S.O.S. Wiley

by LJ Vickery

  “I’m not married,” he said conversationally.

  Solina wanted to groan. He’d noticed her looking.

  “And you can ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.”

  “Okay…” She drew out the last syllable to let him know her skepticism.

  “No, really. There’s only one thing I ask in return.”

  Solina pursed her lips, disappointed. He was about to proposition her. As artless as she was, she had heard plenty of come-ons before, knowing one when she heard one. A definite turn-off, even if what she planned to do with Wiley amounted to the same thing.

  She spun to leave, but he thwarted her exit by gently touching her arm. He didn’t grab. He didn’t hold. He simply waited.

  Against her better judgment, she turned back. “Fine. What is it?” Her tone was clipped.

  “Your name.” His kind demeanor immediately smoothed her ruffled feathers. “That’s all. I just want to know your name.”

  Solina felt like an imbecile. Why had she been so rash, ready to paint him with a sullied brush? He’d been nothing but sweet―handcuff comment notwithstanding. Without hesitation, she answered her own question. She’d fantasized about Wiley so much over the past week, she’d concocted expectations. Expectations that they could go beyond auction buddies and become fuck buddies. So, in some perverse form of self-preservation, she’d glommed onto the possibility that he was too big a player.

  “I thought…”

  “I know what you thought,” Wiley answered. “But I’m not interested in picking you up.”

  “You’re not?” Now she really felt disappointed.

  “Not for a one-night stand. I’ve thought about you all week. I know that sounds crazy, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I’d like to get to know you. We can sit here every Monday night until you’re comfortable with me, but eventually, I want to take you out on a date. Does that sound like something you might be interested in doing?”

  Before she could answer, the auctioneer called out that everyone should take their seats.

  On impulse, Solina inched her hand up to where his rested on her arm, intertwining their fingers to give a squeeze. “Yes,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’d like that. Now, come. Let’s sit down and I’ll ask all those questions you said I could.” She led him toward the seating area.

  “Uh.” He tugged back on her hand. “Not so fast.”

  Her brows went up in question.

  “Your name. I don’t want you to think I’m so easy that I’ll follow any anonymous female.”

  He surprised a laugh out of her. A genuine laugh that she realized hadn’t sprung from her chest in a long time. “Solina,” she told him, grinning. “Solina Dalat.”

  “Solina,” he repeated, an answering grin on his face. “So I can stop referring to you as Beauty in my head now.”

  “Beauty?” Solina squeaked.

  “Yeah. That’s how I pegged you from the moment I sat down last week. Do you mind? Because I think I might have gotten into the habit and it could be hard to break.”

  Oh, it was so difficult to resist his teasing air and playful quips. She’d never met anybody quite like him. She suddenly felt mischievous. “If I’m Beauty, you know what that makes you,” she stated solemnly, scooting aside her belongings so they could both sit down.

  “Hah. The Beast,” he chortled. “But I have such a pretty face. Prez has always been the beast-like one of our team.”

  “You have a team?” Solina became suffused with curiosity as she settled in beside him.

  “I work for a company in Boston that does search and rescue. We’re all ex-military, so we naturally refer to ourselves as a team.”

  “Prez is a pretty silly name.” Solina tipped her head up to look at him. “Who are the other guys?”

  “There’s Del. He’s the boss. Sarge is amazing with computers, Billboard has shoulders twice as wide as mine, and Perk is the new kid on the block. Del’s always expanding, so Daire and a couple of his buddies work part-time.”

  “Wiley is an unusual name, too, now that I think about it. Is that your real name?”

  “Nope. My given name is William Prancingdeer. The guys call me Wiley because of the cartoon coyote who gets himself into a lot of trouble. I’m kind of a clusterfuck magnet.”

  Solina chose to ignore the clusterfuck comment, too riveted by his name. “Prancingdeer… Is

  that Native American?” Mirth bubbled up inside Solina. Wiley. An American Indian.

