All I Need

by Christa Conan

  “But I thank God I have you here, beside me.”

  “Do you realize what you’re saying?” His voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion.

  She swallowed the tightness constricting her throat. “Yes.”

  “Shannen...”

  “I’m saying I don’t blame you, Rhone.” She blinked, looking up at him, wishing she could completely read his expression. But then, if she didn’t have the anonymity of darkness for cover, she might not be able to find the courage to confess what had been burning inside. “I did at first, but I don’t anymore.”

  “I’ve placed our child’s life in danger, maybe our lives, too.”

  She didn’t need light to see his self-inflicted blame. It was jaggedly etched into each word.

  “I knew who you were when I married you, Rhone. I knew the risks.”

  His other arm went around her, dragging her flush against his chest. “You’re saying you forgive me? No matter what else we have to face?”

  She nodded, the feel of soft flannel and hard male consuming her. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know you would have given anything to keep me and Nicky safe. You arrived as soon as you could—”

  “Not soon enough,” he countered bitterly.

  “You were there for me, Rhone.” She felt her insides being ripped to shreds. She didn’t need to heap guilt on him; he’d done more than enough for a dozen people. “When I needed you most, you were there.”

  “It’s not over,” he warned.

  “As much as you want to be, as much as you’d like to pretend to be, you’re not a superman, Rhone. You’re doing everything humanly possible.” She reached her hands around his neck, feeling the longish length of his hair tangling through her fingers.

  “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

  With that, and obviously not caring whether Doug or Brian looked on, Rhone kissed her fully, leaving her hungry for more. Now that she’d rediscovered her husband, she didn’t know if she could let him go a second time. Worse was the fear she wouldn’t have a choice.

  She’d always been the play-it-safe type. The fact she’d married Rhone in the first place surprised no one more than her. But she was discovering the error of her ways. Wasn’t all-consuming love worth the risks? Life was short, and memories might be the only thing that helped one survive. She’d definitely learned that the hard way.

  An obviously reluctant Doug cleared his throat, then approached. “Sorry, partner, but duty calls.”

  Rhone released Shannen. “I’ll take first watch,” he said.

  “Twist my arm,” Doug replied, then bent and tossed a couple of sleeping bags in their direction. The flashlight followed.

  “I think Doug’s tired,” Shannen commented.

  “He knows I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, anyway.” Rhone spread the sleeping bags out.

  “Why don’t you zip them together?”

  “I was afraid you’d never ask.” With a few, deft motions, he secured the bags together. Pushing up from his crouch, he finished, “I’ll climb in when my watch is over. Try and get some rest.”

  “I’ll wait up with you.”

  “There’s nothing more boring than trying to stay awake and alert while everyone else is sleeping.”

  “All the more reason for you to have company.”

  They moved away from the area where Doug and Brian had spread their sleeping bags. Rhone poured them both coffee, black, and nearly espresso strength, with only a hint of sugar to take away the caffeine’s bite.

  After handing her a metal cup, he asked, “Have you always been this stubborn? Or maybe I just don’t remember.”

  “I’ve changed in the last couple of years. You, on the other hand, have always been bossy.”

  “Me?”

  “You,” she responded, in the same, mock-horror tone he’d used.

  “I think I liked things better when you were more malleable.”

  “Did you?”

  “Honestly?” he asked, turning to place the cup on a huge rock. Gently, Rhone feathered back hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

  The roughness of his fingertip abraded her skin, sending a dance of desire through her.

  With a breath, he continued, “No. You’ve got a well of strength now, not that you weren’t strong before. It’s just different somehow.”

  “Being a mother changes you.”

  “Maybe that’s it. Maybe getting away from me was good for you.”

  “Don’t say that,” she demanded. “If I have strength now, it’s because of you. From you. You’re my inspiration, Rhone.”

  He placed his palms on either side of her cheeks, cradling her chin where his hands joined together. “Thank you for that. You can’t imagine what it means to me.”

