wouldn’t stop watching.”
He heard her approaching footsteps, felt her comforting hand on his back.
“Watching what?” she asked softly.
“The carnage. Over and over again. Innocent people, begging for mercy. They never got tired of it. Clapping and cheering.”
There was a long pause.
“And then what?” prodded Red. “How did it end?”
Sam returned to the window and gazed unseeing at the distant mountains. “There was a glitch. They heard a rumor I wasn’t who I said I was.”
Another long pause.
“What made you do it?”
He sniffed derisively. “Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself that very question?”
“And how do you answer it?”
He turned and faced her. “I learned early on that things aren’t right in this world. And that it would take people like me, who’d been wronged, to make it right.”
“My God,” she whispered. “I thought all the talk about spying was just that—talk.”
“I learned to further my cause any way I could. Stringing people along. Blackmail. Bribery. Whatever it took.�
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Red was at his side. “Shhhhh. It’s all right. You’re safe now. I’m here with you.”
“I never caved under interrogation. They never knew for sure. But…” He cleared his throat. Quietly, he said, “Let’s just say they weren’t happy with me.”
He swiped a forearm across his cheek.
She tugged on his other arm. “Come sit next to me.”
“It was two days till the good guys found me in that slum outside Firebase Lilley. Alive—but barely. Guess you could say I was a little gorked out after that.” He chuckled ironically. “Spent a few weeks at Landstuhl.”
“Landstuhl?”
“Germany. Biggest American hospital outside of the states. That’s when the bike took a wrong turn into the Sofitel.”
“I thought you said that was Luxembourg.”
“That’s where everyone goes to unwind, soak up the culture. Europe’s not like the states—especially the western states. Everything’s closer together.”
“You wrecked your bike because of post-traumatic stress.” She shook her head. “Bastards.”
“The Army? Don’t blame them. They were just doing their job. Exploiting their personnel’s highest potential to defend our country. I was a mess long before the Army got ahold of me. All they’re guilty of is making the most of raw material.
“No. I wrecked my bike because of two liters of vin rouge and a half a bottle of vanilla absinthe.” He grinned in self-deprecation, despite the painful memory.
Red squeezed his hand and looked him in the eye. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share. I’m very sorry you had to go through that.” She brushed his hair off his forehead. “Take a deep breath. You’ll feel better.”
Closing his eyes, he did as she said.
To his surprise, the hard ball in his chest where a heart should be softened a little. From out the window he heard the steady rumble of a distant tractor…smelled the green sweetness of new-mown hay.
When he opened his eyes, it was as if a cloud had been lifted. He felt a tightening as his pupils contracted in the slanted rays of the setting sun, gilding Red’s translucent skin.
Kisses Sweeter Than Wine Page 10
