Unconditional Surrender

by Desiree Holt

  How was it possible that after five years he still remembered every erotic detail of those long hours? How many times had he replayed it over and over, like a video on constant rewind? She appeared in his dreams, as if taunting him, and his cock swelled and hardened every time. Other women hadn’t been able to erase her from his mind. He was arrogant enough to wonder if she thought of him after all this time but pragmatic enough to know the chances they’d ever cross paths again were slim to none.

  He wanted her with a hunger that ate at him. Worse than that, they’d made a connection. An emotional link. Whatever. He’d have thought with the passage of time that feeling would fade. Instead, it had just increased. Grown stronger. He couldn’t get her out of his fucking mind. And if he did find her? What then? Where did they go from there?

  “Hey, Slade.” Trey’s voice broke into his reverie. “You still with us? Where’d you wander off to?”

  He shook himself back to the present, realizing with a start he’d zoned out right there in front of his men. Bad, bad, bad. “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “Good to know.” Beau cocked an eyebrow. “You looked a million miles away.”

  “So we okay here? If nothing else, for ten days you’ll get to eat terrific food, soak up some sun and not have to do a damn fucking thing.”

  Trey nodded. “I’m in.”

  The rest of them murmured their agreement, even Marc.

  “Okay. Let’s make some plane reservations. We’ll fly into San Antonio. Then I’ll have the ranch chopper pick us up.”

  “Sounds okay to me,” Beau agreed. “Let’s rock and roll.”

  In less than twelve hours they were on their way out of Helmand Province, making a stop in Madrid to pick up a commercial flight to the States. Long hours after that they finally landed at San Antonio International Airport where Slade hustled them out of the door and down a long walkway to the private plane terminal. A gleaming black helo awaited them, a familiar figure leaning against it, arms folded across his chest, white teeth gleaming in a smile contrasting with his sun-darkened skin.

  “Glad you’re home, bro,” he said, slapping Slade on the shoulder.

  “Me too. Look at the bunch of ugly mugs I brought with me again.”

  “Hey, Teo!” Trey shook hands with the man. “Think you can put up with us again?”

  “As long as the boss pays me extra.” He winked. Teobaldo Rivera was the ranch foreman, fiercely loyal to Slade and excellent at his job.

  Whenever Slade brought his team to the ranch with him, Teo always went out of his way to make sure they enjoyed themselves.

  “Okay,” he told them. “Let’s get loaded up. The beer’s chilling in the fridge and the steaks are thawing.”

  It was a tight fit for five oversized males, but Slade figured they could handle it for the short hop to the ranch. As soon as the chopper landed, they were out of the cabin. Slade shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around. He loved coming home to the ranch. It replaced the family he didn’t have and the home he’d lost a long time ago. The sprawling ranch house off to his right rose two stories from the lawn around it, shaded by ancient oaks and maples. To the left stood the enormous barn that held his horses, any cattle that might need to be separated in an individual pen, and Teo’s offices. Behind that nestled the building that housed all the ranch equipment, including the portable pens for branding. And beyond that, as far as he could see, the endless rolling pastures meeting the horizon of the blue Texas sky. Pastures that contained the small herd of cattle he nourished and bred and sold.

  He inhaled the familiar scent of horses and hay and Texas sunshine and almost at once the tension riding him began to ease. He loved coming home to this place. He could regenerate, rest, ride his horses.

  And there were always women to hook up with whenever he wanted, women he’d met over the years. Too bad none of them replaced the one he really wanted. He could almost see her here on the ranch, in jeans and boots, walking to meet him, two small figures hopping along beside her, filled with excitement. But he didn’t know her real name, didn’t know where to find her and no one seemed able to tell him. So all he had was the memory of the most incredible night of his life, a memory that plagued him whenever he opened his mind to it.

  Fucking damn. He needed to find that woman or get over her. He was driving himself nuts.