  With infinite tenderness, unbelievable coming from a man this size, this hardened, he dropped a kiss on her lips. She shuddered, wanting more, wishing things were different, hoping things would work out.

  Shannen could never recall being bombarded by so many overwhelming feelings at the same time. Fear, panic, love, joy, despair and anger. It left her drained, but simultaneously ready to fight if she needed to.

  She heard a groan, as if it came from all the way deep inside him. With obvious reluctance, he dropped his hands. “As much as I want to hold you, taste you, I’ve got to check our perimeter. Ready?”

  The fact he hadn’t arrogantly assumed she would stay near the camp thrilled her.

  Not a fool, though, she stayed close, stopping when he did, cocking her head to the side to listen. Fifteen or twenty minutes passed before they returned to camp, Rhone obviously satisfied Norton didn’t lurk behind the trees, watching their every move.

  She gratefully accepted a refill of the coffee as she sank onto the sleeping bag. Twigs had reached up and slapped her shins while low-lying branches had grabbed for her hair. After this was over, she knew she never wanted to camp again. And if Nicky wanted to, well, he’d just have to go with his father....

  The thought brought her head up.

  How easy it was to picture a happily-ever-after for them. And, as yet, how impossible it seemed.

  Rhone dropped down next to her. He winced, trying to adjust and hold his coffee steady at the same time. “Damn. I forgot how much I hate doing this. Nothing feels worse than a sharp rock digging into your—”

  “Behind,” she supplied.

  “Right.” He shook hot liquid off his hand.

  They drank their sugar-laced coffee in companionable quiet, her mind once again supplying teasing images of them sitting in front of a fire, sharing the events of the day while their child slept soundly upstairs.

  Thoughts of Nicky led naturally to her worries. “I wonder if he’s asleep.”

  Rhone didn’t respond.

  “Nicky, that is. Or if he’s awake like we are.”

  Rhone swore.

  “How can he do this to us, Rhone? How can any man steal a baby from his mother?” She knew he’d followed her leap of conversation.

  “I wish I could answer that.”

  “I’m angry.” She didn’t resist when Rhone put his arm around her shoulder. “Who the hell does Norton think he is?” She took a long swallow. “I wish I could get my hands on him.”

  “The idea is to keep you away from him.”

  She said bitterly, “I’d kill him, Rhone, I swear I would.”

  “Shannen, you’ve got to listen to me. A certain amount of anger is just fine, understandable, even necessary. But don’t let it blind you. Passion, of any kind, can be deadly in the field. You’ve got to bottle it up and shove it away.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “That’s what I try to do. Giving in can get you hurt.”

  “Is that what happened in Colombia?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’d have done anything to get Menendez. In the end, that same determination got me.”

  She wasn’t sure she could shove away the loathing if she saw Norton a
gain. The urge to kill him would be stronger than anything. But Shannen couldn’t admit that to Rhone. It would just make his protective instincts surge to the surface again.

  An owl hooted and Doug sat up in a single, fluid, all-alert motion. Shannen recognized the movement. She’d seen it from Rhone plenty when he used to sleep at home. She wisely stayed where she was until Doug blinked reality into focus.

  Rhone flipped on the flashlight.

  More than a little sheepishly, Doug slipped his gun back in its holster.

  “Sleeping out here never gets easy, does it, partner?” Rhone asked.

  “In my next life I’m gonna be a banker,” Doug insisted, walking to the thermos and pouring a cup of coffee for himself.

  “And I’m gonna be an accountant,” Rhone seconded.

  It still amazed her that the two were so comfortable in the dark, moving unhesitatingly. Her vision had accustomed to night, but not nearly enough to maneuver effortlessly.

  “Last time you said you wanted to be a dishwasher repairman,” Doug reminded him.

  “At least I have dreams, bud. You’ve always wanted to be a banker.”

  They continued in a lighthearted tone, both always keeping a wary eye on the area around them. “It’s time for another perimeter check,” Rhone said. “Want me to do it?”

  “No. I need some exercise anyway. You and Shannen catch forty winks while you can.”

