Relentless Protector

by Colleen Thompson

  “They identified her body, or what was left of it. My dad kept assuring me she was really gone, partly because I was too scared to eat, thinking she’d come back to poison me, too.”

  “Now you’ve lost me.” Cole shook his head again, struggling to wrap his mind around things. “Sabra may have been one seriously warped girl, but to my knowledge, the deceased don’t carry out elaborate revenge plots. The person who took Tyler had to be somebody else. Who else do you know who might have a grudge?”

  But Lisa clearly wasn’t ready to let go of the idea. “What if she didn’t really die? What if another girl’s body was mistaken for hers?”

  The idea sounded seriously far-fetched, like something from an old soap opera. “Wouldn’t the autopsy have revealed that? Did you ever hear of any questions about her identity?”

  “No, but my parents tried not to talk about it around me if they could help it. I was already upset enough.”

  “What about Mrs. Crowley and Ava? Were they all right?”

  “Mrs. Crowley had some sort of breakdown. She couldn’t care for Ava, so she went to live with a relative or back into foster care or something like that. I never heard where.”

  “I hope you didn’t blame yourself for what happened to that family. You were just a child. Just a scared little girl.”

  The clouds parted, and Lisa reached into her purse, then pulled out dark glasses against the brilliant Texas sun. Slipping them on, she said, “Of course I blamed myself. For a very long time. I kept thinking that if I’d only told my dad what I’d seen sooner, Sabra wouldn’t have killed Uncle Jerry. She wouldn’t have died, either, and Mrs. Crowley and Ava would both still be safe at home.”

  “You can’t let yourself go back there,” Cole said, thinking how much easier it was to give that advice than take it.

  After the incident in the marketplace, his fellow Rangers and his superiors had all noticed the change in his behavior. Under orders from the government to curb the alarming trend of soldier suicides, his C.O. had forced him to see an army shrink, who had quickly decided that Cole wasn’t the type to take the easy exit of a noose or bullet.

  But the dangers didn’t end there, the shrink had told him. The guilt he felt—completely unwarranted, the psychiatrist had insisted—might easily manifest itself in other self-destructive behaviors, such as dangerous risk-taking.

  Cole knew the man had been thinking in terms of substance abuse or adrenaline-soaked sports. He would be willing to bet the doctor would be surprised as hell to learn that the greatest risk would be the promise of redemption in the form of a beautiful widow with a problem he couldn’t turn away from, a woman he somehow needed as badly as she needed him.

  But despite all that counseling, how many times had he gone back to his first glimpse of the woman in the snow-white burka? How often had he imagined pulling the trigger before she reached the detonator switch? For all of his regrets and every tortured fantasy, those people were still just as dead as his taste for his job.

  Including, God forgive him, Lisa’s husband.

  “There’s no way you can know what might have happened if you’d acted earlier, and there’s nothing you can do about it now,” he continued, parroting the army shrink’s useless words. “And there’s absolutely no use tormenting yourself for—”

  “For getting Tyler kidnapped and, at best, emotionally scarred for life? How am I supposed to live with that, Cole? You tell me, and I’ll do it.”

  “I don’t know the answer to that, Lisa. But I do know that I mean to do my damnedest to get him home safely—and get you out of this alive.”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before admitting, “I made a stop before I left town.”

  “Where?”

  “After I picked up some cash from an ATM, I dropped by a friend’s house because I knew she and her husband would both be working.”

  “What did you do, Lisa?” he asked, already guessing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “I used a rock to break a window, and I climbed inside. I took—”

  “Are you crazy?” he asked, alarm streaking through him. “That’s a felony.”

  Frowning at the interruption, she continued. “I took a pistol I knew she keeps in a nightstand next to her bed. I took it to kill Sabra, and I will, if that’s what it takes to get Tyler back.”

  “You really thought you could waltz into a place of Evie’s choosing and take her out?” Convinced as Lisa seemed, he still wasn’t ready by a long shot to concede that Lisa was right about this Sabra returning from the dead.

  “I hoped I’d get the chance, and who knows? Maybe I still will. Sabra remembers me as the naive little girl she liked to torture, the girl too afraid to tell when she burned me with that lighter and twisted my flesh until I was covered in bruises.”

  He grimaced. “No one noticed the marks?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I got very good at hiding things, just like Sabra hid her legs and Ava hid whatever her sister did to her. But I’m not that child anymore, Cole. I’m a woman and a mother, a mother willing to do anything, to face anyone, for the chance to raise my son.”

  “Whoever this Evie really is,” he said, “she’s crazy and she’s ruthless. Against a person like that, you don’t stand a chance. That’s why you need to call the authorities and let them set up a perimeter, get snipers into place and a team to track her and her partner’s movements.”

  “No.” The look Lisa shot his way was half hostility, half terror. “I told you, I’m going to do this my way. You gave me your word.”

  “I agreed not to call and report what you’re up to,” he told her. “But I never promised not to try to convince you to let me do it.”

  Her hands tightened on the wheel, and her body stiffened. That lush, sweet body that was going to end up in the ground unless he either talked her out of this or figured out how to protect her.

