Last Kiss Goodnight

Thirty-five

THE TARGON REMAINED AT the farm for several days. He helped Vika pay and dismiss the ranch hands Solo had hired, and finally left her with a promise to return in a few weeks to check on her. She liked him, appreciated his help, but she was glad for the solitude.

She didn’t want an audience when Solo returned. She wanted to run into his arms, kiss him, hug him, strip him, and tumble to the floor and make love to him. And she would. One day.

Yes, one day.

But a few more days passed, and Solo never appeared. Her hope began to wane.

A few more weeks passed, and Solo never appeared. Her hope crashed and burned.

He was never coming back, was he? Her one day wasn’t ever going to come.

The horror of it hit her while she was inside the kitchen, peering out the window and remembering their time in Siberia, and she collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, sobbing until her tear ducts swelled shut, sobbed until she was choking, barely able to breathe. What was she supposed to do without him?

What are you doing, feeling sorry for yourself? He’s not dead.

But if he were alive, he would be here.

What of the knowing?

That’s right. Before, while she’d held his bleeding body in her arms, she’d had a knowing that he would survive. She couldn’t allow noise to fill up her head and distract her from the truth.

She closed her eyes and focused on Solo’s image. So tall and strong and beautiful. So perfect. Deep inside her, where instinct swirled, was a bouquet of hope that had managed to withstand the flames, the petals blooming . . . opening . . . and knowledge rising.

Oh, yes. She still had the knowing. He was alive.

Relief rolled through her, and she laughed. Laughed! He was alive, and he would come back. Whenever he was able, he would come back. For her, or for the farm, or both, she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he would come back.

In the meantime, he would want her to stay and tend to the animals and the gardens. He would want her to take care of his things. That was what he’d tried to hire her to do, after all. Now she would do it. Free of charge.

Vika stood to shaky legs and made her way to his bathroom to use the enzyme shower. She dressed in one of his T-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. She had already burned her clothing from the circus, so she had nothing of her own. And besides, she liked knowing she was wearing something that had been in contact with Solo’s strong, beautiful body.

She marched outside. The sun shone brightly, warming her skin. She spent so much time outdoors, she had developed a tan. The cows, chickens, pigs, sheep, donkeys, and goats still wanted nothing to do with her, always shying away from her as she approached.

“You’ll come to love me,” she told them. “I’ll make sure of it. And if not, I’ll go get my tiger from Siberia and he’ll teach you a few lessons.”

One of the cows mooed. A few pigs snorted.

“Fine. I want to go get him, but I would never use him against you.”

No response.

“I have experience with your kind, you know.”

A donkey kicked at her, and she had to jump out of the way to avoid being pummeled.

Wagging her finger at him, she said, “Do that again, and I’ll name you Princess Fluffy Cakes.”

He put his nose in the air and pranced away.

Midday, she began to pull weeds from the garden, pluck the vegetables that were mature enough, and pick fruit from the trees. There were acres and acres of land Solo hadn’t yet put to use, and there were countless women out there. Abused women. Women who thought they had nowhere to go. Women who assumed they were trapped by situation and circumstance just as she had. They didn’t yet know there was something better out there.

But they would. Solo had taught Vika, and she would teach others.

Yes. She would build cabins and create a place for women and their children to run and hide. A place of protection and safety. Perhaps her purpose would come out of her pain. The women could help her with the land and the animals and finally come to understand how valuable they really were.

Solo would definitely approve.

As the sun set on the horizon, casting a haze of purples and pinks through the sky, she carried a basket of edibles into the kitchen. The screen door squeaked as it shut behind her. She—

Saw a strange man reclining behind the table, a gun resting just in front of him. Even as relaxed as he appeared, she had no doubt he could reach the trigger in plenty of time to put a hole in her chest if she made a single move in his direction. He had the same I’m prepared to do anything glaze in his eyes that Solo had had.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” she asked with a weary sigh.

