“The money is there, Rule. The IL-Bah are not thieves.”
“We need to check.”
“I will stop the vehicle at the nearest town. Not before.” She did not glance his way. She knew the correct course of action and would not be swayed.
“We left them behind,” Davis argued gently. He tapped on the deserted road reflected in the rear view mirror.
“Only if we keep moving.” Silk insisted.
“This is turning into a road trip—I’m not sure how much longer I can allow—”
“Perhaps you should try withdrawing your permission.” Silk interrupted. “I do not think the result would please you.”
“Is that a threat?” Davis Rule turned toward her. Night was upon them now and his face was a blur of mysterious shadows.
A delicious thrill followed Rule’s deep-voiced, deadly soft query into her ear and down her spine. Her blood flowed quickly beneath her skin. Running with Rule by her side no longer felt cowardly. It felt—good. The close call they had just survived blended well with the tone of his voice. She was on alert and it felt right. It was exciting to escape the IL-Bah yet still have the challenge of Rule nearby.
“A warning,” Silk admitted. “Or simple, friendly advice.”
“We aren’t friends, Silk.” His voice had gone flat, emotionless.
“No?”
“No.”
“Then we are enemies,” Silk concluded.
“At this point, I would say our relationship defies definition.” Davis sat back with a sigh.
“On that, we can agree.”
She drove on and Davis didn’t try to stop her. She was almost disappointed. Almost. She could not afford to let recreational sparring distract her. She was on the right track.
Solstice Meadows had given her an important lead. Nothing, not IL-Bah or Davis Rule, would stand in her way.
Solstice Meadows’ whole body was shivering. Didn’t matter that the fire was blazin’. He recognized it for what it was. Adrenaline. It had been a long time since the heady stuff had pumped through his veins.
A very long time.
The cool wash of electricity beneath his skin was a wake-up call.
Solstice didn’t reach to wipe the tears off his cheeks. He figured they needed to fall, cleansing, releasing, emptying him out for all that was to come. And plenty was coming. The hair on the back of his neck was stickin’ straight up. It had been a long time since he’d needed his survival instincts, but apparently he hadn’t left them in the jungle.
He stood, propelled by those instincts, and walked across the room to retrieve the rifle that had gotten Davis Rule’s attention so quickly. He didn’t like the way it fit to his hands like it had been made for them, but as always, he could use the weapon without being in love with it.
And Silk was reason enough to use it.
He readied it gracefully as if it hadn’t been many years since he’d cleaned it and put it away. Gleaming and deadly in his hands, the damn thing looked like it had just been waiting for this moment to come while he’d been…well…practically sleep walking.
Solstice could admit it now. He hadn’t expected to find anything in these hills. He’d needed a fantasy to believe in because reality had let him down one too many times. He’d been in kind of a daze, going through the motions of being an eccentric believer in everything from aliens to Bigfoot, but not really feeling or believing in much of anything at all.
In only a few hours, hell, in only a few minutes, Silk had changed all of that.
He headed to the windows at the front of his cabin with purpose in his steps.
He’d dropped off the grid. He’d chosen la la land over real people and real things in order to find a safe place to hide. Funny thing that. La la land had proven to be populated after all. Folks like Piper lived here. Folks like Davis and Silk too. Belief had found him once more, hard and fast.
And just like that he was awake again.
Afraid? Damn straight. You couldn’t sit alone with nothing but tea and star gazing for years without being afraid when life came knocking, asking for you to do a little bit more. But the fear didn’t stop him from opening up the front door and heading out into the damp, dreary day.
Because somehow, he was more excited than fearful.
He hadn’t really expected to find hope in these hills and maybe he hadn’t.
Hope had found him.
Chapter Eight
While Davis spent the day on the meaningless task of placing large sums of cash into what he called safety deposit boxes throughout the town of Beckley, West Virginia, Silk paced the cramped confines of a hotel room.
She stepped off twelve paces to the closet without doors. Then two more steps to the bathing room with the pink and blue tiles. From there, there were four steps from the television bolted to the wall to the foot of the bed.
She knew she could leave if she wanted to. However, her conscience would not allow her to leave without Davis. She had brought danger into his life. She could not leave him to face it alone.
Already, she worried for Solstice Meadows as she paced. If the IL-Bah had decided to interrogate him for information, he would be dead. Dead because of me.
And what of Piper Jo Harding? The IL-Bah had found them on the mountain. Only Piper had known where they were going. Separated from the technology of home just as she was, the IL-Bah would have to hunt as these human’s hunted. By following a trail on foot. And their trail had started at Piper Jo’s.
By the time Davis came back to the hotel with his arms full of white bags, she was more angry than hungry. The contents of the bags emitted an odor that stung her nose.
“Do they have Chinese take-out on Mars? I thought you might like some Szechwan.” The big man grinned and began to pull little white boxes with metal handles from the bags he held.
“I like chocolate,” Silk reminded him with her gaze on the stinky boxes and a fearful feeling growing in her stomach.
