Her Airman

by Allyson Lindt

  “Not really.”

  “Stick around for a while. We’ll game or something.”

  “I’m in.” He shut off the truck and followed her inside.

  Riley kicked the door shut and leaned back against it, not sure what to say. Telling herself not to think about the disappointment of the night proved to be the best way to think about that and only that.

  Zane studied her face for a moment, a shadow tinting his eyes. He grabbed her fingers and tugged her toward the couch. “Scott calls you baby sister?”

  She flopped next to him on the cushions. A brief flash of uncertainty pulsed through her, and she decided at the last minute to keep a few inches between them. “I’m younger than he is, and we’ll be related by marriage soon. He thinks it’s a funny nickname, because I’m the older twin.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Just make sure he understands I’m the one who gets to knock skulls and bust kneecaps if someone hurts you.”

  The protective words warmed something deep inside her, and at the same time made her gut clench. “I’m not exactly living a life of danger.”

  Silence stretched between them, the way it did far too often recently. He fidgeted, rubbed his hand over his head, and sighed several times. He might be talking about Scott, but that wasn’t where his mind was.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  He shifted on the couch, turning to face her and tucking one foot under the other knee. “The day I packed up and left for MEPS.”

  She searched for some hint in his expression, but an impassive gaze stared back at her. She remembered when he shipped off for boot camp. How hard it had been to say goodbye at the airport. How something had been off. She’d assumed it was that his entire life was about to change.

  “I couldn’t sit still that morning. Watching the clock, waiting... And then it was almost time to go. I looked everywhere for Granddad and finally found him on the back porch.”

  Zane’s mother passed away when he was eight. That had been the most horrible summer Riley remembered from their childhood. He withdrew completely, and it took months to get him to talk again. His grandfather had raised him after that.

  She always thought the older man was odd, even overly strict. Like when Zane was nine and had complained he was too big for his bed. The next night his bed had vanished, and he spent almost a month sleeping on the floor.

  When his granddad replaced the missing bed—with something very high-end, at least for a nine-year old—he said something like, The difference between knowing a thing and understanding a thing is complacency.

  Regardless of his quirks though, the man was always kind to Riley, and Zane saw him as a father, so she gave him some leeway.

  “And?” she asked.

  “He didn’t say anything for several minutes.” Zane rested his arm on the back of the couch, staring at something past her she knew she wouldn’t see if she turned around. “I’ve never forgotten what he said when he spoke.”

  She couldn’t help but frown at his distant look, and didn’t dare interrupt the half-memory.

  “He told me my mother had always had an uncanny talent for bringing joy and comfort to those who needed it.” He clenched and unclenched his fist. “That he’d known from the time I was five that I wouldn’t be the same.”

  “That’s not fair.” A wave of fury rose in her.

  He held up his hand. “He was right.”

  “No.”

  Zane gave a tiny smile. “He told me people like us—him and me—that it was our personal responsibility to see that people like Ma”—he trailed off and then finally gave her his full attention again—“and you always had that opportunity. That men like me were born evil, and that was our redemption.”

  “What does that mean?” Riley couldn’t fathom a person saying something so cruel, especially to someone they’d raised as a son. “You’re not evil. You’re as far from it as possible.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve thought about that a lot since.” His face was devoid of emotion. Which was a little eerie, considering the haunted look he’d worn so much lately. “You know how I spent my life before I enlisted. Just because I wasn’t shoplifting or mugging people doesn’t mean I wasn’t a thief. I stole electronic versions of games. I hacked security systems, because I could, and took what most would call insider information, to see how it would play out on the stock market.”

  “But...” She struggled for an argument, but it was true. Those things had been wrong. She still didn’t get evil from them, though.

  “Enlisting gave me permission to do it legally.”

  “Except you walked away,” she said. “You hit that point where you knew it was wrong, and you left.”

  “Walked away. Right. Granddad said the job offer was coming too. That people with my gray-area ethics were sought after. That someone would buy me, and they’d meet my price.”

  Riley didn’t know what to do with the information. She did know there was too much pain and self-doubt associated with it, and she couldn’t even begin to touch it. “Except they couldn’t buy you. If he were right, you’d have taken the CIA job.”

  “Right. Exactly. I turned them down.” His words sounded hollow. Lacked conviction.

  Zane couldn’t have done anything too bad. He was lost in a guilt she didn’t understand but wanted to help erase.

  She leaned her head on his arm. “If that’s all that happened, it’s not a big deal.” Is it all that happened? The question stuck in the back of her throat. It was rude to ask, but a tiny voice said maybe she was terrified he’d give her an answer other than yes.

  He didn’t look convinced, and the haunted look of the memory lingered in his gaze. “But what if I’d done something else?”

  “You don’t have to keep that stuff to yourself. I’m always here to listen. I know you look up to your granddad, but he’s wrong about this. You’re not evil.”

  Whatever doubts nagged in the back of her mind, they didn’t deserve her attention. Zane needed her. He’d do the same for her, not that she could imagine being that lost in her past or keeping it to herself if she was.

