Page 30 of Wild Card

Chapter Nine

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The first thing she noticed was the silence. So total as to be an entity of its own, like a blanket across the barren section of desert into which Sam had finally landed the helo, almost making her wonder if they’d landed on another planet. Almost. She’d experienced this kind of stillness before. Those sublime summers of her girlhood, filled with it. But those idylls at Aunt Fran and Uncle Chris’s ranch seemed so far away now, even though she’d just journeyed up to Kingston to visit them at Thanksgiving.

It all seemed so far away now. Everything she’d defined as her life, everything she’d known about herself…redefined by the man who now led her away from the helo, firm fingers entwined with hers. Nervously, she looked up. They were making their way toward what looked like a sizable storage shed, its aluminum siding reflecting the moonlight. That didn’t diminish one speck of its visceral creepiness. She hesitated, wondering whether to prepare for Jason Voorhees or Freddie Krueger.

“Where are we, Sam? What’s going on?”

He glanced back, enough that the moon glow caught the knowing cant of his jaw. “Jenny?”

She snorted. “You going to ask if I trust you again?”

He chuckled and nodded, seemingly satisfied with that, before leading on toward the shed.

As they approached, Jen was surprised to notice a pair of rather nice benches in front of the structure. They were weathered but the construction was custom, and little holes in their bases suggested insertion points for optional sun shades, a necessity if anyone was out here between June and September.

The door was secured by a padlock, which Sam released with a key from a ring in his pocket. Once inside, he reached for light switches with the familiarity of someone who’d been here before. As the illumination kicked in, Jen took her first step across the threshold.

Then halted.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this surpassed the expectations like the Starkiller dwarfed the Death Star. It was damn near a designer showroom. No sign of the aluminum walls from outside. Instead, the space was walled in polished wood, reflecting warm hues beneath the bright track lighting. A stacked stone fireplace was surrounded by big leather couches draped in thick throw blankets, all but begging for someone to curl up in them with a good novel and a glass of wine. The open plan kitchen—separated from the main room by a wide bar framed by wrought iron stools—was small but outfitted with up-to-the-minute appliances. The same industrial motif defined a spiral staircase to their left. Apparently, it led to a loft bedroom.

After several seconds of gawking, a word finally fell from her. “Wow.”

Sam chuckled and nodded. “Same thing I said when Chris brought me here the first time.” Chris, Sam’s counterpart from the U.S. team, was a decent but enigmatic guy. Despite his Thor-hot looks, he’d never kept a girlfriend longer than three months.

“Is this his?” Maybe that explained the man’s relationship challenges. If he insisted on coming all the way out here for sex, that’d explain a lot.

“Not entirely,” Sam answered. “It began as a way station for miners but sat empty until the nineteen forties, when Nellis really came into its own as a base. An officer bought the property and refurbished it as a place for him and friends to unwind, away from the constant noise of the base.”

Jen slid a teasing smile as he tugged her across the room. “Noisy? Why, we’re just a bunch of sweet little…mice.”

Though he tossed back a wink, the rest of his face remained placid. The contrast made her belly flip in entirely new ways. “When the man passed on, he willed all of it to his squadron. It’s remained that way over the years, with everyone contributing to the upkeep and renovations.”

“The booty call commune, eh?”

The laugh she’d expected never came. Instead, with a new somberness, Sam stopped. Turned back toward her. “I’ve only been out here alone.”

She brushed a gentle hand down his arm. “A chance to get away with your thoughts?”

“A chance to get away from them.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. With a new smile, he re-laced their fingers. “Want to see the upstairs?”

Jen resisted. “Sam—”

“Drop it.” His deflectors were already locked into place. Even if she dug in and insisted on a “talk”, it would get her nowhere. And yeah, she really wanted to see the rest of this place. It was stunning. Her new knowledge of the history lent her fresh perspective in looking around. Several generations of men had put their unique touches into the place, and she felt special, getting to see it all.

The loft contained another plush sofa and a huge, gorgeous bed. A thick, chocolate brown comforter was spread over the bed, with equally luxurious pillows outfitted in soft white shams. On the other side of the room, a spacious bathroom possessed a huge Roman tub.

But Jen refused to linger.

Lingering would only lead to one thing.

And that one thing would lead to the fall of her own defenses. Then the gut spill of her deepest feelings. And the open door to her ultimate pain.

“Wow.” Her turn for the forced smile. “It’s very nice.”

“Nice.” He echoed it on a chuckle she could only describe as cryptic, while tapping the light switch. “That’s a decent start, I suppose.”

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