  “Listen, Lisa,” he said gently. “You’re exhausted, in shock, worried sick about your son. You’re not yourself at all—hell, you’ve climbed out a second-story window and broken into your friend’s house—”

  “I left her a note apologizing.” The justification sounded weak, and she looked as if she knew it. “I told her I’d pay for any damages.”

  “A written confession. Even better.” Cole shook his head. “Seriously, how can you possibly trust yourself to be making good decisions right now?”

  “The real question,” she said, turning to glare at him, “is how can I possibly trust anyone else with my son’s life?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cole skewered her with a look. “What about your father? How would you feel if he sneaked off without a word of explanation?”

  Guilt swamped her. He was right. “Can you text him for me? Let him know I’m with you and I’m all right, but we may be out of touch for a while?”

  “Lisa, he’s going crazy. I already have a half dozen missed calls from him.”

  “Send the text,” she repeated, then realized that it wouldn’t satisfy her father. Frantic as he must be, he might have called the authorities already.

  “As soon as you’re finished,” she told Cole, “I’ll need the battery from your phone. Otherwise, someone could use the GPS to find us.”

  “If the dental hygienist thing doesn’t work out for you,” he said irritably, “maybe you should check out a life of crime. You’re starting to show a real knack for it.”

  “So I like mystery novels, and my father was a cop,” she said. “But let’s get one thing straight, Cole. That doesn’t make me a criminal any more than standing in a garage makes me a car.”

  He smiled at that and added, “Or attempting to rob a bank makes you a—”

  She pulled over abruptly, wheels screeching, the tires sending up a plume of dust. “You can walk from here. Or hitch a ride. If you think for one minute that I was in on some kind of conspiracy that got my son kidnapped...”

  “I was joking, Lisa,” he said, his words slow and decisive. “Seri
ously, how many master criminals do you figure leave signed apology notes? Now, if you’re finished being touchy, I’ll go ahead and text your father.”

  She looked away, embarrassed by her outburst. She was acting like Tyler when he was sick or tired. Lashing out at the very person who only meant to help her.

  Cole worked on his text, taking forever to word the message exactly as he wanted. Once he’d handed over the phone and battery, he remained locked in stony silence for mile upon mile. Lisa had no idea whether he was regretting his decision or trying to dream up other tactics to change her mind, but with her body aching with exhaustion and her brain swirling with anxiety, she was in no mood to try to pry a conversation from a rock.

  She took the turnoff that would put them on I-10 West, her conscience stinging as she passed the sign for the Texas Two-Step in Coffee Creek. As soon as this was over, she needed to thank the owner for her generosity and repay the woman for the phone she’d lost.

  As soon as this was over... Would it ever be? Would she ever again see Tyler playing with his plastic dinosaurs in front of cartoons, sneaking his last, detested bite of broccoli to Rowdy, wrapping his little arms around her neck and giggling at the loud smacking noises she made as she kissed him?

  Her head began to throb again, and her stomach started churning. Grumbling with hunger, she realized, and felt the same punch of guilt that accompanied each emergence of her body’s needs. But a glance at the dashboard clock informed her that they’d been on the road for hours, and she couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten anything of substance.

  About twenty minutes after they merged onto the interstate, she spotted a sign for a fuel and convenience store. But what if Cole had changed his mind? What if he used the stop as a chance to leave her?

  Shaking off the worry—she couldn’t very well expect to make it to Terlingua, Texas, without stopping—she told him, “Seems like a good place for a pit stop. Anything you want?”

  He speared her with a look of irritation. “Your trust would be a great start. Seems like I’ve earned it by now.”

  “I was thinking more in terms of the sandwich counter,” she said, reminding herself to think of food as only another form of fuel.

  “Which means, I take it, that we’ll be on the road for some time?”

  “We’ll be on I-10 West for hours,” she said carefully, “so I’d advise you to take advantage of the stop.”

  “All right. Let me top off your gas tank while we’re here, too,” he said, pulling a credit card from his wallet.

  “I’ll be paying cash inside,” she said, since she had no intention of allowing anyone to track her movements via credit card use.

  Cole shot her an annoyed look, then passed her a twenty as they pulled up to a pump. “Ham and cheese with the works is good for me. Maybe some chips and an iced tea, too. I’ll be inside in a minute.”

  She tried to give him back his money, but he turned away to deal with the gas.

  She should have been ready to leave before him, but thanks to a line for the ladies’ room, followed by a seriously undermotivated sandwich maker at the counter, he was back in the SUV ahead of her—sitting behind the wheel.

  Juggling the drinks and sandwiches to open the door on his side, she frowned at him. “Thanks for the thought, but I need you to move over.”

  His gray eyes skewered her, a gaze so clear and penetrating that she felt the world drop away beneath her as she imagined what it might be like to have that laserlike intensity focused on her in a far more intimate setting. To feel him naked with his arms around her, his blazing kisses banishing all memory of this past week.

  Horrified, she looked away, face flaming at another of her body’s traitorous demands. What kind of woman was she to think of Cole that way, even for a moment, with Tyler’s life hanging in the balance and the husband she had dearly loved dead barely a year?