“I’ll be asking the questions, girl. Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he demanded. “And don’t you dare lie to me. I’ll know it, and I’ll get angry.”

“Sir, there’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done,” she said. More than that, the worst thing that could ever happen to her had already happened. “And to be honest, I’m too exhausted right now to care what you do.”

He frowned. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Who are you?” she repeated.

“Someone who was invited.”

“Well, so was I. I’m Vika Lukas.” If he tried to take the farm away from her, she would fight him. With everything she had, she would fight. “And I’m here waiting for someone.”

A pause as he studied her. “My name is Michael, and I want to know where Solo Judah is.”

“Michael. You’re Solo’s boss, aren’t you?” she asked, as a little bead of excitement formed.

His eyes widened. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Yes. Solo mentioned you. Have you seen him? Heard from him?” Maybe Solo had contacted him. Maybe “home” was someplace Vika didn’t know about.

“I haven’t, no.”

Disappointment was a crushing weight on her shoulders, obliterating the excitement.

“He would never mention me to a woman,” Michael said.

“Because you forced him to kill people?”

His jaw dropped. “I never forced him.”

“Well, he’s not working for you anymore. He’s done with that way of life. He told me so, and as you know, he never breaks his word.”

Dark eyes narrowed on her. “How long since you’ve seen or heard from him?”

“Thirty-two days.” She set the basket on the table and flopped into the seat across from him, wiping sweat from her brow. “You need to eat.” His skin was pale and his cheeks hollowed out. He had scabs on his face and hands, and those scabs stretched all the way to the edges of his clothing; she would bet they even stretched underneath.

Another pause. Another frown.

“I want to know everything,” he said coldly.

She sighed. “The last time I saw him, he was . . . he was . . .” Stupid chin, wobbling. “We were at the circus. He kissed me good night, and he . . . and he . . .”

“Tell me.” A ragged command.

“Vanished,” she whispered. “But he’s not dead, I assure you.”

He demanded the details she had omitted, and she gave every single one, leaving nothing out. She told him how Solo was captured, how he was kept, what her father had done, what she had done, how they had escaped, the fight at the end, his final words to her.

Michael did not react the way she’d expected. He rubbed two fingers over his chin. “Until I see a body, I won’t believe that he’s dead.”

“That’s good, because like I said, he’s still alive,” she replied.

“And you know this how?”

“I just know.”

A small smile greeted her words. “Years ago, Solo used to say the same thing to me. He stopped.” The smile faded and he scowled, tugged at his earlobe. “Had my assistant not betrayed me, there wouldn’t have been an explosion. And had there not been an explosion, my boys would be on a case right now.” His hands curled into fists. “Did Solo mention anything about Corbin Blue or John No Name?”

“Yes. They’re his friends, and he loves them. He plans to look for them.”

“I could really use him. I’ve had men on the hunt since I woke up in the hospital, and we’ve even found a few leads but with zero success. They’re still out there somewhere. I know it. As for Solo, I had nothing on him until he invaded my home in Siberia, but I had no idea how deep my assistant’s betrayal went or if someone else was working with her and didn’t want to reply to his attempts at contact. I waited, hoping a traitor would reveal him- or herself.” He pushed to his feet, the chair skidding out behind him. “One did, and the moment I had him, I rushed to the cabin, but by the time I got there, Solo was already gone.”

And they really could have used the help. “Do you think everything happens for a reason?”

“No. Of course not. I think bad things happen, but those bad things can be worked to our good. If we’ll let them. I have a feeling you’re the good that sprang out of Solo’s situation.” He peered down at her for a long while before nodding. “That’s why I’ve decided to let you stay here.”

He sounded so sure of himself. “That’s very kind of you, but honestly? Had your decision swung in the other direction, you would have been unable to force me out. Solo taught me a few tricks.”

He gave a sharp little bark of laughter. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know.”

“All I want is for you to contact me if you hear from him.”