  “Yeah. Cherokee, actually.” He looked puzzled at her amusement, but she couldn’t help it.

  Her giggles refused to stay inside and she snickered. Loudly. She tried to tamp the noises down, but found it impossible. After several dirty looks from those around her, she lowered her mouth into her shoulder and struggled to turn her hilarity inward.

  “You have a problem with that?” Wiley shifted, clearly discomfited.

  “No. Not at all,” Solina hiccuped, finally able to bring herself under control. “You see, I’m Indian. India Indian. My parents always hoped that, somewhere out there, a nice Indian man would become interested in me. I just don’t think they meant an American Indian.”

  Wiley’s mouth turned up and he smiled broadly, appreciating the joke. He reached over to stroke her cheek. “Are you kidding? They’re going to love me.”

  Chapter Five

  The auction proceeded, but Wiley couldn’t say what came up to the block. They ate the snacks Solina had brought while talking to each other in low tones, scratching the surface on the getting-to-know-you thing.

  Throughout the next couple hours, Solina gave a few half-hearted bids and won a couple items, but they’d become so focused on each other, neither noticed the time passing.

  The crowd eventually thinned out―ostensibly because of the weather―but a core group of enthusiasts remained. Wiley wouldn’t go anywhere until Beauty decided to call it quits. They started discussing local restaurants as possibilities for a date when Solina raised a hand to shush him.

  He followed her gaze and saw someone carrying the brass knuckles to the podium, along with…the handcuffs. Apparently, the auctioneer decided to hurry things along and had trayed a bunch of items together. Wiley couldn’t see what else accompanied the two pieces, but perhaps Solina knew because she geared up to bid.

  “Who’ll open this up for fifty dollars?”

  The crowd remained quiet.

  “Come on, folks. Fifty bucks. You spend more than that on a meal, and you can have way more fun with these.” The auctioneer held up the handcuffs and gave a big smile.

  Wiley glanced over at Beauty and saw dusky color rising to her cheeks. Hell yes. Feeling a stirring, he surreptitiously adjusted his jeans. Although he got the feeling Solina had never attempted anything so bold, his gut told him that, with patience, she might enjoy it. And he’d be just the man to ease her into that pleasure.

  “Okay,” the auctioneer conceded. “Somebody start me off at twenty-five.”

  Solina lifted her hand and made a flat, sideways motion. Wiley quickly figured out she’d cut the bid in half when the auctioneer returned with, “I have twelve fifty. Twelve fifty on the lady in the middle. Do I hear fifteen?”

  The bidding got back up to twenty-five dollars before everyone else dropped out and his seatmate won the lot. She appeared excited.

  “That went way under value,” she enthused. “The vintage brass knuckles alone should have gone for that. Not to mention the little bell and the dagger letter opener.”

  “What about the handcuffs?” Wiley couldn’t keep the question to himself.

  She shrugged and her cheeks colored even more. “I’ll put them on a shelf, just in case they become useful.”

  Wiley nearly swallowed his tongue. Had she just issued an invitation? It sure sounded like it. Before he could respond in kind, the runner arrived with the tray. Solina dumped the contents into her bag, then stood.

  “I’m finished here,” she
said. “You can stay if you want, but I’m all set. Have you got your eye on anything?”

  Hell yes. “The only thing I came here for tonight is you.” Wiley couldn’t lie. If Solina hadn’t told him she’d be attending, he wouldn’t have made the trip from Brookline.

  “In that case…” She tipped her head toward one shoulder, almost self-consciously, “I guess you’ll be leaving, too.” She gave a furtive glance at his lips. He caught it and wondered if she imagined they’d kiss after leaving the gallery. He pictured backing her up against the door of her car, leaning in so only their lips would touch and giving her a promise of more to come. If she raised her arms and dragged him closer, all the better. But he’d let her set the pace. Wiley didn’t need to hurry. With Solina, he was willing to let things progress in their own sweet time. And yes, it would be very, very sweet.

