Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) (16 page)

Liked the bombed out building, her body shuddered and collapsed in a heap. She howled her anguish into the bed and gripped the covers in her fist. “I killed that poor boy with my fear as surely as if I’d held the gun.”

Roark could stand it no longer. He crawled up the bed and opened his arms to her, unsure of how she would react to his offer of comfort. She threw herself into his embrace and clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably into his neck until his chest ran wet with her tears. He let her cry and he held her tightly to him while he stroked her hair and back.

Through the windows beyond them, he watched the sky lighten with the coming dawn. Mira was finally quiet, so quiet he thought she might have fallen into exhausted sleep. The sun rose, casting its blood red mantle across the rain filled clouds.

Reaching around her, he gathered the blankets in his fist and pulled them over her, covering her nakedness. He was ashamed of what he’d done to her and what he had yet to do.

She was no traitor. Her shock and disbelief at her brother’s involvement was genuine. She was a guilt ridden casualty of war, but certainly no murderer. There were still questions that needed to be answered, however, and it was his duty to ask them.

When she awakened, he would be gentler in his questioning. She would not lie to him again. Mira’s defensive barriers were broken. Roark prayed to the Goddess that he hadn’t broken her spirit as well.

An hour later, he felt her breathing change and knew she was awake. She didn’t pull away from him in anger or in fear, but settled more comfortably against him. Her fingers traced the blood markings that slashed across his chest and side.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Those words should be mine, Mira.”

She lifted her head to look at him, but not for the reason he thought.

“No Miramiku?” she sniffed, “No miku Mirasha? I’ve lost that, too, haven’t I?”

For a moment, he thought she might cry again.

“What is it you think you have lost?”

“You.”

The heartbreak in that whispered word moved him in a way he’d never felt before.

Roark had seen his father cry only once. It was years ago when his mother hemorrhaged after losing a stillborn son and was told she would have no more. At the time, Roark had thought his father’s tears showed a lack of courage. He saw them as unmanly. Now, he understood. His father cried not for his own pain, but for the pain he had caused his wife.

Roark buried his face in Mira’s hair and had to clear his throat before he spoke.

“I’m much too big to be so easily lost. You touched my heart, remember?”

“What exactly does that mean?” she asked cautiously. “You never did explain it when I asked before.”

“It means you hold my heart in your hand and the only way you’ll lose it is if you cast it away.”

“Holy crap,” she said and her eyes went wide. “When I asked God for a little help, I didn’t mean bring out the silver polish.” She sighed resignedly. “I’m so screwed.”

Not the reaction he expected, yet her words made him laugh. “More idioms I fail to understand. Sanctified shit sounds oxymoronic.”

“So is a Mr. Macho guy like you using a word like oxymoronic.” The last of her sadness was abandoned in favor of a smile. “It’s an expression of surprise or wonder. Holy shit, holy cow, holy moley; the list goes on and on.”

Roark nodded, pleased that his words caused her wonder and surprise. “Why does your god bring you silver polish? My goddess brings me things like courage and victory.”

“Because you have a silver tongue. You speak charming words,” she explained and then laughed. “Though sometimes your compliments don’t sound very complimentary until I have time to figure out what you meant. Like my fetching a good price at the Bride Market. I didn’t understand what it meant.” Her smile turned playful. “What about screwed?”

Roark looked down at the breasts exposed when she sat up to face him. He traced the pale brown areola encircling one of the nipples and then took the tightening peak between his thumb and forefinger and tugged.

Her breath caught on the tiniest gasp and her abdominals clenched.

“I think I’ve mastered that one.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head away.

“I’m a mess. I slobbered all over everything, didn’t I?” Her shoulders sagged. She pressed her lips together and sucked them into her mouth as she closed her eyes.

He cupped her face and ran the pad of his thumb over her sticky cheek. “I’m a warrior. A little mess doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, well I’m not a warrior and it bothers me.”

“Ah, but you are a warrior, miku Mirasha. The battles you’ve fought were for the best of reasons and you’ve fought them with strength and courage. You fought for your family, and now you need not do it alone. You need never again be alone.”

