Читать книгу The Warrior - Dinah McCall - Страница 8

John didn’t know who the man was, other than a big bald bodybuilder, but the woman was obviously afraid of him. He made a point of never involving himself in marital discord, but there was no way he was going to lose track of her until he figured out how she fit into the puzzle of the soul he sought. He replaced the nozzle and stepped back to watch from between the pumps as the man continued to approach.

“Get away from me, Dieter,” Alicia warned.

Dieter paused, smiling openly as if to say this was out of his hands.

“Come, come, Alicia, your father wants you to come home.”

“How did you find me?” she asked.

Dieter shrugged. “GPS.”

Alicia’s lips went slack. “You’re not serious. Dad has a tracking device on my car?”

“They’re on all his cars,” Dieter said. “I would have thought you’d known that.”

“It’s obvious I don’t know him nearly as well as I thought I did,” she muttered.

Dieter took a step closer. “So you’ll come with me now?”

Alicia’s pulse skipped as she took a nervous step back. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh, but you are,” Dieter said, and lunged, only to find himself suddenly face-to-face with a man who’d come out of nowhere.

Dieter frowned, then looked at Alicia. “Who is this? Is he with you?”

John answered, “Who I am is not what you should be worrying about. I heard the lady tell you to back off at least twice, and you’re not paying attention.”

Dieter jabbed a finger at John, poking him in the chest. “You aren’t part of the equation,” he said. “I take my orders from her father, and he wants her home.”

When John grabbed the finger and twisted it backward, it sent a shooting pain up Dieter’s arm all the way to the back of his jaw. Even worse, it somehow rendered him immobile, and he didn’t know why.

“Ow! Shit! Let me go. Let me go!” he yelled.

But John continued to maintain pressure as he addressed Alicia. “I take it this man isn’t your husband?”

Alicia’s voice was shaking. “No, he works for my father.”

“Did you do something illegal?” John asked.

Alicia rolled her eyes. “No.”

“You’re not wanted by the police?”

“No. Lord, no.”

“I’m assuming you’re of legal age.”

Alicia stifled a snort, which John interpreted as a yes.

“Then I’d say you’re free to do what you want.”

Alicia’s eyes filled with tears all over again.

“I’ll never be free again,” she said, more to herself than to John, but he heard it and knew her peril was working to his advantage.

John looked back at Dieter, whose face was turning paler by the minute.

“Are you going to keep following her?”

“It’s my job,” Dieter moaned, still trying to figure out why he felt numb all over.

“Then I guess she’ll need a head start,” John said, then grabbed Dieter’s neck with his other hand and squeezed. Dieter dropped between the car and the gas pump like a stone.

Alicia shuddered. What had just happened? “I need to hide,” she mumbled, still staring at Dieter’s body.

“Why are you afraid of your father?”

She wiped her hands across her face. “This is a nightmare. Please…I need to get another car and get to a place where he can’t find me until I can figure all this out.”

John exhaled softly. Bingo. Right into his lap.

“I can help.”

Alicia swayed where she stood, then looked up. His eyes were so dark that she couldn’t see the pupils. She shivered. She didn’t know this man from Adam. He could be a serial killer, a sadist—anything. Then she asked herself: Was her father any different? Should she trust the devil she knew or the devil she didn’t?

John felt her pulling away. He had to act fast.

“My name is John Nightwalker. I live about fifteen miles from here, and as you can see, I have a car. You’ll have to leave your car here anyway, and I’ll help you all I can. Just tell me what you need.”

Alicia saw his lips moving, but she’d lost track of his words as soon as he’d said his name. The skin was still crawling on the back of her neck, and she had the strangest urge to cry.

“So…what do you say?” John asked.

Alicia blinked. “Um…I, uh…”

“You can trust me,” he said.

Somehow she knew he was telling the truth.

“Yes, okay.”

John’s pulse skittered, then settled. Was this it? Was this the beginning of the end of his search?

“Better get your things out of your car,” he said.

“What about him?” she asked, pointing to Dieter.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said.

She hurried to get her suitcase. When she turned around, John was pulling a six-pack of beer out of his Jeep. He popped the top of a can and forced Dieter’s lips far enough apart to pour the tepid amber liquid down his throat. At that point Dieter coughed and came to, hacking and spitting. John helped him up, opened the door to Dieter’s car, then squeezed the same nerve on his neck that he’d squeezed before and once again rendered him unconscious.

