The Sins of Lincoln (8 page)

She got up and went over to the closet door. She felt a little like she was prying, but not so much that she stopped herself from looking inside. Brock’s clothes were pressed and hung neatly on hangers, each with a uniformed amount of space between the next. There were shelves in which t-shirts, jeans, and other items were folded neatly. The stacks of clothes were so tight and in-line with one another, they looked like they had been folded by a computer. Mav ran her hands across the short row of button-down dress shirts.
Should I?
, she thought. Without wasting another moment, she dropped her long sleeve pajamas to the ground in a little pile and slipped the white button-down over her shoulders, and buttoned it up. The shirt dwarfed her petite frame—sleeves hung well past the length of her arms and the shirt tails went down to mid-thigh.

She walked out into the main room and found Brock pouring a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she said.

While still pouring, Brock replied, “Morning, Mavery.” But when he turned around and saw her he became so distracted that the coffee he was pouring overflowed the cup. “Oh, crap. Damn, that’s hot. Ah, sorry. Um...” He couldn’t avert his eyes, and Mav grinned.

“Sorry, about the shirt, I mean. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. You look, you look great in it.” Brock struggled to stop himself imagining what she must look like with no shirt on at all. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Like a rock.”

Will walked out from his bedroom, “Well good, little lady. Because today, you’re going to need your rest.” He looked at her bare legs, slender and shapely, then said, “Man if I was only twenty years younger.”

Mav blushed.

“Have a seat, I’ll make you some breakfast,” said Brock. “Today, we’re going to start your training. Tonight you will fall into bed and not move until morning. We’ll start out with a short run to get you warmed up, followed by some weight training and calisthenics. And right after that, firearms.”

“Firearms?”

“Definitely. You’ve got to know how to shoot.”

After the warm-up run through the mountain trails, Mav was already tired. She wasn’t accustomed to so much exercise. And, the push-ups and crunches were enough to bring her to her knees. But overall, she was exhilarated just being with Brock. Will was a lot of fun as well. Just after lunch they walked behind the cabin and down a little woodland trail that led to a small clearing.

“This is our shooting range for small-arms,” said Brock. “I want you to hold something.” Brock removed a small pistol from his waistline. “This is a Glock 42. It’s chambered in .380 ACP. It’s a smaller round and I want you to get used to shooting a pistol with something that won’t kick you in the teeth. It’s unloaded.”

Brock showed her how the semiautomatic gun worked, how to hold it, and how to aim. He loaded the gun and put it in her hands, then he did something that made her shiver; he stood behind her and reached both hands forward, placing them on top of hers. He felt so warm and strong; feeling his form behind her was a decided turn-on.

Several minutes later, a few dozen shell casings lay in a disarrayed pile on the leaf-covered ground. “That’s perfect,” he said. “Will, ever seen a beginner nail targets like that?”

“You sure you haven’t shot before, little lady?”

“No, first time, honest. I kind of like it though.” Mav felt empowered with the handgun in her grip. And even though she’d never held one before, she felt as if she’d been shooting her whole life.

“You’ve got a talent for it, that’s for sure.”

As the day progressed, they moved up to a larger 9mm Glock, then a semi-automatic assault rifle. The short rifle fit into the pocket of her shoulder as though it were born there. Mav had a steady way of holding whatever weapon, and she had perfect form.

“This is excellent,” said Brock. “Alright, it’s getting close to chowtime. Mavery, I want you to carry the assault rifle and pistol with you at all times, from now on. Understood?”

She lost her thoughts staring into his eyes. “Yes.”

“And, any time I look at you before, during, or after chow, I want to see you loading, and reloading each weapon, then field stripping them. I want you to be able to break down a weapon and put it back together as fast as possible, and even do it blindfolded.”

Under Brock’s command, Mav felt so safe, so guided. It was as though she could spend an eternity under his control, and not mind it one bit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mav Learns the Truth

As dusk approached, a glowing redness oozed out from behind the mountains in the distance. The air was crisp, yet the same chill in the air that would normally have mad Mav shiver had no affect. It was a strange change in her, and Mav wondered if she was toughening up. She was sore and tired, but had learned so much in the past few weeks of training that her confidence soared. Still, there was the problem of Brock. Mav was uncontrollably attracted to him, but every time they started to get into a conversation where she thought he might be falling for her, he’d suddenly change the subject.

Once, about four days prior, Mav was sure. The conversation had drifted into the personal, and Mav asked what was the longest relationship he’d ever had. It was an innocent question, and not something uncommonly asked.  But Brock seemed to drift away from the conversation, lost somewhere in a sea of thoughts. Mav wondered what his distance all meant.

Brock walked ahead on the trail as the three hiked back to the cabin just before dusk. Mav allowed herself to fall behind him, and slowed until Will caught up to her. Her rucksack and rifle were heavy, yet she made no complaint; her muscles would now keep up with their new demands.

“Will? Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything, little lady.” His South Texas drawl was cute, and he reminded her of her own father.

“Tell me about Brock.”

“He’s a scoundrel and a liar and a no-good and can’t be trusted,” Will joked. “What about him?”

“Well, it’s probably no secret to you that I like him.”

“Now why would I know that? Maybe it’s that every time I look at you, you’re staring at him?” The two laughed.

“No, seriously, Will. I just, I can’t seem to get inside his head. It’s like I can tell he wants to tell me something but he stops. Every time, he stops.”