  While Teo went through his shutdown routine, he and his men unloaded their duffels and headed toward the house.

  “Let’s get inside,” Slade told them, “and I’ll get you all situated.” He grinned. “Then we can crack open some cold ones.”

  The large ranch house had four guest rooms plus the master suite, a situation that worked out well for them. The air was still sun-warmed, even though the sun itself had dipped below the horizon, but a soft breeze added a cooling element. The air carried the heady aromas of hay and horseflesh and cattle, a mixture Slade loved more than any perfume. The spread was his haven, the place where he could put all the blackness of his missions behind him and feel like a normal person. If he ever did settle down, the woman would have to love it as much as he did—if being the operative word. Did the woman he’d dreamed about so much—?

  Damn! He had to stop this. He was losing his grip here.

  “I see Teo got the beer out?” he commented as he jogged down the stairs and out to the porch.

  The men had dumped their gear in their respective rooms and were already out there waiting for him.

  “Yeah,” Trey joked. “We’re trying to save you some, but you know how it goes.”

  Slade glanced around, realizing one of the team was absent. “Be right back,” he told them.

  Slade knocked on the door of the room Marc had dropped his things in. He’d wanted to give the man a moment to himself on the off chance he’d come on downstairs and join them, but it seemed he needed either prodding or dragging. Slade had hoped with such a peaceful setting, surrounded by the natural beauty of Texas ranchland, with a gorgeous sunset painting the sky, he’d feel relaxed. Maybe even looking forward to the ten days here. But nothing relaxed him anymore. While the rest of them kicked back and did whatever, Marc, the team’s weapons and demolitions expert, often used his downtime in practice and refresher training. Considering the state of his personal life, Slade was glad the man was a disciplined soldier, committed to the job.

  “Yeah?”

  Slade pushed the door open. Marc stood at the window looking out at the scene below.

  “Okay to come in?”

  Marc shrugged. “It’s your house.”

  “Hey, guy. That doesn’t mean you can’t have privacy.”

  If anyone asked Slade he’d say the man had too much privacy. Too much time to think about the dark place he couldn’t seem to get out of. A place where the image of his naked wife, high on the drugs he hadn’t known she was addicted to, was riding their equally naked neighbor and screaming with pleasure. He once told Slade, in a rare moment of confidence, he wished he could bleach his mind to erase that scene that played over and over like a video on a loop.

  ‘That’s what I got for letting my cock tell me what to do instead of listening to my brain.’

  Slade knew some of the background. When Marc had met Ria, he’d been stunned by her beauty and swept away by her vivacious personality. Naturally quiet and introspective himself, he’d nevertheless been drawn to her at once. His total dedication to Delta Force had precluded any type of lasting relationship. Until then. She’d told him she loved him and had made him believe it. The sex had been unbelievable, so hot it had scorched the air around them. When he’d had leave time between missions, he hadn’t been able to get home fast enough to immerse himself in his incredible wife. The fact that she had chosen him when, he was sure, she could have any man she’d wanted, was in itself an aphrodisiac.

  Slade and the other team members had met her, at a dinner where he’d proudly showed her off. None of the team members, including Slade, had been too enthusiastic about her, but that hadn’
t bothered Marc.

  “You’re just jealous,” he’d ground out.

  Then the roof had fallen in and his life had come apart. The scene he’d walked in on had been bad enough. He’d managed to control his rage to not kill the guy when he’d tossed them out into the street. But when he’d realized she’d been high on drugs rather than alcohol, he’d done a thorough search of the house, including her personal belongings, and found baggies filled with multicolored pills.

  He’d called Slade, because he’d been out of his mind. Insane. Especially when he’d learned she’d been doing that for a long time, both the drugs and screwing anything with a dick. He’d been torn between wanting to kill her and kill himself. Slade had talked him down off the ledge and waited while he’d packed his things—not too many, he traveled light—and had walked him out of the apartment and out of her life. He’d found him an attorney who had told Marc to do whatever was needed to get a divorce fast.

