The Warrior

by Sharon Sala

  He grinned. Way to go, lady. When he turned around, the smile was gone. “We didn’t even get to sleep in it.”

  “They’ll still charge you for the night.”

  “You are the most aggravating woman I think I’ve ever known,” he complained.

  “Will a hundred and fifty cover it?” she asked.

  “Perfectly,” John said, and held out his hand.

  She dug in her purse, pulled out a wad of bills big enough to choke a horse and counted the money out in tens and twenties, then handed it to him. She knew John was irked. There was a muscle jerking in the side of his jaw, and his eyes were so dark they looked black.

  He watched her flash the roll and knew she’d done it to back up her claim of being able to pay her way.

  He pulled out a roll half the size of hers, but made up of nothing but hundred-dollar bills. He calmly folded what she’d given him into his roll before putting it back in his pocket.

  Alicia’s eyes widened at the sight. Then she grinned. She’d showed him hers. He’d shown her his. She sighed.

  “You win,” she said.

  “What?” John asked.

  “Yours is bigger,” she said.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  They wouldn’t look at each other, but the anger between them was gone. Somewhere between the tears and the double entendre, John had given up the fight. He didn’t have to hate her to get what he wanted. Trouble was, she was the first woman in centuries who’d intrigued him enough to want anything beyond a casual relationship. He could like her. He might even allow himself to enjoy her company—if she would let him. He just needed to remember not to fall in love.

  The chopper flew west through the darkness. The night sky was clear and cloudless, and while John’s path was guided partly by the gauges on the flight panel in front of him, he also knew where he was from the location of the stars. For centuries, on foot, then by horse, then in a variety of wheeled vehicles, he’d used the heavenly constellations as a road map. After he’d gotten a pilot’s license, nighttime had become his favorite time to be in the air—giving him the illusion that he was almost close enough to touch those same stars that had forever guided him.

  Outside the chopper, everything was inky-black. Inside, the array of lights on the panel was a mixture of red, green, yellow and white. The gauges glittered like the strings of lights on a Christmas tree, only to be reflected on the faces of John and his weary, airsick copilot, who’d fallen asleep more than two hours ago, after their last refueling stop.

  There was a sense of peace, being so high, knowing that, for the time being, they were out of reach of evil. And there was another idea that kept pushing at the boundaries of John’s world, the sense that this woman could become important to him in a permanent and personal way. But that notion was in complete opposition to his agenda. How could he have any kind of a relationship with her—how would she ever trust him—knowing the only reason he’d linked himself to her was to get to her father? Would she believe his feelings had changed?

  He sighed, weary to the core. So many years—so much time—and all of it spent searching for revenge. He couldn’t help but wonder if the final irony was going to be visited upon him. What if he found and dispatched his enemy just as he was falling in love, then died as his enemy died? What irony. He’d had over five hundred years to get loving right, and he’d wasted it all chasing a ghost. He was damn sure the Old Ones weren’t going to give him a few hundred years more to spend with a woman. He’d made his choice when he’d asked for the impossible. Whatever ensued when his fight was over, it would be what it would be.

  Beside him, Alicia stirred. He glanced over, allowing himself the freedom to study her at leisure. Once they’d gotten airborne, she’d wiped off the makeup and managed to run a brush through her hair, although the T-shirt was still tied beneath her breasts, leaving her flat midriff bare.

  She was too thin, and it had been ages since she’d eaten. As soon as they got to his place outside Sedona, he would get some food in her. Then they could rest for as long as they wanted. The property was listed as belonging to one of his companies. His name did not appear on any company rosters. It would take considerable skill to search through the maze of paperwork he’d laid down before anyone would know it was his.

  He glanced down at the flight panel, then out the windows, and rocked his head from side to side, trying to loosen up stiff muscles. They were less than an hour away from their destination. He would be heartily glad to get out of this chopper and into a bed. The way he felt now, he could sleep the clock around, although, with Alicia along, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Are we there yet?”

  John flinched. The sound of Alicia’s voice was startling. The question wasn’t.

  “Almost. Less than an hour out.”

  “Thank God,” she said, and stretched as best she could without dislodging something important. “Is there any water left?”

  John handed her what was left in his bottle. “If you don’t mind drinking after me.”

  She twisted the cap off without answering and tilted the bottle to her lips, emptying it in three gulps. It was refreshing, despite the tepid temperature.

  “Umm, good. Thanks,” she said, and put the cap back on before laying the bottle on the floor at her feet.

  The moment John saw those supple, sensuous lips encircle the opening where his mouth had been, every muscle in his body tightened. Imagination quickly put her mouth on his body, and then things went from bad to worse. He looked away, caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the windows and frowned.

  Hell in a handbasket. He was just horny.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and just to focus his energy on something else, took the chopper down a thousand feet.

  The dip in elevation did a number on Alicia’s stomach, but not being able to see land below kept her from being sick.

  “What was that all about?” she muttered as the chopper leveled off.

  “Turbulence.” It wasn’t a lie. His gut felt as if it had gone through a blender.