  She stood, ignoring the question on his face, and pulled his foot out so it was straight on the couch. She turned her back to him and sat between his legs. Pulling his arm around her, she settled her back against his chest. Maybe he didn’t need the comfort, but after a revelation like that, she didn’t know how someone couldn’t. She was relieved when he didn’t pull away.

  “Enough about my demons.” His voice was low when he spoke again. “Tell me what you got up to while I was gone.”

  She felt selfish. He carried an invisible weight on his shoulders, and she was going on about things like art and whether or not she knew what love was. If he wanted to change the subject, though, she wouldn’t push back. “That’s an open-ended question.”

  “So pick something to start with, and we’ll go from there. Like what made you decide to get more serious about the manga or work or anything. Except maybe Archer. I think I know enough about that.”

  She pulled his arms tighter around her. Maybe if she wrapped them both in normalcy, it would help. “Well, it did start in his comic shop...”

  He stiffened.

  “I promise, that’s where the Archer part of things ends.” She drifted into the explanation. In the back of her mind, Zane’s story about his past still taunted her. Not only what he said, but the things he kept to himself. And as much as she tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the nagging voice in her skull knew it gnawed at him, and wondered if he’d be able to handle whatever he hid before it devoured who he was.

  Chapter Ten

  Riley blew a loose strand of hair off her forehead and let the tension of the workday melt away. She loved handling accounts, helping customize benefits packages, and working with clients, but it still took a lot out of her.

  She wove her way through the pack of coworkers leaving for the day, pausing for the occasional car before continuing toward her own.
It was a gorgeous evening—sun, a few clouds, and the perfect temperature. Too bad she’d been stuck inside for most of it.

  Her exhaustion melted away as she rounded the corner in the aboveground parking garage and her car came into view. She couldn’t hide her smile at the unexpected sight of Zane leaning against the hood, legs crossed at the ankles and hands shoved in his pockets. The casual posture elongated his thin frame but drew the eye to the definition under his shirt.

  Too bad they were somewhere public. Memories of their bet the other night mingled with fantasy and teased her with possibilities. He met her halfway and wrapped an arm around her waist to steer her in a different direction. This was much better than the Zane who was lost in a world she couldn’t reach.

  She leaned into the warmth, unable to hold back her amusement. “Do we have plans?”

  “We most certainly do.” He stopped next to his truck and held the passenger door open for her.

  A brief image raced through her thoughts of him pressing her against the door, pulling her hair, and kissing her hard. It sent a tingle to her belly. She tried to push the feeling aside but didn’t manage completely. She slid into the seat.

  “Do I get to go home and change first?” she asked as soon as he was seated.

  “Nope. I can’t give you a chance to decide not to go.”

  “I can’t decide not to go if I don’t know what we’re doing.”

  He nodded to something behind the seats, and then backed the truck out and navigated with the rest of the after-work traffic. “Drawing.”

  She arched her brows when she saw what he was talking about. “Why do you have my sketchpad?”

  “You mentioned the other day that you were stuck. That you were trying to draw poses you couldn’t see clearly in your head. I’m going to help you picture them. Where to?”

  She was doing just fine right now, visualizing him in a number of poses. Towering over her. Sliding up behind her. Pinning her arms back... That wasn’t what he was talking about. “Copperton.” She wanted to be irritated he’d sprung this on her, but at the same time, it warmed her that he remembered, and she’d already put off getting more reference photos for too long. “I don’t need my sketchbook for that.”

  He glanced at her longer that time, something unreadable in his expression. “Really?”

  “You know I always draw from photos.” Fortunately she could take those with her phone. “You can still model for me.”

  “See?” He turned down a highway, taking them away from the rush hour traffic and heading toward the destination she’d given him. “So it’s not a bad idea.”

  “Not even close.”

  He tapped out a tuneless rhythm against the gearshift. “Once you have these, how long until you finish your portfolio to a point where you’re comfortable sharing?”

  Her gut clenched at the question, chasing away some of her fantasies of the kinds of poses she wished she could put him in. It wasn’t the asking that bothered her; it was the actual doing. Submitting meant showing new people her work. What if she got her stuff out there and realized she was average at best? “I don’t know.”

  “You have some idea.”

  She trailed her thumb over her fingernails one at a time, and then repeated the gesture. “I have an entire graphic novel finished, except for some clean up. The reference shots are for Book Two.”

  He nodded toward her sketches behind the bench seats. “It’s all in there?”

  She tried to force away the nervousness the idea filled her with. “It is.”

  “Do it.” There was a stern edge to his teasing.

  She flushed, not sure which to focus on—the pleased feeling of the encouragement, or the terror of showing a stranger her artwork. “Soon.”

  The conversation shifted and tripped from topic to topic as they navigated the back roads. When they reached Copperton, she gave him a series of twists and turns through the small town. She’d always loved it up here. There were trees everywhere, and the surrounding mountains drowned out the heavy noise of a growing city. Most of the roads were two-lane, and she didn’t know if there was a stoplight in the entire place.

