by Jen Blood
“I just wanted a chance to talk to you while he’s not around,” Diggs said. My hackles rose, but he forged ahead anyway. “I just… I have some questions I think we need to ask ourselves here.”
“Such as?”
He studied me for a second—me seated on the ground, idly picking dandelions while Diggs sat at the table with that perpetual shadow of worry on his face.
“Why is he doing this, Sol? Your father has spent the past thirty years doing everything in his power to keep you safe. Why is he suddenly giving up all his secrets? And why would he possibly deliver you to these people, when he’s worked so hard to keep you out of their clutches all this time? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s not his idea, it’s mine—we’re trying to save Kat. It’s not like I’m giving him a choice here.” There was a chill to my tone that I knew Diggs didn’t miss. “It doesn’t matter, though... He wouldn’t put her life in danger. You see the way he talks about her: I don’t care what happened, he’s still in love with my mother. And she’s obviously still in love with him. So, maybe he sees this as the only chance for them to be done with this. For all of us to be done with it.”
“So, in this fantasy you’ve created…” Diggs continued. His tone grated; I pulled another chunk of grass from the earth and slowly showered it back down. I wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Your mom and dad are still in love. Forget the fact that Kat has been living happily with a woman for the past two years—we’ll just put a pin in that for now. So what, exactly, do you think is about to happen here, Sol? We’ll get to Arkansas, your father will deliver us to the J. project heads, they’ll shake our hands and say, ‘We’ve heard so much about you—here’s a little confidentiality agreement, if you don’t mind. Just sign this, take your mom, and you can be on your way?’”
“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” I said. “But I will. We still have the information from the memory card—that’s a powerful bargaining chip. We’ll handle it.”
“But how?” Diggs demanded. “We’re not allowed to call in the people we trust—and apparently, Cameron and your father don’t trust anyone. The government, according to your dad, is worse than J-932. And the bad guys already have Cameron, so it’s not like we can expect backup there.”
“I told you,” I snapped. “He’ll figure out a plan. I’m not letting Kat die: Dad knows that. This is his only option. He’ll figure it out.”
“Right,” Diggs said shortly. “I forgot: your father’s a friggin’ superhero. So what if he’s stood by while thousands of innocent people have died over the years, ostensibly just to protect his little girl—”
I got up. “You don’t have kids—you wouldn’t understand that kind of devotion—”
“I’ve been in love with the same woman for fifteen years,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do—eat your shitty cooking, suffer through political debates with your mother… I’d kill or die for you, so don’t tell me I don’t understand devotion. Listen to yourself, damn it. Or, if you’re too blinded to see it, then listen to me: This doesn’t add up.”
“Erin!” my father called. I looked up. Diggs glanced in the direction of his voice irritably.
“Just think about it, all right?” Diggs said.
I turned my back on him without acknowledgment. “We’re here,” I called back. Dad appeared from around the bend, his flannel shirt slung over his shoulder.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. “But we should get back on the road. There’s a place not much farther along where we can stay tonight—I think we can all use a full night’s sleep and a decent meal before the meeting tomorrow.”
“That would be good,” I agreed. I strode on ahead with Einstein. Dad put his arm around my shoulder. He looked back at Diggs.
“You coming, Diggs?”
There was a very long, very loaded second there when I thought he might say no. Instead, Diggs looked at me pointedly and nodded.
“Yeah—I’ll be right there.”
That tension followed us back to the car. Diggs took the front this time, at my father’s insistence: There’s no reason you should be relegated to the back with that dog this whole drive… that’s just cruel and unusual punishment. With a multitude of reservations, I settled in the back with Einstein. It didn’t take long before Diggs started in.
“Since I’m up here, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind answering a couple of my questions, Mr. Solomon,” Diggs said.
Here we go.
“Adam, please,” my father said. “Call me Adam. And no—I don’t mind at all. Just as with Erin, I’ll tell you what I can.”
Diggs shifted in his seat. I couldn’t see his face, but I was sure that if I had, I would recognize the look there: His classic interview face. Take no prisoners; accept no pat answers; believe nothing.
“These kids that Mandrake experimented on all those years, starting with Jim Jones and whoever else was selected back then… Did they know what was happening?”
“Some did. Some didn’t,” my father said. “Jim was never aware of it. Cameron didn’t know, at first. I always did. There were parts I even liked. Mandrake could be very flattering... He made it seem like I’d been chosen above all these other kids.”
“And the ones who didn’t know?” Diggs persisted. “They just… what? Had the whole experience wiped from their memories? Never knew someone had been roaming around their psyches, crossing the wires there?”
Dad glanced into the rearview mirror at me. It looked like he was getting an idea of what he was in for. “You weren’t one of the subjects, Diggs, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m sure with everything that happened in Kentucky—”
“I wasn’t asking about me,” Diggs said pointedly. He looked back over his shoulder at me.
A shiver of dread crawled into my lower intestine and stayed there, holding court. Dad shook his head, adamant once he understood the question.
“I already told you: Erin was never part of the experiment. No one ever went near her—I always made sure her mind was her own.”
