S.O.S. Wiley

by LJ Vickery

  Wiley sucked in a breath. “The Command Compound…,” he groaned. “That’s why it was important to you.”

  She latched onto his arm. “Don’t be sad, Wiley. It was only one out of many things that came in and out of my life. My parents knew better than to give me large presents, but occasionally, as in the case of the Command Compound, people at the current embassy gave me gifts.” She closed her eyes, forcing back tears that threatened, before continuing. “When I got off on my own and went to college, I finally had choices. I made sure to keep the things I purchased, surrounding myself with items that, in my mind, equated to permanence.”

  “I understand.” He nodded. “But what happened when you went home for summers?”

  “After the first year, I didn’t. Much to my parents’ disappointment, I stayed in the States and worked throughout the off months.”

  He looked puzzled. “That’s good, but I don’t get it. Why were they disappointed? They hadn’t wanted you before that.”

  “Not true,” she answered, taking no offense. “I always had their love. They just didn’t know how to demonstrate it like other parents. But during that first summer, they considered me of an age to show off, deciding they finally knew what to do with me. I was to join them for appearances at state banquets, galas and teas.” Judging by Wiley’s pursed lips, he understood. “They wanted to pull me into their social sphere and make a match that would benefit me, as well as put a feather in their caps.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to like your parents very much,” Wiley growled.

  She laughed contemplatively. “Yes, you will. Everybody does. They’re very charming. But don’t worry. I don’t see them often.” Solina chose not to divulge any more.

  She smiled. “But here’s the good news, Wiley. I made friends in college, one very good friend, and during my final year, a bunch of us went in on a lottery ticket with a huge pot…and won.”

  He looked taken aback. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve never met anybody who actually made off with anything bigger than a hundred bucks.”

  She laughed. “It was considerably larger than that. Enough that I could buy my own house and eventually set up my business. It will even sustain me for some time…if I’m careful.”

  “It must have changed your life.” Wiley clearly approved. “But what about your parents?”

  “Not happy, of course. The money allowed me to get out from under their thumb, completely. For a few years, they tried luring me back with promises of glamorous jet-setting and important men, but I didn’t budge. Consequently, we only speak about once every two or three weeks.”

  “Wow. I think I get it. Empty houses remind you of your childhood and bring back shitty memories. So my lack of stuff freaked you out.”

  If only it were that simple, Solina thought, but the short explanation would suffice to keep Wiley in her life until he found out the rest. “Yeah. I like to have things around,” she admitted. “Which is why I always bring my bag with me.”

  He chuckled. “I noticed it was heavier than just a toothbrush and jammies.”

  The word jammies had her blushing. Sleepovers hadn’t happened since college…and never with a male. Solina forced her mind back to the conversation. “Right. It has the stuff for tonight, as well as a few other items I might need.”

  “A go-bag,” he said.

  “A…what?” Solina had never heard the term before.

  “A bag that carries the necessities for a quick layover, unlike a BOB.” He smirked.

  “A BOB?” She figured he was trying to lighten things up and get her out of her own head.

  “Yup. The acronym for a bug-out bag. In the jungle, when we knew we’d be out on patrol for a few days, we’d pack a BOB—water, weapons, first-aid kit, MRE’s.”

  “I know MRE’s,” Solina broke in. “Meals, Ready to Eat.”

  “Movie trivia?” Wiley asked amusedly.

  “TV,” she corrected. “Although I’m not a huge fan, I catch a show now and then.” She felt a familiar itch in her brain that she attempted to push away, but it unhinged her tongue before she could quell it. “Do you have any? MRE’s, that is. Some that I can have?” As she waited for an answer, the itch turned into a burn.

  Wiley smiled, looking tickled. “I don’t have any here, but Del has a stash at the office. I’ll get you a couple.”

  “You won’t forget, right? I’d…” Stop. Solina caught herself. She was being too weird, too insistent. Fighting for resolve, she gritted her teeth and backed off. “That is, if it’s okay with your friend.” She added a nonchalant shrug, hoping he bought that she hadn’t come dangerously close to obsessing.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” he soothed, looking a little worried.