  Alicia peered out and down, marveling at the lack of lights below.

  “Is your place inside the Sedona city limits?”

  “No. About thirty minutes out, as the crow flies.”

  “So you’re out in the desert.”

  “Smack-dab,” he said.

  Alicia nodded, and as she did, she felt herself suddenly go light-headed. She attributed it to a lack of food.

  “Hope you have a can of soup or something around when we land. I think I need to eat.”

  John gave her a quick glance. It wasn’t like her to complain. “Are you okay? There are some peanut-butter crackers over there.”

  “Don’t want to mess up a good thing. I think I’d better wait, but thanks.”

  And she was being nice? Now he knew something was wrong.

  He looked up at the sky, judging how long they had left, and guessed it was no more than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to his place.

  “We’ll be there before you know it.”

  Alicia nodded, then pulled her knees up to her chin and put her head down.

  Now John was getting worried, but the chopper was going as fast as a chopper could go. There was nothing to do but fly it and hope by the time they landed, she would be back on track.

  Finally he saw Orion, the Hunter, as always guiding him to his destination. When he was a thousand feet off the ground, he could turn on every outside light on the property by remote control, including the lights around his landing pad, and that was what he did.

  “Here we go,” he said, and took the bird down, controlling the power and their lives with just a touch of his hand.

  Alicia lifted her head and put her feet back on the floor. She tightened her seat belt and gripped her seat with both hands. The burst of light where there had been only darkness was startling.

  “Ooh!” she gasped.

  “Welcome home,” John said softly. Minutes later
, they were down.

  The rotors were still winding down as they exited the cabin. John had left the suitcases behind so both hands were free to get Alicia safely inside. As they came out of the chopper, her first step was a stagger.

  “Woo. Don’t have my land legs yet.”

  “Hold on to me,” John said, and offered her his elbow.

  Alicia clasped it—and him—as if he were her life raft and let him guide her. It wasn’t lost upon her that, once again, she had put herself at this man’s mercy. At first she’d felt betrayed that he was using her to get to her father. But she couldn’t overlook the fact that he kept pulling her proverbial bacon out of the fire. He’d put Dieter on his ass twice and been shot twice for the trouble. He’d stopped a hit man from taking her out and was keeping her in style. If this house was anywhere near as spectacular as the one on the bluff in Georgia, it would be the perfect place to hide out.

  She watched him unlock the door, then step inside and disarm the security system. She was beginning to realize that, in his own way, John Nightwalker was as much an enigma as her father. He seemed indecently wealthy and lived without companionship behind massive amounts of security. Once again, she reminded herself to ask him exactly what it was he imported and exported, and—even more important—the details of what her father had done to his family. All she knew was that they were dead and John blamed her father. She had just assumed it must have happened during some kind of explosion relating to the manufacture of Ponte munitions. Well, her father understood revenge. That was something he and John had in common.

  “How are you feeling?” John asked as he led her to a chair in the kitchen.

  “Weird,” she said, and shrugged. “Maybe a glass of milk…some crackers…nothing big. I think it’s just because I threw up the only thing I’d eaten today.”

  Without thinking, John brushed the back of her head with his hand. It was a gentle stroke, meant as a gesture of comfort, but when she leaned into the touch, he felt her yield. Whether she knew it or not, it was a telling moment between them. A sign of trust that hadn’t been there before.

  He quickly moved to the refrigerator, and made a mental note to call the caretaker tomorrow and thank him personally for cleaning and stocking the house. Everything he could have wanted was there, in duplicate.

  He poured her a small glass of milk, then sliced a couple of pieces of farmer’s cheese from a brick, put them between buttery crackers and gave them to her on a plate.

  “Eat this,” he said. “I’m going out for the bags.”

  Alicia sighed, then reached for the milk. She was finishing her first cheese and cracker sandwich when John came back inside. He reset the alarm, then gave her a quick glance before disappearing with the luggage. When he returned, the crackers were gone and she was finishing off the milk.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “I hope so. At least not so empty.”

  “Good. Maybe all you need is some peace and quiet, and I can guarantee there’s plenty of that out here.”

  Alicia stood and started to carry her dishes to the sink when John stopped her.

  “Leave it,” he said. “I’m going to take you to your room. Now that we’re here, your only job is to leave the worrying to me.”

  She looked over her shoulder to the back door. “We’re safe here, right?”

  John realized the panic was still there. He needed to relieve her mind, but wasn’t sure what it would take. All he could do was his best. He looked at her then, a mishmash of the disguise that she’d left D.C. with, along with her own natural grace. A mixture of she-wolf and princess. Sometimes he couldn’t tell them apart.

  “Woman.”

  Alicia turned abruptly, not only startled by what he’d called her but by the serious tone of his voice.

  “What?”

  “I promise you—with my life—that I will not let you be hurt. Even more, I will not use you to get to your father. My fight is not with you, and it was wrong of me to think that I could use you.”