That wasn’t completely true, though. A jumbled flash of memories ran through my mind, sparking like fireworks: Something to remember; something to forget… For thine is the kingdom and the glory… He’ll put us in the woods again.
Allie Tate, lying on the ground with Isaac towering over her.
Diggs was still looking at me. He could tell what I was thinking, I knew. The bastard can always tell what I’m thinking.
“What are the things you’ve been remembering, Sol?” Diggs asked pointedly. “All those little mishmash glimpses that make no sense?”
“I told you, Erin,” Dad said. “That was necessary—I had to do that to keep you safe.”
“I know that,” I said. My voice sounded wooden, though.
Instead of asking more questions, I went quiet. The road unfolded. Somewhere out there, Kat was being held hostage. Maybe she was hurt; hell, she could be dead by now. But my father was here—he knew how to fix things. It was an idiotic, childish thing to believe, but he’d been the one I could rely on for the first ten years of my life. In those first ten years, I was safe. I was loved. I knew where I belonged.
I waited for Diggs to follow up with something more, but instead I felt a weighty, disappointed silence. He was waiting for me to wake up and be reasonable—I knew that.
I just wasn’t sure I had it in me.
Chapter Sixteen - Diggs
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the murmur of voices in the next room. Adam had rented a cabin in the woods of western Tennessee—three bedrooms, of course. Isolated and eerie. He was tucking Solomon in next door, the two of them talking in hushed tones, punctuated occasionally by the sound of Erin’s laughter.
She was a different woman, with him. And I was glad of that—really. I was thrilled to my fucking toes to see her open up like that, lighten up, suddenly transform into a woman with faith in someo
ne other than herself. But there was still something that bugged me about the whole scene; some vicious little knife of doubt that kept pricking at the back of my brain. I closed my eyes and tried to dismiss it. Maybe I was just so used to demons around every corner, I’d started seeing them where there were none.
Maybe he really was an innocent victim of circumstance, just trying to do right by his daughter.
I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that was the whole truth.
I was just drifting off when there was a soft knock on my bedroom door.
“Yeah?” I whispered.
Solomon opened the door a crack and peered in. We’d gone to the local Walmart and restocked our wardrobes after leaving everything behind in Harrisburg. Now, Erin wore sleep shorts and an oversized Iron Maiden T-shirt. Adam had protested the Iron Maiden thing, but I was pleased to see that Solomon hadn’t gone completely spineless. So… sleep shorts and heavy metal. That’s my girl.
“Are you asleep?” she whispered back.
“No. Come on in.”
She slipped through the door, looking back over her shoulder, and carefully shut it behind her.
“Your father’s asleep?”
She nodded and came to sit at the edge of the bed. I sat up. The bed was a twin, the room wood paneled. A bookshelf with the discarded paperbacks of previous renters lined the wall—Faust and Nancy Drew and Danielle Steele living in dangerously close quarters. I’d found a waterlogged copy of Edward Abbey’s Monkey Wrench Gang, which now occupied the nightstand. Solomon picked it up and leafed through before I took it from her and set it back down.
“Hey,” I said. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
She twisted her body so she could look at me, tucking one leg beneath her. “You were quiet tonight. And then you took off… I was a little worried.”
“I just wanted to give you and Adam some time. I took a walk, checked out some trails around the cabin.”
“You moved the truck.”
I hesitated. This could get tricky fast. Solomon searched my face, twisting her fingers in one of the countless gestures she has when she’s nervous. She’d been favoring her bad wrist ever since Raven’s Ledge, though I knew she would never say anything if it was bothering her. I studied her face, trying to read her mood.
“I did, yeah,” I finally said.
“And the memory card? It’s not in my bag.”
“I’d like to hang onto it. I’m still a little worried about your father,” I admitted. The anger I expected never came. Instead, she nodded.
“I know.”
“It’s just… I think we need to be as smart as possible right now. If for some reason something happened tonight, I want to know that we’ve protected ourselves—that we have a way out of here, no matter what. Did he see?”
“No. It was dark… I told him you’d gone out for a breather, but you’d be back soon. By the time you got here, he and I were talking. I don’t think he paid any attention.”
“Good,” I said. Her eyes were still shadowed, though. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s a great guy… I just don’t want to take any chances.”
“I know. It’s not that. I just…” She rolled her eyes at herself. Shrugged. “Forget it, it’s nothing. I’m glad you came back, that’s all.”
That’s when it clicked. I took a deep breath, let it out on a slow sigh, and lifted the blanket. “Come on—get in. It’s cold out there.”
“My father’s in the next room.”
I grinned. “I know.”
“He could hear us.”
“We’re just talking, ace. We’ll be quiet.” Said the scorpion to the frog. Solomon didn’t look fooled in the least, but she got in anyway. I pulled her close, my blood already flowing south at the warmth of her curves under my hand. She squirmed back to look at me, a knowing gleam in her eye.
“Just talking, huh?” she whispered.
“Just talking,” I agreed. I slid my hand under her t-shirt and felt the warmth of her skin, the hard bones of her spine, her soft gasp when my knuckles grazed the underside of her breast. She hooked her leg over my thigh and moved in closer. Her lips found my jaw line and my ear, her body pressed to mine.
