by Debra Webb
“When Angel comes—” Sloan glanced out the window, his gaze tracking Josh’s energetic romp, then quickly moving to something else “—it won’t be for me.” His gaze returned to Rachel’s. “He’ll come for you and the boy. You have to be prepared to protect yourself.”
Rachel swallowed at the lump of uncertainty clogging her throat. “Isn’t that the service you’re supposed to provide?”
He made a sound of distaste in his throat. “Lady, I’m not about to get myself killed trying to help someone who isn’t willing to help herself.”
Irritation grated her nerves. “I do the best I can. Fighting and eluding madmen weren’t choices on the curriculum in any of the schools I attended.”
Anger flickered in his steely gaze then. “Well, maybe it should have been, and just maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he growled, his expression fierce, “that there’s no time like the present to get your act together.” He stopped her with a look when she would have interrupted to argue with his summation. “You and your son need protection. I can give you that temporarily, but long term you need to be prepared to deal with what life throws your way. This ain’t a perfect world, lady.”
Rachel exhaled, forcing her frustration back to a controllable level. “Fine,” she acquiesced. “You’re right. I need to know how to defend myself and Josh.” She lifted her gaze to his. “You can teach me how to do that while we’re here?”
He shrugged. “You wanted a plan. That’s the plan.”
Annoyed by his attitude, she glowered at him. “Is this going to cost extra?”
“I’ll throw this part in for free.” Sloan turned and walked toward the door. “You’ll find what you need to wear for today’s lesson in the other room.” He paused at the door. “Put the swimsuit on under your clothes and be in the kitchen in twenty minutes.”
The man might be barbaric in his manners, but Rachel refused to forget hers. He was doing her a tremendous favor, and she owed him her gratitude, even if she momentarily forgot at times when he made her so angry. Taking care of her the way he did last night wasn’t part of the bargain. “Thank you,” she offered before he could disappear through the door.
Sloan turned back to her. “For what?”
Rachel moistened her lips and summoned the courage to say what needed to be said. “For taking care of me last night. That was above and beyond the call of duty. I appreciate that you didn’t take advantage of me.”
Something changed in his eyes. Something Rachel couldn’t quite identify.
“You were exhausted, not to mention out of it,” he explained. “When I have you, you’ll be very much aware of what’s happening.”
When, not if. Anger washed over Rachel. “That’s comforting,” she retorted, her irritation building once more. She wouldn’t bother to tell him that he could wait until hell froze over and she still wouldn’t allow him to seduce her. She had been a fool once. And it would never happen again. Dangerous men—men in general truthfully—were not to be trusted. “After that remark about my ending up in your bed,” she added quickly, “I only meant that when I woke up I wasn’t sure if…” Her voice trailed off at the renewed intensity in those fierce blue eyes.
The barest hint of a smile tilted one corner of his mouth. “Last night isn’t what I meant when I said you would end up in my bed.”
With that warning he disappeared down the hall.
Rachel fumed. She would just see about that. Maybe Sloan was accustomed to having any woman he decided he wanted, but she wasn’t any woman. She had a son to think of. This was a business deal, nothing more.
Never again would she fall victim to any man’s charm, no matter if this particular man stirred some restless feeling deep inside her. She had come here for Josh’s sake. If she was lucky, when she returned to New Orleans, Angel would be dead. She knew with complete certainty that Sloan understood what she wanted. She wanted Angel out of Josh’s life forever.
She wanted him dead.
In that crystalline moment, Rachel acknowledged mentally that she would do anything necessary to ensure her son’s future safety. She considered the man in whose home she now resided, then the wide inviting bed which belonged to him. She drew in a shaky breath and released it slowly. Could she do that if he pressed the issue? Angel had been her first, and there hadn’t been anyone since. Her judgment was obviously flawed. How could she trust her instincts? How could she bring herself to allow another man’s touch?
Rachel frowned when an old memory filtered through her thoughts. There had been a man once who seemed awfully nice, but, of course, she hadn’t been interested. Not really. It was about a year and a half ago, before she and Josh had moved to New Orleans. The man had been their neighbor. He was a widower, and seemed as lonely as Rachel. He had dropped by a couple of times and brought fresh bread from the bakery he owned in town. And she had enjoyed the companionship of his short visits. Her frown deepened. But he died only a couple of months after she and Josh moved there. A car accident of some sort.
A chill raced up Rachel’s spine. Not once in all this time had she considered that Angel might have had something to do with his death. But now, out of nowhere, the revelation broadsided her. And she knew as surely as she knew her own name, that it was so. Angel watched every move she made.
Just like now.
And, just like Sloan said, he would come. For her. And for Josh.
None of them were safe.
SLOAN GLANCED AT the clock on the wall once more as he poured the freshly brewed coffee into a mug. Rachel Larson’s twenty minutes were up. Where the hell was she? He placed the carafe back onto the warming plate, and then the mug onto the table. Patience was not one of his virtues. He hated to wait. Especially unnecessarily. This woman had come to him for help. She would have to learn that it was his way or no way.