  Several years ago, she found a spot away from it all. A clearing with packed dirt, surrounded by trees, and devoid of anything but nature. She was surprised but pleased it had remained untouched after all that time. She directed him to park as close as he could without leaving the packed dirt path that led past it.

  He stood at the back of his truck, hands shoved in his pockets. “Where do you want me, boss?”

  Wherever you want to have me. She pushed the thought aside with a flush and pulled down the tailgate. “Sit.”

  He flopped into the back of the truck, kicking his legs back and forth, resting his elbows on his upper thighs. “You have to be more specific.”

  In the past, she’d always just asked him to send her photos. Then again, he hadn’t been right there to pose as she needed, and she did have a couple of specific angles she really wanted to get. “Pull your knee up.”

  He pulled his knees to his chest, and rocked back and forth.

  “Not like that.”

  “Show me.”

  She closed the distance between them and tugged one leg down, then pushed the other back up so his foot sat on the truck bed. He hissed when she ran her hand along his thigh. She was tempted to move higher rather than lower, but that wouldn’t accomplish what they were there for. Next, she trailed her fingers along his arm and draped it over the knee.

  She forced herself to step back, rather than feel him up. She pulled her phone out and snapped photos from as many different angles as she could. Moving around him, studying the way the sun caught his form and cast shadow and light in all the right places, was enough to draw her into the moment.

  That was the easy shot, though. The reason she liked the isolated clearing was the ground was almost always covered with leaves or pine needles, and though there were houses and streets just a few blocks away, they weren’t visible through the trees.

  If she could capture the silence of the area on camera, she’d do that as well. There was the occasional roar of a distant engine, but for the most part, only the squawk of birds pierced the air.

  “Over here next.” She spoke softly, not wanting to disrupt the ambiance. When Zane was within reach, she tugged him to stand next to her. His warm palm against hers was a pleasant contrast to the creeping chill as the sun drifted behind the mountains.

  “Crouch down.” She nodded at a pile of pine needles nearby.

  “Like this?” He crossed the short distance to the new spot and sat on his heels, arms on his knees.

  “Not quite, but good start.” She had an image in her head, and she knew he was capable of pulling it off. But it wouldn’t be easy to describe. She knelt in front of him. “Don’t fall.”

  “Why would I—whoa.”

  She trailed a hand down his left leg, pushing until it was almost straight behind him. His muscle was taut under her grip, and when she pulled away, she did so with reluctance.

  She shifted to crouch behind him and nestled her chin on his shoulder. His familiar scent taunted her as she glided her hand along his arm. Her chest molded against his back as she finished posing him.

  “I can think of someplace else for that other hand, if you want.” His voice was low and deep.

  Her laugh faded into a sigh when he grabbed her free wrist and tugged it over his shoulder.

  He kissed along the inside of her wrist, his mouth soft and undemanding. His breath tickled her senses. “If I’d known you were going to twist me into so many angles, I might have negotiated to do the same in return before I agreed to this.”

  “This was your idea.” It took all her willpower to extract herself and stand. It wasn’t the kind of pose she wanted him to have to hold for long. “But you should have negotiated. I would have agreed.”

  “Oh.” His disappointed groan mingled with a wounded laugh. “Now you tell me.”

  She wi
nked before she took more pictures. “Something to keep in mind next time.” This was too easy with him, and she didn’t mind a bit.

  The evening light vanished, and they had to pull a lantern from the back of his truck to keep working. That was fine with Riley. She used the new lighting to grab shadow effects that would make for fantastic references.

  A breeze swept over her, and she shivered. She glanced at her phone. “Holy shit. It’s after nine.”

  Zane climbed to his feet and stretched his arms above his head, elongating every muscle in his torso. “I think I owe you dinner.”

  She strolled toward the truck, saying over her shoulder, “You did me the favor. Doesn’t that make it my treat?”

  “Not sure I follow your logic.”

  “All right. Whatever.”

  He grabbed her wrists and pulled her toward him. “You’re sure you got everything you need?” His breath brushed the outside of her ear.

  “Everything art-related,” she said. His warmth flooded her, his scent summoning the images that had taunted her off and on since he’d picked her up.

  He pressed his entire frame against hers, nudging her back a step but not letting go. “Promise me you’ll do something with it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Soon. Like actual soon. Not like a generic thing you keep putting off one more day.”

  “I promise.” She probably would have promised him anything just then, with the power in his grip and his genuine interest in her work. The heat between them called to a growing need between her legs.

  “Good girl.” He smirked and spun, twirling them both so her back was to the side of the truck.

  She squealed in surprise. Her laughter caught in her throat when she realized how serious his expression was.

  He dipped his head and ran his lips up her neck, barely brushing the skin. “Since you think you owe me something, can I call in a favor besides dinner, for being a good sport?”

  She sighed and tilted her head back, sinking into the feather-light kisses. “It was your idea.”