  He’d asked Slade not to ever bring it up again and had spent the rest of his leave holed up in a motel room, trying not to drink himself to death.

  Slade wasn’t an emotional person, but his heart ached for Marc, so damaged by a selfish, insane woman. He often wondered if Marc would ever get back to the point where he wanted to rejoin the living.

  Now Slade cleared his throat. “Heavy thoughts there, Eagle. Admiring the great view?”

  Marc turned, his mouth stretched in an imitation of a smile. “Just giving my brain a rest. Give me five and I’ll be right along.”

  “I’ll hold you to it. Beer’s cold, so come on down.”

  Swallowing a sigh, he left the room and headed downstairs. He could already hear the others on the back porch where he’d left them. Maybe, just maybe ten days at the ranch would be the first step toward Marc regaining his sanity and equilibrium.

  * * * *

  Slade watched Marc snag a beer from the cooler, pop the cap and move to the far side of the porch. As usual, close to the group but still separate. Man. The guy was going to implode if they didn’t figure out how to get him some help pretty soon. Slade thought about telling him to move closer to the others but decided to keep his mouth shut. This was supposed to be a vacation. Downtime. If he wanted Marc to heal, he wouldn’t accomplish it by giving him orders.

  “You know”—Trey leaned back in the lounger he’d appropriated, staring off toward the horizon—“I can see why you like this place.”

  “Yeah?” Slade raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not sure I could take the peace and quiet in large doses,” Trey added, “or too frequently. But right now? I have to say it’s great.”

  “I actually think I might agree with him, shocking as that is.” Beau took a long swallow of his beer and let his gaze travel lazily over the view that stretched from the house. “I can see why you love it here, Slade.”

  Some of the horses were in the corral, their coats glowing in the sunlight. Beside the first bar, two of the hands worked on the hay baler and from the far pasture, two hands who’d been riding fences trotted their horses back to the barn. It always reminded him of a painting he’d seen in a gallery in San Antonio that specialized in Western landscapes.

  “Best tranquilizer in the world,” he told the other men.

  “So what’s on the agenda now, Shadow? Riding horses or riding women?”

  Slade considered each of them—lean, tan, hardened men, men he felt privileged to have on his team. They’d forged a bond that was unheard of in normal circumstances. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  “I’m thinking we should just hang out here tonight, try to get back to what passes for normal for us. Kick back. Drink some beer. Grill some steaks. Tomorrow night is the party I told you about.”

  “Is this the party your friend is giving?” Beau grinned. “And how clean do we have to get?”

  “Clean enough to pass muster. Yes, this is the one. So pretty damn clean.” He took his own swallow of beer.

  “I know he’s JAG now,” Beau asked, “but was he ever Delta?”

  Slade shook his head, irritated at the question. “No, we went in different directions. He loved the law and the fact he could be Army and still practice it. He had his law degree, applied for Judge Advocate Group and he’s been with them ever since. Dumb luck for him he got assigned to Lackland here in San Antonio and he’s been here ever since.” Slade looked hard at each of them. “And he’s done a damn fine job. He puts his ass on the line every day in a different way.”

  “Okay, okay.” Beau held up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Any friend of yours and all that.”

  Trey took a sip of his cold beer. “Is this party for something special?”

  “No. They just like to entertain. When he found out I’d be home for it, he insisted I come.”

  Beau lifted an eyebrow. “And us too?”

  “Hard as it is to believe anyone would want your company,” Slade teased. “But yes, he said to bring all you assholes.”

  Marc, who hadn’t said a word up until now, shook his head. “I think I’ll pass.”

  Slade leaned forward. “That’s not an option, Marc. Even if you sit in the corner all night and glower at everyone, I’m getting your ass there, so just accept it.” He unwound his tall body from the lounge chair. “Meanwhile, I think we could all use a shower. Then I’ll throw those steaks on the grill. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve been waiting a long time for a decent meal. See you in an hour.”

