by Debra Webb
When she was settled, her shuttered gaze met his. “I wanted to work on my drawings without any distraction,” she admitted hesitantly.
Sloan took a deep resolute breath and leveled his gaze on her wary one. He wasn’t a man to mince words. “I owe you an apology. There’s no excuse for the way I behaved the past couple of days, especially Friday afternoon. It won’t happen again.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly snapped it shut. She nodded slowly as if considering his statement. “All right.”
“Good.” Sloan held out his hand then and her eyes rounded with uncertainty. He wiggled his fingers. “Don’t be shy, Miss Larson, let me have a look.”
She rubbed at her neck as if only just realizing it ached from staring down at her work for so long. “It’s nothing. Just some drawings I started the other night. You wouldn’t be interested.” She refused to look at him now.
He leaned forward and tugged the pad from her fingers. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
She started to run her fingers through her hair, thought better of it, obviously remembering the way she had it stacked atop her head, then crossed her arms over her tight little breasts. Damn, he wanted to touch her. The desire swelled so swiftly inside him that it overwhelmed all other thought for the space of two beats. Sloan forced his gaze to the pad of paper in his hand. It was a writing tablet. A frown lined his forehead. Definitely not the right kind of pad for drawing.
“I lost my sketch pad on the trip down,” she explained quickly as if reading his mind. “I hope you don’t mind my using that notebook. Pablo said it would be okay…”
The fear in her eyes annoyed him. Why did she always look at him that way? Except when she thought he was unaware. It was different then. He had seen a glimpse of her own want. But always, always when he looked directly at her, fear replaced all else in those velvety brown depths. Sloan let go the breath he hadn’t realized until just then that he’d been holding. He knew he was a hard man, that his words and actions incited fear in most women and men. But after nearly a week with him, she should know that he would never harm her. Well, he supposed his most recent actions had probably lessened her fledgling trust.
“It’s fine,” he assured her quietly, then lowered his gaze to the pad in his hand. The drawing she had been working on was of Pablo and Josh. She was very good. Her detailing was actually quite excellent. Given the proper tools he was certain she would be a phenomenal artist. He turned back a page. The courtyard. Then another page was her son sleeping. Sloan peered down at the drawing, long and hard. The image of the child sleeping in his arms transposed itself over the image on the page. He hastily turned another page and stared down at the likeness of himself.
“It’s not quite finished,” she put in quickly, her cheeks flaming redder.
Did she see him that way? he wondered. The grim set of his mouth, the hard expression on his face. Hell, he supposed she did, that was the way he was.
He tossed the pad onto the table. “You’re very good.” His gaze connected with hers, pride glimmered there.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “When I was a little girl, I used to dream about being a famous artist.” She smiled, embarrassed that she had said as much out loud.
Sloan could still see the little girl in her now. She was young, too young for an old man, much closer to forty than thirty, to be looking at her this way. But he wasn’t dead, and she tripped way more of his triggers than she should.
“You still could be. You’re only twenty-four. Lots of people go back to school after having a child.”
She moistened those full lips, his groin reacted. “I wanted to…but I could never leave Josh. I couldn’t trust anyone.” She shook her head. “It was just a dream.”
“It’s not too late, Rachel.” With much hesitation, she met his gaze. “You could still do it. Don’t let one mistake hold you back from living the rest of your life.”
She shook her head. “I was a fool. My actions cost my father his life.”
The picture of her, dressed in sequins and pearls, smiling and hugging her father, loomed large in his mind. “Angel is a professional. He’s honed his talent over the years. You couldn’t have known his intent. If he hadn’t gotten to your father through you, he would have found another way.” Sloan leaned forward again, needing to touch her. He wanted her to believe in herself again. “He wouldn’t have stopped until he finished the job one way or another.”
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Why would anyone have hired Angel to kill my father? He never hurt a soul. He was a good man.”
“There’s your answer.” Unable to help himself, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. She started to pull away, but didn’t. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers made him ache to feel more. “You’ve heard the saying Good Men Are Hard To Find? There’s a reason for that. The bad guys keep taking them down. Your father stood for something or supported something someone else was at odds with, so they took care of the obstacle he represented.”
“He spent days seducing me,” she said so softly that he barely heard her, her face still down turned.
She was talking about Angel. Sloan squeezed her hand, urging her to go on.
“He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I knew he was much too old for me, but that was part of the appeal.” She drew in a heavy breath. “He did everything right, as if he knew just what it would take to win me over.”
“He did know,” Sloan said quietly. “He probably watched you for weeks. He set you up to get what he wanted. What he took from you personally was just a perk.”
She looked up then, tears glistening in those wide brown eyes. “How can I ever trust my own judgment again? He didn’t just take my innocence—” she swallowed tightly “—he took my trust, my confidence, everything.”
He had been right, Sloan thought grimly. Angel had been her first lover. The son of a bitch. “You can get those things back,” he assured her. “But you have to earn them. You’ll trust yourself again, when you learn to trust others. The same goes for the confidence. It isn’t gone, Rachel, it’s only cowering behind the fear.”