John grunted softly as he maneuvered the other man into the driver’s seat. Once he had Dieter behind the wheel, he poured the contents of two more cans of beer onto his clothes and then onto the seat, tossed the rest of the six-pack onto the floorboard, then stepped back and shut the door. To the observer, Dieter would now appear to be drunk and passed out in his car.

John turned toward Alicia. “Get in,” he said as he took the suitcase out of her hands and put it in the backseat.

Alicia took a deep breath and looked back down the road on which she’d been traveling. She knew what was behind her. Time to take a chance on what was ahead. Then she looked at John, exhaled slowly and scooted into the passenger seat as John slid behind the wheel.

“Buckle up,” he said, and pulled out onto the highway.

She began fumbling with the seat belt as he picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.

“Police. Whatcha need?”

“Hi, Carl, it’s John Nightwalker. I want to report a situation at Marv’s Gas and Guzzle. There’s an abandoned car at one pump and a drunk passed out in the car behind it. Someone needs to get those two cars towed out of the way so people can get gas when they need it.”

“Is the drunk a local?” Carl asked.

“Nope. Out-of-state license. Don’t know anything more.”

“Figures,” Carl said. “I’ll get someone down there right now. Thanks for calling.”

“No problem,” John said. There was a glint in his eye as he disconnected.

“Thank you,” Alicia said.

John nodded.

At that point, the silence inside the Jeep became uncomfortable. What on earth had she just done? Alicia wondered, realizing how completely she’d given herself over to this man. All she could do was pray she hadn’t put herself into a more dire situation than the one she’d been running from.

“I won’t hurt you,” John said, then turned and caught her staring. Once again, he looked straight into her eyes.

It was a fleeting look, but there was something in it that Alicia found comforting. A second or so later, he turned his attention back to the road, but it was enough for her to relax.

She shivered slightly, then leaned back against the seat as the wind whipped through the windows, putting her long dark hair in disarray. But her appearance was the last thing on her mind. For the first time since she’d starting running, she felt as if she was at least partially in control. Maybe this nightmare was going to have a positive outcome after all.

Richard waited for the phone call from Dieter telling him that he had Alicia and was on the way home, but it never came. He left a scathing message on Dieter’s cell, then left to attend a business dinner, confident that everything was under control and his subordinate was just off the radar for some reason.

Dieter, however, was not as certain. Waking up in jail was the single biggest shock of his life. He’d been in jail before, but he’d always seen it coming. This time, he had no idea how or when—or why—it had happened. He swung his legs off the bunk, swiped his hands across his face, then stumbled to the bars, rattling them to emphasize his demand.

“Hey!” he yelled, then winced. Yelling made his head ache. “Jailer! Jailer! I need to make a phone call. It’s my right. I get to make a call.”

A few moments later, the door across the aisle opened and a tall scrawny man in a khaki uniform sauntered in. Dieter stared. The man was rail-thin with a hawk nose and a big bushy mustache.

“What?” the man drawled.

“I get to make a call! Bring me my cell phone.”

The jailer shrugged. “You use our phone and reverse the charges…understand?”

“I don’t understand anything,” Dieter muttered. “How did I get here?”

“Hauled your drunk ass in, that’s how.”

Dieter frowned. He hadn’t been drinking. He’d been—“Oh hell,” he muttered. Alicia. The big Indian. Richard was going to kill him.

“Here’s the phone,” the jailer said as he thrust a cordless headset through the bars. “Make it quick.”

“Where am I?” Dieter asked, realizing he didn’t even know the address of the jail.

“You’re in jail, mister,” the jailer said dryly.

Dieter cursed beneath his breath. “Very funny. What’s the name of this godforsaken place?”

“You’re in Justice, Georgia, and I hope the irony of that is not lost on you.”

Dieter glared. “I need privacy.”

“Tough shit. You get one call, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As Dieter punched in the number, it occurred to him that he was probably safer in jail. At least here, Richard would have a harder time killing him. However, Richard didn’t answer the call, and Dieter was forced to leave a message.

“Mr. Ponte, it’s Dieter. I’m in Justice, Georgia…in jail. I caught up with Alicia at a gas station, but she wasn’t alone. She had someone with her who knocked me out. I’m not sure how I got from there to jail, but I need someone to bail me out.”

As soon as he’d disconnected, he handed the phone back through the bars. The jailer took it, smirked and slammed the door behind him when he left.