  He’d always enjoyed the chase. Flirting and teasing being on top of his list, followed closely by kissing, licking, touching, rubbing, then the huge bonus of fucking. And he wanted them all with Solina. More than he’d ever wanted them with any woman he’d met before, which spoke volumes. Being thirty-one and having been in the military, he’d experienced his share of women. But none had ever engaged him like Solina. Did he feel this way because two of his buddies had just met the women of their dreams and romance was in the air? Possibly. He’d keep it under consideration.

  Wiley waited while Solina checked out and paid, then helped her on with her coat. They walked out the main doors and were hit with…

  A blizzard? Holy hell.

  Solina tugged up her hood. The snow came down hard. Enough that they were both instantly covered. Violent eddies of white whipped around them in huge gusts, and visibility was almost zero. Wiley hoped Solina lived close by. She hadn’t shared her address, but then again, neither had he.

  “Where’s your car?” He raised his voice to be heard over the howling wind as he turned up his collar, lamenting his lack of hat and gloves.

  “Over there,” she yelled back, pointing to a snow-covered lump twenty feet away.

  He took her elbow and steered her in that direction.

  “But what about you?” she shouted again.

  “We’ll take care of your car first,” he returned loudly. There was no way he’d let her clean off her own vehicle when he could help.

  He thought she said thanks, but couldn’t be sure as the gale continued to rage. It would be a challenge driving to Brookline tonight. If Del and Bri didn’t have a one-week-old baby at home, he would have crashed with them in Wollaston. Maybe he should bother Prez, who lived in Quincy. Although his teammate now had his fiancée, as well as the two girls they adopted, under his small roof, Wiley wasn’t picky. The floor always remained an option.

  When they reached Solina’s car, he used his arm to scrape a swath across and down the seam of the driver’s door. “Get in and warm it up,” he bellowed. Was it possible the storm had worsened in the past two minutes?

  While she complied, he quickly cleared the tailpipe so carbon monoxide wouldn’t build up inside. Once smoke belched out, he turned his attention back to cleaning off the rest of her vehicle. She emerged holding a brush and began at the front while he took the rear. The more he uncovered, the more he didn’t like what he saw.

  Her vehicle had to be twenty years old and revealed itself to be a particular model not known for its reliability. Wiley groaned. Not only that, but she didn’t have snow tires, and a discomforting amount of tread was missing from the ones in question. How far did she have to drive?

  “Solina,” he bellowed. She looked up, her adorable face haloed in fur-hooded white. “Where do you live?”

  During a lull in the gale, he saw her bite her lip. “A few towns away,” she hollered back.

  “How many miles? Highway or backroads?” He wouldn’t allow her to be so vague when he worried for her safety.

  “Twenty miles on backroads.”

  Shit. Probably a thirty- or forty-minute drive normally, but tonight, it would easily take her twice that long…if her crap car made it.

  He approached her slowly, knowing he was about to have a battle on his hands. One thing was certain, though. He’d come out a winner in this test of wills.

  “Turn your car off. We’re leaving it here and you’re going with me.”

  Just as he figured, her eyes went wide. “No, I’m not. I hardly know you, Wiley. I can’t just get into your car and let you take me who knows where.”

  “You can and you will,” he ordered. “There’s no way you’re making it twenty miles in this clunker.” She opened her mouth to argue, but Wiley cut her off. “I can either drive you to your place or mine in Brookline,” he stated unequivocally. Clearly, the couch at Prez’s was now off the table. “They’re about the same amount of miles in opposite directions, but mine are highway, and I have an SUV.”

  Solina continued to shake her head. Stubbornly, she went back to cleaning a windshield that blanketed with snow again the instant she swiped it away.

  “Solina.” He took her by the arm, meaning business. “You’ll never make it. Do you understand?” He let all his concern show on his face. “What will it take for you to agree?”

  Her shoulders fell. “I want to, Wiley. I’m scared to death to drive home. But women aren’t supposed to get into cars with strangers.” She set her lips obstinately.

