Solitary Soldier

by Debra Webb

  But that happiness wouldn’t be found with her. No matter how sweetly and tenderly he had made love to her, there was Josh. Even a good man would hesitate about loving the son of the man who had murdered his wife and child. This thing she felt for Sloan would never work out. Rachel had to think about Josh. His happiness was vastly more important than hers.

  She made a mirthless sound and shook her head at the confused woman in the mirror. What was she thinking? Sloan made love to her once and already she’s thinking about forever? Get real, Rachel. The man doesn’t want forever with you or anyone else. He just wants to be. Disgusted with herself, she stamped back into the bedroom and jerked a drawer open to find something to wear. How could she be so naive? Sex, that’s all it had been to Sloan. She had to face that fact and get on with it. How adolescent could she get? This was no hot romance. Sex. She shivered. Great sex, but nothing more.

  A knock at the door made her jump. She pressed her hand to her chest and let go a breath. This was ridiculous. Sloan would have warned her if there was any immediate danger. The thought that Angel could show up at any time streaked across her mind, and panic detonated inside her once more.

  “I hope you’re up,” came his gruff greeting.

  She relaxed. “Come in.” She held the jeans she had pulled from her drawer against her chest as if the faded cotton would provide some sort of protection against his too-seeing eyes. What was she so worried about? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her already, and she was wearing a T-shirt.

  The door swung open and Sloan filled the doorway, but didn’t step into the room. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t burst into the room with news that Angel was here, and he didn’t appear to want to come any closer. She wasn’t sure she could handle an up-close encounter with him just yet. Her emotions were still too near the surface. The ever-present weapon strapped to his shoulder reminded her that anything could happen in the blink of an eye. Complacency was dangerous.

  “Get dressed, we’re going into town,” he said curtly.

  A frown tugged at her lips. “Why are we going into town?”

  He shrugged one broad shoulder. “To do what most people do—to shop.”

  He couldn’t be serious. “What?” She moved closer to get a better look at his eyes. The stubble that shadowed his jaw added to the ominous look radiating from those cold blue eyes. Iceman was back.

  “Be ready in twenty minutes.”

  He turned to leave. “Have you lost your mind?” she demanded, effectively halting him.

  The look he sent her way went right through her, cold, hard. “You have a problem with going into town?”

  She flung her free arm heavenward, still clutching her jeans with the other. “Angel sent word two days ago that he was coming. You know he will. He could be here now, watching and waiting. Going to town isn’t safe, it’s insane!”

  He studied her for a few seconds, his gaze considering. “Angel’s kills are always intimate. One on one, with no question as to why. Even if he is here, he won’t make a move in public. He’ll wait until he can make it personal.” He paused, his gaze still searching hers. “Do you trust me, Rachel?”

  She blinked, taken aback. Her outrage deflated like a spent party balloon. Of course, she trusted him. That was the one thing she could be absolutely certain of. “Yes.”

  “Be ready in twenty minutes.”

  She watched him walk away. Her chest tightened with the need to go after him, to touch him and hold him close. But he didn’t want that, not from her, not now. All day yesterday he had acted as if their lovemaking had not happened. Obviously, it had not affected him as it had her. Rachel shook her head slowly from side to side. It was clear to her that she was more than simply inexperienced, she was completely without any relationship savvy at all. An emotional teenager trapped in a woman’s body, with a child and who needed her to be a lot smarter than this.

  Twenty minutes later, Rachel was ready. She had forgone her jeans and decided to wear her skirt and blouse. She hadn’t worn the outfit since the day she arrived and it was her favorite. The long, silky skirt made her feel feminine. And it would be cooler than the jeans, she rationalized. She had braided her hair and dug around in her bag until she found her sunglasses. The eyewear would afford her some protection from Sloan’s piercing gaze.

  She went in search of Sloan before he could come looking for her. No point in antagonizing him further. He was back to his old self again, and Rachel had learned the lesson that it was his way or no way.

  “I’m ready,” she announced upon finding him in the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “You usually do, so why change now?” He gestured to the coffeepot and shot her an unreadable look. “Coffee?”

  Ignoring his terse remark, she shook her head to the offer of coffee, then followed him outside. He walked her to the passenger side of his Jeep and offered his hand in assistance.

  “I think I can manage,” she refused with a feigned smile.

  “Suit yourself.” He rounded the hood and settled behind the steering wheel before she could climb in and fasten her seat belt.

  Careful not to let him catch her, Rachel studied Sloan’s grim profile as he drove toward town. His own sunglasses shielded his eyes from her, but she could tell from the tightening of his jaw when to look away. Whenever Sloan decided to glance at her, his jaw tightened and the set of his mouth grew grimmer. Rachel sighed. She couldn’t possibly hope to figure out what was going through his mind.

  She stared out of the passing landscape and sadness engulfed her. She missed Josh so much. Her arms ached to hold him. She closed her eyes and allowed his image to envelop her. Was Pablo playing with him? Did he ask where his mommy was? Tears pooled in her eyes. Would this never be over so they could be together without worry?

  “Don’t think about it.” Sloan’s deep voice was gentle, soothing and totally unexpected.