She pushed back from the table and stood abruptly. She shook her head again. “I made a terrible mistake.” A tear slid down her cheek. “The sad thing about it is that I can’t regret it the way I know I should.” She looked at him, emotions warring in her eyes. “If I regret what happened, that means I regret Josh. And I don’t.” She turned her back, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
Sloan pushed his own chair back and stood. He moved up behind her, trying to comfort her with his nearness. “You’re not a bad person for loving your son,” he said softly. He closed his eyes against the need to touch her. “Lots of women end up with the wrong man, but they love their children anyway.”
She whirled around and glared up at him. “Angel isn’t just the wrong man. He’s a killer.” Her lips trembled. “Look what he did to you. He…he…” She looked away.
Slowly, in spite of his own emotions waging a battle inside him, he reached up with both hands and swiped the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. She tilted her face to him then, those sweet lips trembled once more. “How can you stand to look at me, knowing what I did?”
Need so strong welled inside him that he felt certain his heart would fail in his chest. He wanted simultaneously to hold her comfortingly and to take her ruthlessly. Sloan tried to restrain the desire whirling out of control, but he couldn’t. He had to taste her. “Because I can’t help myself,” he murmured. He leaned toward her, his lips yearning to meld with hers. She touched him then. Her soft hands splayed across his bare chest. And he was lost to the fight.
Her lips felt every bit as soft as he had known they would. Her taste was sweet and so very warm. He cradled her head and deepened the kiss. His want was so strong that he had to restrain his savage desire, for fear of hurting her. She moaned beneath his assault, the sound only urging him on. He touch
ed the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue and she opened. He thrust inside, his body shuddered with need. Her fingers found their way to the sides of his shirt and fisted there, drawing him nearer. He slid one hand down her back and over the swell of her bottom. He pulled her against him, a useless attempt at easing the ache of his throbbing arousal. The feel of her made him crazy to be inside her.
She tried to pull away. Her small palms flattened against his chest and pushed. “Wait,” she said between his forceful kisses.
He pulled her mouth back to his and took it hard. She squirmed in his arms. The feel of her body against him only fueling his raging lust. He would not deny himself this pleasure. The need had been building for days. Her body would soon be on fire just like his. The taste of her salty tears jerked him back to reality.
Sloan pulled back as if she had slapped him. She was crying. And he was a bastard. No better than the man who had taken her the first time. He licked the taste of her from his lips and set her safely away from him.
Her hand shook as she wiped her eyes with the back of it. Her mouth was kiss swollen, nearly bruised from his aggression. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
Just like before, she thought this was her fault. The realization sickened him. He reached to comfort her, but she staggered out of his reach. His entire body hummed with desire. He wanted her, still, so badly he could barely take a breath. She was wrong, she wasn’t the fool. He was.
“I have to check on Josh.” She pivoted and ran away from him.
Sloan’s fists clenched at his sides. Anger and bitterness, fierce and hot filled him, replacing those forbidden feelings. What was he thinking? How could he have allowed himself to kiss her? He had upset her twice now. He had betrayed the memory of his wife and son twofold. Destroyed any trust Rachel might have developed in him or herself. And for what? To satisfy his own selfish needs.
It wouldn’t happen again. This was a business arrangement. And, by God, he intended to keep it that way from this point forward.
RACHEL TWISTED THE faucet’s handles, then quickly closed the shower door to wait for the water to get hot enough to suit her. Distracted with thoughts of the man who consumed her entire existence now, she peeled off her swimsuit top and dropped it to the floor. She tugged her shorts down and kicked them aside, then did the same with her swimsuit bottom.
Despite the fact that it was Sunday, Sloan had insisted that she run the two miles and do as many laps as she could in the pool. He hadn’t mentioned working on the hand-to-hand self-defense training again. She wondered as she took a couple of towels from the linen cabinet if it was because of what happened on Friday.
She stepped into the shower and moaned softly as the hot spray of water pelted her skin. It disturbed her immensely that she couldn’t choose between the dangerous man who inspired fear in her and the one who had listened with such care this morning. She moistened her lips. And who had kissed her so passionately. Her heart fluttered at the memory. She had known on some level that his kiss would be like that. His touch made her tremble, but his kiss stole through her every defense.
Rachel slowly massaged the shampoo into her hair, then rinsed. As the foamy water slid over her skin she considered the gentle way he had assured her that it wasn’t too late for her dreams to come true. She could still go back to school, he had insisted. But there had been nothing gentle at all about his kiss. He had possessed her with such intensity that she had been mindless with her own need. The horrifying memories from the past had shattered the haze in one heart-wrenching instant. She had made a mistake once, could she risk herself again?
She shivered even now, with the hot, soothing water sluicing over her body. Still, the memory of Sloan’s kiss sent heat swirling inside her, made her feel that strange restless sensation again. But she shouldn’t feel that way. How could she ever trust any man enough to share her body with him? No matter that she trusted Sloan completely with her life—or as completely as one could—she could never trust him with that part of her. Or, perhaps she simply could not trust herself. His words echoed through her. You’ll trust yourself again when you learn to trust others. But she couldn’t do that, not yet.
