Move the Sun (Signal Bend Series) Read online

  She wrote in code as if it were another language in which she was fluent, but the actual message she sent was: In place. Need an update. Don’t make me wait.

  ~oOo~

  She worked on her first assignment right away, finishing it and sending it back, newly encrypted, only breaking to make her bed and use the bathroom. She checked the time on her laptop: nearly 8pm. Her stomach rumbled, and she decided she’d pack it in for the night, make herself some supper, and spend the evening with a book.

  She went into the kitchen and pulled out the fixings for a salad. She’d also bought a decent rib-eye; might as well have that as fresh as possible. She found a cast-iron skillet in one of the cabinets and put it on the stove.

  While she cooked, she reflected on her first couple of days in Signal Bend. Things weren’t going as she’d planned. She’d known that a new person in a small town would be noticed, so she wasn’t trying to stay under the radar. She’d gone in conducting herself as if she were really moving to town for the long haul—hell, there was probably no reason that she couldn’t stay long term if she wanted, assuming all went well, and if she didn’t mind losing her real last name. She hadn’t expected quite the notice she’d gotten for her car and her run, but those were totally controllable factors.

  But with Isaac, she’d managed to make herself the talk of the town. That had been blazingly apparent at breakfast, but she’d gotten her first inkling of it when that bitch had gotten the drop on her at the bar. Setting aside her irritation at herself for not keeping an eye on her flank and letting some dumb broad put hands on her—put a damn gun to her head—she kicked herself for not recognizing immediately that just sitting with Isaac had pulled down a lot of attention on her head. She’d even remarked on the attention the other bikers were paying them, but she’d been so lulled by his presence that she’d thought no more of it.

  Being connected with Isaac didn’t kill her plans, though; it simply changed them. She had to factor him in. And there might be something useful in a connection to the most powerful man in town. It could give her decent cover. Hiding in plain sight was often excellent cover, because it confounded expectations. And she obviously could not be in plainer sight around these parts than when she was with Isaac.

  He knew she was hiding something, but she felt fairly confident that it was beyond his ability to learn anything she didn’t want him to know. She had to admit, too, that she enjoyed the little chess game—she’d liked his analogy a lot—they had going. It turned her on.

  Which was, of course, the other thing. The thing that might actually be a complication. Isaac turned her on. A lot. She’d spent the better part of the day remembering the morning’s romp. He was big, strong, gorgeous, had a great cock, and was really damn good in the sack. He had power—not just external power, influence, but inherent power. It came off him in almost visible waves. And he was smart. He’d shocked the shit out of her by recognizing where the quote on her side was from, but it was more than that. She could see his intelligence in his eyes.

  He was, as far as Lilli was concerned, the complete package. So she wasn’t sad at all that she needed to keep him close, keep an eye on him. But there was a danger, too, of getting attached. Lilli knew herself. She could get attached to a man like him. Wouldn’t keep her from doing what she needed to do, but it could hurt, and that sucked.

  Her steak was done. She made herself a plate and took it into the living room. The furniture there—or anywhere in the house, really—wasn’t what Lilli would call “comfortable,” but it was serviceable. She sat on the brown plaid couch and ate her dinner while she read.

  Sometime after midnight, she headed to bed. She fell asleep thinking of Isaac, her hands between her thighs.

  ~oOo~

  She woke up with a start in the morning, but at least she was still in bed. With the new linens, it was positively fluffy, and she lay for a few minutes and allowed herself the luxury of a slow waking. The mornings out here were surprisingly noisy. Lots of animal chatter. She checked her phone: She’d made it to half past six. Pretty good. And she had provisions, so she could have coffee.

  First, though, a run. She went to the bathroom, then dressed to run—in her usual running clothes. If they were scandalous for the pious country folk of Signal Bend, well, they’d just have to deal.

  She was going to have to figure out some kind of solution for her other training, though. There was no gym anywhere nearby. She guessed farmers worked their core by actually working, but these days her work only exercised her brain. For the most part.

