by Toby Neal
Nani stood frozen, the hand in her pocket curled around her bit of sea-worn glass, her eyes wide and mouth dry.
Nani and the Texas National Guard versus the Great Nation America skinhead terrorists.
This could not go well.
Luca
Captain Luca Luciano wrote a quick note on a post-it by the coffeemaker:
Great to meet you, Barb.
Had a lot of fun last night.
Need to run, sorry.
Five, seven, five syllables. A haiku blow-off note.
No reference to the season though. Haikus were always supposed to reference the time of year. He almost started to edit, but stopped himself—it was a damn good-bye note! He had to get his workout in before his shift at the National Guard Armory. He grabbed his sunglasses and kissed his German Shepherd, Peaches, on the nose. “Stay here and keep an eye on her.”
Peaches would make sure she felt safe when she woke up—and that she didn’t steal anything.
Barbara had said she was just getting out of a bad marriage and didn’t want any attachments—but Luca had heard that line before, only to wake up next to a woman who wanted to meet his mother. Women were devious—they said one thing and meant another.
Luca bounded down the steps of his apartment complex, a familiar ache in his injured thigh. The scars were invisible under knee-length shorts, and he could always feel the jagged bits of shrapnel the surgeon hadn’t been able to remove.
Luca hit the trailhead at a fast walk and shifted into a jog under the canopy of live oak trees. The low, wide branches provided thick shade as he increased his pace. The heat of Austin in August had not really hit yet—the sun was still just hovering at the horizon.
Luca crested the hill at a full sprint and slowed. He could see the city of Austin in the distance, its towers and sprawling suburbs covered in a haze of heat. Only a few cases of Scorch Flu had been reported in the area, but as Luca stared down at the city he wondered how long it would be before the fatal virus flourished—it couldn’t be long, not with the way things were going in the rest of the nation—quarantine zones, riots, and chaos followed in the flu’s wake.
It was the National Guard’s job to keep the homeland safe, and it was Luca’s job to train the men and women of the Guard—but how could they protect their nation against this foe? After another sprint he dropped to the ground and did push-ups until his arms burned and his thigh stabbed at him. Luca jumped back up and continued modulating his speed all the way to the base—coming up on the obstacle course as the sun reached the height of the trees.
His body was covered in sweat, his black hair wet under his ball cap. Even his socks were soaked—but he hit the course at a full run, dropping to his stomach to scramble under the low wires. Returning to his feet, Luca’s thigh hurt enough to throw off his gait but he attacked the rope wall, leaping as high as he could. He hauled himself up as the net swung and twisted beneath him.
Luca was pure burning sensation when he reached the top and grabbed the first set of metal rings. Swinging his large body across the open expanse of space, sweat making his grip slippery, Luca reached the wooden platform and allowed himself an extra ten seconds to breathe before gripping the thick rope that led to the ground.
The calluses on his palms protected them as he slid to the soft earth, and his phone rang. Usually Luca would have ignored it, but his brother, Nando, who still lived in their hometown of Philadelphia, was sick.
Luca pulled the phone from his armband. It was his commanding officer.
“Captain Luciano, I need you to come in a half-hour early—meet me in my office.”
Luca checked his watch. He’d have to head home now if he wanted to make it to confession first. “Yes, sir.”
Luca ended the call and checked his messages. Nothing from his mother. His finger hovered over a voicemail his brother, JT, had left two weeks earlier—Luca had not been able to reach him since. While phones in Texas were still functioning, much of the country’s communication infrastructure had been compromised.
JT was only eighteen months younger than Luca. Two years ago, he had resigned from his post at the EPA and bought a farm in Idaho to prepare for the “end of days,” a national disaster JT had been sure was on its way.
Their mother had always said JT had the Sight, like their grandmother before him—una strega, a witch. Luca usually ignored such claims as family lore, but now it looked as if JT might be right after all. Luca had played JT’s voicemail repeatedly over the last few weeks. He had it memorized:
“Luca, if you can or need to get away, come to the Haven, my place in Idaho. It’s remote, fortified, got enough food and energy for you and a friend, too, if you’ve got someone you want to bring. I’m hoping Mama and Lucy will come out West, and whichever of you numbskulls will wise up and join me. So get your ass out here.”