  Damn. Had she screwed things up? Solina scrambled for something else to say, but Wiley beat her to it, diffusing the sudden tension.

  “So, what do you say we clean up and hit the hay? We have to be up and out early tomorrow.”

  Solina glanced at her watch, surprised at the time. Almost eleven o’clock. She hadn’t yet thought beyond sleeping, figuring his good-guy assurances meant no sex. Phooey.

  “What happens tomorrow?” she questioned.

  “Well, I checked the weather. The storm should be moving out in the next couple hours. I have to work, but I texted Del to let him know I’ll be late, so I’ll drive you back to your car. Does that work for you?”

  Solina felt bad. She’d already monopolized so much of his time. She shook her head. “All except the part where you drive me back. I’ll call an Uber and save you the trip.”

  A scowl formed on Wiley’s face. “No Uber,” he countered. “The roads should be clear, so it will take us less than an hour.”

  “Which also means almost another hour to work for you,” she argued. “I can’t have you waste that much time on me.”

  His eyes smoldered down at her, suddenly morphing into a warm, chocolate-brown abyss. “I don’t consider it a waste.”

  Solina couldn’t look away. It was as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out, except for the space between them. She was afraid if she turned away, she’d suffocate. And she didn’t want that. She wanted Wiley, and another one of his overwhelming kisses. Just one before she got smart and went to bed.

  Apparently, he was on the same page.

  “Kissing you now,” Wiley warned, giving her the opportunity to say no.

  Slowly, she came to her knees beside him. “Kissing you back,” she whispered.

  Solina couldn’t say who moved first, but their lips met softly before he toppled her down to lay across his lap, never breaking their connection. She reached up and intertwined her hands in his hair, while he pulled her close, stroking her nape. Her lips parted and he dove in.

  Every part of Solina’s body woke. Her nipples tightened, her toes curled, sparks ignited between her legs. She moaned, and he swallowed the sound with one of his own. The only thing Solina’s mind registered was the need to be closer to Wiley, have more of him. She brought one hand down to his shirt. She needed the buttons undone, craved to feel his warm chest beneath her fingers.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled his head back with a groan. “Solina, we have to stop. If we don’t, I’ll be carrying you into my bedroom. I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”

  “Why?” she asked through swollen and waiting lips. “Why am I not ready?”

  “Because not more than a few hours ago, you didn’t trust me enough to drive you here. And I refuse to have sex without total trust. If we go any further and you have second thoughts, we’ll never get there.” He sat her up on his lap, putting several inches between their bodies. “And the way I feel, I don’t want a one-night stand. I want to see if this can go somewhere. If we’re meant to be more than a quick hook-up. I certainly think so. How about you?”

  Solina gazed at the sincerity in Wiley’s face and reached out, wonderingly stroking his cheek, then his strong, plump lower lip. With a small grin, he nipped her f
inger.

  “Well, what do you think, Solina?”

  She gave an exaggerated pout. “I think you totally distracted me with that kiss.” The pulse in his neck mesmerized her, and she leaned in for a lick.

  He gasped at the contact. “Solina…” There was warning in his voice.

  She sighed. “I know. I know. No quickie. Getting to know each other,” she groused. “But what if I’d feel more comfortable falling asleep in your bed?”

  He looked pained for a moment. “Not a good idea, Beauty,” he said after a few second. “I’m a nice guy, but not a saint.”

  “And thank goodness for that,” she quipped, running a finger down the shallow cleft in his chin. Solina had never been this bold. She didn’t know much about planning a seduction, but she felt safe teasing Wiley. She wanted to explore sex with him, even though a small part of her remained scared shitless. Among all the other secrets she refused to share with Wiley was the one proclaiming her a virgin. And wasn’t that creature a dinosaur in this day and age? Acknowledging the fact she remained virtuous at twenty-eight would scream “loser”, and he’d run away as fast as he could.