Dieter dropped back down on the bunk, then put his head in his hands and groaned. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

Alicia was accustomed to the best. The best cars. The best clothes. The best of everything money could buy. So when John Nightwalker said he was taking her to his place, she didn’t expect to find much of a house at the end of this road through nowhere, but to say this exceeded her expectations was an epic understatement. His home was a magnificent edifice of wood, rock and glass that appeared to have grown from the very bluff on which it was sitting.

The front of the house faced the driveway, which left the back to overlook the ocean. She could see all the way through the soaring front windows to two stories of glass at the back that seemed to go on forever—disappearing up and into the startling blue of the sky overhead. The panorama they would reveal up close had to be amazing.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The beauty of it was obvious, but it was the loneliness she sensed along with that beauty that brought tears to her eyes.

She got out without speaking and walked toward the rim of the bluff, mesmerized by the view beyond. But the longer she stood there, the more she felt he hadn’t built here for the view. As she looked around the area, she realized that from where she stood, it would be impossible for anyone to get to him without being seen. She couldn’t help but wonder what demons John Nightwalker watched for when he looked through those windows.

“Welcome to my home,” John said.

Alicia couldn’t find the words to answer. She just nodded, then turned around and followed him back to the car, picking up her suitcase as he took the groceries and led the way inside.

John was so wired he could hardly focus. After centuries of waiting for this day, it was the closest he’d ever been. Only once before had he been so near. But that had been ages ago, on a train running through Central Europe. That day he’d known, as surely as he knew his own name, that the man he sought was only a few cars away. He’d felt the rhythm of his heartbeat as the pain of recognition spilled through him. He’d been running through the cars, searching for the person who held the key to all he sought, when a hard jolt sent everyone flying out of their seats, followed by the sounds of buckling metal and steam spewing into the air as the train derailed violently. He woke up some time later to the sound of people screaming and a horrible emptiness that meant one thing: the gut-wrenching knowledge that whoever it was he’d been after was dead, but not by John’s hand.

Nothing had been resolved.

Now his mind refocused on the woman at hand as he stepped aside to let her in. The way he figured it, playing things cool and easy was the best way to alleviate her fears, although staying calm around her was almost impossible. He’d waited so long for revenge. He needed to find out if her father was the man he sought. He guessed that he was, but couldn’t be sure—wouldn’t be sure until they were standing face-to-face.

He didn’t know what was going to happen after this quest was over, but right now he didn’t care. If he turned to dust, so be it. Revenge was a cold mistress, and he was tired—tired of it all.

“The kitchen is through here,” John said, leading the way.

But Alicia was so enthralled by this place that she kept lagging behind. The walls were a pale blue. The floor tiles were oblong, rather than square, and in an off-white color with gold veins scattered throughout. The furnishings were different shades of gold and blue, with snow-white throw pillows of every size. She could see a huge library off to the left, containing what appeared to be a well-organized office. The walls were covered with art and artifacts, most of which appeared to be of Native American theme or origin. The ocean breeze funneling through the open windows billowed the sheer white drapes hanging from ceiling to floor like earthbound kites. The faint scent of salty air permeated the rooms, along with another pleasant but less distinctive scent. It took her a few moments to locate the source, and when she did, she was once again surprised. A huge vase of wisteria sat on a waist-high table in the hall, giving every room access to the sweet, sweet smell of the blooms.

“The flowers…”

John paused and turned. “Yes?”

“They’re lovely,” she said softly.

For the first time John felt a sense of guilt. This woman was obviously in dire straits, or at least she thought she was. She was also stunning to look at. He needed to remember that her well-being was just as vital for him, albeit for different reasons, as it was for her.

“They were White…uh…my wife’s favorite,” he said, glancing toward the vase of white and lavender flowers, the slender stalks drooping from their weight. “They used to grow wild where we lived.”

Alicia’s eyes widened. Past tense. “She died?”

John flashed on White Fawn’s sightless gaze and the blood spilling from the gash in her chest, then stifled the anger he still felt. “Many years ago,” he said shortly, and changed the subject. “Let me put the perishables up, and then I’ll show you to a room. You’ll be comfortable here until you figure out what you need to do, okay?”

“Yes, and, John…thank you,” she said.

He nodded, well aware that she wouldn’t be all that grateful if she knew of his ulterior motives.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stifling another twinge of guilt.

Alicia was standing on the balcony off John’s bedroom, overlooking the ocean, watching the light fading from the sky. She’d asked permission to see the view, and he’d made himself absent to let her enjoy it. Now a faint sliver of moon hung awkwardly against a growing darkness as a few wispy clouds passed in front of it. Night birds were beginning to call. A stiff breeze lifted the hair from Alicia’s neck, chilling her all the way through. She wrapped her arms around herself as a shudder ripped through her.

