Chapter 6

Slyder led Nebraska out the door to his car, pretending that his cock wasn’t hard enough to jackhammer concrete. The urge to yank that shirt over her head and suck that nipple into his mouth almost took over, but he couldn’t let it. He had to prove he could still be objective, not consumed by the way she tempted him with her mind and body.

He’d proven it all right.

And now he had to suffer through the pain.

He opened the door and waited for her to slide into the passenger seat before he circled around. He thought she would insist on driving, with the way she liked to call the shots and all, but for once she kept her mouth shut and just went with it.

This might be the first and only time for that to happen, so he took it as a gift.

Rolling down the drive they slowed to wait for the gate, and waved to Willy on the way out.

Her eyes lit up when she smiled at the old man. Slyder would make a deal with the devil if he had to in order to ensure that Willy had nothing to do with any of this.

“You and Willy are close, huh?” He checked his mirrors to make sure no one popped out to follow them.

“The closest. He’s been like a father to me,” she said.

“But you have a father.”

She nodded. “Yes, who I don’t see very often.” She waved a hand in the air. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He’s been everything to me. Teaching me about my heritage, my homeland, and how to live in a world that’s not always so accepting of that. But whenever I visited my mom, Willy was always there. He watched out for me when my father wasn’t able to. You know?”

He turned at the light, relieved that they seemed to have made it off the property without incident. “So you trust him? Completely, I mean.”

She turned in her seat and stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You’re serious?”

“Don’t take it personally. I’m just asking.”

“It is personal. If I needed help and I didn’t have my father, the next person I would look for is Willy.”

“Fair enough,” Slyder said.

“He’s not part of whatever this is,” she said, a bit of that defiance creeping back into her voice.

“Got it,” he said with a nod.

She raised a brow and crossed her arms, the motion pushing her breasts up. “I mean it, Slyder. Don’t get it twisted. I would bet my life on that man.”

He glanced over at her. “I hear you.” Returning his attention to the road he asked, “Question, though…why is that? Why would you bet your life on him?”

“Because he risked his to save mine,” she said.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck. “What are you talking about?”

She watched out the window; it was as if she traveled to another time, another place. “I was swimming with his daughter, Layla. God, it was so hot that day. And we loved the pool. He checked on us every few minutes, but didn’t keep an avid eye. I mean, we were fifteen. We had taken years of swimming lessons, and we were together. I was diving under and practicing holding my breath. We were competing. My hair got sucked into the filter intake system and I couldn’t get out. He saved me.”

His hands tightened on the wheel. His heart hammered in his chest. “You almost drowned?”

“Yes. I had just sucked in my first lungful of water, when he jumped in and cut my hair off to get me out. He didn’t know how to swim, but he didn’t care. He only cared about saving my life.” She rolled her head on the headrest, her gaze landing on him. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Slyder had to concede, at least to himself, that the more he learned about Willy the less he fit. Whoever was doing this wanted something from her, something that was at risk when she put herself in the limelight for controversial causes.

And they might never find out who, unless she put herself out there like that again and stirred up some trouble. That would at least force the hand of the offender, giving them a chance to identify and hopefully catch the bastard.

He pulled into a local diner he had heard about from a friend when he’d first talked about visiting Long Beach. He’d chosen to go to San Diego instead, but ended up in Long Beach anyway. Funny how life did that.

“Hopefully you’re not afraid of some fat and calories,” he said.

“Please, do I look like I fear anything?”

“No. That’s the scary part.”

“I thumb my nose at danger. Bring on the calories.”

If only she was talking about just food. He opened the car door for her as he scanned the area around them. Being midmorning, the parking lot was relatively quiet.

They grabbed a booth in the corner, where he sat next to her in view of the door. Clean grease and the sweet scent of maple syrup filled his nostrils, reminding him of diners back home.

At their table, Nebraska took one look at the menu and spotted The Ultimate. She ordered it and he followed suit.

With coffee before them, waiting for their food, she turned to him. “So, what about your family. You said they’re farmers?”

“They were.” Don’t offer up any more than necessary. That’s all he had to do.

“They aren’t anymore?”

“The farm is gone.” Okay, asshole, all you had to do was say, “Nope.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t step up, and when my dad got sick there was no one else to run it. It was too much for my sister. Plus, she’s a marketing executive and wouldn’t have given all that up for the family farm.”

Motherfucking verbal diarrhea. Someone get me some Imodium.

“You didn’t want it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I hated running the farm. I hated the hours, the constant worry about debt, getting attached to the animals, and the bone-weary exhaustion of it.”

And now he had to wonder if he’d really hated it at all, because there were times when he wished that he could go home. Only, home had been torn down, the land broken up and sold off to the highest bidders.

