“Not happening.”
What a bastard.
She strode down the center aisle toward the stall that was across from Aladdin’s and was the mirror image. Lucky needed the extra space. She was a young mare who bit and kicked, at least she did when she wasn’t cowering in a corner.
Before she got halfway to Lucky’s stall, Dalton was in front of her blocking her way, she tried to step around him, but he was like a moving wall. She looked into his face.
“Leave me alone.”
“We’re going to talk.”
“No, we’re not,” she said vehemently.
“Okay, I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.” His big body herded her against a wall, effectively pinning her there.
“Just say your piece and leave.” She stared at his chest.
Dalton put his knuckles under her chin and tenderly tilted her head up. She’d never seen his eyes that color, they shimmered like the midnight sky. “Sunshine, I know exactly how you feel, and this is never, I repeat, never going to leave you. One day it might just become a dull ache, if you’re lucky, but you’re always going to know that this happened on your watch. You’re always going to know you made a decision that ultimately resulted in a man’s death. Everyone will tell you that Ned was the one who lit that fire, but you’ll never be able to shake the fact that if it weren’t for the fact you made the choice to get rid of Ned and told others not to hire him, Hal would be alive today. I really want to be able to tell you something different, I really do Baby, but I can’t.” He looked desolate.
Her shoulders slumped. “That was a shitty pep talk,” she whispered hoarsely.
The corner of his mouth lifted, and he stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I’m always going to speak the truth to you Aurora, always.” His thumb captured the tear that trickled down her face.
“But I should have known. I should have been able to guess what he would do.” How often had she told herself that over the last four days?
“I’ve been telling myself the exact same thing for five years. But we have no alternative but to live with the consequences of our actions.”
She heard the raw emotion in his voice, and the pain in his eyes eclipsed hers a hundred-fold. Holy hell, he was talking about Reagan. No wonder. She shook her head to clear it. He wasn’t being insensitive, he was really trying to help. And maybe, just maybe, if she asked the right questions she could help him.
“How do we live with it?” she queried softly.
“By doing,” he answered. “You get up, every day, put one foot in front of the other, and squeeze as much happiness out of the day as humanly possible, but this underlying agony will pop up when you least expect it.”
“Is that how’ve you coped? Since Reagan?”
She watched the strong man in front of her swallow and nod.
“You just live your life as best you can.”
She shuddered, as a terrible thought occurred to her. Is that what he had been doing when they had come together? Was that all their lovemaking had meant to him, coping?
He wrapped his arms around her and answered her unasked question. “But occasionally you get little pockets of peace, even joy. Like I did with you. Those are moments more precious than gold.”
She melted against him. “So, I’ll find joy? Please tell me I’ll find joy.”
“There will be times,” he assured her sadly.
She looked up, trying to see his expression, but his eyes were hooded. “Dalton, there’s got to be more,” she insisted. “It can’t color every aspect of your life forever.”
He rested his forehead against hers. She felt enveloped by him, like she was in a cocoon of safety.
“For you Sunshine, it won’t color every aspect of your life. You will be able to move on, I promise.”
Her heart broke. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed as hard as she could. “Isn’t there any possibility of more for you?” she asked. “More than just these small stolen moments?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dalton?”
“I just can’t.” His voice was like a lone eagle’s call in the wilderness. “I’m incapable of loving like that again.” He lifted his forehead, his eyes searched hers. “There’s a part of me that died that day. I’ll never be able to love like I did.”
“But-”
He shook his head. “I’ll never offer more than I can give. I would never be that cruel.” His brow furled. “Tell me you didn’t expect more than a few nights,” he practically begged.
Aurora gave him the best smile in her arsenal. “Dalton, I always knew that this was temporary. But you have to know…I want you to know…I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”
She twined her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head down to hers. He didn’t resist. His mouth slammed onto hers, their desperation was equally matched. There was a deep growl emanating from Dalton’s throat as he ground his mouth against hers, forcing her lips to part. She needed him. Deeper, she lured his tongue to mate with hers. If this was all she could have, then she would take it. She wanted it with every fiber of her being.
Aurora arched up against him, wishing that there was no cloth separating their bodies. She needed to feel her breasts rasped by the dark hair on his chest. Dalton grabbed her hair and pulled her away from his ravenous mouth.
“No,” she wailed.
He licked downwards, igniting flames along her jaw to the pulse of her neck, then he bit. Aurora felt it in her core, moisture flooded the folds of her sex. He let go of her hair, and hoisted her up by her legs, she immediately wrapped them around his waist, grinding herself against his erection. She whined in frustration.
“Not close enough,” she whimpered. She looked frantically around the barn. “Tack room,” she panted.
Dalton nodded. He kept her in his arms as he strode toward the spotless room at the back of the barn. She shivered with anticipation when he kicked the door shut behind them.
“Let me down,” she commanded.
“Nuh-uh. Like you where you are.” Dalton’s big hands squeezed her ass and she thought she might explode.