  Rachel opened her eyes, then blinked to hold back the tears. “I miss him.”

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and she wondered if he wanted to reach out to her but restrained himself.

  “He’s safe. That’s the important thing.”

  Sloan glanced at her, though she couldn’t see his eyes she saw the change in the set of his rigid jaw. He had feelings for her, if nothing more than basic human compassion, which she had first thought him completely devoid of. Maybe their lovemaking had affected him to some extent.

  “Think about something else,” he suggested after turning his attention back to the road.

  He was right. She had to think about something else or she would lose her mind. Josh was safe and that was the bottom line. Something Sloan had said to her that first day skittered into her fragmented thoughts.

  “Were you serious when you said that you took your house from a drug lord?” The question sounded foolish, she realized, but she had to know the answer.

  A hint of a smile played about his lips as he considered her question a moment before answering. “He owed me. When I collected he offered me anything he possessed as payment.” A heart-stunning smile claimed those full lips then. “I told him I’d settle for the house. He agreed.”

  Disbelief widened her eyes. “What on earth did you do that would compel the man to give you his home?”

  He shot her an assessing sideways glance from behind his sunglasses.

  Maybe she didn’t want to know.

  “I brought his daughter home to him.”

  His voice had changed. Somber now.

  “Where was she?” Rachel asked hesitantly.

  The answer was long in coming, finally he spoke. “One of his competitors had kidnapped her. He planned to use her as leverage in a territorial dispute. When he was finished he would have killed her either way.”

  “How did you get her back?”

  He cut her another of those quick looks. “I don’t think you want to know.”

  Rachel shivered at the lethal quality in that simple statemen
t. “So he gave you his house in return?”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal. He owns several others. He rarely stayed at this one.”

  “His daughter,” Rachel began, “she wasn’t harmed?”

  “Not a hair on her pretty little head.”

  Another thought struck her. “This drug lord, surely he had men who worked for him that do…this sort of work.”

  “None he trusted with his daughter’s life.” Sloan slowed as they reached the edge of town. He looked at her again, she didn’t have to see his eyes to know that he looked straight into hers. She felt him. “None as good as me.”

  If anyone can help you, Sloan can. She recalled Victoria Colby’s words again. This was no ordinary man. She had known it the moment she laid eyes on him. She felt it in his every touch. And for all he gave in this life, fate had taken everything from him.

  The harsh reality grieved her. She wanted to reach out to him, make him believe that it could be different. But nothing she could say or do would ever change the past…or reach his fiercely guarded heart.

  By lunchtime Rachel had seen yet another side of Sloan. All morning, he made a production of their shopping. He was more than simply attentive. He opened doors for her, touched her reassuringly at all the right times. Not once had she felt vulnerable under his watchful care. But what possessed him to bring her to town? To buy her clothes? And even toys for Josh. It didn’t make sense. Especially considering yesterday’s die-hard tactics.

  The busy streets of Chihuahua teemed with excitement. Vendors peddling their wares, shoppers haggling in the marketplace. The open-air shops beckoned to passersby. Weavers and potters produced their goods right before her amazed eyes. The vibrancy and contrast excited Rachel. The city was colorful and noisy, and, quite frankly, exhilarating.

  Or perhaps it was the man who led her through the streets who stole her breath. He held her hand, kept her close. Each time he whispered near her ear, desire sung through her veins. She used every possible excuse to touch him. Just looking at him in those body-hugging jeans and the open chambray shirt over a tight-fitting T-shirt made her tingle, made her want him. The bulge of his holstered weapon beneath his shirt made her feel secure in spite of the danger that might lurk nearby.

  She had been right in her first impression of Sloan. He was more man than she had ever known, and he was dangerous.

  A definite danger to her heart.

  “One more stop before lunch okay with you?”

  Rachel blinked away her worrisome thoughts and manufactured a smile. Sloan had tucked his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, those clear blue eyes analyzed her now, expectant and ever watchful.

  “Sure, that’s fine.” As long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter, she didn’t add. God, she was pathetic.

  He slid his arm around her waist and ushered her into a more modern shop. Shelves were chock-full of trinkets and assorted items she couldn’t readily identify. There was hardly any room to walk around the abundance of merchandise stacked around the floor of the small shop.

  “Wait here.” Sloan left her near the door, but out of sight of those passing on the street.

  Maybe he knew the owner, she considered, as he huddled at the counter with the heavyset man. The man glanced past Sloan’s shoulder, smiling a secret smile. Rachel’s forehead creased with curiosity. What was Sloan up to? Heaving a beleaguered sigh, she looked away. No point in trying to figure it out. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her.

  A wrapped package under his left arm, Sloan rejoined her and hurried her through the door back onto the noisy street. He paused on the sidewalk, out of the path of the passing pedestrians and handed the package to her.

  “This is for you.” His eyes fairly sparkled with mischief, but his tone was oddly serious.

  “But you’ve already bought too much for me and Josh,” she protested.

  “This is different.” He gestured to the package. “Open it.”

  Resigned, Rachel tore the recycled brown paper from the rectangular object. What she found beneath the wrapping stunned her. A sketch pad and set of drawing pencils.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t know what to say.” God, she didn’t want to cry, but it seemed a definite possibility at the moment. No one since her father died had done anything this nice for her.