“You mean that, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of trust.

“I do.”

He watched as her face and body transformed. Her shoulders straightened and her chin came up. She shook her honeyed mane of curls and smiled. Her spirit was not broken. Her strength was still there.

“I don’t know how you manage to do it, First Commander, but you always manage to say just what I need to hear.” She raised her hand to stop his advance. “No kissing or anything else until I clean up. Why don’t you kick back and relax while I go do that? Or you could join me in the shower?” she suggested with a wink. “You can see if my skills have improved.”

“Mira, I...”

“Did what you thought you needed to do,” she said. “Like your compliments, I just needed a little time to think about it.”

He grasped her hand as she slipped from the bed and said as gently as he could, “Miramiku, we still have to...”

Again, she interrupted him with a finger to his lips. “Talk. I know, Roark, but can we do it after I’ve showered?”

Chapter 18

She could have used the sanitizer stall. It was a quick and efficient method of cleaning the body. Several strategically placed red lights came on and a warm rush of air coursed over and around your body while you spread your legs and lifted your arms. A few minutes later, the rush of air stopped and the lights went off. Voila, you were clean.

Mira wanted more than clean. She wanted the luxury of the heat beating against her body. She wanted the massage the pulsating water offered to soothe her aching muscles. She felt like she’d run a marathon. She was sore, and exhausted, and yes, a little triumphant. She hadn’t won the race, but she’d finished it and was still standing.

Her grandmother strongly objected to the Church’s decision to allow silent confession. She insisted her grandchildren visit the confessional each Friday to say their sins aloud. Mira hated going into the dark little closet of the confessional with its sliding screen, beyond which sat their parish priest. She hated repeating her long list of transgressions. Now she wondered if Nona hadn’t been right. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

“It’s more than a cleansing of the soul,” Nona said. “It’s a cleansing the body and spirit, too. Confessing your sins aloud helps release the guilt you store inside you. If you don’t let the guilt out, it will eat away at your health and body as surely as your unrepented sin eats away at your soul.”

Maybe Nona Donazetto knew something after all. After confessing to Roark what she’d never told anyone else, Mira felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Roark’s quiet acceptance of what she’d done helped her to see the truth of it. She wasn’t responsible for that young man’s death, but someone was and that someone should pay.

She heard the door open and Roark entered the bathroom. He hadn’t taken her advice. He’d made her coffee instead. He opened the shower door and passed the mug to her. She gulped down half of the hot and heavenly brew, passed the mug back, and grinned.

“Thank you. Have you changed your mind and come to join me?”

Roark leaned back against the vanity counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. “No. I thought I’d kick back and relax right here.” The words sounded odd when Roark said them and they made Mira smile. “The view here is better than the one from my bed.”

That made her smile even more. She raised her arms above her head and captured the flowing water in her hands. Knowing he watched her movements made her body feel warmer than the water. She took up the washcloth and the bar of soap they’d found packaged under the sink, and slowly began to wash, turning the mundane chore into a sensual display of shadows behind the frosted glass of the doors.

Roark cleared his throat and began gently with a tentative calling of her name.

“Mira...”

She knew what he wanted and she gave it to him while she ran the soapy cloth along her arms from fingers to shoulders.

“The second sentence I learned in Godan was ‘Guard your children’.” She said the words in Godan, just as Miklos had. “He kept mumbling it over and over. We didn’t know what it meant until I figured out how to use his translator. That’s where the translator came from, Roark. I was afraid to turn it in, too, but I could have gotten rid of it in other ways.

“I didn’t want to get rid of it,” she admitted. “I didn’t lie about that. I’m good with languages and I wanted to learn. I thought it might help if I knew what they were saying behind those awful helmets. I practiced and practiced with it and then I saw the notice that said you were looking for a few clerical workers to learn the language. I thought it was a sign from heaven. I could earn money while I listened, and learn what I could about the missing children.”

Bending at the waist, she ran her soapy cloth up and down her legs.

“How much does your sister know of this?”