From behind, she heard a footstep, then felt the weight of something soft and warm settling on her shoulders. The gesture was both thoughtful and unexpected. As she pulled the edges of the sweater close around her, the scent of musk and a fainter scent of cigar smoke wafted toward her.

She hadn’t seen John smoke, yet she recognized the singular scent of fine cigars.

“Thank you,” she said softly, then looked back toward the water. “This is all so beautiful, but I’m sure you already know that.”

John knew she was referring to the view, but for the first time since she’d walked into his house, he was looking at her and seeing her as the beautiful woman she was, not just as a means to an end.

“Yes…very beautiful,” he said.

Alicia looked up, caught his gaze on her and lost her train of thought.

“Talk to me,” John said suddenly.

“I…uh…”

“Where do you live?”

“Most of the time in Miami.”

“Is that where your father is?”

She nodded.

He stifled a smile. Now he knew where to go. His suitcase was already packed. He was willing to leave her here on her own if she chose, or she could keep on running. But tomorrow morning, he was going to Miami.

Even though he’d gotten the information from her that he needed, he decided to keep her talking. The more he knew, the more likely his success would be, and he was long overdue for success.

“Why are you running from your father?”

Alicia pulled the sweater up beneath her chin and looked back across the water.

“It’s an ugly story.”

“I’ve heard ugly before.”

She was startled by the undisguised anger in his voice, reminding her that she was about to spend the night with a stranger. Still, he’d taken a chance for her. He deserved to know that what he’d done might put him in danger.

“A few days ago I overheard my father and an old friend of his discussing an impending business deal. It had to do with selling weapons to terrorists…the same people our soldiers are fighting in Iraq.”

John was stunned. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Are you sure? I mean…is there a possibility you misunderstood?”

Alicia pivoted, her voice rising as she answered. “To my knowledge, there is only one Osama bin Laden, only one group called al Qaeda. Do the words ‘delivery in Afghanistan, money transfers to Geneva,’ suggest anything to you?”

John flinched as if he’d been kicked in the belly, then walked past her in the darkness, bracing his hands against the balcony rail as he stared off into the night. He’d waited an eternity for justice, but did his personal justice supersede the safety of thousands of young servicemen and women?

He turned abruptly, a looming silhouette against the sky.

“His name…What’s your father’s name? How would he have access to those kinds of people?”

“His name is Richard Ponte. He’s the largest arms and munitions manufacturer in the western hemisphere.”

Darkness hid the shock on John’s face. It seemed that the soul of the man who’d killed his people had not learned much during the ensuing centuries. Then another thought surfaced. Alicia Ponte was clearly afraid of her father’s wrath, so…what did she think he would do to her?

“Does he know you overheard that conversation?”

Alicia’s shoulders slumped. “As of this afternoon, yes.”

A chill ran through John’s body that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

“You fear him because…”

“Because when I figure out who in Washington, D.C., I can trust, I’m going to turn him in.”

John couldn’t believe it. The Old Ones must be cackling among themselves over the twist they’d just delivered. If Richard Ponte was indeed the man he sought, he was going to have to stand in line to get to him.

“What lengths do you think he’ll go to, to stop you?”

Bile rose in the back of Alicia’s throat. This was the question that had been hanging at the back of her mind ever since she’d left Miami. Saying aloud what she feared was only going to give life and power to the fear, but she had no choice. By going with John Nightwalker, she’d put him in the same tenuous position in which she’d put herself.

“Whatever it takes to silence me.”

Even as John asked, he couldn’t wrap his mind around what kind of man could commit such a heinous act. “You think your own father would have you killed?”

“In a heartbeat.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, which Alicia finally broke.

“So…about now I’m guessing you wish you’d left me standing back at Marv’s Gas and Guzzle.”

She didn’t know there were tears on her face, but John saw them. Damn it…he didn’t want to feel sorry for her. Then she took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“Well, hell,” he muttered.

Alicia saw a tiny flicker of moonlight catch on the tiny silver feather hanging from his ear as he moved toward her. Before she knew it, she was in his arms, with her nose pressed against his chest.

“What I wish is that you didn’t think your father is capable of killing you. That’s too much for anyone to bear,” he said quietly.

The rumble of his voice lulled her into a false sense of security. He was big and strong, and he’d come to her rescue. Lord knew she needed help. But she couldn’t continue this way without pointing out the obvious. She lingered one last moment longer, then stepped back.