The waitress brought their plates, heaped with eggs, potatoes, bacon, ham, sausage, and biscuits. Nebraska didn’t notice at all. She just stared at him, slack-jawed.

“But it’s your home,” she said.

“I know that. Look, with farming, you have to love it. It has to be in your heart. It wasn’t for me. That farm had no chance of survival with me at the helm,” he said, fighting to keep the frustration out of his voice. The truth was, he’d wanted to love it. He’d tried to love it. He’d wanted to be the son his father hoped for. But no matter how he’d tried to fit in, it just didn’t work. The harder he’d tried to change who he was, the more he’d desired the military, the travel, the danger.

“The farm would have died one way or another. This way, it was a quick death rather than a slow suffering for all of us,” he said.

“I guess I understand. I mean, I can’t imagine not having my home to go to. No matter what happens here in California, I have my place. Somewhere with memories. Somewhere I belong. If something happens to you, where would you go? Who would you seek out?”

He paused with his knife and fork in hand and thought about it. “I guess my sister. But as for my hometown, I don’t know—I guess I just don’t connect with it anymore.”

“That’s sad.”

Leave it to Nebraska to dig into his history, and with just a few words make him wish for things he couldn’t have. Shit. “Maybe I need to make a new home.” Oh, fucking hell, that was not what he meant to say.

Her eyes softened, her head tilted, and a smile graced those full lips. “Maybe you do.” She picked up her fork and that was the end of it. At least for now.

They dug into their meals, and entertained themselves studying the memorabilia on the walls. Twenty minutes later, they had both cleaned their plates. “I’m surprised you got that all in,” he said.

She laughed, leaned back, and patted her stomach. “Me, too. I guess I won’t need Twizzlers at the movies.”

He sipped the last of his coffee and dropped a fifty onto the table. “I don’t know if you’ll eat again today.”

She leaned forward and picked up her coffee, sniffed it, and set it back down. “I bounce back pretty quick. By the end of the movie, I’ll be on the hunt for chocolate. I think I’d better skip the last of my coffee, though.”

“Come on, let’s go watch your latest movie,” he said, sliding out of the booth and reaching a hand toward her.

Ten minutes later, they rolled into the parking lot of a massive movie theater. He pulled into a spot a bit away from the bulk of the parked cars, and pulled her hat lower over her face. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s going to be fine worrywart. Let’s do this.” She pushed open her door, and headed for the theater without waiting to see if he was with her.

He caught up and took her arm to keep her with him. She didn’t fight him, and instead surprised the hell out him by giving him a smile and wink.

Inside the two-story lobby, she led them to the kiosks where they grabbed the tickets. Buttered-popcorn-scent filled the air, mixed with the professional deodorizer they used on the commercial carpets.

Along the wall stood movie posters, hers right in the middle with a spotlight shining on it.

Nebraska held a baby in her arms, protecting it from harm as danger loomed. Emblazoned across the top: Torn, in brush script.

The movie had started just a few minutes earlier. No one seemed to recognize Nebraska, easing his worries, so he trusted they could duck in without being noticed.

Pulling open the door to theater eleven, the hall leading to the stadium seating flashed with light from the screen. The scene opened up with Nebraska, roadside, reassuring a scared woman about to give birth in a rusted, broken-down car.

Dressed in scrubs, she smoothed the clumped-up blond hair away from the woman’s sweaty forehead.

Her voice hypnotized, low, melodic, as she lied to the woman and told her everything was going to be okay, even as an unusual amount of blood pooled on the worn backseat beneath her.

There was something about the look in her character’s gaze—Nebraska’s golden eyes, a weariness and heartache as familiar as her favorite sweater. As if she had seen too much, felt too much, but still pressed on no matter what it did to her. Her character easing the pain of suffering just through her ability to hang on through the devastating times.

They pressed up against the carpeted walls of the room. He continued to watch Nebraska on the screen, memorizing the way she delivered the baby and begged the mother to stay with her, even though she knew the ashen woman would never make it. The way she cradled that baby, her instincts taking over; all her efforts going toward saving the little life when it became heartbreakingly clear that it was the only life she had the chance to save.

His throat thick, he turned away from the screen and focused on Nebraska, who never once looked at the screen, but studied the audience, waiting to see what she had come to observe.

Women sniffled—the men shuffled awkwardly in their seats, glancing away from the screen. Nebraska narrowed her eyes, and a slow smile spread over her face as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. Slyder followed her gaze and spotted a cluster of women, wiping away their tears and holding their chests, as if the only thing keeping their hearts from being ripped right out was the pressure of their hands.

“I did it. In the first ten minutes, I did it,” she whispered.

He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. “Yes, you did,” he whispered before kissing the soft skin over her knuckles.