  Chapter Two

  “Want to join us, Kari? We’re going out for a celebratory drink.”

  Kari Malone lifted her gaze from her desk to see Sasha Crew’s petite form in her doorway. She couldn’t think of anyone who appeared less like an assistant district attorney than this woman. Kari pushed her own thick auburn hair away from her face and rotated her stiff shoulders. The last day of a trial and the interminable wait for a verdict was always a strain. They’d barely gotten one before the clock ticked up to five o’clock.

  “I don’t think so,” she answered. “Thanks, anyway.”

  “Oh, come on. You never want to go out with us.” Sasha pouted. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like us. You’ve had a tough week in court and I hear closing arguments are Monday morning. You need to unwind a little before you start to work on it.”

  “Right now I just want to soak in a tub and sip a chilled glass of wine.”

  “Maybe you could have that glass of wine with us? You turned us down so many times we’re beginning to get a complex. Okay, okay.” She laughed and held up her hands at the look on Kari’s face. “But we’ll be at Frankie’s if you change your mind.”

  Kari watched the woman walk away, wondering if maybe she should have taken her up on the invite. People in the criminal district attorney’s office saw her as a tightly controlled, focused woman in her business suits and sensible heels, with minimal makeup, her hair tamed into a tight French twist. Her entire life was the cases she tried.

  I didn’t used to be like this.

  No, she didn’t. She might be a tight-ass in the courtroom, even have a well-earned rep for it, but in her private life she used to be more open, more relaxed. Able to enjoy an evening out. But that was before—

  Don’t think about it.

  She had been in San Antonio for three months now and still hesitated to venture out beyond her office, her apartment and the most necessary of errands. She’d turned down the opportunities for dates, earning herself some very unflattering nicknames. She didn’t care. Danger lurked in every corner and shadow for her. All the pep talks she gave herself didn’t seem to make any difference. The fear was always there. During the day, involved in her work, it wasn’t so bad. But once she left the safety of her offices, she scurried home as fast as she could and triple locked her doors, worried that he had found her.

  Just yesterday she’d checked in with Ross Delahunt, her old boss, state’s attorney for Cook County, to see if anything was happening.

  “A lot of people ar
e asking where you went to in such a hurry,” he’d told her.

  “And what do you tell them?” Please, not that I’m here.

  “That you’re taking some time off and doing some traveling. That I’m hoping you’ll decide to come back but you insisted you needed a change of scenery.”

  “And people buy that?” Would they really believe that was the truth?

  “The business with your stalker wasn’t any secret,” he’d reminded her, “so it’s not so farfetched.”

  “I can’t believe we couldn’t find out who he was.”

  “Whoever he is, he’s one smart bastard,” Ross had commented.

  If only she knew who he was, the nameless, faceless man who had tormented her so intently in Chicago she’d been forced to flee half a continent away. Last night she’d had the dream again, had been so shaken by it that she’d had to work hard to pull herself together for court.

  “Kari?”

  She looked up to see her boss, Bexar County Criminal District Attorney Kip Reyes, standing in her doorway.

  “Sir?”

  He laughed. “You can actually call me Kip after hours. You don’t get your pay docked or a black mark on your record.”

  She forced herself to relax. He wasn’t coming on to her. Not even a little. He might be a dark-haired, dark-eyed, sexy Latino, with a runner’s body that made women drool, but Kip Reyes was happily married to one of the sharpest, nicest women Kari had ever met. Straying wasn’t even on his horizon. She forced herself to draw in a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Kip.”

  “Better.” He braced himself on the doorjamb. “Closing arguments in your case on Monday, right?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to work on it this weekend.” Because I never go anywhere or do anything anyway.

  “Listen, Natalie and I are going to a friend’s tonight. Nothing special. Just kind of a casual Friday night get-together. You remember meeting Paul Hutton the other day, right?”