  Her intact hymen wasn’t her fault. She blamed her parents. If she had friends when she was younger, gone to parties, been a normal high schooler, she would have been ready to try out a few guys by college. But Solina had started her independent four-year stint so socially awkward, she spent all her time learning how to talk and flirt. Her roommate, and the few other girls she confided in, helped her out with the opposite sex, but also kept her safe when they thought she waded in too deeply. She appreciated their support and concern, but in retrospect, she wished they’d just let someone deflower her―or, as the girls would say, pop her cherry―just to have the deed done.

  Now she faced a dilemma. She wanted Wiley, but could she conscionably have him without first disclosing everything? She didn’t know, so she conceded that tonight was not the night for further exploration. Reluctantly, she stopped touching him and unwound herself from her sitting position on his lap.

  He looked bemused. “How do you do that?”

  She looked down at him, fluttering her lashes. “Do what?”

  “That no-hands…” He pointed upward and made a spiraling motion.

  She laughed. “You mean this?” She crossed her ankles and lowered herself again, slowly, next to him, keeping her posture erect, then rose just as smoothly, her feet still firmly together.

  “Yeah.” He attempted getting up the same way, but failed miserably, catching himself on the sofa when he stumbled.

  Solina giggled. “When I was twelve, we actually moved back to India―the place of my birth―for a short time. At several of the many state dinners I was required to attend, I noticed a woman rising from the floor in just such a manner.” The memory came flooding back. “After one such meal, she caught my incredulous stare and took me by the hand. She led me to a spot away from the table where she showed me, repeatedly, the proper carriage I needed to maintain in order to achieve mastery of the move. I fell each time, but once alone in my room, I practiced and practiced over a course of many days until it became natural. I’ve had the skill ever since.”

  “It’s impressive, but I’m afraid there’s no hope for me,” he lamented with a self-deprecating grin.

  “Too bad,” she admonished playfully. “Fortunate for you, men aren’t required to master such deportment.” She’d always been made aware of the differing expectations for a male versus a female, and this wasn’t the first time she’d questioned the soundness of those disparities. Those same inequalities were the ones driving her parents―on those occasions when they actually spoke―to continue prodding her toward a good, Indian match.

  Wiley must have seen her tense up because he moved close and took her hands in his, rubbing the backs with his big thumbs. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured. “You’re tired. I believe your bag is in the kitchen.”

  Solina shook her head and glanced toward her feet with a gulp. Her bag was in the kitchen? How had that happened? Outside of her home, her bag never moved from her side. Had she really been able to let her guard down with Wiley?

  “Shall I get it?” he interjected into her thoughts.

  Her first inclination was to run and retrieve it herself, but she forced her feet to stay planted and gave Wiley permission, even though her stomach lurched. “Sure. I’ll wait here.” He gave her hands a comforting squeeze, as if knowing what it took for her to allow him. It helped. A tiny bubble of humor percolated, which caused her to grin. “As long as you don’t look inside. Because if you do, I’ll have to kill you.”

  He laughed, heading for the kitchen. “More TV?” he queried.

  “Yup.”

  “You know we don’t really say that, don’t you?” he added.

  “You don’t?”

  “Hell no. We’re not nice enough to give a warning first.” He disappeared through the door.

  Her mouth fell open. Surely he was kidding.

  Before she contemplated too hard, Wiley walked out of the kitchen and put her bag squarely into her hands.

  “Let me show you your room.” He turned and led her down a hallway.

  “I have a vision,” she joked with some trepidation, “that it’s empty, except for a bed and a side table.”

  Wiley flashed a brilliant smile over his shoulder. “I’ll let you be the judge.” He swept open a door and stood with his back against it.

  She peeked in. Instantly, her belly warmed, almost like she’d ingested a ray of sunshine. Her eyes widened as she took in everything. She’d been right about the bed with its companion table. But there was also a large bureau on the far wall, and atop that bureau sat the Jurassic Park Command Compound with all its buildings, fences, cars, workers and dinosaurs.