  He shrugged. “Don’t say anything. Draw something for me. A picture is worth a thousand words.”

  He wasn’t nearly fast enough to mask the emotions in his gaze this time. Rachel saw the need there, saw the desire. He might try to pretend he was unaffected by her, but he wasn’t. And now she knew for sure. Unable to stop herself, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, his unexpected gift clutched in her right hand.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  His arms tightened around her waist, holding her lower body firmly against his own, but he drew back slightly to peer down at her. “I’m glad you like it.” Something sad flickered in his eyes, followed by a yearning that spoke to her more loudly than any words he could have said.

  She couldn’t say what possessed her at that moment, but all other thought flew from her head. She kissed him. She needed to kiss him. He needed to be kissed.

  The noisy marketplace, the cars moving slowly by, the haggling of buyers and sellers all faded into insignificance. There was only Sloan and the way he was kissing her. His mouth moved tenderly over hers. His hands stoked the flames raging in her heated body. She tiptoed, wanting more of him, but he drew back. He looked as dazed as she felt, his ragged breath fanned her freshly kissed lips, kindling a new fire within her.

  “Lunch,” he reminded, the one word breathless with a raspy quality that oozed sexuality.

  She nodded. “Lunch.”

  But food would never be enough to fill her hunger.

  SLOAN KICKED A small stone, sending it skittering across the sand. He checked the weapon in his holster as he paused long enough to survey the rear gate and the lighted area that lay beyond it. Satisfied with what he found, he proceeded around the east end of the house, scanning the windows as he went. He knew the grounds were secure. Fernando, his export business never taken lightly, had spared no expense when installing his elaborate security system. No code, no entrance. Any movement within six feet of the wall tripped the alarm. You had to enter by a gate, and you could only do that with the code. If you attempted to climb over, the alarm tripped.

  He entered the front door, then locked it and reset the alarm to night mode. Rachel had retired to her room with her prizes. He doubted he would see her again tonight. At least he hoped like hell he wouldn’t see her again tonight.

  He cursed himself all the way to the great room. He snagged his half-empty tequila bottle from the bar and didn’t stop until he was outside on the patio. He didn’t want to risk running into her if she decided she needed a drink of water, or simply wanted to say good-night. He kicked a chair from beneath the table and dropped into it.

  Another curse hissed past his lips when he realized he had forgotten a glass. “Screw it,” he muttered, then turned up the bottle for a long drink. When he came up for air, he sat the bottle on the table and closed his eyes. He propped his elbows on the table and massaged his aching temples.

  He could kick himself if it would do any good. But it wouldn’t, it was too frigging late. He had crossed the line and now Rachel would pay for his mistake. He swore and took another long pull from the bottle. It would have taken a blind man not to see the way she looked at him today. The foolish admiration and respect. And the other.

  Dammit to hell. The woman was in love with him. He had screwed up royally. He was nothing now. A shell of a man. His life was bargain basement, all the best stuff was long gone. He was good at his job and nothing else. The only thing he had to offer her was Angel’s head.

  The woman deserved better than him. She was selling herself way too short. A muscle jerked in his jaw as he grabbed the bottle and turned
it up once more. He swallowed long and hard. He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. He had seduced her…or hell, maybe she had seduced him with her innocence. Whatever. He had known better. She didn’t have enough experience to be wary of a man like him. He had warned her, but she came anyway. She just didn’t realize what she was getting herself into.

  He closed his eyes and tortured himself with the memories of making love to her. Her sweet responses. The taste of her skin. The feel of her snug body as she sheathed him. So damned tight. So hot. His loins grew heavy just thinking about being inside her. Her sweet lips tempted him beyond reason. Those big brown eyes, full of trust and vulnerability, made him ache to hold her. He had been furious with himself yesterday, his anger had protected him. Kept him from screwing up again. But watching her sleep last night had dissolved any rage he had tried desperately to hang on to.

  He had tried to keep his prospective today. He had planned every step, careful to carry through with each. Whoever Angel had watching them had gotten an eyeful. Sloan was certain that Angel knew by now that the relationship between him and Rachel had gone beyond business. The son of a bitch would be seething. A smile tugged at Sloan’s lips. He would move fast now.

  The one thing Sloan had learned about Angel was to make the first move. He needed him off balance. Nothing got to Angel faster than someone moving in on his territory. Rachel and Josh were his, to Angel’s way of thinking. The idea that Sloan now had them would be more than he could tolerate. He would be here soon. Very soon. And Sloan would be ready.

  Sloan figured the woman who gave Josh the bear was Angel’s watcher. She had either been with Angel long enough to know that little gift, and then the yellow ribbon, would send Sloan into a flashback or Angel had told her to give Josh that particular kind of bear. The tokens were meant to throw Sloan off balance. To remind him of what he had lost. It had worked, for a while anyway. But now he had the upper hand. Angel couldn’t possibly know where Josh was. They had stolen across the mountain in the dead of night. The sand-storm had proved a blessing in disguise. It had blown away any tracks they left behind.