Love Slave (Outlaws and Heroes, Book 1)

by Mallory Rush

  Fifteen minutes later, Rachel and Jayna stood at the bath house entrance, waiting on edge for the anticipated swing of the door. It came with a swish and they started walking while a quick glance assured Rachel their company was close behind.

  She recognized the nondescript car with their cover about to pull out as she heard the limousine's engine start and purr. The back door opened when she was less than five paces away. Her heart quickened as she spotted Rand's drawn and expectant face. She realized he was assuring himself of her safety. With her nod, he craned for a look at his sister.

  It was then that she heard the sudden shout. A cry of outrage screaming obscenities, while the sound of running feet sounded too close behind her.

  Chapter 22

  Rand's gaze was fixed on Sarah—God, could he believe it was really her?—when he heard the man's harsh voice.

  "Stop!" His robe flapped while rolls of flab bounced up and down in time to his agitated jog. "Stop, you stupid bitch! Where do you think you're going?"

  It had to be Sarah's owner, this repulsive insect of a man. Rand's blood ran hot and an impulse to mutilate the bastard that was daring to slander his sister had him out of the seat before he could think on their safest course of action.

  He grabbed Rachel and shoved her into the limo while Sarah ran close behind. Any thoughts he might have had for a warm reunion fled as he thrust her in the same direction and barked, "Get in!" Her headdress covering came loose, exposing a large, ugly bruise. He fought the urge to make it all right.

  Rand caught a flash of an elderly woman close behind Sarah, but his eyes remained locked on the unbelievable sight of Jayna hurling herself at the greasy looking owner while she screamed, "Go! Go now! Flee... aghh..."

  Teeth clenched and bile in his throat, Rand rushed to her as Jayna reeled back from the fist that caught her in the face. He disentangled her from the enraged brute that had hit her, an old woman, and pushed her to safety.

  "Get in the car. Get outta here and don't wait for me."

  With that he jerked Sarah's owner by the robe at his throat and shook him as though he were a mouse caught in a cat's mouth. They were in the middle of the street and a car whizzed past without stopping, the seediness of the country allowing public brawls.

  In spite of his girth, the man managed to twist free and land a blow to Rand's jaw. Amidst spitting curses and the man's screams for "Police! Police!" Rand's street smarts took over.

  He fought dirty. He fought mean. An uppercut to the right, a fist to the gut, and a knee in the groin that should have castrated the bastard should have been enough. But it wasn't. He wanted to kill him. Rand threw his punches like he was working out on a side of beef.

  "You filthy son of a bitch." Another brutal jab. "That's for beating up on my sister. How do 'ya like it, huh, huh?" He grabbed him by the hair and nodded his battered face up and down. "Feels real good, don't it? Big man like you, so tough you go hitting old ladies. How'd ya like a taste of your own medicine?"

  He might have literally beat him to death, heaping murder on top of any other charges he might have to face, but for the sudden clench at his shoulders, pulling him off. He whirled around, ready to push the intruder aside. Rachel. She caught him by both arms.

  "Rand! Rand!" She shook him hard. "Oh God, Rand, please stop. He's not worth it. We've got to get out of here while we still can."

  He had trouble focusing he was so blinded by his vengeful purpose, but she was pulling at him, pleading with him, and then raising her own fist as if she might knock him out and drag him away herself. Rand was suddenly aware that a crowd had begun to gather, some placing quick bets and shouting "More! More!" while others called for the police and an ambulance.

  He caught Rachel by the waist and they began to run, almost staggering over their robes and each other's feet in their haste. Somehow, they made it into the car. Before the door was shut the driver peeled out.

  Rand was breathing raggedly, the fight still in his blood, and blood on his face, his robe, when he felt a shaking palm cover his hand.

  "Joshua?"

  Staring at his sister who sat by his side, the years rushed in reverse. All the rehearsed words of apology and reunion deserted his head and he blinked against an unfamiliar sting in his eyes.

  Big boys don't cry... big boys don't cry...

  "I finally kept my promise, angel." His voice cracked.

  Then Sarah's arms were around him, and his around her, clinging as close as the day they'd said good-bye.