Not on that level.
Steam billowed around her as she stepped out of the shower. She wrapped her wet hair in a towel, then used the other to methodically dry her skin. She slipped on a T-shirt and panties and padded back into the quiet bedroom. She smiled at her son, sleeping soundly in their bed. He didn’t have a care in the world, and that’s the way it should be. She wanted to keep him safe and happy for as long as possible. Careful not to wake him, she sat down on the edge of the bed and worked the towel over her hair to dry it more quickly.
Sloan had hardly spoken two words to her since the incident in the workout room. Then suddenly, this morning he had been so giving emotionally as well as physically, she had been caught off guard. Rachel’s hands slowed in their work. Could it be that so much time had passed with her avoiding men in general that her time spent with Sloan was waking her long-slumbering feminine senses? Had she played mother and protector for so long that she had forgotten how it felt to be protected? She sighed, confused. She forced herself to examine the time she had spent with Angel. The mere image of him sickened her. She winced and glanced at her cherished son. At least something good had come of all the loss.
Angel had been attentive, making her feel special that such a handsome, mysterious man would take interest in a naive college girl. Her friends had been envious. She and Angel had only been together twice, both times had proven more experimental for her than passionate. At the time she had wondered what all the fuss was about. Admittedly, though it grieved her now, she had felt attraction and a measure of excitement during their time together. She drew in a deep breath and confessed what she knew to be the truth. The feelings Angel had evoked in her were nothing to compare with what she experienced with Sloan’s mere touch.
His kiss had robbed her of her senses, at least momentarily. Fear had made her hesitate. Fear of trusting him so fully. Fear of trusting herself that much. What if she made another mistake. What would it cost her this time?
Was she willing to pay the price? Things were different now. She was older and she had Josh to consider. There would be no more foolish love affairs for Rachel. Her son had suffered enough for her mistake. She would not risk making another one of such proportions.
A light rap on the door startled her from her confusing thoughts. She hurried across the room to open the door before another knock sounded. Not properly dressed for company, she peeked around the edge of the door. It was Pablo.
“Señora, you must come to the kitchen,” he said quietly. His eyes did not reflect the hushed quality of his words.
“Is something wrong?” Her heart reacted to the concern and fear she saw in his dark eyes.
“I’m afraid so. Señor Sloan says you must come right away.”
“I have to change.” She started to close the door.
“No, señora,” he insisted. “You must come now.”
Fear chilled her insides.
“What about Josh?”
“I’ll stay with the boy.”
She nodded mutely and opened the door wider for him to enter. Please, God, she prayed, please don’t let Angel be here. She wasn’t ready.
SLOAN REREAD THE typewritten note in his hand once more. The son of a bitch was playing his game. A note had been left at the front gate. Tied there with a yellow ribbon. The same kind the entire city of Chicago had tied around trees, mailboxes, and lampposts to signify their prayers for Sloan’s missing child. Adrenaline rushed through his body again, awakening the demons so that they roared inside him. He clenched his jaw against the explosion of emotions.
He pushed off the counter and plowed his fingers through his hair. He wasn’t concerned about going up against Angel. Sloan would win this time. Angel was going to die, one way or another. It was Rachel that worried him. She needed more time. Hell, maybe the time would
never be right for her. She wanted Angel dead, yet he was the father of her child. How would she ever explain that to the kid?
As if on cue, she burst into the room. The pale look of dread claiming her features was reason enough to incite him to murderous thoughts where Angel was concerned.
“What’s wrong? Pablo said you had to see me right away.” She searched his face, his eyes for some forewarning of what he was about to say.
Sloan handed her the note. It was the only explanation she would need. He waited silently, knowing her devastation would be complete when the impact of the words he had memorized absorbed into her brain.
Rachel,
You have two days to leave Mexico or I’m coming for my son.
Angel
“My, God,” she choked out. “He’s coming.”
“It looks that way.” Sloan took the note from her trembling hand.
“Where did it come from?”
Sloan shrugged. “It was left at the gate. The vehicle was dark, maybe black, a sedan. Probably a rental. I didn’t get the plate number.”
“You’re sure whoever it was is gone.”
“Positive.”
Rachel’s fearful gaze locked on his. “He knows we’re here. What are we going to do? We can’t let him take Josh.”
Anger twisted in Sloan’s gut at the intensity of her fear. “He isn’t going to take Josh.”
“How can we stop him?” she demanded, the pitch of her voice rising with the hysteria clearly building inside her.
“He won’t win this time, Rachel.” Sloan grasped her arms and shook her gently. “I won’t allow him to harm you or Josh.”
Her head swung from side to side in denial. “He’ll kill you.” She swallowed tightly. “And he’ll kill me, then he’ll take Josh.”
“We have time to react. Trust me.”
