by Susan Stoker
“You don’t swear.”
“What?”
“You don’t swear,” he repeated patiently.
Dakota shrugged. “I’m an elementary school principal. Or I was. I can’t exactly go around saying fuck, shit, and damn all the time.”
“True. I like it.”
“I can die happy,” Dakota grumped.
His voice lowered further, if that was even possible, and as much as she hated it, goosebumps broke out on her arms at his tone. “I’m one of the good guys, Dakota,” he told her. “The short story is that the government knows Fourati is behind the airport bombing and they want to make sure he’s punished for what he did. But now he’s gathering soldiers online. Trying to convert them to his cause. He wants to do it again, but on a grander scale this time.”
“I’m aware,” Dakota whispered, and she was. Aziz had bragged about his plans while she and the other hostages had huddled together, scared out of their minds in the airport.
“Then you know how important it is to stop him.”
“I almost died that day.” Dakota told him something he probably already knew.
He confirmed it by saying simply, “I know.”
“You can’t just show up out of the blue, tell me you’ve been looking for me, and expect me to trust you are who you say you are.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not?” Dakota asked, confused.
He continued to hold the cup out to her, but said, “I told you that I’d been to see your dad. I saw the postcards. I am a retired Navy SEAL. I’m not Tunisian and couldn’t pass for an Arabic terrorist on a good day. If I had cell reception, I’d call one of my best friends in the world and let him vouch for me. But that will have to wait until we’re back in civilization. I’m one of the good guys, Dakota. Swear to God.”
“That’s what a terrorist would say,” she informed him, not swayed in the least. “Besides, calling someone in order to vouch for your trustworthiness isn’t going to make me believe them.”
“Take the cup,” Slade ordered gently.
Without thought, Dakota obeyed his urgent words. She reached out and took the stainless-steel travel mug from him. Her fingers brushed his, and she swore she could feel the heat from his fingers shoot up her arm.
But no, it wasn’t his fingers that caused the heat, it was the mug. It was warm. She looked up in question.
“I stopped by the restaurant before coming here and asked Pat to warm up the contents for me.” He looked sheepish for a moment before saying, “I’m sure it doesn’t taste the best after two days, but your dad told me what you liked. He said you’d know I was telling the truth about talking to him if I brought this.”
Dakota slowly and carefully turned the plastic lid—and immediately the smell of peppermint wafted up to her nose. She closed her eyes in ecstasy and brought the mug closer to her face. She inhaled the delicious scent of her absolute favorite coffee in the world, and thought about all the times she and her dad had shared a cup of coffee like this while sitting in his small living room. She fought the tears that sprang to her eyes.
“And this,” Slade said softly, interrupting the memory.
Dakota opened her eyes and saw he was holding out a small white paper bag. She knew what was inside without having to look.
“A maple-iced donut,” she said.
“That’s right. Although I’m afraid it’s probably a bit worse for wear after being in my saddlebag on the back of my bike.”
Dakota reached out and snagged the bag from his fingertips, being careful not to touch him this time, and peered inside. Sure enough, the donut was mushed on one side and the maple icing was mostly stuck to the bag rather than on the pastry itself, but again, the memories that assailed her were almost overwhelming.
“You really did go see my dad.”
“I did.”
“And you swear you didn’t hurt him?”
Slade made a weird sound and Dakota’s gaze went to his. He looked pissed now. “No, I didn’t hurt him,” Slade growled. “I’m exactly who I’ve told you I am.”
Dakota studied Slade for a long moment. The heat from the metal cup seeped into her palm, warming her cold hand. The paper from the bag crinkled as she shifted in her seat. Would a terrorist haul a cup of peppermint mocha coffee all the way from Vegas? Would he sit in a car next to her for who knows how long waiting for her to wake up without hurting her? Aziz certainly wouldn’t. She was well aware of what he would do if he was in Slade’s shoes.
Aziz Fourati wanted her. Dakota knew that without a doubt. But he wouldn’t have his men treat her like this. Friendly. Respectful. Cautious. She knew exactly how they would treat her, had treated her that day back in the airport.
“You said that you couldn’t pass for an Arabic terrorist on a good day,” Dakota said softly.
“That’s right,” Slade agreed. “Once upon a time, I took pride in being able to move amongst people in the Middle East and blend in, but those days are over. This is the real me…graying beard and all.” He gestured to his face as he said the last.
Dakota paused to take a small sip of the ambrosia she held in her hands and sighed as the peppermint flavor exploded on her tongue. The coffee was lukewarm, and a bit stale, but was still the best thing she’d tasted in a very long time. She looked up into Slade’s eyes. She might be signing her death warrant by confiding in the man, but even in the short amount of time she’d spent with him…she trusted him. There was just something about him that she felt down in her soul. That he was meant to find her.
She’d never been very religious in her life, but she did believe in souls. And reincarnation. Her parents had been soul mates; of that she was sure. She’d hoped to find the man meant to be hers in this lifetime, but had just about given up…until Slade had walked into the Little A’Le’Inn last night.