Aurora let out a sound of complaint when Dalton moved one of his hands. Then she heard a thud as he threw a saddle on the floor. She pointed toward a shelf. “Clean blankets.” He grabbed two and threw them down on top of the saddle, then let her slide down his body, but even then, he kept one arm firmly clamped around her waist.
“Let me,” she struggled to bend down and spread out the blanket.
“Nuh-uh. I’ve got it.” One handed, he grabbed the corner of the blanket and sent it into an arc so that it landed softly over the saddle. He did the same with the second, and they had a spot to lay down.
She saw him frown as he looked down, then he grabbed three more of the horse blankets from the shelf. “I like that you’re anal about cleanliness,” he grinned. She watched as he mounded the blankets into a nest. “There, now it’s soft enough for what I have in mind.”
Aurora squeaked as he picked her up then smoothly laid her down onto the makeshift bed. But as much as she wanted this, needed this even, she had to know that he was in this with her. Mind, body and soul. She cupped his cheeks and when he bent down she pressed kisses to his forehead, his temple, his jaw and finally the tip of his nose. He gifted her with a smile.
“This will bring you happiness?”
“Right now? Sunshine, this means everything to me,” he promised her.
9
Even stuck in a tree, over five months later and thousands of miles away from Aurora, and he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. The first seven hours he had been able to concentrate on the mission, but after that his mind started to wander. Here he was on hour twelve, and blonde hair and brown eyes floated through his brain, even as the weather changed from a category two to a category four hurricane.
His receiver wasn’t working. As the storm had increased in power, his SEAL team’s
communication devices had gone to shit. Half the time it was nothing but static. The rain was now hitting Dalton sideways as he clung to the high limb of the Encenillo tree.
Was Aiden signaling him? His second in command was a hundred meters away hidden beneath the jungle floor, but Dalton was almost positive he had seen him hold up a hand, or was it a fist?
Yep, there it was again. He must have gotten some kind of communication from someone else saying that they were going to make a move. It was about damn time. They’d come to Columbia to extricate Angel Restrepo from the jungle drug cartel’s hacienda. That’s what the drug dealer who owned the place, liked to call his fortress. Restrepo was a DEA informant, and if they didn’t get him out in the next twenty-four hours then an entire network of operatives was at risk of being exposed.
Dalton flinched when gunshots sounded in his ear. Was that Wyatt who grunted? Goddammit, he better not have gotten shot. He could hear the pounding of boots, then more gunshots.
“Be ready, we have a fan club,” Gray whispered. That was his, Dex and Aiden’s cue. The team was coming out with their man.
“I can walk,” Wyatt Leeds said loudly.
“Keep it down,” Hunter hissed.
Yep, Wyatt was injured, and Dalton would bet his last dollar that Hunter was carrying him.
Shit, what a cluster.
It had been decided that a four-man team would go in for the rescue.
Dalton knew that Dex was also outside the compound, waiting to pick off anybody trailing the members of Black Dawn if they came out the front entrance. Aiden was covering the side entrance, and Dalton was covering the roof and back.
“Which way are you coming out?” Dalton queried.
“Not sure yet,” Gray answered.
More shots were fired. Dalton hoped they were coming out the back. He knew that being positioned up in the tree gave him the best ability to take out the bogeys.
“Back! We’re coming out the back!” Griffin Porter yelled. It seemed like forever before the back door was flung open, and Griff flew out. He held it open. Hunter had Wyatt over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Wait, he wasn’t holding his left leg, that was dangling uselessly.
Not good. Not good at all.
A barefoot man came out, followed by Gray who immediately picked him up and started to run to the left side of the building. Men swarmed out fifteen seconds behind them. Dalton started shooting.
One down.
Another down.
Then a third.
He saw more going down. It was either Aiden or Griff.
“What’s the status on transport?” Gray demanded. For once their lieutenant sound stressed. Wyatt must be in bad shape.
“Still waiting for a response,” Dex answered over the comm.
They needed to get the hell out of there. The hurricane was a blessing and a curse. There were two helicopters positioned meters from the compound. One of them was already tipped so that the rotors were embedded in the sodden dirt. What was once a road leading up to the huge stronghold ten hours ago, was now a muddy river. There was no way that anyone inside was going to be able to follow them except on foot.
Dalton was going to make another bet that the Black Hawk helicopter they were supposed to take out to the aircraft carrier was not going to be able to land at their extraction spot.
“Black Hawk is cancelled,” Dex communicated. “We’re hoofing it to the coast.”
“I’m staying,” Dalton said into the mic.
“Roger that,” Gray responded. “We’ll give you an update on Wyatt ASAP. Let us know when you think it’s smart to follow.”
“Will do,” Dalton responded.
He lodged himself tighter against the tree branch. Was the rain letting up?
Dalton gave a bitter laugh when a wave of water hit his face. Served him right for thinking that things were getting better. He raised his scope and scoured the back and roof of the compound to ensure that nobody was moving. There was no way he was going to let anyone get by on his watch.
He looked at his watch. It had been two hours since his team had left. It should take them three hours to get to the extraction spot in ideal circumstances. Lightening lit the sky, exposing eight dead bodies. Still no word from his team and it was killing him. Why couldn’t they at least give him an update on Wyatt?