  Within minutes, Shannen had snuggled against Rhone, using his chest as the pillow she didn’t have. Rhone propped one arm behind his head, letting the other skim down her spine.

  She didn’t expect to sleep. But the rhythmic beat of Rhone’s breaths and the warmth from his body lulled her into a brief nap.

  When she woke, coming instantly awake as she’d seen Doug do earlier, she realized a cold chill had wound its way around her. Rhone was gone.

  She pushed to sitting, heart pounding unnaturally. All three men were loading supplies into backpacks. All the other sleeping bags had been rolled and readied for the day.

  “You should have woke me,” she said, shoving unruly hair from her face.

  “We still have work to do,” Brian said. “No worries.”

  Rhone joined her, offering coffee. No steam rose from the top of the cup. “It’s warm,” he said, dropping to a squat in front of her, “but not much more than that.”

  She accepted, fighting to find the good mood she usually woke up in. But the burning in her eyes, the chilly temperature, predawn skies and the fact she’d overslept, combined with all the things she’d been through, made a smile impossible.

  Wisely, Rhone disappeared, joining the other men and helping Brian to situate a larger pack on his back. She finger-combed her hair, redid the ponytail, tucked her V-neck sweater back into her jeans, then pulled on her boots.

  “We’ve got beef jerky if you’re hungry.”

  She wrinkled her nose, stomach instantly protesting the thought of jerky and tepid coffee. “Pass.” After buttoning her jacket, she unzipped the two sleeping bags, refastening and rolling one while Rhone worked on the other.

  “Do you have any idea which way we should head?” Shannen asked.

  “There’s a mine to the west of here. It’s worth checking out. If nothing else, maybe we can pick up his trail.”

  Doug nodded agreement.

  Within five minutes, not a single trace of their stay remained.

  She thought their trek through the woods in daylight would be easier. It wasn’t. Her muscles burned, her feet sported blisters, which stung with every step, and bugs buzzed around her head. The sun made the exercise uncomfortably hot.

  No one spoke during the morning, and hardly a dozen words were exchanged when they stopped for lunch. When they’d walked for hours with no sign of Norton, tempers began to wane. Shannen wondered if they were heading in the right direction or if they were giving Norton his jollies by running all over in a wild-goose chase.

  And wondered if Nicky was still alive.

  Gritting her teeth, she picked her way over yet another moss-eaten rock. Only positive thoughts of Nicky’s firsts kept her going. She slipped, green fuzz staining her jeans and palms.

  Rhone’s hands came around her waist, helping hold her steady while she recovered her footing.

  At the front of the line, Brian abruptly stopped, raising a hand. Nervously she glanced around, suddenly feeling as though a hundred pairs of eyes were staring at her. A shiver traced between her shoulder blades. Setting her firmly on the ground, Rhone hurried to where Brian stood, his footsteps making no sound on the pine-needle-carpeted ground.

  Following, she stopped short, the morning’s coffee curdling in her stomach.

  Hanging from a tree branch was the shirt Nicky had been wearing when he was abducted, a note pinned where Nicky’s heart would beat against the fabric. “Can’t catch me,” it read.

  Rage stabbed her. “No!” she screamed, suddenly not caring if anyone heard. Let the sick bastard come after them. She was desperate to fight, desperate to hold her son again, desperate for the insanity to be over.

  In a swift motion, she pushed to the front of the men, grabbing hold of the shirt and yanking it free with a loud rip. She saw the three men exchange a glance. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice strained, “I’m okay. I’m not going to freak out on you just because my son was wearing this shirt when the bastard stole him from my house.”

  “Shannen...”

  She pretended not to hear, holding the material against her cheek.

  Rhone disentangled the shirt, easing the material from her numb-feeling fingers.

  With efficiency that seemed callous to her, Brian dug in his backpack for a plastic bag. He opened the top and Rhone dropped the shirt in.

  Evidence.

  The word ricocheted in her mind.

  Evidence.

  As far as she was concerned, they didn’t need evidence. Norton wouldn’t live long enough to make it to court.