“Everything. My brother? Nothing,” she added in anticipation of his next question. “He knew about the Godan soldier of course.”

“And what do you know of your brother?”

Here was the dilemma she’d been hoping to avoid; betray her brother or betray Roark.

“Where are Wynne and the children?” she asked, opting for evasion to give herself time to think about what she should say.

The door slid open. “Safe,” he answered and held out his hand for the cloth. “Turn around and let me wash your back. Mohawk will watch over them until a place can be found here on the base.”

Mira spoke over her shoulder. “Is that supposed to be comforting?” She could picture the old warrior stomping around their tiny apartment swearing at anything that moved. “Roark, they’re children, not recruits. Mohawk thinks the solution to any problem is to shout vile things at the top of his lungs and follow it up with a smack to the back of the head. Wynne thinks it’s funny when I repeat what he says, but she won’t think so for long once the kids start repeating it.”

“Mohawk may be too old for war, but he would still be a formidable opponent should anyone threaten Wynne or the children. He was proud that I chose him and he is loyal to you.”

“He didn’t look too loyal back at my apartment.”

“That was disappointment. You hurt his feelings,” Roark laughed. His tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek and the wings of his eyes raised a fraction of an inch. “And cost him a packet of money. As far as his choice of words, most of them will be in Godan. Think of it as Godan as a Second Language.”

She punched his chest, though without much force. “You know about that, too, huh? Who was your informer?”

His brows raised a fraction of an inch more. “Who says there’s an informer?”

She punched him again and laughed. “Don’t give me that innocent look. You have spies everywhere. It was Legion Officer Petrark, wasn’t it? He idolizes you.” She nodded before he could answer. “Yeah, it’s him. I should get to know him better. There are hidden depths to that man.”

“Which shall remain unexplored as far as you’re concerned.”

“Jealous?” she said playfully. “He is awfully handsome.”

“No, I have no reason to be jealous. As you said, I am the idol here. It’s he who envies me and so it shall remain. You stay away from him. I don’t want you convincing my informers to switch sides.”

In spite of the seriousness of the subject matter, Mira was enjoying this. The conversation was relaxed and comfortable as if sharing the bathroom was an everyday occurrence that had been going on for years.

“Fine, but I’m keeping Mohawk on Team Mira.”

“As I knew you would. And now, Mira miku, we must have the conversation you’ve been trying to avoid,” Roark sounded more resigned than impatient, as if he was enjoying the relaxed intimacy, too, and hated to see it end. He held out his hand to assist her from the shower.

Mira turned off the water. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. Pretending David’s criminal behavior didn’t exist wouldn’t make it go away.

Roark started to dry her back and shoulders with the towel he plucked from the counter behind him. “I understand your reluctance, Mirasha. You love your brother. You don’t want any harm to come to him. I understand that, too, but the best way to help him is to help me.”

Brisk and impersonal, Roark ran the towel along her arms and down her legs. She lifted her arms when he tapped them, and drew a dry towel around her, turning her toward him to tuck the end securely at the side of her breast.

“Where are you keeping him?” Mira asked while he dried and tucked. She tried, but failed to keep the quaver from her voice.

Regardless of what he’d done, Davey was still her baby brother, and her mother’s accidental miracle. She’d lost so damn much in this awful war, she couldn’t lose Davey, too. Tears threatened, but Mira blinked them back. She could not, however, hold herself back from leaning into Roark’s chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. She needed the comfort, security, and warmth they offered. She was more aware of it than ever having felt its loss only a few hours before. Feeling him close slowed her breathing and steadied her heartbeat.

“In the clinic just as I ordered,” he assured her. “His injuries have been attended to. I talked to Harm while your coffee was brewing. He’s been keeping your brother company.”

“Roark, no, not Harm. David isn’t Suto.”

“A mark in his favor,” Roark chuckled and then kissed the top of her head. “Harm is not what you think, Mirasha. He’s a good man and he has a way with rebellious boys. I should know. It’s how I met him.”

“You?” she said, surprised. “I can’t picture you as a rebellious teenager.”