“Right, that’s been established. But a girl can’t live on junk food alone. Besides, every culture in the world loves rice. Let’s eat.”
“It does not smell—palatable,” Silk said, hesitantly coming to his side.
She watched in consternation as Davis placed paper plates on the tiny table in the corner. Her concern turned to horror when he piled a large mound of what looked like chala-bugs on each trencher. White and fat, they clung together in a cooked mass. She did not risk prodding them with one of the wooden sticks Davis handed her. She was afraid they would move in response.
“It’s rice, Silk. Plain white rice. The most harmless, innocuous food on the planet. Surely, Ole Buzz boiled a few pots of it in his time.”
“How is it killed?” Silk asked, for the perfect little pale creatures did not look damaged in any way.
“Killed? Rice is a grain. It’s harvested.”
Silk was only slightly relieved. She didn’t think she could stomach the small white grains even if they didn’t wiggle in her mouth. On her world, chala-bugs were only found on or near decaying meat. Buzz had not cooked rice. Not during the breakfast shift when she was at the restaurant.
“Okay, no rice. How about some noodles?”
Davis tipped a container above her plate and several fistfuls of slippery worms landed wetly beside the rice. Silk watched in horror as they settled in a mess of coils. Her stomach refused to settle.
She ran for the bathing room just as Davis asked her if she wanted some sauce.
When Silk had washed her face and her stomach had ceased to roll, she cautiously came back into the main room. The strong scent of the Chinese food lingered, but thankfully the worms and the rice were gone.
She had showered and now stretched out on the bed. Davis was gone as well. No doubt she had spoiled his meal with her repugnant reaction. He would slurp his worms elsewhere while she starved all alone.
She had known it would be a difficult transition. She had been in a fog caused by grief and loss during the preparatory phase
of relocation. No amount of training could have prepared her for the strangeness of it all. Preparing for life on Earth had been surreal, especially when she had still been numb following Miilos’ death.
Davis could not understand when he did not even believe her. She allowed herself a few moments of lowness while she contemplated what it was like to feel marooned on a foreign world with no one by her side. She fisted her hands in the cool white sheets. This weakness was unacceptable. She was strong and well-trained. She could do this alone.
The door started to open. Silk jumped up, poised to retreat back into the bathing room. She would not suffer through the presentation of any more Earth delicacies tonight.
Davis walked into the room with his hands outstretched. In one hand, he held a frosty container of Glacier Mint Ice Cream. In the other, a white, plastic spoon.
“Oh,” Silk exclaimed and sat back on the bed in surprise.
He brought the ice cream over and sat beside her on the bed.
“Noodles are made from grain too, Silk.” He spoke calmly as if he was soothing a simpleton. It would have been infuriating if it was not for the delicious offering in his hands.
Silk grimaced. She had not learned enough about Earth food in her training. It had been rushed. And perhaps they had not wanted to sicken her needlessly before her placement.
“This is better than rice or noodles, Davis. Much better. Thank you.”
She took the icy cool container from him and the white plastic spoon. She pried off the lid and almost swooned as the scent of minty chocolate cleansed the other less-pleasant smell from her nose. When the soothing first bite hit her queasy stomach, she felt light headed with gratitude.
“I don’t think you survived to the ripe old age of—twenty-five?—without eating rice or noodles. What gives, Silk, are you really this troubled or is it an act?”
“Our food is very different. Sweet and delicate. And none of it resembles parasitic organisms.”
“I don’t think I’d like it if I couldn’t have a juicy steak every now and then.”
He seemed to regret his observation when she closed her eyes against the remembered smells of Buzz’s Diner.
“You would never want another steak if you could sample a trencher of Lipitian stew.”
Suddenly, Silk realized they were not only talking about food. Davis was close beside her and his large frame was indenting the mattress just enough to bring her left hip against his side.
“Never is a long time. Do you think a taste from your world would affect me so strongly?”
“Yes, Davis. It would. If you had a taste from my world, you would never hunger for another.”
His eyes looked troubled, as if he already knew what she said was true. She knew the double meaning behind the words was arrogant. He had kissed her once and did not seem inclined to take another taste. Still, she had her pride. She was almost a year out of practice, but she had her pride. And with her stomach full of Glacier Mint, she also had her strength.
For a tempting moment, she thought about throwing pride aside to show him what he was missing. All of what he was missing. Would he reject her again or would he be seduced? Her thoughts must have shown in her eyes because his widened slightly and his chest rose as if he’d caught his breath.
Slowly, Davis reached up to her face. With a move so light and soft she barely felt the brush of his finger; he tipped his thumb along the edge of her mouth as he sighed to catch a stray drop of ice cream. Then, as she watched mesmerized, he brought the thumb back to his lips.
“I have a large appetite, Silk. Be careful you don’t tempt me with sweets I shouldn’t sample.”
He smiled. And it wasn’t an expression of humor. It was a bittersweet confession. He wanted to taste her, but he wouldn’t. His control was admirable, but frustrating. Especially when it illustrated his mistaken assumption about her mental instability.
“I offer no sample,” Silk warned.
