Chapter 6
Viper
“A sanctuary, huh?” I asked when the conversation had moved to uncomfortable silence.
Grace nodded, lifting her wine in another contemplative moment. “I have the vision in my mind, even a few ideas on paper. It’s all about money.”
“Did I hear a lamb or a goat or something when we were outside before?”
“Question. Where did you grow up?”
“Why does that matter?” When I bristled, every muscle tensing, she narrowed her eyes. “Colorado, but where I grew up, we didn’t have an opportunity to be around animals much.”
“Oh, well, you heard right. I have three sheep and two goats, four chickens and a pain in the ass rooster I adore.” When she talked about any animal, other than referring to direct abuse, her face lit up.
“A regular menagerie.”
“All by accident, except for Thor and Ellie May. She’s my little rock.” She glanced over her shoulder, sighing heavily as she did.
The time spent had been a huge surprise. “If anybody can make a dream like yours come true, you will. You’re determined and very smart.”
“You mean I’m hardheaded and a pain in the ass.” When I didn’t answer right away, she burst into laughter. “Don’t worry. I know I am.”
I raked my hand across my forehead, whistling when I did. “Thank God for that.”
“Oh, you’re a brutal man,” she purred, her smile fading a few seconds later. “Why Viper?”
The question was one I’d been able to tell Grace was dying to ask me. She didn’t mince words any more than I did. I considered her caustic mouth just another special trait, but I bet she managed to get herself into all kinds of trouble.
The kind of trouble this boy didn’t need to submerge himself in.
I leaned against the porch column, noticing how pretty she looked in the silhouette of the bright moon. With the light breeze whipping wisps of hair against her face and the way she was crouched over as if cold but refused to put on a jacket, it was impossible to drag my attention away.
What the hell. Why not tell her the truth?
“Because I’m a sharpshooter. Or I was another lifetime ago.”
Immediately, she choked on her wine, her mouth slightly open when she turned her head. “Sharpshooter as in with the military or as in you trained yourself to be a highly sufficient serial killer who’s finally lost his lust for performing heinous murders that would rival any horror movie?”
Chuckling, I found myself relaxing more than I thought I could around her.
The moment was far too fucking surreal. We were sitting outside on the step of the front porch.
Both Ellie May and the almost recovered Sailor were huddled together behind us as if boyfriend and girlfriend and there was a huge patch of stars in the sky.
Now this was some damn Hallmark movie.
“Well, let’s just say I can kill a man from over three hundred yards with a single bullet.”
“Wha—at?”
Her mouth was still wide open, but she didn’t flinch when I leaned over, gently pressing her jaw closed. “There are a few fireflies out tonight. I’d hate for you to swallow one.”
Every time she rolled her eyes, my dick twitched.
She shrank back, not from the suspected horror of whatever bloody images were racing through her mind but from amazement. “You might not believe this, but my uncle was considered a sharpshooter.”
“Oh, yeah? Which arm of the military was he in?”
Her nose wrinkled just before she answered. “The Marines. Unfortunately, I never met him, but my dad has stories. Lots of stories. I mean he had lots of stories.”
“Army Airborne.” It had been a long time since I’d managed to state the words without facing head on scrutiny.
How could a man of honor do something so horrible?
Why wasn’t he kicked out of his platoon?
He should lose his medals.
Yeah, maybe I should have. I took a long pull of my third beer, reminding myself I had to drive home and I had precious cargo to worry about.
“That’s amazing. Is that why the tattoo on your arm?”
She’d seemed fascinated by the ink, something I took for granted. Flexing the muscle in my forearm, I held it out. “Nah. I got it after I came out.”
“A flame with a rose in the center. That must be symbolic.” She reached her hand out then shot me a look. If the light were any brighter, I might notice she was blushing from being so forward. “Do you mind? I love art.”
“That’s right. You’re a painter.”
Goddamn it, every time the woman laughed my cock pressed against the zipper of my jeans. Did she have a clue what she was doing to me? I doubted it. “I dabble. Painting gives me peace.”
“You’re damn good. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the pet store were the paintings. I thought someone had taken photographs.”
When her face lit up, she could ignite the entire world. I was certain of it. “That’s the best compliment I’ve had. Thank you.”
