Mafia III by Marsheila Rockwell & Jeff Mariotte

Author:Marsheila Rockwell & Jeff Mariotte
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Insight Editions

22

* * *

In the mornings, they worked on the windmill and laid the pipe. In the early afternoons, they drilled, practicing the combat techniques Lincoln taught them. After the day’s worst heat, they had target practice.

After dinner, on the day the windmill first operated the pump and brought water from the well into the village and beyond, to the fields, Sho came to Lincoln’s longhouse. He was sitting at a bamboo table the villagers had built for him, perusing aerial photos Donovan had sent, via Corbett, showing the location of a Pathet Lao base on the Plain. When she entered, he turned the photographs over on the table and rose.

“I want to thank you for everything you do for us,” she said. “The school, the well. Teaching the men how to make war. You are like a . . . I do not know. Like a big man in our village. Like a hero.”

Lincoln shook off the praise. “I’m just doin’ my job, Sho.”

“I think you do more than your job, Lincoln. Those poppies we grow—you said they will bring riches to Vang Khom. Is that also your job?”

Now that the irrigation system was up and running, the villagers could start cultivating the poppies. They would bring wealth, though Lincoln wasn’t sure he wanted to explain to Sho what the end product would be.

“In a way,” he said. “I’m supposed to help the village. Not just to fight the communists but to thrive, to be self-supporting after the war. So I’m doing what I can.”

She crossed the space between them and put her hands on his arms. “Well, you are an . . . impressive man.”

“Sho,” he said, feeling like a fool before he even launched into his sentence. He’d had a feeling this moment would come, and he had gone back and forth on how to handle it. She was mixed race, like him. Like him, she had never known her own father. She was undeniably smart, and in their conversations she had come across as utterly genuine. “You’re a beautiful woman. One of the most beautiful I’ve ever known. You’re brilliant, and I think you’re a great teacher for those kids, and . . . ah, goddammit, I don’t even know what to say. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone. But if you’re gonna offer yourself to me, I want you to do it because you want me, not because you feel like it’s your duty, or because you have to thank me on behalf of the village.”

“You like me?” she asked, a smile forming on her lips. “You want me?”

“Hell yes, I like you. And yes, I want you.”

“I want you, too,” she said, running her hands up his biceps to his shoulders, then over his broad chest. “Not for the village, Lincoln. For me.”

“You sure?”

“I am . . .” She struggled for the words, then continued. “I am more sure than I have ever been.”

Pressing her hands flat against his chest, she leaned into him, tilting her face up toward his.

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