  She ran about half the route she’d run the day before, which she’d estimated to be about 16 miles, give or take. She was fit, and an experienced long-distance runner, but 16 miles was a lot two days in a row. She saw many of the same people, and got many of the same looks—some of them perhaps even more interested than they had been yesterday. Her breakfast with Isaac had made the rounds. This time, when she waved, several of them waved back. A little cachet came with Isaac, not surprisingly.

  She started the coffee when she got back and jumped in for a quick shower while it brewed. Considering the decidedly rustic appointments of the house, the shower in this bath was halfway decent. A good size, with a good shower head. The water pressure wasn’t wonderful, and it took forever to get hot, but all in all, it more than got the job done.

  She dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, then blow-dried her hair. She left it loose, for now. It would bug the crap out of her soon enough, so she pulled an elastic band over her wrist. A ponytail was her daily style. She wasn’t much for spending a lot of time preening.

  When she went back out to the kitchen, she stopped in the middle of the living room, staring out the sliding glass door. Isaac was leaning against the railing, looking in at her—assuming he could see that far into the room when he was standing in broad daylight. Jesus Christ. She had herself a stalker. An extremely hot, interesting stalker with a sexy, smoky voice, but a stalker nonetheless.

  For a moment, she just took him in. He definitely had a look: same boots, jeans, dark button-up shirt, kutte, jewelry, sunglasses, hair in a braid. He was leaning against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest. Something in his stance indicated that he was irritated, as though she should have been expecting him. She went to the door and unlocked it.

  When she slid it open, he pushed off the railing. “You lock the doors when you’re home?”

  She put her hands on her hips, still standing in the door, blocking the entry he obviously wanted. “Asking that question tells me that you know they were locked. Which means you tried them. Which means you would have come into my house while I was in the shower. So, yeah. I’ll lock my doors, thanks.”

  He hooked his finger into the waistband of her jeans. “What do you think I would have done? You in the shower, all naked and wet. You sure you wouldn’t have wanted me to find you in there?”

  Her body responded to everything about him: his scent, which was all leather and man; his look; his touch on her bare skin; the deep rumble of his voice. She was sure her reflexes would have had a shower encounter such as he described going very badly for both of them, but right now, she couldn’t say getting wet with him sounded like a bad thing.

  She took a focusing breath. “What do you want, Isaac? I’ve got shit I need to do.”

  “For a woman without a job, you seem pretty fucking busy.” He pulled a little on her waistband and slid another finger between her belly and the denim. It was an incredibly sensual move and had her nerves alight.

  She wasn’t remotely tempted to bite the hook he was dangling with his observation, however. She just kept looking him in the eye, her eyebrows raised.

  Finally, he cleared his throat with a grin of surrender and removed his hand. “Okay, you win. May I please come in? I need to talk to you about a couple of things.” She stepped back and let him in.

  She turned to head to the kitchen and finally get her cup of coffee, but Isaac grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. His m
outh was on hers before she had a chance to say anything. He fed his hands into her loose hair and held her head to his.

  The kiss was deep, demanding, and . . . persuasive. Lilli gave into it for a few seconds, savoring his taste and the lush feel of his beard. Then she put her hands on his chest and pushed back. “Dude. That’s not talking.”

  He growled and wiped his mouth, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” With a grin, he added, “Didn’t seem to mind much.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think we’ve established the attraction. But that’s not why you said you were here.” Now she finally made it to the kitchen. “Want a cup? Fresh brewed.”

  “Thanks. But don’t put any crap in it. What you drink isn’t coffee. It’s practically dessert.” He leaned against the doorway of the galley kitchen.

  She ignored his gibe and poured a cup for him, handing it to him hot and black. Hers, she fixed the way she liked it, creamy and sweet. Then she nodded to the little Formica dining table in the corner of the living room, and they sat down.

  “So, what brings you lurking today?”

  He grinned. “Lurking is such a sinister word. I prefer visiting.”