Luca would never abandon his post, but he hoped that the rest of his family would join JT at his Haven. He fit the phone back into his armband and turned around, sprinting back the way he’d come.
Peaches rode shotgun in Luca’s Jeep Wrangler as he headed in to the Armory. Her fur ruffled in the wind, her eyes blinked against the breeze, and her nostrils flared at all the amazing fragrances whizzing by them. As Luca waited at a red light, he called his mother in Philadelphia to check on Nando. She picked up, her voice sounding tired—and he heard crying in the background.
“Mom, what’s going on? Is that Lucy crying?” His little sister, Lucy, attended law school in New Jersey and lived with his mom in the row house they’d all grown up in.
“Oh honey,” his mother’s voice broke. “Nando is gone.”
The words cracked the numbness that cloaked Luca, fissures of pain radiating over his body at the news of his brother’s death. Nando was the heart of the family—the only one of them that could make their father’s tomato gravy, the only one who never fought with his siblings, always finding a way to bring the family together.
His mother started weeping; soft, sad sounds coming through the connection. Anger welled in Luca’s chest, burning his eyes as a car honk from behind got his foot to press the gas. His vision clouded with tears as he pulled into the parking lot of his work. “Mama, I’m sorry.” His voice cracked—tears breaching control and flowing down his face.
“Luca….” The line went dead.
Luca dropped his phone and it landed on his lap. He hung his head, pain radiating out of his chest—taking control of him. He tried to breathe, tried to control the flood of grief that had been waiting ever since he heard Nando was sick.
The screen of his phone displayed a photograph of Mama that he’d taken last Christmas. She was in the kitchen, her focus on a pot of marinara sauce bubbling on the stove, her black hair streaked with silver rolled into a tight bun at the back of her head, a smile on her face. She looked content, pleased with her gravy—Luca could almost smell it: ripe tomatoes, sautéed onions and pancetta, warm and rich—home.
A thrill of terror ran up Luca’s spine—would he ever see her again? Since joining the armed forces, he’d been home infrequently and had never gone alone, always bringing along a woman—one of the many who wanted to meet his mother. All these years he’d kept his mother at a distance—he didn’t fully trust her for reasons he fought to hide even from himself. Luca had a place, a lock box in his mind, where he stuffed all the memories he didn’t want to think about.
Luca wrestled with Nando’s death, trying to force it into that box, but Nando’s laugh haunted him—I’m not gonna fit in there, bro.
Luca’s watch beeped, reminding him of his meeting with his commanding officer. He swiped at his face, dashing away errant tears. The weight of his duty, the heft of his responsibilities to the nation were motivation to get moving.
Luca’s commanding officer, Colonel Heathcliff, sat behind a desk piled high with paperwork, small wire-framed spectacles perched on his hawkish nose. He waved Luca into one of the chairs facing his desk. “Sit down.” He eyed Peaches. “H
ello darling.” Peaches went around the desk to capture the treat Heathcliff held out to her.
Luca took a seat as Heathcliff steepled his fingertips. “You okay? You look like hell.”
“Allergies, sir.” Luca didn’t want to talk about Nando’s death.
The commander sat forward. “I know you were Special Forces, and the reason you ended up here was your injury.” Luca rubbed at his thigh and nodded, keeping his face a placid mask. “You’re not the first SF man to end up under my command, but you’re one of the finest.” Heathcliff leaned back and rubbed at his neck. “A specialist appointed by the President to investigate the Scorch Flu is coming here, and she needs your help.”
“She?” Luca had never had a female commanding officer—and he didn’t want one. Women couldn’t be trusted.
“That’s right, Captain, your new commanding officer is a she and a civilian.” Heathcliff held up his hands. “I don’t know anything about it. Don’t want to.” He looked past Luca, through the open office door behind him. “Ah, here she is now.”
A civilian woman?
Luca crushed the armrests of the chair in his hands, anger and pride raising up to push his grief aside and shatter the delicate shell of detachment he’d just managed to rebuild around himself.
This could not go well.
Haunani
Nani followed a corporal down the hall of the Austin armory. The place smelled like a footlocker with a dash of floor wax, and her sensitive nose twitched. Beauregard’s voice haranguing the commander of the base had almost reassured Nani that she’d have a reasonable possibility of getting the kind of team she needed here in Austin—but not quite.