“Absolutely. You can touch it.” I kept my arm held out, watching as she traced the lines. “I rarely bite.” My words brought another caustic tilt of her head.
“What does it mean?” Using delicate fingers, she concentrated on the flames.
“That everything precious can be lost in a flash. Like in a fire.”
She stopped moving altogether, pulling her hand away. Shit. I’d caused her more pain. However, she hid it well, this time her smile practiced, one she used when she didn’t want anyone getting too close. Fuck. I knew the look well, although my expression was rarely laced with a smile.
“Do you miss being with your unit?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted and that was true. “But what I miss the most were the jumps.”
I’d piqued her interest. “A skydiver?”
“Yeah. I lived for the jumps.”
“A danger junkie.”
“I used to think I was.”
“And now?”
In mulling over her question, I was surprised it was difficult to answer. Hell, I’d just accepted a job as a smokejumper, and they jumped out of perfectly good planes. “I’m still that way.”
“My father would have loved to sit and talk to you about war stories. After my uncle was killed in the line of duty, he believed that he should continue telling them so we would never forget his sacrifice. After a while, Mom and I had heard them all ten times over. It was easier for him to talk about the horrors of a war he didn’t serve in than the war he did. ”
“I don’t understand.”
Every time her face clouded over, all I wanted to do was to take her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. That wasn’t anything like the man I knew myself to be. In truth, no other woman had caused such a powerful reaction.
“He was a firefighter in New York when the planes hit the Twin Towers that horrible September morning. I was just a baby so I don’t remember anything and it was a subject my father couldn’t talk about.
But my mom and my godfather shared the horrors of what my father went through.
The vacant eyes and loved ones begging for the rescue teams to find their mother or wife, brother or son alive.
The cadaver dogs searching for bodies. Firefighters everywhere, so many succumbing to cancer later.
” She shuddered visibly and my entire body stiffened.
“I can’t imagine what he went through. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, at least as much as it could be. He had nightmares for years and my mother used to worry about him committing suicide. She was his rock.”
No one in my life had trusted me with something so personal. And so painful. When I touched her hand, she lifted her eyes, searching mine until a smile finally claimed her face.
“Obviously, he didn’t. Dad finally quit his job and decided to change course, becoming a veterinarian. The love of animals saved his life.”
I looked back at the two sleeping dogs. “I can understand why.”
“When you talk about what happened in the war, do your stories become bigger and badder?” The way she presented herself as a hulking mass of muscle with her tiny hands fisted and her expression stern brought a smile.
And a reminder that I had to get the hell away. If I didn’t, there would be no way I could pull myself away.
“Nah. I don’t talk about the time I served much.”
Her loopy smile failed as before. “I didn’t mean to bring up difficult memories.
Even without telling the stories, my dad had them too.
There were days that he’d sit in his favorite chair, the one still in the corner of the living room, and he’d do nothing but watch television.
Although he wasn’t comprehending anything.
He was just… existing, fighting so many demons that I created names for them.
” She peered into the night, another visible shudder drifting through her body.
With her being lost in her own mental demons, I was free to enjoy studying her face. Every contour. Every smooth curve. The way her mouth’s corners turned up when she was frustrated. She was so pensive, as if a lost little girl.
“Anyway, for anyone who knew my dad, he wasn’t the sedentary type. He used to drive my mother insane because he wouldn’t stay still. He’d want to go on hikes or head to the river. He knew Missoula and the surrounding area like the back of his hand. Sometimes I think he was fighting death.”
“I understand that too, a need furrowing so deep inside that you can’t breathe when sitting still.”
“Exactly,” she murmured. “When he wasn’t helping animals, he was exploring. His idea of a vacation was rock climbing, which I loved. But when I was a teenager, a mild heart attack forced him to slow down. Ha. That lasted for two weeks.”
“More rock climbing?”
“No. That’s when he decided the rest of the ranch had to be put to use.
Being on desk duty with the rangers didn’t do him any favors.
While I’d always thought there wasn’t anything my father couldn’t do, when he was determined to fix the place up, building a garden shed then the chicken coop, determined to update the barn his way, I realized he wasn’t a contractor.
” She laughed, the sound so light and joyful that every muscle in my body stiffened.
Because I wanted to share in the joy of having similar moments.