“I will, and I’ll expect the same from you. Here’s my number.” He tossed an identification card, an IDC, on the table, a small round device she had only to touch to activate. The patrons of the circus had used them. A screen would appear in the air just above the base, and on that screen would be his number and any other information he’d added. “See you around, Vika.”

He padded from the house, his footfalls quiet. If he had a car hidden somewhere, she hadn’t seen it. If not, he’d be doing a lot of walking. The house was miles away from any other home, and even farther away from the only grocery. Solo had a car parked in the barn, but she hadn’t found the key.

Sighing, Vika dumped the fruit and veggies into the sink and began to wash them.

A flash of bright light erupted behind her, and she grabbed an apple and turned, ready to launch it. The last bright light she’d seen had ripped her out of the only real home she’d ever known and taken her back to the circus . . . to Solo’s destruction and disappearance.

A tall, muscled man stepped from the center, and she launched the fruit. It slammed against his chest, bounced to the floor and rolled.

“Some greeting,” a familiar voice said.

Breath caught in her throat. “Solo?”

The light faded, and she was able to make out his features. He’d lost a little weight, and there were bruises under his eyes, but he was the most beautiful sight she’d ever beheld.

“You were expecting someone else, sweetheart?”

“Solo!” She threw herself into his arms, and he wrapped her in his embrace. He pressed his nose into her neck and breathed deeply. “I knew you were alive! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! And I knew you’d come back!”

“Of course I came back. You’re here.”

Wait. Her face was buried in his neck, and yet he’d heard her. “We can both hear,” she said, gazing up at him.

“My ears are operating at low volume.”

“Mine too.”

“We’re sharing the ability, then. And before you start to feel guilty, you should know that I’m happy to share. I . . . love you, Vika Lukas.”

Her bones nearly liquefied. “You love me?”

“With all that I am.”

“Oh, Solo, I love you, too. So very much.”

He cupped her cheeks, kissed her. “Where’s the Targon?”

“He left.”

“Really?” Confused, he peered down at her. “But I gave him the farm.”

Her heart nearly burst. “You traded the farm for me?” The otherworlder had mentioned Solo had been willing to give up a lot for her, but she’d never suspected his farm. His paradise.

“I would trade my life for yours.”

“Oh, Solo,” she sighed.

“Vika, my Vika.” His thumbs stroked her. “You’re going to marry me, and I won’t tolerate an argument.”

“I’ll argue only if you want a long engagement.”

“That’s good, because I plan to marry you today.”

“That’s too long,” she said, and laughed with abandon. “Oh, we’re going to have the most amazing life.”

“Yes, we are.” He picked her off her feet and spun her around. His heart beat against hers, the two forming the perfect rhythm. She let her head fall back, watched as the ceiling spun round and round. Then he carried her to the bed and tossed her atop the mattress.

He was on her before she finished bouncing, his weight pinning her.

He kissed her, then lifted his head and peered into her eyes. “Are you ready to exchange vows?”

“It’s that simple? Really? Just like that, you’ll be mine?”

“Forever.”

“Do it, then. Vow.”

He grinned at her exuberance. “I am yours, your husband now and forever. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. I vow it. You will now say the words to me,” he instructed.

With pleasure. “I am yours, your wife now and forever. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. I . . . vow it.”

She didn’t expect anything to happen; she’d made vows to him before, and nothing ever had. But oh, was she wrong. Her back bowed, and a cry split her lips. His back bowed in the opposite direction, and a cry split his lips. Suddenly she felt torn apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, and even down the middle.

Slowly, so slowly, though, the pieces began to return, as though she were Humpty Dumpty, being put back together again. Only when the transformation was complete was she able to relax into the mattress.

Solo sagged against her. He was panting, sweat-damp.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, don’t ever do it again.”

“Me?” He somehow regained his strength and placed a thousand kisses along the curve of her jaw. “Maybe it was you.”

“No, you. So are we married now, or what?”

“We are, and don’t you forget it.” He lifted and meshed his lips to hers.