by test
“Damien?” she said drowsily.
He could just see the gleam in her eyes when she lazily lifted her lashes. Desire mingled with love in her emerald eyes. He could not have one without the other—not with Laurie. She loved him. She would not have made love with him otherwise.
Even knowing he would hurt her in the end, he still wanted her with a bone-deep hunger that time would never ease. He had to let her go but for this one night, she was his. She shifted her legs, grazed his erection, and shot fire straight to his crotch. He bit back a throaty groan, tugged her hair gently until her head tilted slightly. He moved, his hair-roughened legs sliding along silky smooth bare skin until he rested against those silky dark curls.
He heard her low groan and watched her lips part in invitation. He kept his hands gentle as he stroked and explored every glorious inch, every curve and valley of her. He kissed her, slowly and deeply, entwining their fingers on the pillow as he covered her. Blood pounded in his ears but he forced himself to go slow, to slide with gentle ease deep inside her.
Her breath caught then washed over him as he brought his mouth back to hers. She trembled under him and he could not stop the sheer male satisfaction of knowing she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. Her legs slid around him like silken bonds, her fingers tangling more fiercely with his. On a long slow stroke she erupted around him, drenching him in her liquid fire. With the next slow deep thrust, he followed her into ecstasy. As the aftershocks rippled through them, he held her against his heart and realized it was no longer his.
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Cursing himself for allowing his personal feelings to come so far, so fast, he disengaged himself from her and left her sleeping in his bed. She grunted, shifted position, and wrapped her arms around the pillow he had just vacated. He had to distance himself from her—somehow. He pulled on his underwear and his jeans then leaned against the window frame and stared into the darkness. Even the rain had stopped and left only wet glass between him and the cold autumn night.
He could not hold her for the rest of the night and still walk away from her. He scowled.
In the end she would be the one walking away. It should not have been like this. He was not supposed to love her—bed her, yes, if she was amenable. But he could not love her. Love had no place in his life. Until now, he had never even believed in love. He certainly did not deserve it.
He had to live without her. He straddled the chair at the end of the table, stared out the window, and waited as the hours slowly passed.
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Chapter Six
Consciousness came quickly but Laurie kept her eyes closed for a few minutes and simply listened. Birds sang outside. The fire crackled in the woodstove but she heard no other sounds. Stretching languorously under the blanket, she opened her eyes to bright morning sunshine. She rolled but found the other side of the bed empty. A quick glance around the cabin as she sat up brought a heavy sadness to her heart. True to his word, Damien had left. Blinking back tears, she scrambled off the bed and hurried to the loft for clean clothes.
Noting both empty beds, she wondered where Stacy was. Surely she would not have gone outside without permission. Laurie dressed hastily in black jeans and a red sweater then dashed down the stairs and out of the cabin.
“Stacy!” she called out, worried. “Stacy!”
But Stacy was not there. Laurie tramped among trees, searching the immediate area, but found no sign of her daughter. Nor was there anyone else around. Puzzled, she shot wild glances between trees. Damien had said someone would replace him. But she was alone in the mountains. Even Damien’s truck was gone. And Stacy! What had happened to her? Terror wrapped icy fingers around her heart as she ran back into the cabin.
“Stacy! Where are you?” she screamed on a rising tide of raw panic. Her screams reverberated through the cabin, a mocking echo in her ears.
“Get a grip,” she finally ordered herself. Stacy could not have gone far. Even if she had wandered into the woods, she could not have gotten far. Clamping a lid on panic, Laurie forced herself to think calmly.
She stuffed her wallet into her back pocket and grabbed her jacket. She needed help. She didn’t dare search the unfamiliar woods alone. She would end up getting herself lost. Her wild glance lit on the door under the stairs. It was the radio room. Relieved, she ducked into the closet-sized room and gaped at the sophisticated, state of the art electronic radio system.
Assuming Damien always left the machine on the same frequency; she pushed the power button and keyed the microphone.
It took monumental effort but she forced herself to speak calmly and succinctly. “If anyone is listening, I need help. My daughter is missing and I'm stranded in the mountains.”
“Get off the radio, lady,” a gruff voice ordered from the speaker. “This is a classified government frequency.”
“Wait! You don’t understand!” Fear bubbled in her voice and her hand trembled.
“Lady, you’re breaking the law! Get off the air!”
Control snapped. She grabbed the mike and yelled, “Listen, you government jackass! I don’t give a damn about your laws. Damien left me stranded here. My daughter is missing. Do something!”
“Not my problem.” The gruff voice turned sarcastic and the radio went silent. Nothing Laurie did prompted any kind of response from the speakers.
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Fury mingled with terror as she stormed out of the cabin. In an effort to calm her mind, she smoked a cigarette with trembling fingers as she walked rapidly down the dirt trail. Several minutes later, she stepped onto asphalt and stopped. Gnawing on her lower lip, uncertain which way to go, she glanced up and down the paved road that curved and disappeared into the trees.
