Nolan: Return to Signal Bend (19 page)

“He’s a good man, too.”

“Yeah, he is. Okay, baby flower. Call me if you need me.”

The next thing Nolan knew, his hands stung. “Ow!”

“Don’t be a pussy. Hold still. You’re not supposed to punch people in the mouth. Even I know that. Their teeth tear up your knuckles, and their mouths are full of germs.”

“They wanted to hurt Bo. And Gia. And Lilli.”

“I know. I heard. I also heard that you handled it so they didn’t get hurt, and everything stayed good in town. My dad told me that. He was proud.”

“Your dad loves me.” Nolan laughed at the thought.

“He does. So do I.”

His hands felt cool now, and he could feel her wrapping soft cloth around them. “I love you most of all. You take care of me.”

“I do. And you take care of me.”

“I need you. I can’t be okay without you. Everything turns dark when you’re not with me. You have to stay with me. You have to stay.”

The bed shifted, and Iris lay down at his side, resting her head on his chest. “I’m here, Nolan. I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.”

He knew he was. As long as he had her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“You good up there?”

Iris leaned out and smiled down from the loft at Geoff. “Yeah! I almost got it!”

“Okay—just be careful.”

She gave him a thumbs-up and went back to digging through the crates she’d discovered under a decaying tarp in this old hayloft. The hayloft itself was decaying, too; she’d had to recall some of her old moves from girlhood gymnastics classes to make her way across a few narrow boards and get over to this tarp. From the shape the canvas had made, she’d expected to find one big thing—maybe an old bike or something like that, even—but instead, she’d found about ten old wooden crates.

When she’d refused to give way to him, Geoff had tossed a crowbar up to her—after a lot of hemming and hawing about not wanting to be on the Horde’s hit list because he’d accidentally beaned Showdown Ryan’s daughter with a crowbar—and she’d been levering a creaky lid from its rusty nails.

It finally gave, and she fell backwards with the force. Her butt slipped a little bit off the edge of the last solid board, but she caught herself and was fine.

“Crikey, Iris. It should be me up there.”

She looked down and saw him leaning forlornly on the wheel of an ancient tractor. “You wanted an intrepid soul for this job, remember? Well, you got one. Chill out and hunt down there.”

Inching on her knees back to the crate she’d just opened, she called down, “This one is full of albums—like those old black disc thingies? Are we interested?”

“You make me feel elderly, Miss Iris. Can you see any dates?”

She lifted the topmost of the stack and brushed a dense but thin layer of dust from it. “It’s not in English. I can’t make out a date.”

Geoff stood under the hayloft and looked up through the hole where the boards had rotted through. “Let’s see.”

Stretching out on her belly, Iris leaned through the hole and handed the disc to her boss. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and cleared all the dust from the label.

“Jesus please us. This is a gramophone record. It’s Russian. My Russian is terrible, but I think this is Rachmaninoff. Maybe an original pressing!” He gaped up at Iris. “You say there’s a crate full of these?”

“Yeah—and a bunch more crates, too. I don’t know what’s in those, though.”

Geoff looked like he’d just won the world. “Okay…okay. That crate will be too heavy for you to move. Do you think you can hand the discs down a few at a time?”

“Sure.”

“Treat them gently, Iris. Like they’re priceless—because they are.”

~oOo~

Five hours later, Geoff closed the back doors on the shop van and leaned back on them. “We did great work today, you and me. How’s the arm?”

Iris turned her arm so she could see the long scrape over her right triceps. She’d caught it on an old hook in the barn wall. It had bled a lot for a while, and the sides of her shirt and jeans were stained with her blood.

“Stings, but I’ll live. I’m up on my shots and all, so I won’t get tetanus or lockjaw or whatever.”

“Wounded for the cause. You’re really one of us now.”

In addition to the crate full of hundred-year-old records, they’d found a huge trove of nineteenth-century silver housewares, another of baseball cards and boys’ toys and games from the 1920s and 1930s, and several crates of plain old junk. Geoff had done some quick research and discovered that the rusted tractor was a 1931 Allis-Chalmers, and he’d called and found a buyer for it while Iris was still going through crates in the hayloft.

In the corrugated-steel garage, they’d found what appeared to be the tools and gear of an auto-repair business, all crated and stored neatly against the back wall, behind a rusted-out 1962 Ford Falcon station wagon, white over red.

Geoff had told her that this hunt was his best in four years.

“Do you feel bad that there was so much more value in that barn than you paid for?”

Geoff shook his head. “No, I don’t. Look, if it were the people who’d called all that stuff theirs, or if it had been their children or grandchildren, then I would have had a different conversation in the first place. I’m not interested in looting a family’s history. That’s not how I do business. But that family sold the entire parcel, and the buyer offered us access to the barn and garage without looking first or even being here with us. What he wants is as much as he can get for what’s here, with as little pain in his ass as possible, before he probably razes the whole thing and builds new. None of this”—he waved at the full van; the haulers had already pulled away with the rest of their loot—“is worth much without our knowledge and connections. So no, I don’t feel bad. Everybody got what they want.”

Turning and leaning on his hip, her boss gave her a smirk she thought of as ‘saucy.’ “You know, Miss Iris, I couldn’t have gotten this done today without you. A cut of these proceeds are yours.”