“John…you have to know that by helping me, you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“But—”

John shook his head. He’d made his decision. He would help her get her story to the appropriate people first, then go after his own revenge. It was the right thing to do. The only thing.

“Seriously, I can take care of myself—and you—if you’ll let me.”

“I’ve already involved you too far.”

“Then the discussion is over,” John said. “I’m in. So how are you going to handle this?”

Alicia shrugged. “Carefully, that’s for sure. My father has friends in high places. I’ve got to make sure that I tell someone who won’t give me up to Dad.”

John stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned around, gazing back out across the water. As he wrestled with his conscience, he could hear the waves hitting the rocks that jutted out from the beach into the black, bottomless depths. Decency was winning out over revenge, and it wasn’t making him happy.

“I might know someone,” he finally said.

“In D.C.?” Alicia asked.

He nodded.

“And you trust him?”

John turned. “As much as I trust anyone.”

Alicia frowned. There was a tone in John’s voice that she didn’t recognize. It felt like sarcasm, but that didn’t make sense. Still, she wasn’t in any position to be picky.

“Then I thank you,” she said. “But it needs to be soon. If Dad believes I’ll give him up, he’ll run. He has the whole world in which to hide, and if he does, you know what that makes me? A sitting duck, that’s what.”

“I’ll make some calls tomorrow. But for now, you need to get some sleep.”

Alicia nodded, then lifted her chin. With a quiet grace, she took off the sweater he’d put around her shoulders, handed it to him with a slight nod, then turned around and walked back through his bedroom, then across the hall to her own.

John’s fingers curled into a fist as he clutched the sweater. It was still warm from her body. Muttering a soft, unintelligible curse, he followed her inside, locking the doors behind him. By the time he’d set the security alarms, the light was out in her room. He paused in the hallway by her door, then turned and entered his own suite.

It was time to rest, and to hope that tonight would be a night without dreams. But after the excitement of the day and the fresh hope that his quest would soon be over, it was too much to ask.

She looked up from the cooking fire, smiling at his approach. Her smile widened when she saw the haunch of deer meat he carried on his shoulder.

“I have made your favorite,” White Fawn said.

Night Walker inhaled appreciatively as he laid the deer haunch aside and squatted down beside his woman to peer into the cooking pot. The ground maize had been cooked to a thick porridge consistency, and flavored with strips of pemmican and fresh berries.

Night Walker dipped the stirring stick into the pot, then tasted it.

“More berries,” he said.

White Fawn laughed out loud. “You always say that,” she said as she thrust her hand into a basket beside the fire and scattered another handful of small black berries into the pot.

When Night Walker cupped the back of her head, she leaned into his touch.

“I would lie with you,” he said softly.

An ache spread through White Fawn’s belly as she saw the look in Night Walker’s eyes.

“And I with you,” she answered.

Night Walker set the pot beside the fire and threw a blanket over the meat to keep off the flies, then followed his woman into their hut. He pulled the flap over the doorway, shutting them in and the rest of the village out.

With one pull, the skins he wore tied around his waist fell at his feet.

White Fawn was already naked. Without taking her eyes from his face, she lay down on the furs that were their bed and waited for him to join her.

When he did, he made no pretense as to his intentions.

He lay beside her, then rose up on one elbow and slid his hand between her thighs, gently nudging her legs apart.

White Fawn’s heart was already beating fast, anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

In one swoop, he was inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down, burying him deep. When he began to move, she met him thrust for thrust, and for a while, time stood still.

The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the passion-induced sweat from White Fawn’s body. Her tight, wet heat pulled at Night Walker with every thrust. She was everything beautiful to him, his own personal aphrodisiac. He would never get enough—could never get enough—of the woman who held his heart.

Slowly, slowly, the rhythm of their lovemaking became less steady, more frantic, harder and harder, until it burst within. White Fawn held him as he spilled his seed into her so-far-fruitless womb, then wept quiet, happy tears as he collapsed on top of her with a soft, satisfied moan.

John jerked, then sat up abruptly, searching the shadowed corners of his room for the woman he’d been making love to. His shoulders slumped as he wiped a shaky hand across his face and crawled out of bed.

He didn’t think about his guest as he walked naked through the house, quietly disarmed the security system and strode outside. The cool air felt good against his heated skin as he made his way down the backside of the bluff to the water below.