Irritated beyond reason, he strode out of the kitchen and in the direction of his bedroom. He slowed in the hall long enough to check and adjust the thermostat as he passed. The previous night’s unseasonably cool temperatures had waned, and the wilting August heat had taken its place.
His bedroom was empty. Sloan crossed the room to close the windows since the air-conditioning had just kicked on. He had already closed the other windows Pablo had raised last night to allow the cool desert air to filter through the house. But he had left these open to keep from disturbing Rachel this morning. She had needed the rest.
The bed was made, he noticed when he turned around. His T-shirt was neatly folded and lying atop one pillow. The one she had slept against last night. He picked up the T-shirt and held it to his face to inhale her scent. His groin tightened when her sweet fragrance filled his nostrils. He closed his eyes and allowed the memory of holding her in his arms while he sat on the bedside undressing her to replay. The sandals had been the first to go. After releasing the button and lowering the zipper, he had dragged the long, silky skirt from under her and then down her legs. Her skin had felt like satin beneath his callused palms.
By the time he released the final button of her blouse, he was painfully aroused. Sloan opened his eyes and stared out the window, seeing nothing but the image of the woman who had been in his arms last night. Even now the memory of seeing her small breasts made him hard. It had taken almost more restraint than he possessed not to touch her. Her nipples had tightened into tempting, rose-colored peaks, as if even in sleep her body responded to his touch.
He hadn’t wanted to cover her, but he had. His fingers fisted in the soft cotton of the T-shirt that had just minutes ago covered her slim body. He could have carried her to the bed where her son slept, but he hadn’t wanted to see the child. He had watched his own son sleep so many nights after a long day at the Colby Agency. Those moments alone with his son had been one of his favorite times. So much innocence. How could anything bad ever touch that sweetness?
But it had. Sloan had brought that evil into
their lives.
He repressed the painful memory. That was a long time ago. He would not think about the past today.
The images beyond the window slowly came into focus, bringing Sloan back to the here and now. Rachel needed him and he couldn’t turn his back on her. No matter that each time he looked at her son the agony he had spent seven long years burying was resurrected. As Sloan watched, Rachel, wearing the T-shirt and sweats Pablo had selected, knelt before her son and threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. She drew back and brushed the tousled hair from his face and kissed his nose. Sloan turned away.
He had to keep the past out of the present. Remaining focused would be impossible if he allowed those demons to escape the tightly compartmentalized place he had banished them to all those years ago. Sloan thought briefly of Victoria. His life then, his work with the agency seemed so far away. Almost like someone else’s history. Victoria had sent this woman to him, Sloan owed it to Victoria to do what he could. She, of all people, understood this level of urgency.
He owed it to himself to take Angel down.
The concept of intense physical training during Rachel’s stay here had been borne of necessity. In her current condition, Rachel was as helpless as Josh when it came to defending herself. She needed to build up her strength and endurance, otherwise she would only be a liability when Angel showed up. That wasn’t really the issue here. Sloan would deal with Angel.
But until that time came Sloan needed a distraction, or else he would lose what was left of his mind, then he would be a liability…
Just like before.
SLOAN WAS WAITING in the kitchen leaning against the counter when Rachel, breathless from a few minutes of play with Josh, rushed through the door a full fifteen minutes later than he had instructed.
“Ten-thirty means ten-thirty, Miss Larson. This isn’t Club Med, and playtime with the kiddies is not on the agenda.”
He was PO’d. Impatience and irritation radiated from him like heat rising off that long stretch of desert highway she had traveled by bus from Chihuahua to Florescitaf. He clearly resented her choosing Josh over his orders. His sandy-colored hair was pulled back, revealing the lines and angles of his handsome face.
“I’m sorry,” she offered. “I wanted to check on Josh.”
“Pablo will see to your son while you’re training.”
Rachel started to argue, then thought better of it. No point in antagonizing the man the first day. “I’ll remember that,” she promised. “But you will have to remember that I can’t pretend my son isn’t here,” she added, intending to make her point whether she argued or not.
Ignoring her last statement, Sloan gestured to the table. “Coffee or water.” Both sat on the table, ready to be consumed. “You can eat after this morning’s workout. Tomorrow we’ll start at six in the morning.”
Six o’clock? Trying not to grimace, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Choosing the water over the coffee, Rachel took a long sip. “What’re we going to do first?” she asked in hopes of making conversation. Anything was better than his brooding silence.
His gaze intent on hers, he pulled out the chair directly across from her and straddled it, then propped his arms across its back. “We’ll do some stretches, run a couple of miles, then do laps in the pool. Maybe throw in some strength training.”
Rachel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Anything else?” At least she now knew why he’d insisted she wear the swimsuit beneath her clothes.
“Not until this afternoon.” He eyed her skeptically, no doubt watching for some sign of surrender to the challenge he lay before her.
She mustered a smile. “Sounds doable.” She downed the last of her water and pushed out of her chair, the legs scraping across the floor with her movement. “I’m ready.” She tried desperately to remember if she had ever purposely run two miles in her life. She didn’t think so. But she would never let him suspect.
