The Mercenary's Kiss

by Pam Crooks

  Maybe the years had mellowed him some.

  Or had he done the mellowing?

  He gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t like feeling this…confused.

  “You’ve grown into a fine soldier, Jeb,” his father said, voice quiet.

  “That so?” He willed himself to sit on the edge of the bed again, resume cutting open the pant leg. It was easier that way. Giving his hands something to do, his eyes something else to look at, besides the man who had so unexpectedly returned into his life. “Bet you never figured on that, did you?”

  “I’ve always known you would be. You were born with nerves of steel. Not many young men would’ve had the courage to walk away from an appointment at West Point and a father who was a general, no less.”

  “You court-martialed me, for God’s sake.”

  “For disobeying orders. I had no choice, under the circumstances. But you could’ve been reinstated. You wouldn’t have been the first cadet to be, or the last, but you were too proud to stay until the hearings began.” The General hesitated. “I don’t blame you for still being angry with me.”

  “Angry?” Jeb growled. The word didn’t cover the anger, the hate and bitterness, that had eaten him inside out over the years.

  “It was damned hard seeing you walk away. Don’t think I didn’t have my own regrets. But there wasn’t a man on this earth who wasn’t prouder of his son than me.”

  Jeb swallowed. The words were turning him to mush. He felt eight years old again, hungry for his father’s love and approval.

  “Who do you think recommended you to the War Secretary to be sent overseas?” the General asked.

  Jeb had always suspected as much. He recalled the battle-scarred places he’d been to—South America, Cuba, Africa—and the bone-chilling danger he’d endured in each one of them. He recalled the success, too. The gratification he and Creed had felt in serving their country in a way few men could.

  “I damn near lost my hide everywhere I went,” he said.

  “But you didn’t. You survived. Honorably, I might add.”

  Jeb glanced at his friend. Creed was grinning like an idiot. He sighed. “Well, you killed de la Vega. Not me. Secretary Alger will need to know that.”

  The General grunted and rubbed his injured arm. “De la Vega was half-dead by the time I got to him. You had the worst of it. And Alger does not need to know I was felled by a damned tree branch.” He scowled at his injuries. “If I’d been watching where my horse was leading instead of being scared for you, I wouldn’t have been knocked clean from the saddle.”

  “You? Scared?” He’d never thought the General would be afraid of anything, and certainly not for him.

  “De la Vega had you in a rough fight. Not that you weren’t holding your own.” He shifted on the mattress, then grimaced. “Seems I’m getting too old to skirmish.”

  After the revolutionary had been shot, the regiment came riding in. His father had quickly been tended to, and Jeb hadn’t had the opportunity to show his gratitude for saving his life.

  Until now.

  “Thanks,” he muttered grudgingly. “For all you did.”

  “Forget it. You’ll get the credit you deserve from Washington for keeping those rifles out of the rebels’ hands.”

  The credit meant nothing to Jeb. The War Department knew what he was capable of. He didn’t need acknowledgment from them.

  “Still painful?” Jeb probed the swollen knee, tried to determine if it was dislocated or sprained.

  “Getting better.” The General picked up the bottle of elixir. “Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound. What’s it made of?”

  “Secrets of the ancients.”

  Creed snorted.

  Jeb glowered at him.

  “Think it’s funny, do you? Elena says—” He clamped his mouth shut. He refused to talk about her when just saying her name hurt.

  “She’s a beautiful woman,” the General said quietly, shrewdly.

  “Lots of beautiful women in this world.”

  But none like her. None as caring or gentle or alluring as Elena.

  “I’m sure she’s grateful for what you’ve done, getting the boy back for her and all,” he mused.

  “Yeah, well. She has a funny way of showing it, doesn’t she? She couldn’t get out of Mexico fast enough.”

  “There you go. Feeling sorry for yourself again.” Creed exhaled, loud and long. “What’s the matter, Carson? You afraid of her?”

  His chin jerked up. Afraid of a woman? Of Elena? “Hell, no.”

  Or was he scared out of his mind she’d never want him in her life?