Luca Luciano, a former Special Forces Captain, was on site, and her best hope for this mission to work—he had experience with homegrown terrorists and everything in his file screamed competent, strong, deadly, and trustworthy. The only reason he was stuck with the National Guard was an injury he’d sustained in combat. He’d received a Purple Heart and moved to Texas to train the National Guard. Hopefully, he still had skills.
Nani straightened her spine. Posture was important, particularly when dealing with military personnel. If her figure had been more like Agent McMillan’s, Nani might have found it easier to project the necessary authority—the tall blonde agent had a lean, mean, honed, and toned look that Nani envied. But Nani’s punishing workouts only made her big, round glutes firmer, not smaller. Enough with the useless flagellation about her never-ending butt. She had more serious worries.
The corporal ushered her into a small, cluttered office with a wheezing air conditioner on one wall. The commander, a colonel by his insignia, stood up and took off a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, tossing them onto the high-piled desk.
“Dr. Kagawa. Welcome to Austin. General Beauregard told me to get you whatever you need. I’m Colonel Heathcliff. We are at your disposal.”
The man seated in front of the desk rose much more slowly, a sort of lazy uncoiling, and turned to face her.
His body was a stack of vees—tree-trunk legs inverting into a massive chest, crossed arms, the intimidating sight topped by a face cut from stone framed by a black buzz cut. Honey-brown eyes, glittering with sparks of gold, stared at her from under a slash of dark brows.
Oh, she knew this man’s type all too well. He was not at her disposal.
“Captain Luciano.” He gave her his name like he was eking out a dime tip to a bad waitress.
Damn, she didn’t have time for this crap.
Nani felt Luciano’s stare burning a hole through her but she directed her attention to the Colonel. “Thank you, Colonel. Time is of the essence, as I’m sure General Beauregard made clear.”
“He did. Captain Luciano is all yours.”
She slowly shifted in his direction and let her gaze drift over to meet Luciano’s. The captain lifted a black brow but didn’t speak.
Cocky bastard.
This man needed to be put on his back, and quickly. “Captain Lupo, is it?”
“Luciano. Though Lupo is Italian for wolf.” The quick baring of the man’s teeth couldn’t pass for a smile.
Nani cocked her head and smiled right back. Charm was in order, for the moment. “How about you lead me to your SCIF.”
“Right this way, ma’am.”
“You can call me Dr. Kagawa—or Doctor, if you need to address me otherwise.”
“Sure, Doc.” He made it sound like an insult. “This is Peaches.” He snapped his fingers, and a German Shepherd appeared from behind Heathcliff’s desk, plastering itself to Luciano’s thigh. Nani nodded at the dog in greeting because it had a presence that felt very human.
The two moved toward Nani. She had to step aside to let the big man and his dog pass through the door before her.
God, he was huge.
Luciano took up so much room in the hall that he almost forced Nani to walk behind him—but hell if she was going to trot at his heels like the dog to his left. She lengthened her stride to keep up and parallel, stretching to her full five nine. He wasn’t more than four inches taller—it was the width that was the problem.
They were passing the open door of a large, well-equipped gym, and Luciano stopped in front of it. Nani was jonesing for a workout—she hadn’t been able to do more than some stretches and jumping jacks on Air Force One. This was the perfect opportunity to make sure Cocky Lupo knew who was boss. “You have a sparring ring!”
“Yup.” They stepped into the huge room. “I’m the troop trainer—I work with a regular drill sergeant to whip these nuggets into shape—and this is the best room in the house.”
The room was huge and dusty, the only lighting above the ring, highlighting the stained mat. Time to get Luciano to begin lowering his guard. “I’ve been cooped up on Air Force One. I’d appreciate a workout.” Nani smiled. “My favorite is tae kwon do, but we could box, jiu jitsu, karate—pick your poison.”
Both black brows lifted, this time in surprise. “You want to spar? I thought time was of the essence.”
“I think better when I’ve worked out. Besides, I’d like to know what kind of skills you’ve got. I’m sure they’re considerable.” Nani could flatter when it suited her.
“I don’t want to hurt you. That would be insubordinate. Doctor.” His brows were still up, but his amber-brown eyes had brightened at the challenge.
Nani smiled wider. “Shows what you know, Captain. No one will get hurt today, I promise. Now, where can I get some workout clothes?”
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