by Susan Stoker
Moving his thumb across her damp, pale cheek, Cade looked into her pain-filled eyes. “Did your father ever lay a hand on you?”
“No,” Kara pressed her cheek against his opened palm, closing her eyes for a moment, needing his continued touch because he comforted her. “Just verbal and emotional abuse.”
She was minimizing it with a shrug of her shoulders, but Cade also knew a lot about psychology because he too had taken courses for his law enforcement degree. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s verbal, emotional, mental, or physical abuse, Kara. The body is under attack and the person is threatened, regardless.”
“Yes, I know,” she murmured, lying her head against his chest, content to remain just the way she was.
When a person was under threat, it automatically brought up a lot of anxiety, as Cade knew too well. Family abuse equated directly with PTSD in combat ground troops. Only this time, the war was within Kara’s family and went on every day for the first eighteen years of her life. Now, it painted a far clearer picture for him about her moments of high anxiety, which seemed to strike out of nowhere almost daily. He’d seen that she got anxious around nine p.m. and there had been mornings when he’d awakened and heard her out in the kitchen at five a.m. He’d get up and come out to see if she was all right.
She told him she was anxious and was getting up for a glass of water. Then, she would return to bed. Cade didn’t try and talk to her at those times, sensing something was terribly wrong because he could see the terror banked in her drowsy eyes.
Smoothing his hand over her back, removing a few wrinkles across her tee, he asked, “Do you have any memory of something traumatic happening to you at nine p.m.?”
“Oh,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his chest, nuzzling deeper into his arms, “that…”
“What’s ‘that’?”
“When I was seven, drug runners from Mexico broke into our ranch property. They drove four pickups around and around the main house. I had been asleep at the time, but bullets came flying through the window next to my bed. I woke up terrorized. My mother ran into my bedroom, shrieking my name, dragging me off the bed, covering me with her body while we huddled on the floor. More bullets came through the bedroom wall after that.”
Scowling, Cade said, “Was this a rival drug gang that your father had fought against when he was running drugs?”
“You can go search the sheriff’s database on that one,” Kara murmured, slipping her hand up across his chest, moving her fingers across his shoulder. “There was an investigation and they found it was another drug cartel trying to horn into the Gomez cartel’s area. They had a big fight with them and drove them out.”
“But why would they attack your ranch, Kara? That doesn’t make sense. Was your father still running drugs for the Gomez cartel? Hiding them somewhere on his ranch?”
“I don’t know, Cade. I was only seven at the time. I was terrified, I couldn’t stop crying and shaking. My mother was just as traumatized by the attack as I was.”
“Did it ever happen before or since that time?”
“No.”
“Tell me about five a.m. You keep waking up at that time and you always look scared to me, Kara. Do you have any memory of that time?”
“I was ten,” she began, her voice low and off key. “My father has three huge barns. They’re all three stories high. For as long as I could remember I was told never to go into barn number three. I woke up one time, it was winter, and the clock read five a.m. I heard the sounds of big trucks and I couldn’t understand what was going on or why they were at our ranch so early. I pulled on my winter coat, my socks and boots, and hurried out the back door. I saw a huge truck with Mexico license plates backing up to barn number three. It was a clear morning, cold, and I saw my father and three wranglers off to one side, giving hand signals to the truck. There was another semi-truck nearby, a normal type that you see on any interstate in the U.S. It had no markings on it, but both its doors were open.”
“What happened next?”
“I could hear my father cursing and yelling at our ranch hands. I hid in some shrubs near the corner of our house. There was light coming from outside the barn and I could see the men and trucks. As soon as the truck with the Mexico plates stopped, two men ran over to it and opened the doors.” She swallowed hard, forcing the words from between her lips. “There were men, women, and children being herded like cattle toward the other truck. They slapped, yelled, and shoved them toward it. Someone had put a plank of wood up so they could scramble up into it.”
Frowning, Cade asked, “Illegal trafficking?”