  “Never known you to back down from a good fight. And I’m thinking she’s one woman you might want to fight for.”

  Jeb swallowed. Hard. Yeah, she was.

  “What’s the harm in going after her? Say goodbye proper, you know?”

  He grappled for a solid excuse. California. He had to go to California. The trip had already been delayed once, and Creed was long overdue to get back to his family.

  But a side visit to San Antonio could be arranged easily enough. A day at the most. What was a few hours to see Elena anyway?

  A few hours. That was all. Mere minutes in the grand scheme of things.

  “Sure.” Jeb cleared his throat. “I—yeah, sure. I could do that. I guess.”

  “You guess.” Creed shook his head and headed for the door. “Carson, you’re so crazy about her, you can’t think straight.”

  He left, pulling the door closed behind him. Jeb glanced at the General, watching him with twitching lips.

  “He’s wrong,” Jeb said, defensive. “I can think just fine.”

  The General nodded somberly. “Sure you can.”

  All his trepidations fell away. His mind cleared, snagged on a comment his father had made earlier. “You said you had something you wanted to discuss with me?”

  His father smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  One Week Later

  Pop glared at the walking cane with fierce dislike.

  “I’m not going to use that thing any sooner than I have to, Lennie,” he said stubbornly. “Push me to the doors. I’ll walk out with it then.”

  “Pop.” Elena exchanged an exasperated glance with Toby. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people walk with a cane every day.”

  “That’s right, Doc,” Toby said, his hair sticking out around his ears from beneath his cap. “Your leg has some healing to do yet. You need the cane to—”

  “I know full well why I need the cane.” From his seat in the wheelchair, he reached for Nicky. Elena reluctantly settled him in his lap, away from his tender shoulder. “C’mon, Nicky. We’ll ride this fool thing together. What do you say about that, my little man?”

  Nicky gurgled something happy and agreeable, and Elena gave in. If Pop was so insistent on using the wheelchair to get himself out of the hospital to finish recuperating at the small apartment she’d rented, there was no real harm in it, she supposed. But the sooner he started using the cane, the less foreign it would feel.

  She hooked the stick on the back of the wheelchair and pushed him down the hall, Toby beside her, their pace leisurely. It had been difficult seeing her father felled by his injuries, pale, confined to bed and virtually helpless in so many things. But since her return from Mexico with Nicky, his spirits had raised in gigantic proportions. Every day, he was moving about more, and Elena knew it wouldn’t be long before they both put the nightmare with Ramon behind them.

  Well, almost.

  Except for Jeb. She missed him terribly.

  The longer she was away from him, the more she thought of him. It’d been a mistake to leave like she did. Unfair, too. He had deserved a decent goodbye. A hug, maybe. A long, soul-destroying kiss that neither of them would ever forget.

  She didn’t even know where he was or if he was dead or alive. She didn’t have an inkling of how she could go about finding him, or if she should even try. Or if h
e’d want to see her if she did find him.

  “Elena.” Toby waved a hand in front of her face, and she blinked back to reality. “I’m talking to you.”

  “Were you?” She hadn’t heard a word. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

  “I know. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Not listening. You sure you’re doing okay? Ever since you came back from Mexico, you’ve been—” he shrugged “—I don’t know. Different.”

  Had it been so obvious? Jeb had changed her. Made her want things she had never thought she’d want or need.

  Like having a man in her life. Jeb. Forever and ever.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. She had to stop thinking about him. She had decisions to make. Pop’s injuries and Nicky’s kidnapping had brought the medicine show to a grinding halt. Bookings were canceled. Troupe members had left, understandably, to find jobs elsewhere. Only Toby stayed, out of loyalty to Pop, and Elena felt guilty for it.

  She had nothing to offer him. Not anymore. He was young yet. He needed to move on, for his own good.

  They approached the hospital’s lobby. Three men stood in front of one of the windows. The midmorning sunlight accented the fine cut of their clothing, the glint of smartly polished shoes. The men looked important, Elena mused as she pushed the wheelchair closer to the doors. One especially, with his tall stature, his back straight, shoulders square. Though his arm was in a sling and he held a cane, he wasn’t a patient here. He looked too healthy, too important. Clearly he was waiting for someone with the others.