  "I always knew you'd come back for me," she said brokenly.

  "I guess better late than never?"

  "In the nick of time, Joshua. Daddy would be proud."

  Rand used the edge of his sleeve to dry her tears and wipe her nose.

  "I got ya something, angel."

  He reached across the seat and discovered Rachel held his gift in her hands. They connected, hands touching, gazes meeting in a silent understanding. Bless you, was the message his eyes sent. Bless you for giving me Sarah back. Rachel's chin quivered and out rolled two big tears. His throat tightened, knowing she was shedding the tears he couldn't because big boys didn't cry.

  Placing his offering in his sister's lap, he said, "I thought you might want to hold your doll on our way home."

  "Home," she repeated, stroking the doll. Her eyes met his and he knew they would make it back there together. And then the words that had haunted him in his nightmares, spoken behind a glass wall he'd finally broken through, she said aloud. "I love you, big brother."

  * * *

  Rachel and Rand walked side by side down the corridor to her office.

  "That was some trip back, huh, Master?"

  "Nothing like getting shot at while you're climbing into an airplane. Good thing those local police weren't too handy with their pistols. They could use a few lessons from you." His chuckle was strained.

  Rachel knew they were both trying very hard to keep a lightness they weren't feeling in their conversation as their impending departure rushed near. He had a plane to catch, work piled to the ceiling in New York, and Sarah waiting for him at his home.

  In the month since they'd returned they'd hardly had a minute alone, what with paperwork for their defectors, statements, bringing in the big guns. Not to mention him getting Sarah settled with Montage and Jayna moving in with her in Vegas.

  Rachel's stomach rolled over with anxiety and morning sickness when they stopped at her door. She made herself busy, refusing to look at him while she rummaged around for her keys.

  "Anyone ever tell you that you've got terrible taste in purses?"

  "Jayna. And you."

  "How is Jayna? Is she adjusting okay?"

  "She's fine. Getting Americanized. She threw her old outfit into the trash yesterday after I took her shopping."

  "Is that why you look so tired? Shopping till you drop?"

  Rachel tensed. "No. It's just all this business with the authorities. Exposing slavers is hard work. But now that they caught one in the act and he's spilling his guts, I think things should calm down."

  "Not with all the business that's coming your way. Every time I call, the phone's busy. I guess you're up to your armpits in cases now that you've managed that leg up you worked so hard to get. You deserve every bit of your success, Rachel. I'm happy for you."

  "Thanks," she said too abruptly. "I'm real happy for me too." Happy? She'd never been such a wreck in her life.

  He pushed a hand through his back-brushed hair and she commanded herself not to run both hers through it. If she did, she feared she'd break. The tension in her was brittle; so much unresolved, no promises for the future. His window glass eyes were too open and she hurt with what she saw:

  He loved her. But he wasn't going to propose. Yet.

  "I want you to know how much I appreciate what you've done. If you hadn't come after me I could be cooling my heels behind foreign bars."

  "It's nothing. Just doing my job." Her fingers were so icy they were numb. The ke
ys clattered to the floor.

  "I'll get it," he offered politely. Too damn politely.

  Their fingers contacted at the keys and neither moved. She slowly lifted her face. His breath was on her and she inhaled the scent of spice and bay.

  "Are you pregnant?"

  She could tell him the truth and keep him that way.

  "Rachel, I asked you a question. Did I get you pregnant that last day in Zebedique? Are you carrying our baby?"

  If you love something let it go. If it comes back to you it's yours...

  She let him go.

  "No, Rand. I'm not pregnant. Case closed." Rachel raised up and shoved the key into the damn door she couldn't get to unlock.

  His hand covered hers and he leaned too close.

  "Rachel. We can't leave it this way."

  She pressed her forehead against the door, refusing to let him see the overbrightness of her eyes.

  "So how do you want to leave it? What do you propose?"

  The last word fell between them like a window that couldn't make up its mind whether to open or close while it shuddered from the storm brewing on either side.

  "I need some time, angel. Be patient with me?"

