Читать книгу Solitary Soldier - Debra Webb - Страница 12

Rachel moaned contentedly and snuggled into her pillow. Her lids slowly opened to the realization that it was now daylight. The last vestiges of sleep retreated bringing awareness one degree at a time. The fluffy pillow beneath her cheek, the cool sheet over her body, and the slight breeze whispering across her face. She inhaled deeply of a scent that was at once alien and soothing. A pleasant masculine scent, musk and leather.

Sloan.

Rachel’s eyes opened wide. She surveyed the part of the room readily viewable without having to move. This was not the same room Pablo had shown her and Josh to last evening. Her heart pounded in her chest as last night’s heated words with Sloan replayed in her head. She remembered collapsing…

Her attention suddenly lit on the puddle of clothing a few feet away on the carpeted floor. Her blouse, her skirt and sandals. The fact that being on the small side in the bust allowed her to go braless most of the time slammed into her. She sat bolt upright on the side of the bed and looked down at herself. She wore what appeared to be a man’s T-shirt. Too large for Pablo’s. She swallowed tightly. Sloan’s. She looked around the room and realization dawned with unnerving clarity.

She was in Sloan’s room. In his bed.

Rachel spun around to look on the other side of the bed. It was empty.

Where was Josh?

Fear rushed through her limbs to lodge in her chest. She had tucked him into bed in the other room. She blinked, forcing herself to concentrate rather than losing herself to the panic. Maybe he was having breakfast already. What time was it? Her gaze sought out the nearest clock. The LED display on the bedside table read 10:00 a.m. Rachel shot to her feet. How could she have slept so long?

Where was her son?

Laughter floated through the open window. Josh. Rachel bounded off the bed and to the generous windows. She peered out into the backyard. Sheer, gauzy drapes fluttered around her in the gentle breeze. With Pablo watching, Josh chased a bright red ball. His delighted squeals and laughter brought the first relaxed smile to her lips in too long to remember. It felt so good to see her son play without worry that someone would snatch him away from her. Pablo tossed the ball again, and Josh’s enthusiastic race for the brightly colored, bouncing object gladdened her heart. This was all she had ever wanted for her son…for him to feel happy and safe.

Taking stock of the area for the first time in daylight, Rachel amended her earlier impression. This was not a backyard, this was a courtyard. As beautiful as any she had ever seen. And she had seen a few while growing up. Rachel’s smile faded as she considered the bittersweet memories of growing up with her father. Her mother had died when she was only a small child. But her father had made up for the loss many times over. He took Rachel everywhere with him. A well-respected figure in the State Department, they had traveled frequently, abroad mostly. The hotels were always luxurious. But she had yet to view a courtyard any more spectacular than Sloan’s.

Elegant tile or cobblestone pavers covered what was most likely a sandy yard. The house surrounded the courtyard on all sides, adding to the feeling of security. Numerous sets of French doors opened onto the courtyard from the rooms facing it, including the one in which she now stood. Lush foliage, mostly tropical, probably native to the area, nearly camouflaged a sparkling pool. Beyond the house, a water tank towered, supplying the residence with water despite the sprawling desert that surrounded it. The word fortress flitted through Rachel’s mind again. She wondered if there were generators and a bountiful food supply stored somewhere on the grounds, making the place self-sufficient despite the desolation and its remoteness.

Relieved that Josh was safe, Rachel pushed her other curiosities from her mind. She would ask Sloan more questions when the opportunity presented itself. For now, she should get dressed and join her son outside. She had a feeling that Sloan would let her know what he wanted from her, monetarily and otherwise, when he made up his mind or developed some plan. He didn’t strike her as the sort of man one could hurry.

Finding her reluctant host watching from the open doorway, Rachel gasped. That unreadable blue gaze traveled down the length of her, then back to connect with hers. Her state of undress sent a flush of heat up her neck and across her cheeks. She edged closer to the sheer material hanging around her for some sense of protection from his all-seeing gaze.

The sound that rumbled from his chest was more growl than laugh. “Don’t be shy, Miss Larson, I’ve already seen all there is to see.”

He had undressed her last night, then again just now with his eyes. On some level she had already known that Sloan was the one. Though she preferred to undress herself, Pablo having done so would have been a great deal less humiliating alternative. To her chagrin, her nipples tightened at the thought that Sloan had looked at her so intimately. That was not an appropriate reaction, she reminded herself with rising indignation.

“I’d like to get dressed now,” she announced, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

“Your suitcase is in your room. Pablo picked it up this morning, along with a few other things I told him you would need.” A holster, complete with sleek black gun, was strapped to one broad shoulder. He crossed his arms over his mile-wide chest and leaned against the door frame.

Rachel tried not to follow the distracting movement of powerful muscle. She moistened her lips and asked the question that tightened the back of her throat. “Why did you bring me to your…in here?” Surely she would remember if anything happened. She couldn’t have been that far out of it. She shivered at the thought of those strong hands touching her bare skin.

“The boy was asleep. I didn’t want to wake him.”

Somehow she sensed that there was more to it than that. He hadn’t wanted to be in the same room with Josh—even for a few minutes, she suddenly realized. “I don’t usually…react like that,” she began in explanation of what he probably considered weakness. She squared her shoulders and stepped away from the meager protection the drapes provided. Somehow she had to learn to hold her own in the man’s presence. “Despite how it may look to you now, I am a strong person.”

He straightened. Rachel jumped, instantly making a liar out of herself. Sloan crossed the room to stand directly in front of her. He stared down at her for a long moment before he spoke. Rachel had the distinct impression he was trying to read her mind. The same scent that lingered on the crisp white sheets of his bed emanated from his big, powerful body. The T-shirt he wore molded to his chest, outlining every ripple and contour. The sweatpants concealed little of his masculine assets.

“Strong willed, yes,” he finally said. “That’s probably what has kept you alive until now.” His gaze slid slowly over her body once more. Rachel shivered. “But,” he continued, “physically you’re weak. That makes all that willpower useless in the end.”

She knew without analyzing his words that she had just been insulted. But Rachel also knew full well that he was right. “That’s why I came to you. You have the strength and the know how to protect us.”

“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.”