  The shortest of them turned and smiled. He had a portly belly and a round face. A thick mustache covered his upper lip.

  “Malone?” he asked. “Doc Charlie Malone?”

  Pop was as surprized as Elena. The wheelchair rolled to a halt. “Yes. I’m Charlie Malone.”

  The man walked toward them, his hand extended. “Patrick Morrow. Morrow Pharmaceuticals. Philadelphia. Glad to meet you.”

  For a moment, Pop didn’t move, his shock rendering him speechless. Then he handed Nicky to Elena, went for his cane and scrambled out of the wheelchair, all in one motion. He took the man’s hand in a firm grasp. “Likewise, thank you, sir.”

  “We’ve a matter to discuss with you, if you don’t mind?” The second man spoke as he drew nearer, his gait graceful despite a faint limp. His features looked familiar, but Elena was much too distracted with curiosity to dwell on it. “In the hospital garden, perhaps.”

  Pop exchanged a glance with Elena. “Of course, of course. The garden will be fine.”

  “Name’s William, by the way.” He smiled, and for the first time, he looked at Elena. His eyes were clear. Sharp. And twinkling. Something about those eyes pulled at her.

  “Ma-ma-ma.”

  Nicky wiggled and Elena shifted him to her hip with a soft “shh.” William studied him.

  “A handsome boy,” he murmured.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “My daughter and grandson, Elena and Nicky,” Pop said, by way of introduction.

  “Yes. I know.”

  Pop frowned.

  Morrow stepped back and graciously extended an arm toward the door leading out to the gardens. “Shall we?”

  “Certainly,” Pop said.

  Canes clicked on the tile floor as the men meandered outside, Morrow slowing his pace to allow for the other men’s handicaps. He spoke animatedly, and Elena lingered in the doorway, her curiosity raging.

  “I guess I can bring the wagon around while they’re talking,” Toby said.

  Elena had forgotten he was there. “Yes. Good idea.”

  “Elena, before I do, I—”

  At the hesitancy in his voice, she peered up at him, at the freckled face she’d always held dear. He was trying to grow a mustache, but the pale fuzz over his lip showed the attempt was lacking. At two years younger, he was like the brother she never had.

  But the blatant adoration in his expression told her she meant much more to him than a sister.

  Why had she never noticed before? Had she been so busy shutting men out of her life after Ramon’s attack that she was blinded to one’s affections?

  “Elena, I know things are looking pretty bleak for you right now, what with the medicine show gone belly-up and all. But I—I care for you. I always have. We get along, and Doc likes me. Nicky, too, and well, I want to stay with you. That is, if you’ll have me.”

  “Stay with me?” As in be her husband? “Oh, Toby.”

  “Maybe now isn’t the right time to be mentioning it,” he said, taking a step back as if he feared her rejection. “But think on it, will you? We’ll talk later. I’ll get the rig, and we’ll talk…later.”

  He turned and fairly bolted from the hospital. Elena stared after him, knowing how much courage it had taken to reveal his feelings.

  “He’s not man enough for you.”

  At the low growl, Elena spun with a squeak of surprise.

  Jeb stood with one side of his coat swept back, his thumb hooked in his waistband. His shirt was stark white against his sun-dark skin, his suit perfectly tailored to fit his broad shoulders. He’d cut his hair. Shaved. And if she thought him dangerous and exciting in the wilds of Mexico as a mercenary, he was doubly so now, dressed as a gentleman in civilized society.

  Her heart squeezed at the sight of him. She loved him, no matter where he was or what he wore. She loved him, for he was a man like no other she’d ever known.

  And he’d been blatantly eavesdropping on her conversation with Toby.

  “I—I didn’t know you were there,” she said. “I didn’t recognize you.”

  He scowled. “Obviously.”

  It occurred to her he might be jealous. “I’ve known Toby most of my life. He’s a good person.”

  “He’s just a kid.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. She refused to defend Toby or his tender feelings for her.