“I think so. At the time, I didn’t understand who they were or what they were doing here on our ranch. I was very confused and scared that I’d be seen by my father. There must have been fifty people herded off in that one truck. The kids were crying. Some of the women screamed and tried to run away, but the wranglers caught them and pushed them back into line to get into the truck.”
He felt her tensing, as if she were trying to protect herself because a blow was coming her way. Gently, Cade moved his hand across her shoulders. “It’s all right. Tell me what you can.”
“One woman lost her little boy’s hand. He must have been all of six. He ran because he was so scared. One of the wranglers went after him and jerked him by the arm and he went flying through the air. When he landed, he screamed. I think he broke his arm when he hit the ground.”
Tightening his embrace around her, Cade cursed softly. He felt her burrowing as deep as she could into his arms, seeking protection. “I’m sorry,” he said thickly, kissing her temple, wanting to take away her pain, that memory that haunted her to this day. “What happened then?”
“I didn’t remember the rest of what I saw for years afterward, Cade.” She pulled away, studying his tight features, the flash of anger in his eyes. “I was thirteen when it all came rushing back to me. Before that I would have nightmares of that night. Every time I saw that poor child landing in the dirt, I’d scream. It was always around five a.m. when I awoke from that nightmare.”
Cade whispered her name, kissing her brow and cheek. “I’m so damned sorry you had to see that, Kara. Kids are easily traumatized. I wish…I wish I could remove it from your memory but I know that’s not going to happen.”
“Even worse, Cade, I never got up the guts to confront my father and ask him about that night after the memory returned. I was too scared of him. He had stood there and let one of his wranglers harm that child. What kind of monster is he?” she said, searching his angry gaze.
“No wonder you wanted the hell out of there when you turned eighteen.”
Grimly, she said, “Yes and I’m never going back. It was a prison, Cade, the worst kind. At least,” she said, gesturing with her hand, “I’m free now. I’m doing something I love. I’m making a difference or at least I’m trying to.”
“You do,” he reassured her, sliding his hand to her cheek, drawing her against his chest. “And you’ll continue to because that’s who you are.”
“That’s why I’m so afraid of what happened to me, Cade. I wonder if this guy who assaulted me is with another drug cartel,” she said, searching his eyes.
“I don’t know, but we have to find out.” Then, changing the subject he said, “You’re probably not hungry right now.”
She shook her head and began gnawing on that sad thumbnail, “You probably are, though.”
“Let’s just sit here for awhile longer. You need to come down off that cliff you’re on.”
“Oh, my anxiety…”
“Yeah. Just settle in, close your eyes and rest. You’re safe here, Kara. I’ll protect you. You can count on it.”
Chapter Six
‡
Kara fell asleep almost immediately. Cade understood that she was exhausted from the emotional deluge, all those years of carrying those childhood memories around inside her, coupled with the assault. No wonder, she was totaled.
He carried her to
his bed and covered her up with a soft pink afghan that she’d brought with her from her house. Even in sleep, she curled into what he called a “fetal position” on her right side, knees drawn up tight against her body. He was sure that it started when she was a very young child, living in that threatening environment created by her father.
He stood there, wavering. Wanting her. Wanting to love her until she forgot all the injuries to her soul. But it wouldn’t have been right. He would be taking advantage of her trust in him. If Kara had wanted sex, she’d have initiated it with him. Cade knew her well enough by now to know she wasn’t shy about showing her affection to him. The little vixen. Turning, he left the bedroom door slightly ajar so some light from the hallway could drive away the total darkness within the room.
Walking quietly, he went to the kitchen and got a bowl of chili, adding some shredded sharp cheddar cheese and a dollop of sour cream on top. As he ate at the table, the quiet bluegrass music playing in the background, Cade replayed Kara’s conversation with him. As a deputy, he’d seen frightened children and adults in trauma and shock. It impacted him greatly because he’d always been affected by human suffering, especially with children. Until now, he’d never heard a word uttered about Jud Knight at the sheriff’s headquarters.