“Your father’s in the next room,” I reminded her.
“We’ll be quiet,” she parroted back.
I think she was waiting for me to argue the point. Instead, I flipped us so that she was on top and pushed the t-shirt over her head. And then, I stopped.
I love women—always have. I love their curves and their complexity, the softness of their skin, the way they taste and the way they smell, their lilt and their cadence and the delicate brush of eyelashes against their cheekbones when they sleep.
Solomon, though…
Solomon is the reason men fall in love with the species. She’s also the reason they go mad, but I was setting that aside for the moment.
She sat astride me with that impish grin on her lips and the light in her eyes, and I remembered, suddenly, the highs and the lows and the reason I had hung in with her this long. I ran the knuckles of my left hand from her navel up to the swell of her breast, watching as her eyes sank shut. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. I stroked my other hand up her thigh until I could feel her heat.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
Her response was to push my boxers down past my hips—not an easy task when she was on top of me, but Solomon’s nothing if not determined.
I ran my hand over the soft curve of her ass. “We have to be quiet,” I whispered. She nipped my ear.
“You said that already.”
When she sat up again, her eyes were darker. She rose slightly off my body and shifted until I was pressed to her entrance, my hands on her hips. I watched her throat move when she swallowed, her lip still caught between her teeth. When she lowered herself onto me, her small hands on my stomach to steady herself, her breath caught. We stayed that way for a second, not moving. She was hot, wet, tight as a fist around me. I fought for control.
“Okay?” I whispered finally.
She nodded. I pulled her hips down and rose to meet her at the same time, filling her. Her eyes sank shut again. The softness of her hitched breath set me alight. We settled into a rhythm that built quickly as the night closed in, the world shrinking to nothing but the slide of her skin against mine, her whispered breath in my ear.
When she was close, beneath me now with her legs wrapped around my hips, her body arching to meet me, I slowed again. I brushed the hair back from her face, balancing myself above her. Her eyes were closed, her fingers gripping my shoulders.
“Look at me.”
She opened her eyes, deepest green in the dim light of the room. I thought of her words when she’d first come into the room—that fear she refused to admit. I’m glad you came back.
“I’m not going anywhere, Erin,” I said, willing her to believe it.
“I know.” Her voice was breathless and whiskey-coated, but the way she looked at me made me think she might, finally, have gotten the picture. I rocked into her warmth, loving the way her face changed. “Jesus, Diggs,” she whispered. “Please… You’re not going anywhere. I get it. Just, for the love of God…”
I grinned when she wrapped her legs tighter around my hips, arching up to take me deeper. “You sure? Because we can stop, if you want.”
“I will hurt you, Diggins.”
I waited until I had her full attention—and potential wrath, one of my biggest turn-ons—before I began to move again.
Afterward, when the glow had faded and we’d both snuck off to the bathroom and gotten water and done all those other unromantic things you never see in movies, we lounged on the bed together munching on grapes and potato chips. Solomon lay with her head in my lap, her eyelids getting steadily heavier. It was just past eleven o’clock. It felt like three a.m.
“I think you’re right, you know,” she said. She peeled the skin off a grape and popped it into her mouth—a uniquely Solomon-esque move.<
br />
“I knew you’d come ‘round to my way of thinking eventually,” I said, pausing for effect. “What is it I’m right about this time?”
She pulled one of my leg hairs—another uniquely Solomon-esque move.
“Ow—Jesus. Sorry… What am I right about, dearest?”
It took another two grape peelings before she’d answer. When she did, the fun was gone from her eyes.
“My father. He’s hiding something—or planning something, maybe.” She sat up and faced me, cross-legged, our knees touching on the bed. “He keeps asking about the memory card.”
With effort, I kept my voice steady. “What’s he asking?”
“Everything: Who the guy was you got it from. How we decrypted it. Who we think created it in the first place... If we’ve broken the code yet. He wants to see it.”
“But you haven’t shown him?” I asked.
“No—not yet. Do you think I should?” She shook her head. “I feel bad, not trusting him. But, honestly?” Her eyes slid from mine. “I’m not sure how safe we are with him right now. Not that he’d intentionally hurt me, but…”
“The ends justify the means,” I said. The dictate by which J-932 ran their lives; the creed they had drilled into their operatives. “If he thought he was protecting you…”
“He could justify almost anything,” she finished.
I set the plate aside and pulled her into my arms. “We could be wrong. It’s not like we don’t have reason to be paranoid, but maybe we’re off this time. You’re right about one thing: I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you.” At least, I hoped to hell she was right. I lifted her chin with my thumb and kissed her lightly. “Why don’t we just hang on to that for tonight?”
“Good plan,” she agreed. She kissed my neck, scraping her teeth along the sensitive skin just below my ear. “And now… we should probably get some sleep, right?”
The fact that her pert little ass was parked on my lap made that unlikely—which, I suspected, was the point. Instead of dignifying that with a response, I flipped her off my lap and onto her back. She shrieked before I clapped my hand over her mouth and covered her body with my own.