“No, you wouldn’t. With you it would be all or nothing. Me-lows is a lucky man. If he’s real.”
Silk’s mouth went dry despite the ice cream she had just swallowed. He threw about the facts of her life as if they were a fairytale she had created. Her past was no illusion. The pain of it was still heavy in her chest more often than not.
“Was real. Miilos was very real. As I told you, he is dead. Please do not speak of him as if he was a character from one of your cartoons.”
She stood and left the room before she could negate the generosity of the ice cream with an angry fist.
Chapter Nine
You’re a grandmother for heaven’s sake.
Piper Jo Harding sat in the basement of a split-level in Charlottesville, Virginia, surrounded by the graphic art of thousands of superheroes. They covered the walls—pages and pages of them—like a wild, colorful collage of bulging biceps, bared teeth and miniscule bikinis.
The pimply faced king of her refuge was addicted to comic books. How that tied in with running some sort of anti-establishment, underground railroad she couldn’t say. She also couldn’t say how her grandson had known about this place.
Her heart still pounded. Her breath still came quicker than it should.
She had seen the black sedan pull into her driveway. Had thought it was Silk and Davis until two strange men had climbed out. Piper had known the men weren’t hawking bibles door to door before they even knocked.
It hadn’t been easy to cooperate, to hand over her special papers. The tears that flowed as they tied her to a kitchen chair had been real. She knew she wasn’t alone. She knew her grandson might try to help her and she didn’t want him to die too.
They had torched her house, burned it to the ground, with all the emotion of robots. Then they had driven away without a backward glance. She had seen them drive away. If they had looked back, they would have seen a scared, old granny riding on the back of a four wheeler. Her grandson, her hero, had driven them deep into the woods.
Piper smoothed the skirt of her charred housedress for the hundredth time. Her hands trembled. Those men had been FBI. They had the car, the suits, the badges.
Her little hobby had gained her a lot of attention, some good, some bad. She had met some serious nuts and some, like Solstice Meadows, who just wanted to reach out to something bigger than themselves and the life they had known.
She’d never held much respect for people who let their imagination run away with them. Conspiracy theories weren’t for her. Now she wasn’t so sure if she hadn’t been the nut all along. She’d been crazy to think she was safe in her little trailer by the woods when she was dabbling in secrets that didn’t belong to her.
“Piper?”
A familiar voice startled her.
Solstice Meadows came down the creaky stairs and crossed the room to her side. Concern warred with anger on his grizzled face when he came closer. She was probably a sight.
He reached to touch her cheek and his fingers came away smeared with soot. He didn’t look much better than she did. His customary fatigues were torn and the dark splotches down one side of his pants looked suspiciously like blood.
“Those alien assassins are flat out bastards,” he grunted through clenched teeth. Piper frowned, confused by his words.
“They weren’t aliens, Sol. They were FBI.”
The backpack bothered Rule.
Silk changed her clothes in the small motel bathroom, leaving the 9mm nestled in the bag surrounded by her silky undergarments. She saw no point in antagonizing Rule by placing it anywhere visible. Still, he had eyed the bag. Repeatedly. If she had to, she would defend her possession of the weapon. The man she traveled with had not commented on her smooth, healed arms.
Silk took a moment to inspect her former injuries. Tiny white lines were the only evidence that she had been wounded.
Rule walked a fine line. Eventually, it would have to be crossed. Eventually, he would have to acknowledge that he was not in charge. She wondered if he was beginning to believe. If he was,
he didn’t show it.
Silk slicked some hotel lotion over her arms. The scent was more medicinal than pleasant, but it would diminish the itchiness of her freshly healed skin.
She knew she lingered. She avoided going back into the outer room because she wanted to so badly. Rule’s patience had run out. She knew he was ready to act.
She should hate the thought of a fight with him when she needed to focus her energy elsewhere. Should, but didn’t.
Today, she hoped to gain vital information about Ronin. If her suspicions proved correct and he was on Earth, she would find him. If he was elsewhere, she would find a way.
And, Silk thought with relish, she would deal with Davis Rule if he got in her way.
Solstice Meadows looked almost as comfortable in faded jeans and a worn Creed T-shirt as he did in fatigues.
His hair was washed and pulled back in its regular tail. Damp tendrils made the shoulders of his borrowed shirt gleam with dark, black patches.
Above one bushy eyebrow, he sported a gauze pad and from elbow to wrist of one arm, a nasty scratch stood out even brighter now that she had painted it with mercurochrome.
“Lousy sons-of-bitches would have had me good if I hadn’t gone commando on ’em. I slept in leaves during the day and spent the night hitchin’ and hoofin’ it to your place.”
“Which you found still smoking.”
“Almost lost it. I knew you were toast.”
“I would have been if it hadn’t been for my Jaime. He visits most Saturdays. Rides an old four wheeler all over that mountain behind my house.”
“So why would the FBI wanna torch an old lady?”
Piper Jo glared at Meadows. Typical man. He thought he was still a teenager.
Perfect Strangers Page 7