  Angel. He'd called Sarah that she now knew. The endearment meant as much as hearing him say that he loved her. But not as much as a lifetime commitment.

  "My patience is wearing thin, Rand. You either want me or you don't."

  "Of course I want you. I love you."

  "Do you? Do you love me enough not to run away?"

  "I'm not running. I'm coming to terms with myself. And the future."

  "But your terms don't include me."

  "My terms have everything to do with you. Look, I've been thinking it's going to get old fast, jetting back and forth to see each other. How do you feel about—" He tapped his lips and she shuddered. With so much need to kiss them; with a terrible premonition of what he was struggling to say.

  "I'd like you to move your business to New York, use an extra office of mine. There's plenty of room in my penthouse for Jayna. And you. I think it would be a good idea if we lived together for awhile before—"

  "Don't insult me," she snapped, tears springing to her eyes. Rand reached for her and she shoved him away. They stared at each other, her eyes glittering with hurt and fury; his pleading for understanding and deep with apology.

  She wanted a fight, a fight that would make his Zebedique street brawl look like a schoolyard tussle. Apparently sensing how close to ugly this confrontation was getting, Rand backed off, spreading his hands in a gesture of defeat.

  "I'm sorry, Rachel."

  "I didn't ask for a character reference."

  He winced. Rand hesitated, then took an envelope from his coat pocket and pressed it into her palm.

  "Here's your fee, as promised. Remember, any promises I make to you, I'll never break."

  "I don't want the stupid fee." She thrust it back at him. Rand's controlled expression suddenly jarred.

  "It's a million dollars."

  "And you think I care about that? Keep your damn money. It's not what I want from you." She pushed the door open.

  "I'm coming in. We need to talk."

  "We're through talking, Rand. And don't you dare step through this door again until you've got your own mind made up one way or the other. Don't call me. Don't write." She stepped over the threshold and faced him point blank. "In fact, I don't want to see your face again until you've got a ring in your pocket and you're ready to head for the altar."

  "But, Rachel. Angel—"

  "No ifs, ands, or buts. Those are my terms. And in this case, my terms stand."

  She shut the door in his face. And then she waited... waited. It didn't open. And while she slumped against the wall, face buried in her hands as she heard his retreating footsteps, she repeated over and over:

  "Big girls don't cry... big girls don't cry..."

  * * *

  "Full house, mistress! I won. Hand over the loot."

  "Criminy, Jayna. You're wiping me out." Rachel shoved a pile of pennies over her desk. Even the bright shiny new ones looked like dull copper compared to Jayna's metallic gold jogging suit.

  "Just call me, how you say, Cool Hand Luke? Or is it Minnesota Fats?"

  "You're watching too many old movies, Jayna."

  "I know. So yesterday I went to the casino. All that fruit running around made me hungry. So I ate a hamburger and drank beer. The commercials say you can't drink the water."

  "Lord," Rachel groaned. "Now it's the slots and slamming down beer. Next thing I know you'll be having chugging contests on your roulette winnings. Heaven help me for what comes after that."

  "Once the baby is here I promise to—" Her brow furrowed. "Oh, yes. Clean up my act."

  The mention of the baby, now two months in the making, brought a sudden catch to Rachel's throat. A month since she'd seen Rand. A month spent straddled between the never ending need to see him, touch him, while she stroked her still flat belly and remembered... too much.

  Jayna's gnarled hand covered hers. "Call him. Tell him of the baby you carry. He will come."

  "No. Absolutely not."

  "But you are so sad."

  "Heartbroken, Jayna."

  "And stubborn." The kindness of her eyes contrasted with the chastisement of her voice. "You foolish woman. Why must you be so proud? The Master, he loves you."

  "No one's my master but me. And as far as I can see he's guilty of being too proud himself. Pig-headed, that's what he is." Rachel snorted while her heart took a dive. "He's had a month to come to his senses and he hasn't shown his face yet. Guess I'll have to rack up my losses no matter how much it hurts because it's all or nothing and I'm not backing down."

  "His sister, she calls you much. You say she is worried about him."

  "Sarah's a good person. But her brother has to make his own decisions, not her."