“Then remind me to never leave you alone with my mother. She has hours’ worth of complaints which she will gladly tell anyone who will listen. She adores Harm almost as much as she adores me.” He must have felt her roll her eyes. “Of course, that’s not saying much. She adores my brothers, too.” He held her away from him.

“Harm won’t hurt him,” he assured her, “but he won’t coddle him, either. David needs to understand the severity of the charges against him. He must understand the possible penalties for his actions. He must believe that there is nothing you or I can do to save him unless he cooperates.”

“What will happen to him, Roark?”

“I’m not sure. There’s only so much I can do. As First Commander, I’m the primary upholder of the law in this sector. I can’t make exceptions, not an even for you. David’s age is a factor and will be taken into account. That alone will save him from death. Beyond that, I can’t say. Much depends on what role he played in the bombings and what he can tell us about the people he worked with. I’ll do everything in my power to save him from the worst, but I can’t promise you success.”

Mira nodded. It was all she could ask of him.

“David was hanging around a place called The Buzz. It’s a bar and it’s owned by a man named Tomaselli. I knew him as Anthony, but he goes by Tony now and it looks like he has a whole collection of Davids at his disposal.” She told him about her visit to The Buzz in search of her brother. “Word around town says he can get whatever you need. For a hefty price,” she added. “That’s the rumor, anyway. I stay as far away from Anthony Tomaselli as I can.”

“You don’t deal with the black market?”

“Trick question?” she asked. If it was, she’d answer it the same as she would answer all his questions from now on, with the truth.

“Everyone deals with the black market if they can afford it. We couldn’t. I stay away because he’s a vengeful bastard and I hate him. I dated him before the war. I fell for his flash and other things.” She shrugged. “I thought he loved me. He thought he owned me. My mistake. Anthony didn’t think I’d walk away. Now David’s paying because I did.”

“You aren’t responsible for this, Mira.”

“Aren’t I? I brought him into our home. I introduced him to David. Tomaselli would have left him alone if it hadn’t been for me.”

“And what about all those other young men and women you spoke about? Are you responsible for them, too? David is one of several. He alone made the choice, Mira, not you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Roark saying it made her almost believe it.

“Don’t thank me. Believe me.” The man had an uncanny ability to read her mind. He turned her toward the door and patted her rear end. “It’s still early. Why don’t you go back to bed and get some sleep. I have a few things to check on and then I’ll come back and join you.”

He was gone a long while, but Mira didn’t sleep. When he finally returned, she was sitting up in bed against the pillows, the sheet pulled up over her breasts.

He looked surprised and pleased. “You’re tired. I didn’t expect you to wait up for me.”

“I have something I need to tell you. About me,” she clarified when she saw his questioning look.

Mira lifted the sheet while he stripped off his clothes and slipped in beside her. Laying her head against his chest, she asked, “Do you remember the other night, when you picked me up to bring me to dinner and I told you I felt like Cinderella going to the ball?”

“I do. The Ash Maiden story.”

“Exactly, and you know what? That story always bothered me. I always wondered why Cinderella fell in love with Prince Charming. She’d only just met him. Was it because he was a prince? Because he had money and power? Those things don’t buy happiness.” She’d had those things with Anthony and look what it got her. “Maybe it was because he was a good dancer, but you can’t dance your way through the tough spots in life. Young and handsome doesn’t cut it either. Young and handsome don’t make it into the happily ever after. We all get old and gray.”

“As I will be by the time you tell me what you have discovered,” he said and Mira felt the rumble of his laughter.

She was baring her heart and he was laughing at her, but it wasn’t cruel laughter. It was comfortable.

“That night at dinner, I finally figured it out. Cinderella fell in love with Prince Charming because when he held her in his arms, he made her forget the ashes in the hearth, and all the other shitiness that was her life. With his arms around her, he made her feel as if everything was going to be all right, and even if it wasn’t, he’d be there beside her to see it through.

“That’s the way you make me feel, Roark, and you’ve made me feel it from the very first moment when you picked me up from the mud. I need to feel that now. I need to be here in your arms. I need you to make love to me, and make me believe everything is going to be all right.”