So far, Slade had been patient and protective of her…but more than that, she could see the honesty in his eyes. Aziz and his friends had cold, dead eyes. Slade’s were a warm dark brown, and while she was well aware that he could probably kill her with his bare hands—he was a retired SEAL, after all—she knew he wouldn’t.
When she didn’t say anything else, Slade suggested, “How about we get out of the cold and grab something other than caffeine and sugar for you?”
“You came all the way out here because you wanted to know what Aziz looks like so you could catch him,” Dakota said in confusion. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“You’re right, I did come all the way out here to find you and get more information on Fourati. But that’s not the only reason. Sweetheart, you’re shivering from cold, you have to be stiff from sitting here all night. I’m more concerned with taking care of you right now than getting information about Fourati.”
Dakota licked her lips nervously, tasting the lingering peppermint that clung there, and asked, “Don’t you need to report back to your superiors or whatever they’re called and track him down? It’s why you’re here,” she insisted again.
Slade immediately shook his head. “No. I won’t lie, that’s the original reason, yes. But the second I saw your picture in the mission folder, I knew I had to find you for a different reason.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Dakota asked, “Why?”
Slade’s hand moved again. His fingers brushed her cheek, but then the heavy weight of his palm eased around and rested against the back of her neck. Dakota felt the goosebumps rise again and shoot all the way down both arms this time. With her hands full of the mug and paper bag, she couldn’t do anything but lean on him when he put pressure on his hand and slowly tugged her forward.
His other hand went under her chin and he raised her head so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. She felt surrounded by him. His warmth. His caring. His passion.
“I’m not a young man, Dakota. I’m forty-eight years old. And not once in all that time have I been so affected by a photo as I was yours. I’ve seen hundreds of pictures of wome
n who were in need of protection and rescue. Not one made me lose my breath and feel as if I was smacked on the back of the head. It was as if you reached out and snagged a piece of my heart. But that was nothing compared to seeing you in person. When I walked into the bar last night, I felt as if I had finally found what I’ve been looking for my entire life. You.”
Holy crap. Was he serious? Did he really think that? Could he truly be the man she’d been looking for all her life? Dakota shook her head in weak denial. “That’s not possible. You’re just saying that to get me to tell you what I know.”
“I don’t give a shit what you know,” Slade returned immediately. “I don’t care if you never tell me what Fourati looks like. I’ll just tell my boss you don’t know anything.”
“But you’ll get in trouble,” Dakota told him.
“I won’t get in trouble because this isn’t a government-sanctioned op. Besides, I’m retired. Dakota, I don’t give a shit what the person who hired me thinks. The point is, you are my main concern. I found you, and so can Fourati. I’d be surprised if he and his goons weren’t already on their way here. In fact, I’m fairly certain they are on their way here. It’s only a matter of time…how much, I don’t know. I believe I have a couple days lead on them, but can’t be sure. But whatever happens, know that my main mission from this moment forward is keeping you safe. Not capturing Fourati.”
Dakota had no idea how to respond. On one hand, she absolutely knew what Slade was talking about because from the second she’d lain eyes on him she’d felt…calm. As though she could finally take a deep breath and relax the hyper alertness she’d had for the last couple of months. He would stand between her and the rest of the world. But on the other hand, that was crazy talk. Insane. She didn’t know the first thing about the man sitting next to her practically holding her in his embrace.
Luckily, he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. He gently bent her head down, kissed the top, then straightened and said, “Come on. Let’s get you inside and warmed up. Then we can discuss where we’re going from here.”
Feeling docile and mellow, Dakota simply nodded and sat back. It felt good for someone else to make the decisions for once. They looked at each other for a long moment, then Slade turned and opened his door. Shaking off her lassitude, Dakota followed suit after twisting to grab her backpack from the backseat. As soon as she was standing, Slade was there. He took the paper bag from her and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, protecting her fingers from the chilly morning air.
“You have your car keys?”
“Why?”
“So we can lock it.”
Dakota laughed. “Nobody is going to steal my car out here. The key’s been in the ignition since I parked it. With my luck, I’d lose the stupid thing otherwise.”
Slade shook his head as if exasperated, but didn’t say anything else. He shut her car door and began to lead them to the trailer where he’d spent the night.
“I thought we were going to the restaurant?” Dakota asked as they approached.
“I figured you might want to shower to warm up first. And it’s more private for us to talk in the trailer. The other occupants left already, like you said they probably would.”
It was considerate of him. Dakota stopped suddenly, forcing him to as well.
It was considerate, but it was also conniving and potentially dangerous. The last thing she wanted to do was get naked with him nearby. She’d be vulnerable and—
“While you’re showering, I’ll head over to the restaurant. Give you some privacy.”
“Thank you,” she told him. Even though she didn’t one hundred percent trust him, she still felt bad for thinking the worst.
Slade unlocked the door and led them inside. Dakota glanced into the bedroom and came to an abrupt stop.
