Last Kiss Goodnight

chapter Twenty-eight



The flowers have already appeared in the land, the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.

—SONG OF SOLOMON 2:12

SOLO STARED AT THE computer screen and scowled. Finally, he’d gotten an e-mail. Three, in fact. One from Michael, one from John, and one from Blue. But all three were bounce-back messages.

Their e-mail addresses had been changed. And so had their phone numbers. That was standard operating procedure when an identity or a location had been compromised—or an agent had died.

Solo’s own code to this cabin should have been disabled, but it hadn’t been. He wasn’t sure why. What he did know? He needed a new plan. If Michael was alive, he knew Solo was here, despite their little communication problem. He would have known the moment Solo punched the code into the alarm. He would have called.

To Solo, that still didn’t prove the man was dead. But. Yeah, but. There was always a but when doubt and uncertainty were involved. Solo might have to proceed as if Michael was out of the picture and unable to help him.

Now that the cuffs were out there in the wild, Jecis wouldn’t be able to get a lock on Solo. He would be watching the nearest cities, maybe even the airport and bus station. But that wasn’t really a problem. In the garage underneath the cabin, there was a truck and an ATV. But . . . There was that word again. He didn’t like the thought of taking Vika out in the elements. She’d held up well the first time, but he’d since made the mistake of allowing desire to overshadow duty, and hadn’t used the condom the first time they made love. He’d used it the second, and should have stopped since they’d had no more. But then he’d rationalized that the damage was already done. So he’d made love to her a third time—and he would make love to her again.

She could now be pregnant. And if she wasn’t, she could be by day’s end.

The possibility should have disturbed him. The possibility should have frightened him. He wasn’t ready to be a father. But he couldn’t deny he liked the thought of Vika round with his child, tied to him on so visceral a level.

A loud ringing erupted in his ears, and he frowned, ignored it. He didn’t like that Jecis knew Vika’s general vicinity. He didn’t like father and daughter even being in the same country. But though Solo now had the resources, he didn’t have time to take her somewhere else.

He would stay here one more night, he decided, and wait for Michael. Then, if his boss failed to contact him or arrive, he would lock Vika inside the cabin and return to the circus—with guns, as Kitten had requested. After all, more than vehicles filled the garage.

He didn’t want to run the risk of Jecis moving the circus again. Right now, Solo doubted the man would do such a thing. He would want to stay here and search for Vika.

“You’re happy,” a familiar voice said.

Solo blinked, momentarily confused. He could hear. Did that mean Vika, who was currently napping, exhausted from his insatiable lovemaking, was once again deaf? If so, he wasn’t sure he liked that trade.

“I am,” he replied. “No thanks to you.”

Dr. E appeared on the desk, glaring up at him. His hair was tangled, hanging limply around a gaunt face. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow. “Why not? I helped you.”

“You only ever got me into trouble.”

The being hissed at him, and if there had been tiny pebbles on the desk, Solo felt certain they would have been hurtled at his head. “You won’t ever listen to me again, will you?”

“No.” He liked to think he learned from his mistakes.

Dr. E popped his jaw. “X was given to you the day of your conception, a gift from your parents to minister to your needs, to protect and teach you, but he was never to override your free will, even when it got you into trouble.”

“I know that,” Solo said, sitting up straighter.

“I used to be like him. Did you know that? Long, long ago, I was an Altilium. But I chose a different life, chose to take rather than ask and wait for an answer, and the source of my power drained. I had to find another. So I joined you and X without permission. Had you ignored me, I would have been forced to leave, but you did not. You listened to me, welcomed me, and I was able to attach myself to you and feed off you.”

“Like a parasite,” Solo gritted.

A dismissive wave of Dr. E’s tiny hand. “I prefer the term ‘energy receptor.’ ”

“Whatever. Go on. You have a point, I’m sure.”

Before the little guy could open his mouth, Vika poked her head into the room, and said, “Solo?” Her mass of pale hair was brushed and gleaming. Her eyes were once again the color of plums, and though they were sparkling, she was frowning.

Solo jumped to his feet. “Everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine. But I’m deaf again, and I just wanted to make sure you could hear.”

“I can,” he said.

Relief painted the edges of her sudden smile, dazzling him. “I’m glad.” She came the rest of the way inside and leaned against a wall. She must have dug through the dresser drawers, because she now wore an oversize sweatshirt that had to be rolled at the wrists and pants that had to be rolled at the ankles.

Never had she looked younger, fresher, and his heart actually swelled in his chest. But he wanted to see her in clothing he had bought for her. Or clothing he had first worn. Wanted her surrounded by his things—their things. Wanted to give her . . . everything.

“I wonder why the switching of our senses keeps happening,” she said. “I know you said you think it’s because we vowed to share all that we are, but do you think there’s more to it than that, since nothing’s sticking?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” A shrug. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

Like the fact that he wanted to give her everything? Like the fact that he loved sharing this with her? “I’m glad it’s happening, and I hope you are too. No one else has ever had the chance to see the world through another person’s eyes, but we have. No one else has ever had the chance to hear through another person’s ears, but we have.”

