Shades of a Desperado

by Sharon Sala

  She didn’t want to lose the man in surgery, but when she saw Rachel Brant waiting with her heart in her eyes, she’d known the fight was already lost. She’d lost him to a woman who would never give him back.

  Boone MacDonald was one of her toughest undercover agents. He would survive the surgery, of that she was convinced. But she’d taken one look at Rachel’s beauty and heard her plea for clemency on his behalf and known that Boone would not survive losing Rachel Brant. And because of that, she divulged a truth she’d sworn to protect.

  “He’s one of ours, you know.”

  At first Rachel didn’t understand. “He’s one of your what?”

  Susan turned, her eyes cool, always judging...constantly gauging.

  “Boone—at least, that’s the name by which you know him—is one of our best undercover agents.”

  The room started to spin. Rachel turned and leaned against the cold glass, relishing the coolness against her feverish forehead.

  “Are you all right?” Susan asked.

  Rachel closed her eyes, then swallowed a lump in her throat, remembering the things that had seemed so out of character for the man she’d believed him to be. He’d asked her to trust him. Offered her help when she was certain none was there. She caught her breath on a sob. He’d even told her at the last that he was one of the good guys, but she hadn’t understood what he meant. Rachel took a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh.

  “Yes, Susan, I’m all right. I’m very all right...now.”

  Susan Cross nodded. It felt good to break a rule. Maybe she should do it more often.

  “Well, then,” she said quietly, “you understand I’m telling you this under the strictest confidence. It wouldn’t do to let some of his enemies know he was flat on his back and virtually defenseless, would it?”

  The tone of Rachel’s voice went flat, ominous in its lack of emotion. “No one will hurt him while he’s defenseless, I promise you that.”

  To say that Susan was startled by Rachel’s statement was putting it mildly, but then she remembered what B.J. had told her about finding Griffin Ross dead. It was obvious from the shape Boone had been in when they hauled him out of the Kiamichis that he couldn’t have done it. That left Rachel as the triggerman. It was hard to look at her now and see a woman who’d drilled two holes into the front of Griffin Ross’s shirt.

  “Sometimes it’s dangerous to make such a promise unless you’re ready to back it up.”

  Rachel flushed but refused to admit to what the captain was implying. What had happened back there in the mountains was thanks to Mercy, not her.

  There was no way a by-the-book kind of woman like Susan Cross would understand about a past life taking hold of the one happening now, and when Rachel thought about it, neither did she. All she knew was that, when it counted, she’d aimed and fired, just as Boone had told her to do, and hit a target she hadn’t expected to hit.

  Convinced that she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do, Susan started to leave, but Rachel caught her by the arm.

  “Susan?”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Daniel Blaine.”

  Rachel nodded, trying to match the man she knew with a new identity. “What do they call him?”

  Susan grinned. “Other than mule-headed?”

  Rachel’s heart lifted. The name might be strange, but the personality was not. “Yes, other than that.”

  “Just Daniel. He’s not much for nicknames.”

  There was a note pinned to the T-shirt. Just one name. Didn’t know if it was my first name or my last.

  “No, I guess he’s not,” Rachel agreed.

  “He’s going to be all right,” Susan said. “If you’d known him as long as I have, you’d believe me.”

  And then Rachel smiled. “It seems like I’ve known him forever.”

  Susan touched Rachel’s arm. It was a brief, almost clumsy gesture. She wasn’t used to showing her emotions.

  “I’d better be going. We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do. When he comes to, tell him we smashed the lab and took Cherry into custody. Griffin Ross had been laundering drug money out of his savings and loan, and with the aid of his secretary, who’s agreed to cooperate fully by helping us with the paperwork to prove it, we can seize his personal assets. The rest of the bunch is history, thanks to you and B.J.”

  “Poor Lois,” Rachel said, and then it dawned on her what Susan had just said. She gave the DEA captain a wary look. Thanks to me and B.J.? So they know how Griffin died after all.

  “Don’t worry,” Susan said. “It was Boone’s gun, and quite obviously self-defense. There will be no problem with who pulled the trigger.”

  Rachel lifted her chin. “I wasn’t hiding the fact,” she said quietly. “Put whatever you have to in the records. I just did what I had to do to keep him alive.”

  Susan’s eyebrow arched again. “You know, there’s something about you I didn’t expect. Have you ever thought of going into law enforcement?”

  Rachel didn’t bother to hide her shudder. “No! I don’t like guns. That was my first time to hold one, and I hope my last. I’m trained to save people’s lives, not take then.”

  “I think you’re looking at us from the wrong side of the road,” Susan said. “We’re trained to do the very same thing.”

  That was food for thought as Susan Cross walked away, taking B. J. Wayland with her. Rachel stared after them until the elevator swallowed them whole.

  She turned and looked back out the window. It was almost morning.

  Daniel Blaine. His name is Daniel....

  Rachel straightened. A memory hovered at the back of her mind. There was something she needed to remember. Something about her trip to South Dakota. Something connected to the newspaper story about Dakota’s demise.