  But a bevy of questions got her talking again.

  “You were with those men, weren’t you?” she said, glancing out into the garden. “Who are they? What do they want to discuss with Pop?”

  He grunted and took her elbow. “You’re a damned chatterbox this morning, Elena. Funny. You couldn’t even say goodbye in Mexico.”

  He pulled her out of the hall and into the nearest room, then shut the door behind them. Sunlight filtered through white cotton curtains on the window. The room was cool, hushed, empty. Seeing the crucifix on the cloth-covered altar, Elena realized they’d slipped into the hospital’s chapel.

  She deserved the rebuke. “I was upset that day—”

  “Upset.”

  “—and Lieutenant Colonel Kingston was trying to be helpful.”

  “Helpful.”

  “You were so determined to go after Ramon, and I never wanted to see him again. I just wanted to go back—” She halted. “Did you capture him? Ramon?”

  “He’s dead, Elena. His men, too. The whole damned bunch. Dead.”

  “Oh.” She pressed a hand to her breast in relief, then remembered they were standing in a chapel. “Thank God.”

  But then, she should’ve known better than to think Jeb would settle for less than victory over the revolutionaries. He was as driven for justice as she’d been.

  Nicky squirmed and strained against her, his arms reaching for Jeb. “Ma-ma-ma.”

  “We’re going to have to teach him a new word, Elena,” Jeb said, taking him and tossing him into the air. Nicky squealed in delight. “Like ‘Daddy,’ for starters. Isn’t that right, buddy?” He tousled Nicky’s curls.

  “We?” Elena was afraid to breathe. To hope. “Daddy?”

  Jeb held her son in one strong arm. “That’s right. He needs a father.”

  Her mouth softened; she cocked her head in consideration. “Hmm. True. Toby would do well enough, I suppose. Nicky has known him all his life, and—”

  Jeb went still. “Toby?” He swore—clearly, he didn’t care they were in a holy chapel—and hooked his arm around Elena
’s waist. He hauled her roughly against him. “I didn’t mean Toby, Elena. Me. I want to be Nicky’s father.”

  She feigned surprise, her heart bursting. “You?”

  “I want to be your husband, too.” His head lowered. “Marry me, Elena. Make us a family for the rest of our lives, because I love you so much I don’t want to be away from you ever again.”

  “I love you just as much.” Her fingers slid into his hair. “Being your wife would be an honor, Jeb. I’ll follow you wherever you need to fight, and if I can’t, I’ll wait until you come back. Nicky and I both will.”

  At her avowal, his mouth took hers in a hungry kiss that banished all thought from her mind but the feel of him in her arms and the love in her heart. A lifetime of kisses and happiness wherever they would be, so long as they were together, taking care of each other. Loving each other.

  Slowly he ended the kiss, then dropped little nibbles against her jaw. “There’s a thing or two I haven’t told you yet.”

  Elena drew back. His dark eyes smoldered with a mysterious light.

  “I’ve been offered a position in the War Department. I’ll be advising President McKinley in Washington. A revolution in Mexico is inevitable. Killing de la Vega and confiscating the arms shipment was only a small hitch in Zapata’s plan.”

  Pride swelled through her. He would serve his country well in Washington, too.

  “That’s your father in the garden with Pop and Patrick Morrow, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes. We’ve spent a lot of time talking the past few days. He was quite impressed with the elixir, by the way.”

  “Was he?” Jeb would’ve given him some, then. For his injuries. The news pleased her.

  “Morrow’s company supplies medicine for the Army. He has a sizable contract with the government, and the General requested we meet with him here in San Antonio. Morrow is prepared to place a large order of Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound for both military and civilian hospitals.” He kissed her temple. “Your father will soon be a very rich man, Elena.”

  “Oh!” She pressed her fingers to her mouth; her eyes shimmered with tears.

  “He can open that apothecary you’ve always wanted,” Jeb went on, wiping a drop of moisture off her cheek with his knuckle. “No more medicine shows, no more traveling. For either of you. I’ll buy you a real house. You can see him every day if you want.”