The steady ebb and flow of the ocean pulled at his senses like a drug as he walked into the surf. The water was cold—so cold—but he didn’t care. He needed the shock of it to wash away the dream—which was, if he’d ever stopped to analyze himself, ironic. While remembering their love and what he’d lost was often too painful, it was the memory of what had happened to her that kept him focused and sane.

When he was knee-deep in the ocean, he dove headfirst into the next wave and began to swim, fighting the current because it was the only enemy at hand. He swam until his muscles burned and his legs felt like jelly. Only then did he stop. Treading water, he turned to look toward shore. From this distance, his house was barely the size of a child’s building block, but the anger was gone. All that was left was a bone-deep weariness.

Without thinking, he began the long journey back, one stroke at a time.

Dawn was imminent on the horizon as he came out of the surf, his head down, his shoulders slumped. His steps dragged as he began the climb up the bluff.

Alicia woke up suddenly, her heart thumping, her eyes wide with fright. For a second she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there. Then her gaze centered on a dream catcher hanging on the wall opposite her bed, and a face slid into her mind.

John Nightwalker.

She rubbed her face with her hands, then swung her legs off the bed and stood, stretching slowly as she made her way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out just as the digital readout on the clock flicked over to ten minutes after six. The bed looked inviting, but there were too many unknowns in her life for her to be able to go back to sleep.

She needed to get to the authorities as soon as possible. The quicker she put a stop to her father’s dealings with terrorists, the sooner she would be safe. Once everyone knew, it would serve no purpose to keep her quiet. Nothing else would stop him. She’d grown up seeing his ruthlessness firsthand. Her mother had been the one who’d taught her what it meant to love. Her father’s lessons in life consisted of disappointments and lies. But her mother had been dead for years now, and Alicia was a woman long grown and strong. And she swore that determination—the one trait she’d inherited from her father—was going to prove to be the one that took him down.

Her suitcase was open on the floor. She thought about getting dressed, but it was nearing daybreak, and the idea of watching the sun come up on the horizon to signal the beginning of a new day was too enticing to miss. She noticed that the alarm system had been turned off, so she felt no concern as she hurried downstairs, then out the French doors to the terrace beyond. She walked to the edge, then out onto the grass and headed to the edge of the bluff.

A sea breeze instantly caught the hem of her nightgown and threaded it between her legs as she braced herself against the railing. The view was everything she’d expected and more. Already the line between dark and dawn was fading fast. In the east, there was an aura of pink and orange playing at visibility. Just another minute or two, and the sun in all its glory would be evident.

Alicia found herself watching intently, trying to guess the exact moment of its appearance, and because she was so focused on the sky, she didn’t see the man swimming in the water below. But then the sun broke, and all of a sudden the day was there. She smiled slowly in appreciation and was about to turn back when she saw him, waist deep and emerging from the ocean as steadily as the sun had appeared from below the horizon.

The first thought that crossed her mind was awe. The second was lust.

He’d been a commanding figure in clothes. Naked, he was magnificent. Even from this distance, the copper perfection of his body was impossible to ignore. Muscles everywhere they should be, wet and glistening in the new light of a new day. Then she looked past the obvious to the way his head was hanging, and the slight but weary slump of his body. He walked across the sand as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and something told her that had nothing to do with a strenuous workout.

A lump rose in her throat. Then he paused. When she saw him cover his face with his hands, her vision blurred. She could feel his sadness from here. But why? She thought of the way he’d spoken about his wife, and her heart ached. She’d never known love like that.

It wasn’t until John dropped his hands and looked up the bluff toward his house that Alicia realized he could see her. Now she was stuck. If she moved suddenly, he would think she was ashamed to be caught spying on him. So she did the only other thing she could; she waved and called down, “The sunrise was beautiful!” Then she waved once more and walked back into the house and up to her room.

She swiped angrily at the tears in her eyes as she dug through her suitcase for a clean change of clothes. He could think what he wanted. It was his own fault for walking around naked. Ignoring him would have been a whole lot easier if he had a potbelly and thinning hair.

A few minutes later she was dressed in a pair of blue shorts and a loose white blouse. She walked barefoot down the hall to the kitchen, hoping for a cup of coffee. But she got way more than she hoped for when John came in the back door.

“Good morning,” he said, and strode through the kitchen, leaving sandy footprints on the wood floor.

Alicia nodded, but the answer she might have given was stuck in the back of her throat. He was still unashamedly naked, but that wasn’t what had caused her heart to skip.

It was the scars.

Small ones.

Large ones.

All over his body.

All she could think was, what in God’s sweet name has happened to this man?