At the sound of an approaching car, her head snapped around. She jumped into the middle of the road and waved her arms frantically to flag down the car. The small blue car slowed to a stop in front of her and she ran to the passenger side.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly as she pulled open the door and slid into the front seat.
She slammed the door shut and winced at the loud thud. “Sorry,” she muttered then clenched her hands together and peered anxiously at the middle-aged man behind the wheel. “My daughter has disappeared. I need to get to a police station.”
“Sure thing,” the driver replied amiably as he released the brakes.
The car rolled slowly forward, gathering speed until it reached the legal limit. Laurie stared out the window, hoping anxiously for a glimpse of Stacy, or anyone, but to no avail.
Several minutes later, they entered a small town. Laurie missed the sign and had no idea where she was. It didn’t matter. The driver slowed but did not stop. She offered him a grateful smile.
“If you’ll just drop me at the police station, I’d really appreciate it,” she told him as she clutched the door handle, eager to get the search for Stacy under way.
“I can’t do that.” The driver glared at her, his expression abruptly hard and relentless.
He whipped out a handgun and aimed it right between her eyes. Laurie fell silent and only stared into the dark barrel of the gun. She mentally cursed herself for foolishly trusting a stranger. What on earth was he planning? Did he work for her father and the terrorists? She swallowed hard and stared at him.
He nodded curtly and, keeping the gun aimed in her general direction, focused his attention on the road ahead. Her mind spun. How could she escape? Was she going to end up dead? Would she ever see Stacy safe and happy again? Damn it! She had to find Stacy. She clutched the door handle, ready to open it and jump.
“Don’t even think about it,” the driver snarled, shaking the gun at her.
Glaring at him in turn, she yanked her hand from the door. He would either shoot her or run the car over her. Stacy, she wailed inwardly. Then she glared once more at the driver.
Damn it! She launched herself across the seat, slamming into the driver as she stomped her foot awkwardly on the brake pedal. The gun flew from his hand into the back seat. The car squealed and skidded across the street as she fought him for control of the steering wheel. Adrenaline surged through her blood veins, mingling with panic.
She wrenched the wheel around and forced the car off the road. Her awkward position made braking all but impossible. She pushed her foot down as hard as she could, but it wasn’t enough. He wrenched the wheel back, almost jerking it from her hands. Sweating with terror, Laurie tightened her grip and jerked the wheel. The car bounced over the sidewalk. Her sweaty hands slid off the wheel and she grabbed his wrists, pulling with all her strength.
“Bitch!” the driver growled as he grabbed for her with one hand.
Ignoring his name calling, she barely evaded the hand that tried to wrap around her throat. A swift glance through the windshield at the approaching brick wall had panic bubbling in her throat. She gulped hard and ducked, sliding away from the driver. He squealed unintelligibly, his hands clinging to the steering wheel, his face pale with fright. Laurie curled into a ball, ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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staying below dashboard level. She squeezed her eyes shut, convinced she would never wake again.
The moving car collided with solid, immovable brick. The screeching crunch of metal masked the shattering crash of the windshield. The impact pulled her off the seat. She fell in a heap on the floor, smacked her head on a hard piece of metal protruding from the glove compartment. Pain shattered her mind. Her senses swam deliriously before blackness engulfed her.
* * * *
Damien parked the truck in front of his cabin, shut off the engine, and rubbed a weary hand over his face. Time to face the music and turn love into fury—Laurie was probably awake and frantic over Stacy. Long before dawn he had spirited Stacy, still sound asleep, out of the cabin. Just a few hours ago he had left the little girl, scared and crying, clinging to her coldly disapproving grandmother. He had kept Stacy safe and well out of danger but Laurie was a different matter. He bitterly resented being forced into this kind of treachery but those running the mission had left him no choice. This was not a normal SEAL operation.
He exited the truck, slammed the door shut behind him, and stalked to the cabin. Some deep down instinct told him it was empty but he shoved the door open anyway. A single lightening glance confirmed his instincts. He was alone.
“Damn it, where the hell did she go?” He stormed to the radio room and yanked open that door. It slammed back against wood with a resounding crash.
In scant minutes, he confirmed that Laurie had been trying to get help. Of course, the operative had shut her down quickly, leaving her without recourse.
“Except to leave on foot and seek help elsewhere,” Damien muttered. He cursed profusely as he stormed out of the cabin, closing that door with a vicious slam that echoed through the woods.
He climbed back into the truck, started the engine with a hard twist of the key, and roared away. His busy mind settled on the only option left to Laurie. She would have gone to the nearest town in search of police help. Had the nearest agent intercepted her? Partially expecting her reaction, Damien had set that contingency in place.