  “Uh-huh. Why the visit, then?”

  “Thought I’d update you on my progress solving the mystery that is you.” He already had her undivided attention, but her ears perked up a little more at that. He took a swallow of his coffee. “It’s good. Strong.” She waited, and he leaned forward, putting his hand on the table alongside hers.

  “My guy tells me that what’s between him and your info is military grade. The word he used was weaponized. Spent a long time poking at it, but he couldn’t get through. He was worried about keepin’ at it. I told him to back off. So I doubt we’ll be poking at your story anymore. Not like that, anyway.”

  Lilli nodded and waited. There wasn’t anything she had to say to that. She could tell him that backing off probably did save the club, and his hacker especially, a lot of grief, because eventually they would’ve tagged him. But she didn’t. She just waited for him to continue his move. She knew he wasn’t done. He wasn’t conceding, not this quickly. She sipped her coffee.

  He ran his fingers lightly along her forearm. “Question I have for you is what’s the military—or the government, anyway—doing protecting the information of an unemployed chick living out here in the sticks? Gotta tell ya, Sport, that has me paying attention. I’m starting to think maybe your interests and mine are gonna complicate each other. I can’t have that.”

  Lilli pushed her coffee cup aside and leaned toward him. They were nearly head to head. “That sounds on its way to a threat. Is that why you came today? To threaten me?”

  He shook his head. “Just making sure all the pieces are on the board, baby. It’s my job to protect this town, these people. There are things about you that make you seem like a threat. Can you ease my mind about that?”

  Okay, it was time to make a move of her own. “Isaac, I tell you truly, I don’t even know what it is you do that might make me a threat to you. I can tell you truly that I have no interest in your club. No professional interest, anyway. And I can tell you I’m no kind of cop. Don’t even like them. Really can’t stand them, in fact. From what I’ve seen, you’re more of a cop than I am. That’s the best I can do.”

  For long seconds in which the silence was thick around them, Isaac regarded her, his eyes squinting slightly. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know why, but I’m inclined to believe you. I’m not happy about it, and I want you to understand what I mean when I say I will protect my people no matter what. But we’ll play a little longer, I think.”

  Lilli finished her coffee and took their cups to the kitchen. She didn’t offer him a refill. Instead, she walked to the sliding door and opened it. “Well, thanks for the chat, Isaac. Have a great day.” He sat where he was for a few seconds, watching her, then languorously stood and strolled over.

  He leaned down and pressed a soft, sensuous kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you soon, Sport.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Isaac’s burner buzzed as he walked back to his bike. He yanked it out of his pocket and answered. “Yeah!”

  It was Showdown. “Holding our friend here, thought you might want to drop in.”

  “On my way.” He ended the call and mounted his bike.

  He was having a shit week. Mountains of uncertainty and risk rising up out of fucking nowhere all of a sudden. He felt deeply conflicted about Lilli, and he was going out on a limb for reasons he couldn’t explain. He needed to get inside his head some and understand whether he was making the right calls there.

  But now he had to focus on the other trouble.

  He was running point on a shipment into St. Louis today, so he would talk to Kenyon Berry, leader of the Underdawgs, the crew at the end of their pipeline. If the Northside Knights, whose interests had always been in crack, not crank, were making a run at the Missouri meth trade, Kenyon would know about it and have something to say.

  Isaac had gone yesterday to check on Will, see how he was doing after being stabbed by a so-called friend, and get his take on his new beef with the Sullivans. Will had been abrupt and uncommunicative. Isaac had let it go, preferring to give him a chance to calm down and feel better, and then try again. He didn’t want to go hard at a guy he’d been good friends with since grade school. Not unless he had to. For now, he had other avenues he could explore.