“What?”

“Sure. I only had today, and this was not a one-person job. All that climbing and jumping and swinging you did? Your standoff with that possum? You earned a cut. Say thirty percent of the profit?”

She did some quick math in her head; Geoff had rattled off some price ranges throughout the day, teaching her more about the business. If he sold just the things he’d mentioned and got what he thought he could get, thirty percent of that was a good chunk of money.

“That’s…thank you!” She jumped at him and hugged him hard. “Thank you!”

Geoff hugged her back and then set her away, looking a little uncomfortable. “You’re welcome. But it’s not a gift. You worked for it. You deserve it. You want to stop at a crappy diner on the way home and get some grub?”

“Not grub. Let’s call it something else. I’ve had all the grubs today I can deal with.”

He laughed and squeezed her unhurt arm. “You’re a peach, Miss Iris.”

~oOo~

Late that night, after everybody in the house was in bed, Iris got a call from Nolan.

“Hi.” She smiled as she answered. He’d been off on a protection run, and she hadn’t expected to hear from him until the next day.

She hadn’t been sleeping yet, just lying in bed in the dark, looking out her window at the night sky, and letting her mind wander.

“Hey.” Melancholy weighed his voice down, and Iris felt worried.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I just…I don’t know. Can I see you?”

“What—now? It’s after midnight.”

“I’ll come to you. I won’t stay long. I just…I need to see you for a minute. I miss you.”

They’d spent most of the day before together. She loved being with him as much as she could, but she wouldn’t have said that she’d had time, in this single day, to
miss
him—not like this, at least. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll be okay when I see you.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you on the porch.”

~oOo~

He was there in about ten minutes, and all he wanted was to hold her. He didn’t even kiss her. He just walked up to her and dropped his head on her shoulder. They sat on the porch, and they held each other. After a few minutes, she could feel tension leaving his body, like iron bands giving way.

“What happened today? Did the job go wrong?”

She felt his head move on her shoulder as he shook his head. “No. Went smooth.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset. I’m…was…I don’t know. Empty. Or too full.” He huffed; it sounded like a failed attempt at humor. “I don’t have any fucking idea. But I’m okay now. You make me okay. Thank you for being here.”

She combed her fingers through his hair. “I love you. I’ll always be here.”

~oOo~

Nolan came out of the house he was working on, wiping his face with his t-shirt. Spring had come in like summer, and on this May afternoon, Iris could smell him well before he’d come close enough to touch. She liked that smell, though. She didn’t necessarily want to spritz it on her pulse points, or use it as air freshener, but the smell of a man who’d been working hard outside was earthy and sexy. It wasn’t odor. It was just man. On a construction site, it was man and sawdust and drywall. Kinda nice.

“Hey, babe.” He pushed his hardhat back on his head and leaned forward, putting his hands on the fender of her truck and framing her in. “I love when you drop by.”

He brought his mouth to hers, and, knowing that what she had to say was going to hurt him, knowing that he would see it as a betrayal, she hooked her arms around him, unconcerned with her clean clothes on his dirty self, and took the kiss to a heavier place, while he was still happy and calm.

They’d been together for more than four months now, and things were good—they were in love and happy together, and her father had come around to the idea of them and was happy enough. Neither of their living arrangements had changed, but that was because they had a bigger plan. They were saving up to buy a place together. Her father wasn’t so keen on that idea, he thought they were moving too quickly, but she’d pointed out that they weren’t moving quickly at all. They’d made a decision, but, even with her cut from the Peters Farm hunt, it would be at least a year before they could act on it. Nolan wanted to own something free and clear from Day One. He had a deep contempt for banks and bankers.

So they were moving slowly, actually, toward a happy future together.

Iris had come to know her man well, and what she had to say today, though, he would hate. In a big way.

He finally broke away with a contented hum, and he brushed his fingers over the gauze bandage on her arm. The cut was a week old, but it had gotten kind of gross, so she was taking extra care of it. She probably should have gone and asked Tasha to take a look at it. But it was healing.

Nolan had had a fit when he’d seen that she’d gotten hurt on the job, and he’d tried to make an issue of it, until she reminded him that only a couple of weeks earlier, she’d patched up his hands, which he’d hurt ‘on the job.’ But he still fussed over her wound.

“I hope you didn’t come for lunch—we ate already.”

“No. I need to talk to you.”

He frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I am.” Before she could say more, he glanced into the cab of her truck—just a random shift of his eyes. When they came back to her, she saw that dark edge creeping in, and his frown sharpened.

“Why is there a suitcase in your truck?”

No point in dancing around the news. “I need to go to Little Rock. My mom is hurt, and Rose is out of the country on a buying trip.”

“When?
Now
?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I’m leaving now.”

“She’s hurt? I’ll go with you.”

That absolutely could not happen. Her mother loathed everything about the Horde. More crucially, no Horde could know what was going on in Little Rock. Her father couldn’t know. Iris didn’t agree with that—at all—but her mother had forced her to promise. So Nolan could not go to Little Rock. Under any circumstances.

“No, Nolan. I need to do this alone. My mom despises the Horde.”

Still frowning, Nolan stared at the ground. “How long?”

“I don’t know. As long as she needs me. Geoff said I should just keep him posted, and he’d hold my job for me indefinitely.”