Will stopped walking. “Alright. I wouldn’t normally tell anyone these things. But, there’s a reason Brock won’t get too personal with you. He’s got a wall built around himself. I don’t know much about this emotional shit, but he’s walled himself off. And I know why.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

Will gazed off into the redness of the darkening sky. “Did something happen. Yeah. Yeah, something happened. It’s a strange thing though. It wasn’t until you were in the picture that it all seemed to surface again. It was about ten years ago. He and I were still CIA then. We’d been assigned to do a job in North Korea. It was ugly. I don’t want to get into the details of it. Anyway, we worked with one other person at that time. The three of us were a team. Her name was Lori, and she was our communications officer, which just means she did all the technical stuff, hacking, secure communications with Langley and such. Well, it didn’t take long and Lori and Brock had fallen for each other.” Will laughed. “It was kind of sickening, to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that.”

“No, I don’t mean that. They were inseparable. But man, we had to keep it a secret. Operatives getting emotionally involved with one another is a big no-no. Anyway, he was in love with her. And when I say ‘in love,’ I mean it.”

“What happened?”

“He and I were coming back from a surveillance mission, you know, doing some recon on a target we were to take out. Apparently the North Koreans got wind of our little operation. They found out about Brock, but not me or Lori.” He looked down at his boots and shifted some dirt from one side of the trail to the other. “They sent someone, they sent one of their own operatives to kill him. But, they ran into Lori instead. By the time we got back, it was too late. The thing was, they didn’t just kill her, they did things to her, bad things.” He stared into Mav’s eyes. “Things you’ve been through yourself.”

Mav covered her mouth with her hand.

Will continued. “Brock was broken up about it. He was a broken man. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Is that why he went berserk when those bikers were attacking me?”

“Damn straight it was.”

“That look in his eyes. I can barely remember it, but there was this look in his eyes when he was tearing them apart. I can’t describe it.”

“His eyes looked dead, didn’t they?” said Will. “It’s called the thousand-yard-stare, a time when you kind of loose contact with the rest of us, and go into your own world. At any rate, when he saw you being attacked, he saw Lori. That’s why he acts they way he does around you. When he sees you, he sees her. When he trains you, he’s training her. He’s always blamed himself for Lori’s death. He’s always blamed himself for not being there to save her, and it’s killing him inside.”

“What do I do?”

“I’m headed back down the mountain tonight; going into town to check on those Lincoln Killer assholes. Got to keep tabs on them so we know where we stand. When I’m gone, he needs to know who
you
are. Maybe then he’ll get it into his thick head.”

As darkness was falling all around them, they hiked up the trail towards the cabin and Mav said, “Sky’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Red sky at night, sailors delight. It’s going to be a beautiful day tomorrow.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Mav is not Lori

After a quiet supper, Will was out the door, headed into town to check on the Lincoln Killers. The sound of the Harley firing to life still carried with it something of a thrill for Mav. Her attraction to biker-types was not limited to the look of a leather vest over tattoo-covered muscles. She liked the sound of the bike. She liked to hear the engine’s power. And she liked the way it felt when she rode with her arms around Brock’s body. The feel of his hardened torso pulled against hers, along with the heavy thunder of the motor sent a vibration into Mav’s core, and it hit her just in the right spot—the tingle was there and it only grew in intensity.

Brock had been quiet at supper and Mav knew she’d have to be the one to break the ice. With Will out of the cabin for a prolonged period, it may be her only chance to be alone with the man in her dreams.

“I can get those,” said Mav just before Brock began to do the dishes.

“No, no. It’s not a woman’s job to do the dishes.”

“Where does that come from?”

“What?” replied Brock as he started in on a large pot.

“You aren’t like any man I’ve been around. Most men look at me like I’m just another chick. You know, just something to keep around the house to clean up, and have sex with.”

Brock’s teeth clenched together. Even the muscles on his jaw had the capacity to bulge, and it only added to his chiseled look. “It’s my upbringing.”

“Your parents? Did they teach you to respect women like that?”

Brock stared at her a moment. “No.” She could tell he was on the verge of sharing something. “My father. My father was abusive. He was an alcoholic. The way he treated my mother was awful. I couldn’t stand him. Well, I swore that I’d never be like that.”

Mav let her hand creep gently up his back, and onto his broad shoulder. Brock visibly reacted to her touch. At first, he appeared startled, but then he settled into it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have been terrible for you to watch.”

“He’d come home drunk, and go after my mother. When I was little, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. He’d come home and hurt her, you know, hurt her that way. I never understood why she stayed with him. I guess she had no way out.”

Mav slipped in behind him and put both hands around his waist and ran her hands across his abs. He was so warm to hold. The tenderness seemed to disarm him, and he continued. “When I got bigger, I learned to hate him like nothing I’ve ever hated before or since. I’d wait up, late. And when he got home, I’d go downstairs and provoke him. He’d come after me, instead of my mother. But, as bad as it was, his rage had a chance to escape, and my mom would be spared.”

Mav hugged him tight against her chest. The tingle between her legs increased, as it had done for the past couple of weeks. Just being around him, and not being able to touch him, had been excruciating. She knew it was now or never, and decided to make one solid effort to tear down the mental wall he was still clutching—his heartbreak over the death of Lori, someone he had loved deeply.

“Brock?”

He turned his head towards her as she continued hugging him from behind. “Yes?”

“Who am I?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, who am I? To you. Who am I?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking. You’re Mavery Healy.”

She reached up high, and with the gentleness of a feather on silk, she ran her hand over his face, closing his eyes. “Close your eyes and tell me who I am.”

Brock did not reply. Instead Mav felt a tremble in his chest and a change in his breathing. He struggled and fought back his emotions before they surfaced.