Sloan stood in one fluid motion, drawing her attention. He turned the chair around and pushed it beneath the table. A little hitch interrupted her breathing. How could a man as tall and solidly built move so effortlessly? And why did she have to notice?
“Let’s get started.”
Rachel followed him outside. She waved to Josh who was helping Pablo attend to the pool. “He can’t swim!” she called out nervously. Though she felt sure Josh was in good hands, still, he had been to a pool only a few times in his short life, and never without her to watch him.
“Don’t worry, señora. We’ll have him swimming in no time at all.”
Josh punctuated the statement with enthusiastic whoops. Rachel smiled in spite of her misgivings. Her son was enjoying himself and that was all that mattered. She had been so afraid that coming here would be hard on him. Pablo was a blessing.
When she directed her attention back to Sloan he was already on the other side of the courtyard, leaving her behind. She hurried to catch up with him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He led the way to an atrium that made up a large portion of the west side of the house. The room and plants were gorgeous. Rachel thought again how out of character this house was when compared to its owner. She suddenly recalled his words when she had asked him if he lived here. Ever since I ran off the local drug lord. Was it possible that Sloan had been serious?
Now that she thought about it, the place did look like the kind of luxurious setup a drug lord would flaunt, not to mention the elaborate security system.
“How long did you say you had lived here?” She hastened her step to match his.
“I didn’t.” He kept walking without sparing her so much as a glance.
“Did you design the house yourself?” she persisted. “The layout is spectacular.”
He shot her a sideways glance and exhaled impatiently. “No.”
So much for small talk. Rachel huffed a sigh of her own. She supposed she would simply have to get used to his ways. Lord knew she was definitely at his mercy.
He passed through another door and Rachel found herself in a room filled with workout equipment. Through the windows on the other side of the room she could see the water tower that stood midway between the house and the protective wall a hundred or so feet away. This was the first time she had seen the back of the property, though she really couldn’t see that much. Beyond the wall the beautiful mountains stood proudly in the distance.
“There won’t be any distractions here,” he said, drawing her attention back to him.
His comment had nothing to do with the view she had been admiring. He meant Josh. He didn’t want her son around. Rachel wished she could say something that would make things less difficult. But she couldn’t. Josh was Angel’s son. Angel murdered Sloan’s son. There was no way to paint a pretty picture. Sloan would merely tolerate Josh while they were here.
She met his watchful gaze. “I’m ready. What do you want me to do first?”
Sloan dragged two large blue workout mats to the far side of the room. He stepped onto one and waited until Rachel moved to the other.
“Stretches.”
Rachel watched his slow, sinuous moves, then mimicked each as best she could. She repeated each step until he went on to something else and she followed suit. When the stretches were behind them, they set into a routine of exercises, some involving the elaborate equipment that quickly stole her breath. Refusing to give up, she completed the same amount of repetitions as Sloan. But she was pretty sure he had noticed and was adjusting his usual routine to accommodate her.
The two-mile run came next. Rachel couldn’t begin to keep up with Sloan’s long legs. She was grateful when he slowed his pace so that she didn’t lag so far behind. The sun had risen high in the sky by the time they headed back into the house. She had long since lost count of the number of times they had circled the huge compound. Her legs felt like limp noodles. The only scenery was the incredible view of the mountains in the distance beyond Sloan’s property.
Sweat rolled down between her breasts as they slo
wed to a walk when they neared the rear entrance. Sloan wasn’t even winded. Rachel huffed like she had run twenty miles instead of two. Sloan continued in silence as he led her back through the atrium and into the inner courtyard. He hadn’t paid much attention to her since they started, unless it was to bark an order or to point out a snake basking in the sun on a nearby rock. Rachel wasn’t sure if he had done so to warn her or simply to keep her close. No way was she falling far behind when snakes and lizards abounded in the area. Too bad the gate didn’t keep them out too.
Just one more thing to worry about Josh coming into contact with. Snakes. She shuddered. She would be sure and mention her worry to Pablo.
Josh and Pablo were having lunch on the patio. Rachel gave her son a quick pat on the head before following Sloan to the pool. Her pulse tripped when Sloan peeled off his T-shirt, tossed it aside, then stripped off his sweats. His running shoes and socks lay next to his discarded shirt. Rachel’s mouth went dry as her eyes took in his sculpted body in the brief, snug-fitting swimwear. She blinked and he was gone. The water barely splashed as he cut through the sparkling surface.
Rachel quickly toed off her shoes and dispatched her clothes. Rather than diving in as Sloan had, she took the steps. The water felt wonderful closing in around her heated body.
Sloan stopped long enough to push the damp hair from his eyes. “See if you can manage ten.” He turned into his second lap without waiting for her reply.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had been swimming, but she had every intention of giving his demand her best effort. Rachel dived into the water and swam half the length of the pool beneath its refreshing surface to cool off. It felt wonderful. How nice it was, she decided as she cut through the water, to have such an amenity in the middle of the desert.
By the time she managed lap number nine, Rachel felt certain she would die right then and there.
