What’s it mean?” He spread his hand over her hip and rubbed a long oval over her thigh. He could not seem to stop touching her.
“The love which moves the sun and the other stars.” He couldn’t read her expression.
That sounded familiar to him, and he took a second and searched his head. “That’s Dante, right?”
She turned fast, landing on her back. “Yeah. It’s the last line of The Divine Comedy . You know Dante?” The look on her face was naked shock. That had rattled her. Not the fight last night, not a gun to her head, not him finding her and knowing her name, not the epic fuck. The fact that he knew Dante—that flattened her. He was offended.
“We hicks do go to school, you know.”
Now her look was skeptical. “You went to a school where you read Dante?”
No, he hadn’t. He grinned. “Well, we used to have a town library, too. I like to read. Always have. I told you, there’s not a lot to do around here. So, why do you have Dante inked into your side?”
“My dad’s favorite book.” Instead of saying more, she got off the bed. “I’m starved. You owe me breakfast. I’m getting in the shower.”
“Want company? I need one, too.” He wiggle his eyebrows at her. “Always good to conserve water—we’re on wells out here.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll go fast, leave you some.” She walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Isaac lay back, feeling like he’d done something wrong and not sure why he cared. But there was some insight there into the mystery that was Lilli. He’d need to work that out. He still had the condom on, now looking sad and deflated on his mostly-soft cock. He pulled it off and went hunting for a place to discard it. He ended up dropping it in the trash under the kitchen sink.
~oOo~
Lilli had refused to ride with him, saying she needed to have her car so that she could do errands after breakfast. So she followed him to Marie’s. On the ride, Isaac thought about the events of the past half-day. Far more eventful than usual, they were.
Jimmy had sacrificed only three fingernails to the truth. Meg had tried a couple of dodges around the facts, but Isaac was nothing if not perceptive, and after Vic pulled the nail from the middle finger of his right hand, with its broken wrist, she’d caved completely, ignoring Jimmy’s frantic head shaking.
So now, Isaac knew that the St. Louis crew the Horde was beefing with, The Northside Knights, had some kind of new player backing them, and they were looking to annex the cookers down the I-44 corridor—which was, in its entirety, from Illinois to Oklahoma, Horde turf. They’d just about turned Jimmy and Meg, among the biggest cookers in Crawford County, but they were leaning hard on Jimmy to prime Will Keller for a buyout of his property—a family farm of 150 acres, held by his bloodline for a century.
All of that for three fingernails. Well, he’d known she’d be the weak link. Meg didn’t know why they wanted the property, but Isaac had a damn good idea. There was a lot of dense forest on that acreage—about half the property. The canopy was tight. Good obstruction from satellites. Built right, a fucking meth mass-production center could hide in there. Right smack in the middle of the pipeline.
Mass-produced crank on a scale like that was not going to happen on Isaac’s watch. No enemy of the Horde was going to own property on Horde turf, period. A backer for the Northsiders with that kind of capital—someone who scared Jimmy Sullivan enough that he was willing to be tortured rather than name—was a very serious, very dangerous problem for the Horde, and for Signal Bend itself.
And then there was Ms. Lillian Carson, allegedly from Austin, Texas, but with no discernable Texas lilt in her voice. Bart had come up against the wall quickly, but he hadn’t yet been able to breach it. He’d been perplexed, because she didn’t seem to have worked hard to hide the fact that she was
“The love which moves the sun and the other stars.” He couldn’t read her expression.
That sounded familiar to him, and he took a second and searched his head. “That’s Dante, right?”
She turned fast, landing on her back. “Yeah. It’s the last line of The Divine Comedy . You know Dante?” The look on her face was naked shock. That had rattled her. Not the fight last night, not a gun to her head, not him finding her and knowing her name, not the epic fuck. The fact that he knew Dante—that flattened her. He was offended.
“We hicks do go to school, you know.”
Now her look was skeptical. “You went to a school where you read Dante?”
No, he hadn’t. He grinned. “Well, we used to have a town library, too. I like to read. Always have. I told you, there’s not a lot to do around here. So, why do you have Dante inked into your side?”
“My dad’s favorite book.” Instead of saying more, she got off the bed. “I’m starved. You owe me breakfast. I’m getting in the shower.”
“Want company? I need one, too.” He wiggle his eyebrows at her. “Always good to conserve water—we’re on wells out here.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll go fast, leave you some.” She walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Isaac lay back, feeling like he’d done something wrong and not sure why he cared. But there was some insight there into the mystery that was Lilli. He’d need to work that out. He still had the condom on, now looking sad and deflated on his mostly-soft cock. He pulled it off and went hunting for a place to discard it. He ended up dropping it in the trash under the kitchen sink.
~oOo~
Lilli had refused to ride with him, saying she needed to have her car so that she could do errands after breakfast. So she followed him to Marie’s. On the ride, Isaac thought about the events of the past half-day. Far more eventful than usual, they were.
Jimmy had sacrificed only three fingernails to the truth. Meg had tried a couple of dodges around the facts, but Isaac was nothing if not perceptive, and after Vic pulled the nail from the middle finger of his right hand, with its broken wrist, she’d caved completely, ignoring Jimmy’s frantic head shaking.
So now, Isaac knew that the St. Louis crew the Horde was beefing with, The Northside Knights, had some kind of new player backing them, and they were looking to annex the cookers down the I-44 corridor—which was, in its entirety, from Illinois to Oklahoma, Horde turf. They’d just about turned Jimmy and Meg, among the biggest cookers in Crawford County, but they were leaning hard on Jimmy to prime Will Keller for a buyout of his property—a family farm of 150 acres, held by his bloodline for a century.
All of that for three fingernails. Well, he’d known she’d be the weak link. Meg didn’t know why they wanted the property, but Isaac had a damn good idea. There was a lot of dense forest on that acreage—about half the property. The canopy was tight. Good obstruction from satellites. Built right, a fucking meth mass-production center could hide in there. Right smack in the middle of the pipeline.
Mass-produced crank on a scale like that was not going to happen on Isaac’s watch. No enemy of the Horde was going to own property on Horde turf, period. A backer for the Northsiders with that kind of capital—someone who scared Jimmy Sullivan enough that he was willing to be tortured rather than name—was a very serious, very dangerous problem for the Horde, and for Signal Bend itself.
And then there was Ms. Lillian Carson, allegedly from Austin, Texas, but with no discernable Texas lilt in her voice. Bart had come up against the wall quickly, but he hadn’t yet been able to breach it. He’d been perplexed, because she didn’t seem to have worked hard to hide the fact that she was
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