  "Montage says he sits alone in the dark. He sleeps with your white sari. She finds it when she changes his sheets."

  In her mind's eye, Rachel saw sheets with blood stains from a lamb. Her sari on the floor laying next to his robe. So much they shared. So much he was cheating them of.

  "The way I look at it, if he wants to sleep with more than a sari, he knows how to get his butt to a jewelry store. Some trade-off, huh, Jayna? Him in the sack with a wad of cloth while I cuddle with a doll."

  Rachel clung to her hardline, since that was all she had. Except for memories, an unborn baby to show for them. That, and a love that was so strong it took everything she had not to hop on the first plane to New York, settle for no promises and Rand's arms holding her tight.

  How she hurt for him. How she hurt for herself. And the baby that they shared, keeping her company while he remained alone, except for his sister.

  "Why don't you go cash in those pennies for some quarters and go for the jackpot, Jayna? If it's all the same to you, I'd like to nap on the job."

  "As you wish, mistress."

  "My wish is that you'd quit calling me that."

  "Okey-dokey... Rachel."

  "You're a gas, Jayna. Oh, and thanks for the shoulder. It helps to have you around, especially since Rand's not."

  "Small tomatoes, right?"

  "Potatoes, Jayna. But no, you mean a lot to me. Making sure I eat right and get my rest. You'll be a great nanny when the time comes."

  "It is time you should rest now." She drew the curtains together then pulled down the shade at the door. Just before she took her leave, she turned. "Call him, Rachel."

  Once Jayna left, Rachel squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the moisture trying to leak out. Reaching beneath her desk, she latched onto the doll she always kept close. Her sleeping with a doll, Rand with a sari. There was no sense in it. Jayna was right, she was being stubborn, prideful.

  Eyeing the phone, her hand shook as it hovered over the receiver. She laid her head on the desk while her heart pounded, putting off the inevitable a few moments more.

 
; The door opened and shut. She thought she heard a click of the lock. Jayna, no doubt, playing guard, locking up for her safety. Footsteps. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep Jayna would decide to go on to the casino rather than watch her snooze. Then she'd make the call.

  "I'm looking for a missing person."

  Rachel's head snapped up from the desk. Eyes the color of slate pinned her where she sat; a faint whiff of bay and spice tempted and teased. The sound of a sitar played a distant refrain while Rocky's Theme surged in the background.

  "His name is Joshua Smith and I understand you're just the person who can help me find him. He loves a woman. One he can't live without. Rachel Tinsdale is what she goes by, but her alias is Angel." He withdrew a black velvet box and flipped open the lid. A diamond so large it was gaudy winked into her stunned eyes.

  "Allow me to introduce myself. Rand Slick. A rose by any other name probably smells ten times better, but if you'll have me, I've got a car idling. Its destination is the courthouse. My mission is marriage."

  Before she could absorb the head spinning, heart thudding magnitude of what he'd just asked, he was behind the desk and hauling her into his arms.

  "I love you, Rachel. I'm no bargain and life with me won't be a bed of roses. But if you can handle that, I'll spend the rest of my life doing my damndest to deserve you."

  "Rand." She plowed ten fingers into his hair and laid a kiss on him that torched them both to ashes, ashes, all falling down.

  "I've been so miserable without you." She was crying, not caring if her mascara was running or even her nose, because he was there, making promises she knew he'd never break. He pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and smoothed away her tears.

  "I've missed you like crazy, angel. It's just no good without you. I can't work, can't sleep. I can't do anything but think about how right it is with us and wonder why the hell I ever thought keeping us apart was in our best interest. The truth was staring me in the face and I couldn't see it."

  "And what is the truth, Rand?"

  "I'll never be perfect. You'll never quit loving me because I'm not. We're meant to be together, it's that simple."

  "Took you long enough to figure that out." She sniffled as she stroked his chest, absorbing and exulting in the solid feel of him, the quickening beat of his heart against her palm. "I've been crying myself to sleep every night. I haul your doll around in my ugly purse along with a bottle of your cologne. I sniff it, close my eyes and pretend you're there."