  “Oh, my God!” Blaine! That was it! Mercy Hollister had been responsible for the death of an outlaw named Dakota Blaine.

  Charlie’s reflection appeared in the glass as he came to stand behind her. “Rachel, is anything wrong?”

  It was the last little link in her connection to the past that made a crazy kind of sense out of it all.

  “No, oh, no. In fact, it’s just the opposite. Everything is very all right.”

  Charlie didn’t know what had made her so happy, but at this point, as he hugged her close, he didn’t really care. He was willing to take what he could get, when he could get it.

  Another half hour passed, and the earlier elation Rachel had experienced was beginning to pass. She was back to pacing and worrying, and Charlie was hard-pressed to find something to occupy her mind. A notion did occur to him, and as he considered telling her, he also considered the consequences if his secret went past her.

  “Hey, Rachel, if I tell you something, will you swear not to tell a living, breathing soul, especially Joanie Sue Miller?”

  Rachel nodded. “I promise, especially about Joanie.”

  “You remember Ida Mae Frawley?”

  “Widow Frawley? The old recluse who died a few months back?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “What about her?” Rachel asked.

  “I used to mow her yard when I was a kid, did you know that?”

  Rachel shook her head.

  “Yeah, I did. As I got older, I did all kinds of odd jobs for her. She was almost ninety when she died. Someone had to help her.”

  “That was good of you, Charlie.”

  He ducked his head. “I guess she liked me a lot.”

  Rachel smiled. “You’re an easy man to like, Charlie Dutton.”

  He gave her a long, judging look. “Remember, you promised.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. You’d think we were five years old and you just stole the last piece of pie. What are you trying to say?”

  “Well, hell, how would you feel if you were minding your own business and then found out one day that someone had died and left you seven hundred thousand dollars?”

&n
bsp; “Seven hundred thousand...” She gasped. “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I am not,” Charlie said. “And keep your voice down.”

  Rachel was stunned. “That explains your ring and your car and your hairstyle,” she said. “But not why you want to keep it a secret.”

  Charlie blushed, then looked away, and at that moment Rachel came as close to loving him as she ever would.

  “I didn’t want anyone to know because I want to be loved for who I am, not what I’ve got.”

  Rachel’s voice trembled. “Oh, Charlie, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Now, don’t go all squishy-eyed on me. This is a secret, remember?” Then he grinned. “Besides, it’s too late for you now, baby. Even if you swear, I won’t believe you love me.”

  Rachel had to laugh, which was exactly what he had wanted, and before anything else could be said, Charlie grabbed her and spun her around. A doctor was coming toward them in surgery greens. Rachel went to meet him.

  For the rest of her life, Rachel would remember the first sight she’d had of Daniel Blaine in ICU. She’d fallen in love with Boone, and she’d been prepared to love him in spite of himself. Now she was face-to-face with an unconscious man in a hospital bed and learning all over again what love and sacrifice were about.

  She could only imagine the risks he’d taken by letting their relationship grow. Only now, since she’d learned his true identity, did she understand what he must have thought when he saw her in Griffin Ross’s arms. She made a promise to herself then and there that she would never give him cause to doubt her again.

  Four days later, Daniel Blaine was moved from ICU to a private room. When he moved, Rachel went with him. She’d been home only once, and that had been to get her own car and several changes of clothes. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight until he was able to leave on his own. She knew now the selfless act of love he’d shown by shoving her in front of him as they ran through the night, putting himself between her and danger, willing to take the bullet that might have hit her instead. The doctors were doing their part in healing Daniel’s body, but it was Rachel’s quiet, steady presence that began the healing of a desperado’s heart.

  She thought he was asleep. Daniel could tell by the quiet way in which she moved around the room, adding water to the flowers the agency had sent, folding the extra blanket at the foot of his bed, easing the sheet from beneath his arm to keep from jostling the IV.

  The sounds around him hadn’t changed much in the past five days. Nine altogether, taking into consideration the four he’d spent in ICU He didn’t remember much from that time, but he’d always known she was there. Her presence filled some long-empty part of him.

  Just outside the doorway, life went on, but inside his room, his world consisted of Rachel. Doctors’ and nurses’ intrusions were tolerated. Only Rachel was welcomed into the private space of his heart.

  The sounds of glasses and dishes being rattled told him it must be suppertime. Food odors drifted amid the scents of medicine and disinfectant, an unappetizing combination.

  Daniel shifted slightly where he lay, easing the pressure on the healing wound on his back, and as he did, he sensed Rachel’s instant appraisal.

  His eyelids fluttered as he hid a smile. God help him, but when he gave his heart to Rachel Brant, he’d also given up the last of his secrets. The joke on her was that he didn’t mind at all. If they’d been his secrets to tell, he would have shared them with her long ago.

  He had but the vaguest of memories of what had happened after she took off her shirt in the forest and used it to stanch the flow of his blood. They were little more than flashes of images, of voices, of smells. The fear mirrored on Rachel’s face. The gun he’d put in her hand. The smell of rotting leaves and cold night air...of pine and cedar... and gunpowder.