  What? The toy didn’t come with those parts.

  “Seriously?” Solina spun around and threw herself into Wiley’s arms. “Where did you get the cars and the figures?” she asked breathlessly as she pulled away.

  “As soon as I drove home last week, I called my mom and made her ship them. I’ve had them since I was little,” he added sheepishly, clearly wondering whether the reality of his childhood, which was so different than hers, would make her sad.

  Not a chance.

  Solina got that impish impulse again, one she couldn’t tamp down, especially when he exhibited such dear qualities. “You know I’m going to be up playing with this all night, right?” she teased. “And I’ll bet it’s better than the sex we would have had.”

  “Not even close,” Wiley growled, gently unwrapping her arms from around him and pushing her into the room. He closed the door firmly. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she heard him mutter before his footsteps retreated down the hall.

  Solina sure hoped so.

  Chapter Nine

  Pietro stood in the library, the whisky in his hand ignored as he gazed out at the snow-filled night and cursed. That damned box could be the end of him, and its elusiveness had him incensed. When he called the auction house the day after its disappearance, the woman who answered assured him they’d pull the item, which was due to go on the block two weeks later, and hold it for him. When he’d sent his man to retrieve it the next day, it couldn’t be located. Enraged, he’d made the trip to the auction house himself. After a heated discussion with the auctioneer, he found that a disastrous mistake had been made. The box, no more than five hours after Pietro’s call, had been erroneously placed with the things being auctioned off that very night. The man told him it had been sold and he was extremely sorry, but Pietro would receive the proceeds. They’d even waive the consignment fees.

  Fucking hell, he’d railed at the auctioneer. The money… A mere pittance... The box is a cherished family heirloom and I want it back.

  Pietro demanded to know the purchaser, but the man had the gall to tell him they didn’t divulge their buyers’ names. He’d picked the guy up by his collar, ready to shake him for the information, but t
he auctioneer, uncowed, told him to get lost or he’d call the cops.

  Using tremendous self-control, Pietro had calmed down. It wouldn’t do to call any more attention to himself. His only option would be to break into the building and steal the information. He judiciously apologized, though it took all his might to squeeze the words past his gritted teeth.

  Which brought him to now, one week later and frustrated as hell. He’d given the hellish situation a few days to calm down, not wanting suspicion to fall on him if a break-in was discovered. But by the time he readied his men, the moon was as bright and full as he’d ever seen it, and the auction house, being on a main boulevard, didn’t allow for a stealthy entry.

  Subsequently, Pietro had checked the forecast, discovering the snowstorm predicted for tonight. A great cover—dark night, gusty winds, footprints in the snow that would be swept away by morning. What he hadn’t counted on was the severity of the storm. Halfway to their destination, his men called to say they’d been broadsided at an intersection and shoved into a ditch. Goddammit. Couldn’t anything go right? At least they’d been able to stash their weapons and tools of the trade in the trees before the cops and the tow truck came. Small fucking favors. Now he’d have to retrieve their shit, wait a few more days―at least until the new snow outside their objective became trampled enough that a few more prints wouldn’t stand out―and make the attempt again.

  He spun and threw his crystal glass against the wall. It shattered, the amber contents dripping down the plaster. He wished it was the fucking box.

  ****

  In the basement, Mary heard the crash from above. Pietro’s pacing had kept her up, or maybe it was the fact she’d slept during the day that threw off her schedule. Schedule, she scoffed. Right. As much as someone imprisoned in a twenty-by-forty cellar could have an agenda.

  Mary supposed she should be grateful for the small concessions allowed by her brother. He boasted of being magnanimous because one of his men had installed cable TV for her. He’d also let her choose several dozen books from the library, with assurances that when she finished them, she could swap them for others. The food he provided three times a day, although bland and lacking vegetables, filled her stomach. And to burn off the excess carbs, she’d taken to exercising twice a day to keep her weight down and her physical strength up. If and when she ever noticed the slightest prospect of escape, she didn’t want to blow the opportunity by being out of shape.