Cursing his part in the deception, he slowed his speed as he drove into the small town of Coopersville. An accident scene caught his attention and his blood chilled. Through the crowd of onlookers, he saw emergency vehicles and a small blue car, its front end crumpled into a brick wall. Heart pounding, he braked to a hard stop. He left the engine running and forced his way through the crowd to the ambulance. Sirens wailed in his ears and a babble of incoherent voices irritated him. He grabbed the arm of a paramedic covering a male body in plastic. Flooded with relief that the casualty was not Laurie, he forced the medic to face him.
“Was there a woman in this wreck?” he demanded rigidly.
“On the way to the hospital,” the man snapped back, his eyes wary.
He started to turn away but Damien tightened his grip. “Still alive?”
The man went pale but nodded. Damien released him and bolted back to the truck. All he could think of was that she still lived. With no idea what her condition might be, he jerked the transmission into reverse and pulled away from the scene in a spray of gravel.
* * * *
The fierce pain of regaining consciousness nearly killed her. Beeps and hums of machinery split her skull. Her whimpers pierced her ears. Her head throbbed. Was this hell? She forced her eyes open and struggled to sit up but the jackhammers pounding in her skull forced ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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her to stay down. Bright light blasted her eyes but she kept them open as she looked around the room and groaned. She was in a hospital. The white walls reflected all the light in the universe straight into her eyes. The blinding pain that shot through her skull nearly dragged her under. Her eyes closed and the horrible pain subsided.
When she opened her eyes again, a nurse was taking her blood pressure. The cuff tightened around her arm, and then relaxed by slow degrees.
“How long have I been here?” she demanded groggily, shading her eyes with a trembling hand.
“About four hours,” the nurse replied compassionately. “You’ve had a nasty concussion, a gash on your forehead, various bruise, scrapes, and scratches.”
Her hand still shaking, Laurie touched the fiercely throbbing area just above her temple.
The bandage, soft under her fingers, was extended around her head.
“My head feels like a truck drove through it.” Her weak attempt at humor drew a smile from the nurse.
She struggled to sit up, her body throbbing and aching in painful protest. With the nurse’s gentle assistance, she was propped with plenty of pillows. The door opened with a loud click of metal. That noise shot sharp pain through her skull. The curtain around her bed was drawn aside and she blinked at the gray-haired doctor. He resembled her mind’s preconceived image of a typical country doctor, complete with a slight paunch and twinkling blue eyes behind metal-rimmed bifocals.
“Good morning.” He chuckled as he glanced at his watch. “Or rather, good afternoon.”
“How did I get here?” Laurie demanded as his hand closed gently around her wrist.
“You don’t remember?” His fingers found her pulse as he gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s not unusual with a concussion. Car accident—you hit a brick wall.”
“I’ve been here four hours already?”
He nodded, his sharp clinical gaze roaming slowly over her. “Your injuries were relatively minor. The driver wasn’t so lucky. He died instantly. Do you remember anything before the accident? What’s your name?”
Laurie frowned. “Laurie Crawford.” Concentration greatly increased the throb in her head. Memory crashed over her. “I woke up at the cabin. Stacy and Damien were gone.”
On an abrupt surge of panic, she frantically yanked off the sheet. “I have to find my daughter. Get the police. It’s been too long. They could be anywhere.”
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” the doctor spoke gently but firmly as he forced her back down.
She struggled weakly despite the agony stabbing into her body. “No!”
“Nurse, sedative!” the doctor ordered briskly. “He wants to see her, but she has to remain calm.”
The needle slid into her arm. Firm pressure built then the needle slid from her skin. He?
Who? She dropped into dreamless sleep, those questions circling her mind along with fear for her daughter.
She once again clawed her way to painful consciousness and slowly lifted her lashes. The hospital room was a blur. The glare of even dim lights hurt despite the dark of night outside the window. Slowly, gingerly, whimpering as she narrowed her eyes, she sat up. A long dark shadow moved and the lights dimmed further. A fuzzy shadow hovered beside her bed. She squinted until her visitor came
into sharper focus.
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“Damien?” she croaked, her mind fuzzy with drugs and lingering pain. She shook her head and a sharp dagger of pain stabbed her. A ragged gasp escaped her.
The chair scraped the floor as Damien shifted closer. “Are you all right?”
“Stupid question,” she snapped testily. “I have to find Stacy.”
“She’s fine. She’s with your mother.”
That gentle assurance should have calmed her. It didn’t.
“Shit,” she groaned weakly, not entirely from the pain or the drugs. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
“How are you feeling?”
“It hurts, Damien!” she snapped irately and winced at another sharp escalation of pain.
She squirmed restlessly, seeking a position that hurt a little less. “Play chicken with a car and a brick wall and see how you feel.”