  A tired, freaked-out woman, she tried to tell herself, struggling to chalk her feelings up to stress and put it out of her mind. Yet the thought of that taut, hard-muscled body naked was a bell that couldn’t be unrung. One she couldn’t forgive herself for any more than she could bear to look into his handsome face.

  “You’re going to let me drive now,” he said gruffly, “and you’re going to sleep awhile before you fall asleep at the wheel.”

  Still upset at herself, she dredged up a little righteous indignation. Who was this man—a man who’d referred to himself as a washed-up army Ranger, for heaven’s sake—to order her around? “So, how’s that going to work,” she snapped, “if I’m the only one who knows where we’re heading?”

  “You said yourself, we’ll be on I-10 West for hours. Just tell me when to wake you up.”

  She thought about what he could do if she gave in to her exhaustion. He could call the authorities, her father—the cavalry, for that matter—and she would probably sleep right through it.

  Yet as she calmed down, she thought of other things, as well. How much he’d already done for her, risked for her. And in exchange for all that, he had asked for only one thing. Your trust would be a great start.

  “I’ve watched you nearly nod off two or three times in the last hour,” he said. “If you think I’m letting you get behind the wheel again to get us killed, or maybe hurt or kill another driver, I’ll stay here and catch a ride home. Is that what you want, Lisa? To do this on your own?”

  “I’ll trust you, Cole,” she told him, because he was right. What choice did she really have? None, not with her body turning on her, and her sleep-deprived brain fantasizing about his mouth feasting on her neck, his hands moving up beneath her shirt to...

  More disturbed than ever, she shook off the images and reminded herself that she would need all her faculties to be ready for Sabra tonight at twelve thirty. All her faculties, and every bit of luck that she could muster.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T AS EASY as people thought to tail someone without being noticed. Jill was forced to hang far back, often allowing several cars to get between her and her quarry. Several times she lost the red SUV, including once when she’d been forced to make a quick stop off the interstate to use a restroom and get gas.

  She was distracted again later when Trace’s sister Ella called her.

  “I thought you’d want to know,” she said. “He’s come out of his coma.”

  The news tore a whoop of pure joy from Jill, followed by a question. “How’s his—the head injury. Is he...?” Is he still Trace?

  “He’s a little groggy, but he’s making sense and speaking pretty clearly. Asking for you, mostly.”

  “For me?” Warmth flooded her veins and arteries, suffused every cell with pure emotion. It took her a moment to realize it was hope.

  “Of course,” Ella explained, “Mom reminded him the two of you are divorced. To tell you the truth, I think she’s a little miffed that he woke up more concerned about your condition than his own.”

  “You told him I’m fine, right? That I got away with only bumps and bruises?” And a raging case of guilt for leading her normally straitlaced ex-husband to ignore Sheriff Stewart’s orders and nearly getting both of them killed.

  “Mom was only too happy to tell him that you got off scot-free.” Ella had the grace to sound embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  Jill tightened her death grip on the wheel. “I don’t care about that right now. What about his legs? Can he...?”

  “He’s still numb. But he did wiggle two left toes a little. Or at least that’s what my mom swears.”

  “Doesn’t that mean he might get better?”

  “You can tell the doctors are being careful not to get our hopes up too high,” Ella explained, “but they say that once the swelling goes down, there’s a good chance he’ll recover some more movement—and that it’s very possible the spinal cord is only compressed and not severed.”

  “I want to come see him,” Jill blurted.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not now.”

  “But
he’s asking for me.”

  “He was,” Ella said softly, before hurriedly adding, “I’d better go. Mom’s coming.” Without saying goodbye, she broke the connection.

  It was only then that Jill realized the SUV she’d been trailing was nowhere in sight. A bubble of panic pressed against her pounding heart. Maybe this was a sign, the universe’s way of saying that she should turn around and drive straight to Austin, whether Trace’s family wanted her there or not.

  But what if Trace didn’t, either? If he realized she truly was the root of all his troubles? How would she survive if he rejected her again?

  * * *

  COLE HAD LONG SINCE finished his meal before Lisa made it even halfway through her late lunch, until finally she gave up and bagged it with the trash. He watched as she drew up her knees, then twisted her arms first one way and then another in an attempt to find a comfortable position. But each time she seemed to doze for a few moments, she would twitch violently and jerk awake, crying Tyler’s name.

  Cole’s chest ached to witness her torment, and inside him, the pressure mounted to somehow fix this for her. To chuck everything he hoped to be and set out to find the man he’d been. The man who would bring home both Lisa and her innocent child or die trying.

  It was too damned bad he’d left the best part of that man back among the carnage of that crowded marketplace in Lashkar Gah. What if he failed Lisa and her child just as miserably as he had failed her husband and the innocent civilians who’d died that day?

  As Lisa whimpered in her sleep, he told himself that this was about something a lot more important than his own fears. That this was one challenge too big to back away from.

  “It’s going to be all right, I promise.” He reached out, his fingers stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly, so he gave in to the impulse to twine his fingers through hers.

  The beautiful brown eyes fluttered, and for a moment she peered at him through half-lowered lids. But instead of pulling away with a warning not to touch her, she closed her eyes once more, a soft sigh slipping free.