  Like Mac Evans, for one thing. Slimy piece of shit. For the greater part, the residents of Signal Bend hung together. The ones who’d stayed were committed to staying, and they felt a bond to the town and to each other. Even though there were some rank assholes among them, they were united by the common interest of keeping the town together. Not Evans, though. His only interest was himself. He’d helped banks evict and foreclose on dozens of families, getting a fee from the bank for his efforts. Profiting on the misery of his neighbors, people he’d known his whole life. He wouldn’t get the kind of patience Isaac had for Will.

  Mac had dodged Isaac all day yesterday, but Showdown had him pinned in his office this morning, so Isaac went straight there from his perplexing visit with Lilli. If the Knights’ mysterious backer was looking for property in or around Signal Bend, then Mac knew about it. Fuck, he was probably in on it, or trying to be. The situation was about to change, though. Isaac was ready to make Mac an offer he couldn’t refuse.

  He pulled up in front of the realty office and went in. Show was sitting in front of Mac’s large walnut desk, stroking his long, tawny beard, his big, booted feet resting on the heavy wooden inbox. Mac had a thing for the 1950s, so most of the décor in his office was of that era. Isaac figured Mac thought it looked vintage. Really, it just looked old. In Signal Bend, lots of old things stayed in use.

  Mac was sitting in his roomy, “vintage” leather chair, looking sweaty and uncomfortable. Lisa, his secretary, was not at her usual station by the door.

  Isaac nodded a query toward her desk. Showdown answered, “Sent her home for the day. Mac here is giving her a paid day. Right, buddy?”

  “Guess so.” Of all the things to be unhappy about today, paying for Lisa’s day off should have been low on Mac’s list. But the asshole was all about the dollar signs.

  Isaac turned the “Open” sign over, locked the door, and shut the blinds on the door and front window. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down next to Show, knocking his VP’s legs off the desk. Mac was eyeing him nervously. As he should.

  “Mac. Left a message for you yesterday, but I didn’t hear back. So we thought we’d catch you early today. Got some questions.”

  “I’d have called back, Ike. I was tied up yesterday. You guys have no need to shut me down—I’m missing appointments here.” Mac gave him a petulant look.

  Isaac leaned forward, putting his elbows on Mac’s desk. “See, buddy, that’s the thing. That’s what makes me wonder. How busy could a real estate guy be in Signal Bend? I feel like I’d know if there were mor
e people behind on their mortgages for you to fuck out of their homes. So I’m wondering what could have you so busy that I don’t know about.”

  From somewhere in the depths of his oily heart, Mac Evans must have found something he thought was courage. Or maybe he’d made a new friend he thought more dangerous than Isaac. Because he leaned forward, too, his palms flat on his desk, and said, “You ever think that you don’t know everything that goes on? You ride around on your noisy-ass bike like you’re the king of this town. Well, let me tell you, Little Ike, the world is a lot bigger than Signal Bend, and when it comes right down to it, you’re just a small-time, small-town thug.”

  If Mac hadn’t used that hated name, maybe Isaac would have reacted more calmly, spent more time trying to talk some sense into him. But Mac had chosen to heap scorn and disrespect, and he’d gone for the thing he knew would dig deepest.

  Lightning-fast and without a word, Isaac grabbed a large pair of silver scissors off the desk and rammed it through Mac’s hand, pinning him to the desk. Mac shrieked and instinctively tried to pull his hand back, worsening the wound but not freeing him from it.

  He was making a huge ruckus. The realty building had some distance from other businesses, but not enough to be sure he couldn’t be heard. As Isaac yanked the scissors out, Showdown clocked the squalling fuck upside his head with his old-fashioned Bakelite desk phone. He collapsed to the desk in a heap, unconscious and quiet.

  Showdown gave Isaac a look. He was almost as tall as Isaac, and every bit as broad, and his steely blue eyes bored into Isaac’s greens. “Brother, you can’t take that bait.”

  Isaac glowered at him. “Fuck you. You know we were gonna have to do it hard anyway. Mac’s an arrogant ass. But he’s also a pussy. He’ll fold.” Show pulled his burner out; Isaac knew he was calling for the van.