  Alicia’s chin quivered. Her vision blurred. This was the last thing she’d expected. His capitulation threw her even more off center than she already was. If she was no longer able to hate him, then how was she going to maintain emotional distance from him? Hating him was all she’d had to keep her attraction to him at bay. Now, like the damnable man that he was, he was promising to turn himself into some heroic hunk of masculinity.

  John saw the tears. Damn it.

  “Don’t cry…don’t you dare go and cry on me, woman.”

  “I’m not crying,” she muttered. “It was probably the cheese. I think the cheese was too spicy.”

  “Like hell,” John said. “The only thing blander than farmer’s cheese is butter.” He yanked a paper towel from the roll on the counter and handed it to her. “Blow your nose and follow me.”

  Alicia took it and blew as she followed him out of the kitchen. She was too weary and too light-headed to take note of the furnishings and decorations. All she wanted was a bathroom and a bed.

  John stopped halfway down the hall, then opened a door and turned on the light.

  “This is yours. It has an adjoining bathroom. The bed is turned back. Anything you might need in the way of toiletries is in the bathroom. If you need me, my room is directly across the hall. Just knock once. I’ll hear you.”

  She nodded without looking up and moved past him.

  John sighed. “Are you sure you’re feeling better?”

  She turned then to face him, looking first at his eyes, seeing the gentleness in them that belied the tone of his voice. Then her gaze moved to that small silver feather dangling from his ear. It was as motionless as the man wearing it, giving her the impression of a wild animal poised to attack. Then finally to his lips—full, sensual, carved in perfect proportion to the rest of his face. She wondered if they would yield as he’d just done, if they would be soft and warm, coaxing things from her that she was already willing to give. She wondered, but she knew that knowledge wouldn’t come tonight, or tomorrow, or maybe ever.

  Finally she looked away, then shrugged.

  “Right now, John Nightwalker, I’m not sure of anything.”

  Seven

  For John, being in Sedona was always healing. Here, reality blurred and his anger dimmed. There was always a feeling of being a thought away from an unseen world. He kept more of his collection of Native American religious relics here than in Georgia and had built a sweat lodge a short distance away from the back of his house. Practicing the old ways always gave him a new sense of purpose, similar, he supposed, to those who gained inner peace and insight from meditation.

  Even though he was travel-weary, he made certain all was secure in the house before retiring. He checked in on Alicia, heard her slow, steady breathing, and was satisfied that whatever had been upsetting her had passed. When he finally got to his room, he stripped in the dark, showered by the yellow glow of a night-light and crawled into bed. Naked and exhausted, he pulled up the covers and fell fast asleep.

  White Fawn’s breasts filled Night Walker’s hands as he lay behind her, spooned one to the other and warm beneath the fur robes. Outside, rain blew in a wild, scattered blur, running down the sides of their hut like a waterfall. Even though he was deeply asleep, his subconscious recognized the feminine curves, as well as the musky scent of her body, causing his own body to grow hard with longing.

  White Fawn roused slightly, smiled to herself as she felt the thrust of her man’s member between her legs, and shifted just enough to accommodate his desires.

  Night Walker woke up inside his woman and quickly became lost in the tight, wet heat. Thrust followed thrust until the pressure built to bursting.

  John woke abruptly. Emotionally, he knew where he was. Alone and more than five hundred years lonely. Physically, his body ached for release, but it wasn’t going to happen now. He glanced toward the windows. The sun was long since up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and strode into the ba
throom. A cold shower later, he came out and moved to the closet, quickly dressed in running shorts and running shoes and left his room.

  The door to Alicia’s room was still closed, and the house was quiet. He started to leave, then remembered how pale she’d been last night. He wouldn’t be satisfied to leave until he knew she was okay.

  The knob turned noiselessly, and he pushed the door inward just enough that he could peer in. The moment he did, he knew he’d made a mistake. She was flat on her back with one arm over her head, the other thrown out beside her. The top sheet was between her legs and draped over one shoulder. The rest of her was bare to the world and as naked as the day she’d been born.

  He stared too long, then gritted his teeth as he backed out and closed the door. He stood with his head down, his hands curled into fists as he struggled to gain control of his emotions. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Now he was going to have to live with the reality of knowing how long her legs were, and how the curve of her hips and breasts accentuated her flat belly and narrow waist. And her skin. Alabaster. He hit his fists on the sides of his legs and then strode toward the kitchen.

  Without wasted motion, he put a pot of coffee on to brew, left Alicia a message and disarmed the security system. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he was going to try to outrun the lust with which he’d awakened, as well as the newfound hunger for the woman asleep so close by.

  He stepped outside, quickly scanned the area for signs of intrusion and saw nothing but a lone buzzard circling high up in the sky. The chopper was the only thing that seemed out of place. He went back into the house, picked up a remote from inside a drawer, stepped back out on the terrace, aimed and triggered it. Within moments, a framework arose around the pad and chopper like a portable gazebo draped in a sand-colored fabric. He watched until it had unfolded completely, then punched another button that added a sand-colored roof to the structure. Now the chopper was no longer visible from the air. At that point, he replaced the remote and pulled the door shut behind him, taking a moment to pause on the terrace.