  “He’s trying to wear us down,” Rhone told her, bitingly digging his fingers into her shoulders.

  The sharp pain distracted her. She looked up at him, his eyes containing a mixture of tyrannical determination and compassion.

  “It’s psychological warfare. He wants anger to blind us so we screw up.”

  Her hands shook. She watched Brian seal the bag and scribble a notation on the side. Then he zipped the backpack closed with a single, tearing sound.

  “Shan, I knew he’d do this. That’s why I wanted you to stay at the command post.”

  He’d said the words harshly, intentionally goading her. Rhone Mitchell knew how to push her buttons and had no compunction about doing it.

  “We can’t let him weaken us, Shannen. The four of us are only as strong as our weakest link.”

  “And that’s me.”

  “Is it?” he asked softly.

  Angry and hurt, she forced her spine into a rigid line. “No. I won’t let you down.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t.” Looking at Doug, he raised three fingers, then ticked them down one by one.

  Doug nodded, taking the lead.

  She felt as though a summer tornado gathered force around them. All three men had their guns drawn, their movements tight and controlled. Every time they found another clue, another sign of Norton’s presence, Rhone, Doug and Brian performed the same ritual.

  Looking around, trying to see things as they did, Shannen noticed branches were broken from trees. A wild animal? Or Norton? Adrenaline crashed through her bloodstream and her pulse roared in her head so that she heard little else.

  Walking farther, the sun directly overhead, she knew they were getting close. Felt it.

  She glanced back at Rhone. He frowned, his eyes narrow slits, mouth set in a determined line. His tension was almost palpable. It wasn’t her imagination. Something was going to happen.

  Within the next sixty seconds, it did.

  Still walking, Doug made a hand signal. Rhone instantly grabbed her, tossing her to t
he unyielding ground, a million pine needles digging into her body. The weight of Rhone on top of her only intensified the feeling.

  She struggled to gulp air into her lungs.

  From above her, she heard Rhone’s vivid four-letter curse. Then he got off her, offering a hand up. Suddenly, the idea of keeping her head buried seemed like a good one.

  But she forced herself to look.

  Then wished she hadn’t.

  “Lord, Rhone, he’s been in my house, in my bedroom! And he’s still got Nicky.”

  She squeezed her eyes against the searing pain of seeing her son’s beloved Bear’s head grotesquely pinned between the jagged metal teeth of a wild animal trap.

  With furious but efficient motions, the corners of his mouth turned in a frigid sneer, Rhone set to work on the trap, dismantling the damn thing, piece by piece.

  She stood there, terror rooting her immobilized.

  Before Brian could repeat the procedure of bagging the evidence, she picked up Bear, one of its eyes dangling by a thread from a fuzzy face. Stuffing oozed from the hole in his neck.

  Shannen wondered where the tears were.

  There were none.

  She didn’t have a clue where to start fighting this kind of mental torture. Doug and Rhone seemed more angry.

  Goose bumps stood rigidly at attention on her skin, but other than that she felt completely numb, worn-out. Worn down.

  “Aw, hell!”

  Hearing the rare mix of anger and frustration in Doug’s voice, Shannen glanced up. Now what? she wondered.

  A crack of gunfire exploded around them.

  “Watch out!”

  Chapter 13

  Doug’s shout of warning echoed in Rhone’s ears. A fraction of a second later, he heard the repeat of a semiautomatic. In a flurry of motion, Brian lunged forward, blocking Rhone’s path.

  There was no time to think or evaluate. Only act. Grabbing Shannen, Rhone shielded her body with his own. In a fluid motion, both dropped into a crouched position. He could have sworn he heard the whiz of a passing bullet splitting the air near his head. Cursing aloud, Rhone backed up, drawing Shannen into a more dense cover of trees.

  As quickly as the ambush began, it ended. In the ensuing quiet, Rhone heard Shannen’s adrenaline-induced gasps for air. His own chest rose and fell in rapid succession for the same reasons. The difference was, he’d long ago learned how to contain his terror, and now he tamped it down with practiced resolve.