  “Come on.” He released her arm and opened her car door. “We can’t talk out here. Open up the passenger side for me.” He had no fear she’d drive away. The car remained covered in snow, with more falling every minute.

  She got in without argument. As he made his way around, she engaged the windshield wipers, making small headway against the thick precipitation. He understood why she did it, though. It would be pretty dim inside the igloo of a car if she didn’t let in a little light from the lot’s sodium-vapor lamps.

  Wiley slipped in. It was amazing how the outside roar instantly reduced to a dull whisper when he closed the door. He briskly shook the snow off his head and heard Solina laugh.

  “What?” he asked, giving another flourish.

  “You look like a polar bear,” she snickered.

  He looked her over. “And you look like a baby seal,” he replied. One this big, bad bear could readily devour, he thought. Wiley reached out and removed a clump of snow from her head. “So, now, tell me what it will take for you to trust me.”

  She bit her cute little lip again. If she didn’t watch out, it would be chapped tomorrow. And he preferred to redden it up with his attentions…should the opportunity arise.

  “I trust you, Wiley. I do. Sort of. But you have to understand my position. You could be a really nice, really handsome serial killer.”

  Oh yes. She said handsome. Wiley tried not to preen as he turned his thoughts toward a viable solution. “How about you talk to a few references. I can call a couple friends who will vouch for me.”

  “Male, partner/serial killer friends, or women?” she asked sassily.

  Wiley chuckled. “How about both? My first choice to give you the green light would be Del’s wife, Bri. But they have a new baby in the house and try to catch up on sleep whenever they can. I don’t want to disturb them. But Prez, my alleged partner/serial killer, just got himself engaged to Maygan. I can call her.”

  “She won’t mind?”

  “Hell no. If you knew the circumstances that brought her to us, you’d know she’ll bend over backwards to make sure you feel comfortable.”

  “Okay…” Still, she hesitated. “Anyone else? For all I know, they really could just be part of your nefarious gang.”

  He knew she teased, but he could give her one better. “Okay. My first call will be to Sergeant Mason DePalto of the Orono Police Department. I happen to know he’s on night shift right now, so we can call the police station. How does that sound?”

  “Good.” She nodded. “Really good.”

  Wiley had his phone out in a flash, dialing before she finished speaking. He put i
t on speaker.

  “Orono Police Department. Officer Jenkins on duty. This call may be recorded. How may I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak to Sergeant DePalto, please,” Wiley replied.

  “Who can I tell him is calling?”

  “Wiley, from Songen Operational Systems.”

  “One moment, please.”

  Before any cheesy hold music kicked in, the phone connected.

  “Wiley. How the hell are you? What can I do for you this snowy evening?”

  “You’re on speaker, Mase. Are you getting the storm there, too? We must have a foot already in just the past three hours.”

  “That’s swim trunk weather to us, my friend,” Mason quipped. “We already have two feet on the ground, and this storm’s supposed to dump another couple. You Massachusetts types are such wimps.”

  “Yeah, well…” Wiley let that one slip by. “Listen, speaking of wimps, I’m pretty worried about road conditions here and don’t want a new lady friend of mine driving home by herself. But she doesn’t know me well enough to trust me to take care of her. Can you tell her I’m on the up-and-up?”

  “Sure. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” Mason’s voice suddenly got smooth.

  “Solina Dalat,” she informed him. “So, if I go missing, you’ll make sure Wiley gets blamed?” She blinked her incredible dark eyes in Wiley’s direction, giving him a Mona Lisa smile.

  “Absolutely. I’ll come down there myself and tear him limb from limb. But I’m pretty sure that won’t be necessary. He and his teammates are all pretty great guys…although don’t tell Prez I said that.”

  Solina chuckled. “If and when I meet him, I’ll make sure I don’t blab.”

  “But seriously,” Mason continued. “You have nothing to worry about. You should let Wiley take over. If he thinks the roads are dangerous, they’re probably pretty bad.”