  But there was one image that had stayed sure and strong in his mind, and that was Rachel standing over him like an avenging angel with his gun aimed straight at Griffin Ross’s chest. He remembered feeling hopeless and helpless, and he remembered a complete and total fear that he’d brought her to this end.

  It had been days later before he learned what she’d done, and even then he had been unable to picture the Rachel he knew, the healer, the caregiver, as being able to shoot a man twice, point-blank. But he was living proof that she had.

  “Daniel, darling...”

  She’d had nine days to get used to the change in his identity, but it felt good to hear his name on her lips. Her hand was on his forehead. He felt her lips brush his cheek. He opened his eyes.

  “They’re bringing supper around.”

  “I don’t want food. I want you.”

  Rachel stifled a smile. “Hmm...what was that word Susan Cross used? Oh yes, I remember...mule-headed. I believe she said you were mule-headed. Darling, are you? Mule-headed, I mean?”

  Daniel grinned. “Probably, but that doesn’t change what I want.”

  Rachel straightened his covers and stepped back just as a nurse entered the room with his meal. She leaned close and warned him in a none-too-gentle tone of voice, “What you want and what you’re about to get are two entirely different things.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Blaine, how are we doing?”

  Daniel glared. He hated the communal we. The last time he looked, he’d been the only one in this room stuck in a bed.

  “You tell me. How are we?” he grumbled.

  The nurse slid the tray onto the table and lifted the warming covers off the food, then hit a button on the bed that sat Daniel abruptly upright.

  He cursed as the stitches pulled his skin.

  “We’re a little testy this evening, aren’t we? That’s always a good sign. We’ll be ready to go home before we know lit.”

  “You’re damn- sure not going with me,” Daniel muttered, glaring at the food, which was sitting there on his plate in all its unappetizing glory.

  “This looks wonderful,” Rachel said, as she went to get him a warm, wet cloth so that he could wash before eating. Her voice was lower as she dropped the cloth in his hands. “Will one washcloth be enough, sweetheart, or should I get another one, with soap for your mouth?”

  He got the message and took the washcloth without further comment.

  “I’ll be back later to get your tray, Mr. Blaine. Enjoy.”

  Daniel shoved the tray and table aside, then glared at Rachel, daring her to argue with his decision.

  “You eat it,” he said.

  “No, thank you,” she said brightly. “I had a snack while you were asleep.” Then she picked up his fork and handed it to him without batting an eye. “Oh, look, darling, they’ve put cucumber in your salad. I seem to remember you’re quite an authority on cucumbers.”

  His mouth quirked at one corner. The little witch! She was taunting him just as he’d teased her that day in the grocery store.

  Rachel sat at the foot of the bed, with her hand on his leg, rubbing gently...but still, rubbing just the same. She leaned forward only slightly—but there was a definite and unexpected sexual tension in her voice.

  “Is it good?”

  He blinked. All sorts of images came to mind that might fit that question much better than the damned cucumber in his salad.

  “Is what good?” he mumbled.

  “The salad, sweetheart. Is it crisp? You know how you like things to have a certain texture. None of that limp, floppy stuff for you, right?”

  He had to grin. She’d won that round. He jammed the fork in the salad and took a big bite. To his chagrin, it didn’t taste half-bad.

  Rachel slipped off the bed and went to get her nail file. Moments later, she climbed back to her spot and began to file at a tear on her nail as if it were the most important thing she had to do. And because she wasn’t paying attention, he finished his salad in spite of himself.

  She looked up. “Ummm...the scalloped potatoes and ham smell good. How do they taste?”

  Daniel stared at the conglomeration piled on his plate
and wished for a greasy take-out burger instead.

  Rachel wasn’t to be deterred. “I love sauces, don’t you? Especially cheese—the way it melts... and blends. It adds just that right touch to plain food. It’s so...so...fluid, and warm, and...”

  “Have mercy, Rachel. I’ll eat the stuff, just give me a break!”

  Rachel smiled and moved on to another nail while Daniel dug into his dinner.

  “Would you look at that!” she said a little while later, when he’d finished the ham and potatoes. “There are strawberries in the mixed fruit! Remember when—”

  “Don’t even start,” Daniel muttered, and picked up his spoon. “I’m eating. I’m eating.”

  Hours later, the hospital had undergone its daily metamorphosis. The shift had changed, and the nurses on duty were readying everyone for the night. Vitals had been taken; medicine rounds were over. The muted sounds of visitors taking their leave from other patients could be heard out in the hall.

  Daniel was absorbing the quiet while absently watching the television. After being coaxed to come up beside him, Rachel now lay on the edge of his bed, her back aligned with the length of his leg, dozing in snatches.

  Every time she jerked, or sighed a little more than he’d expected, Daniel would lay his hand upon her hair, or stroke the softness of her cheek, anything it took to gentle her slumber and reassure himself that she was going to be all right. He’d had nightmares about Rachel sleepwalking off the edge of the world and him not being able to catch her. Even now, though she was wide-awake and within reach of his hand, the thought scared him to death. She was his life.

  He heard her sigh and knew that she was awake again. That was good. There were things that needed to be said.

  “Rachel?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”