Then she found herself staring at Slade’s muscular back as he forced her backwards away from the bedroom, even as he was asking, “What? What did you see?”
“Nothing, I…the bed’s still made.”
As if realizing she wasn’t in mortal danger, Slade slowly turned around and took a deep breath. “Yeah, and?”
“You made the bed before you left this morning?” she asked, knowing the answer before he said it.
“No. I didn’t sleep there. I wanted to make sure you were safe last night, and when I saw you were sleeping in your car, I kept watch.”
“You kept watch,” Dakota said woodenly.
“Yeah.”
“Over me.”
“Yeah, Dakota. I wasn’t going to fucking let you sleep in your car in the middle of nowhere when a fucking terrorist is after you. No fucking way.”
She wasn’t about to comment on the fact that he’d said “fuck” three times in two sentences. The precisely made bed in the other room did more for making her believe he was exactly who he said he was, a retired Navy SEAL, and that he was there to keep her safe, than anything he could’ve said.
Still holding the mug with both hands now, Dakota didn’t even think. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the cool leather of his jacket on his chest.
His arms immediately folded around her, resting on the small of her back, gathering her close. She couldn’t hug him in return with her hands full, but it didn’t seem to matter.
This time when he spoke, the anger was gone and all that was left was concern…for her. “You were going to sleep here before I showed up, weren’t you?”
She nodded against him. “Pat and Connie let me stay in the trailers when they aren’t rented.”
“I’m sorry I took your bed.”
“But you didn’t,” she said in a voice muffled because she was still facing his chest. “You didn’t use it. You slept…I don’t know where. But you didn’t take my bed.”
“Mmmm,” was his only response. His hands slowly caressed her back, and with each stroke, she melted farther into him until she didn’t think she could stand of her own volition anymore. He was the only thing holding her up.
“I’m scared,” Dakota admitted in a barely audible voice.
Slade’s arms tightened around her and Dakota finally turned her head, resting her cheek against his chest.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Slade told her confidently. “No one is going to get their hands on you.”
“Promise?” She knew she shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t like he could actually promise something like that, but the word came out before she could call it back.
“I fucking promise.” It was a vow, and they both knew it.
They stood together for another long moment before Slade pulled back, kissed her on the forehead this time, and ordered, “Shower. Change. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to walk you to the bar.”
“I thought we were talking here?”
“We are. But you need some breakfast first. Real food, not just that,” he said, indicating the cup she still held.
“You don’t have to come back. I’ll just meet you over there.”
Slade lifted her chin with his index finger and said softly, “I’ll be back to walk you over. I’m not taking any chances. I promised to keep you safe until Fourati is either captured or dead. You’re going to have to get used to me being by your side twenty-four seven.”
Dakota nodded. Right now, that sounded perfect. Oh, she knew in reality it would probably be a pain in the ass, but remembering what he’d said about only having a couple days lead on whoever Aziz sent to get her and bring her back to him, it was heavenly.
“Okay,” she told him.
“Okay. Have a good shower. Drink your coffee. I’ll be back.”
Dakota watched as Slade turned and walked out of the trailer.
Her life had completely changed when she’d had the bad luck to be caught in the middle of a terrorist act, but she had a feeling it’d just done another one-eighty.
Chapter 5
Exactly twenty minutes later, Slade knocked on the door of the trailer. Even being apart from her that long wa
s somehow painful. He kept imagining someone sneaking in through the other door and taking Dakota away from him. He might have been upset at his thoughts, except there was every reason for him to believe someone might do just that.
Until he could get Dakota out of Rachel and back where he had cell phone reception to call Tex and make sure they were still in the clear, he wasn’t going to take any chances.
Instead of returning to the bar, Slade leaned against the side of the A’Le’Inn and kept watch over the trailer while Dakota showered. He might be going overboard, but he didn’t think so. She’d been dead to the world when he’d opened the passenger door to her car that morning. She hadn’t even twitched when he’d shut it, either. If he could sneak up on her that easily, so could anyone else. And the thought of Fourati or any of his followers getting their hands on her made him want to hit something.
“I’m ready,” Dakota called out in response to his knock. “Come in.”
Slade turned the knob and entered the small but cozy trailer. As far as accommodations went, it wouldn’t win any traveler awards, but for this town it was downright palatial.
“I saved part of my donut for you,” Dakota told him somewhat shyly.
If he hadn’t already been halfway in love with her, that would’ve sent him over the edge. He knew how much she treasured those maple-frosted pastries…her dad had made it more than clear that no one touched her donuts. “You go ahead, sweetheart. It’s been a while since you’ve had a treat.”
She eyed him for a long moment and he thought she was going to either comment on the use of the endearment, or refuse to eat the pastry he could tell she wanted by the look in her eyes, but she finally shrugged and gave him a small smile.
“Thanks. And for the record, I was going to let you have it, but I’m happier that I can eat it all myself.”
Slade chuckled. “I can see that.” And he could. Her green eyes sparkled in the low light in the trailer and she’d already reached into the bag to grab the rest of the sticky donut.