“We’re special?” she said, a question when she’d probably meant to make a statement.

“We are. And maybe the abilities aren’t sticking because that’s what sharing is all about. Give and take. Ebb and flow.”

She nodded, satisfied with that. “Well, Mr. Special, I’m going to raid the pantry and cook up a feast,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

“Always.”

“Give me an hour. Meanwhile, prepare to be amazed.” She blew him a kiss, turned, and padded down the hallway.

“You’ll never give her up, will you?” Dr. E demanded from behind him.

Solo pivoted on his heel and faced the being who had so often given him terrible advice, laughed during his torture at the circus, and abandoned him time and time again, when Solo most needed help. “No.”

Dr. E popped his jaw. “Not even to save my life?”

“Not even.”

A pause. Heavy, oppressive.

“Very well,” the being said. “You have brought this on yourself.” With that, he vanished.

• • •

Vika found green beans, peas, carrots, and potatoes, and mixed them all together. She also found several packages of syn-chicken and was able to heat the pieces over the stove and drizzle them with a tasty butter glaze.

There were so many spices to pick from, she was a little overwhelmed. There were things she’d never even heard of. She used only the ones she knew about, not wanting to ruin the first real meal she would prepare for Solo.

At the farm, he would have chores for her. He’d already said so. She wanted to prove she could do anything he asked, that she could take care of him properly. And she prayed that she could!

She had no formal education. Her mother had taught her to read and write, and her knowledge had been limited, too. I have a quick mind, she assured herself, and I can learn anything. And . . . and . . . she knew how to sew. Yes! That was a perfectly acceptable skill. She would mend Solo’s clothing, and he would be the best-dressed farmer in the entire world.

And she could sell her jewelry and use the proceeds to buy him something special. Something he’d always wanted. She just had to find out what it was that he’d always wanted.

When the chicken was warmed all the way through and the vegetables were boiling, she turned off the stove and prepared two plates. Steam rose, and the scents caused her mouth to water.

Gold star for me, she thought, proud of herself. She’d sometimes watched the cook at the circus, knowing she would one day have to care for her own meals.

She picked up the plates to carry them to the table, but caught sight of her tiger outside the window. He had returned. He was no longer prowling, but lying between the trees, his tail waving slowly. He yawned.

A warm, strong body pressed against her back, and she shivered. Soft lips slid along the side of her neck, and the shivers intensified, wringing a moan from her. She set the plates down. Solo clasped her by the waist and turned her.

He kissed one eyelid, then the other. “I’m ready to share again.”

“Sharing is kind of fun, I guess.”

“You guess? No, you know.” He kissed the tip of her nose, one cheek, then the other. Then he hovered over her lips, his warm breath caressing her. “So what were you doing, staring out the window? Dreaming of me already?”

She walked her fingers up the ridges of his stomach, to his shoulders, and around, to his nape, intending to pull him down the rest of the way. “No, Mr. Ego, I was watching my tiger.”

His muscles bunched underneath her hand. “Tiger?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She pulled, but Solo resisted. “He was injured, but he’s doing better.”

Frowning, he lifted her off her feet and set her aside to press closer to the glass. He watched for a moment before jerking his head in her direction, his eyes wide.

“He’s wearing a bandage,” he said.

“I know.” Her ears began to ring.

“Who put that bandage on him, Vika?”

She heard him that time, and he had not sounded pleased. “Well . . .”

“Vika.”

“I did.”

“What?” he shouted. “You went outside? Approached a dangerous predator? When? While I was sleeping?” he added, answering his own question.

Exasperated now, she threw up her arms. “Yes, but X helped me. I was never in any danger.”

“There are traps out there, Vika.”

“Which is why X made me walk in strange places.”

A red tint darkened his skin. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him. X knew about it and didn’t wake me?”

“Why would he? You were sleeping so peacefully. And again, I was never in any danger.”

He worked his jaw, obviously trying to get himself under control. “X could have weakened, and the tiger could have maimed you.”

“But neither of them did.”

“How could you . . . why would you . . .” Shouting a curse, Solo pounded his fist into the kitchen counter, rattling the dishes.

Vika jumped, startled by the volume.

“Do you want to put me in an early grave?” he snarled. “Is that what this is about?” Another shout, another pound of his fist.

This time, the dishes bounced off the counter and fell to the floor. Nothing broke, but the delicious, amazing food she’d spent forever preparing was ruined. Vika peered down at the mix of yellow, green, and orange and despaired. Not only would Solo not discover what an excellent cook she probably was, he now needed a lesson about his temper.

“That kind of outburst won’t be tolerated,” she said sternly. “I dealt with that kind of thing all of my life, and I know you would never hurt me, but I won’t let you talk to me that way. I won’t have that kind of relationship with you.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, but she tore out of his grip. Head held high, she turned and marched away.