More thunder, but then he heard something else. Dalton realized it was the sound of an engine grinding. Someone was trying and failing to start a car. He shimmied down the tree and took off at a dead run for the front of the building. He rounded the perimeter of the huge compound but stopped before he got to the courtyard gates.
The loud grating noise was clearer, then he heard shouting. He thought it might be Spanish, but who knew over the rain? Thunder boomed, then lightening flashed and Dalton took that moment to move. He dove into the mud and pointed his rifle into the flagstone courtyard. He saw the problem. The four gigantic decorative palm trees that were in massive pots had toppled over onto the two Land Rovers.
He saw three men. Wait, was there a fourth bent under the hood of the SUV?
What the hell were they thinking trying to start the SUV’s? They wouldn’t be driving anywhere, anyway. He kept trying to apply logic, and realized it was useless.
Dammit, it would be best if all of them were clear, so he could just rapid fire on the bunch of them.
Thunder boomed again. An instant later the sky lit up with lightening.
One of the men froze as he spotted him. He yelled, and Dalton took the shot. The three men went down. The man who had been dicking around under the hood was gone. Dalton was done with this happy horseshit. He was taking him out, then clearing out the rats’ nest inside. He didn’t want one more person following his team, especially when Wyatt was injured. He wanted his friends safe.
He gave a feral grin when the man started shooting his way. He saw the muzzle flashes. Perfect. Now he knew where he was. It was just a waiting game.
More bullets came his way. Dalton crawled backwards in the mud on his elbows and lodged himself behind the terra cotta wall of the hacienda. He adjusted the muzzle of his rifle and scope so just a little bit was showing as he took aim and fired shot after shot at the Land Rover’s gas tank.
Score!
He watched with satisfaction as a fireball of flames burst up and out. He heard a scream, then the man launched himself toward the middle of the courtyard. Metal fell from the sky and landed on him and he joined his compatriots, sprawled in dead silence.
Dalton was not going to rush things. This explosion was a perfect time to wait and see if more people were going to join the fray.
Fifteen minutes passed as rain bombarded him. It felt like he was in the ocean, not on Terra Firma.
Nobody showed. Okay, time for reconnaissance.
He threw his sniper rifle onto his back and put his assault rifle to his assault to his shoulder for the close quarter work.
With all the noise from the storm he could probably sing the national anthem and not be heard, but still, Dalton took pains to be silent as he entered the hacienda. For twenty minutes he checked every nook and cranny of the first floor. He even found the trapdoor hidden under a jute rug in the dining room. Nobody was in the cramped space.
He headed upstairs. After long minutes, he headed for the last door at the end of the hall. He heard muffled crying. He slammed it open, his gun ready. He found a terrified woman frantically hugging two small children to her bosom.
“Hands behind your head,” he commanded in Spanish. It took her and the children long moments to comply. He couldn’t take this at face value. He just couldn’t.
He checked the room, the closets and under the bed. When he was satisfied that they were the only three occupants, he crouched down and gently patted down the women and even the children for weapons. He hated, absolutely hated, having to do so.
The woman was fighting back tears and the children were sobbing with fright. He saw the little girl was wearing a Hello Kitty shir
t. His heart clenched, she couldn’t be more than five. The little boy looked to be about seven.
“Please, please don’t kill us,” the boy sobbed in Spanish.
The woman immediately reassured the children that he was a friend. He didn’t know how she could be so confident, but he thanked God that she was. He pulled at the bedspread and wiped the mud off his face and smiled. The little girl’s tears started to abate.
“You’re right, I am a friend,” he said to the woman. “I’m here to help. Who are you?”
She quickly explained that she was the housekeeper, but she didn’t hold his gaze. If he had to guess she was probably more than just a housekeeper. He also took in the dark bruise mottling jaw.
“I need to get you out of here.”
She shook her head wildly. She scrambled under the bed and pulled out a cell phone and lifted it high as if it was a prize.
“Please, please, let me call my father. Please, please let him come and get us.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Where did you get that phone?” Dalton asked in amazement.
She trembled and didn’t answer him.
“Where-” he cut himself off. He looked at her bruised cheek and realized there were bruises on her arms from a man’s grip. What was he thinking come at her as an angry male?
“What’s your name?” he asked in a soft voice.
She gave him a wide-eyed stare.
“My name is Dalton Sullivan. I’m an American.”
“You’re a soldier. You’re going to save us!” The little boy grinned.
“He killed people,” the little girl shoved her face under her mother’s arm.
“Ma’am? Can you tell me your name?”
“Carmelita Hernandez,” she whispered. “I stole the phone from Rodrigo’s body.”
Rodrigo was the drug lord who’d overseen the whole operation. Dalton was pretty damn sure that he was the man who had roughed her up.
“Please can I call my father?” He watched a single tear run down her cheek.
He nodded, knowing she wouldn’t get a signal. Not in this weather.
He watched as she fumbled with the phone. She pressed buttons, her eyes welling with tears as she tried again and again to no avail. It was heart-wrenching.
Her Guarded Hero Page 12