His commander, Tom Atkinson, was in his early sixties, lean as a rail post, with thirty years of law enforcement experience under his belt. He’d been born in Clayton and grown up in this county. Cade would bet a month’s worth of pay that Atkinson, burned dark by the Texas sun over the decades, would know a helluva lot more about Knight and his illegal activities. Or did he? His boss wasn’t the type to turn his head the other way regarding any law breaker. Grimly, Cade reminded himself that he gave permission to allow Kara to remain at his home. That had surprised him because it seemed to Cade to go against law enforcement common sense.
Atkinson had said the only reason he was giving Kara a choice between his home and her father’s ranch, was because of Jud’s power in the county. At this point, Cade wondered if Jud Knight wasn’t politically funding his boss’s campaign because he was running for reelection. Cade knew after being on the job for only a year that he didn’t discern all the political realities that ran the department. Spooning the hot, spicy chili into his mouth, he kept trying to ignore thoughts of Kara’s soft kiss.
Cade couldn’t imagine ten-year-old Kara seeing another child injured so brutally as on the night the illegal immigrants were herded into the semi-truck. Was her mother, Pamela, aware of the trucks coming in? Had she seen any of this happen? If she had and it wasn’t reported…
The unanswered questions Cade had left him uneasy. This was a federal crime. He needed to talk with Kara more about this incident. As a ten-year-old child, she would not be expected to turn her father or the wrangler who injured that child, over to the U.S. Border Patrol. The Knight family was a completely dysfunctional family run by a madman as far as he was concerned. Cade had always been grateful he had two very loving parents who cherished him and did not abuse him. So often as a law enforcement officer, he saw the dark, lurid underbelly of human society. Fifty percent of the people he’d met as a deputy should never have been allowed to be parents. They left their innocent youngsters at high risk, were irresponsible parents, and were either uncaring or abusive toward their children.
There were days like this that he didn’t like being a deputy. He’d seen enough fighting in Afghanistan but family wars were another form of combat, the children always the losers. Scowling, he ate the last crumb of the jalapeño cornbread he’d baked earlier and finished off the last spoonful of chili from the bottom of his bowl. If Kara woke up later and was coherent, he’d like to ask her more about the trafficking that Jud Knight had been involved in. Was he still part of a trafficking ring? There was too much drug activity in this county to be sure of anything or anyone and Cade knew it. A careful investigation would have to be approved by Atkinson first and he was going to approach his boss about this incident. But would he be able trust his boss?
If only Kara would sleep through the night. She seemed to enjoy being here with him and was no longer as stressed out as before. He knew that the toll of shock took weeks, months, or sometimes years, depending upon the nature of the trauma, to leave a person. Kara was still in a major healing curve and terribly vulnerable, so he didn’t want to take advantage of her in that state.
They were powerfully drawn to one another, no question, but her attacker was still on the loose. Had Fuentes faded back across the border and back into Mexico? Perhaps, but Cade wasn’t willing to allow Kara to return her home and be there alone just yet and the Sheriff Atkinson was in agreement. Until they could absolutely verify it one way or another, Atkinson wanted Kara to remain at his home. Instead, over the past weeks, Cade had gone over to her home several times to clean it up.
Kara had wanted to do it but he’d dissuaded her. All it would do was increase her stress level once more, not lessen it. Whenever she could return home, she would find it tidy and clean, just as she’d left it that morning when she’d gone to work.
It was nearly nine p.m. when Cade heard a noise in the hall. He was sitting on the couch reading the county newspaper on his tablet and looked up. He saw Kara stumble sleepily down the hall, pushing her mussed hair off her face. He got up, seeing that she was barefoot and smiled, thinking she looked more like a ragamuffin in that moment, vulnerable and beautiful.
“Hi,” she mumbled, aiming herself in his direction after she spotted him. “I’m thirsty.”
Cade met her and she closed the distance, pressing her body against his, asking for his embrace as she nestled her brow against his jaw. Enclosing her with his arms, he murmured, “You’re barefoot. I could step on your toes, Kara,” he said, grinning a little, hearing a soft sound of protest come from her. He liked the way her arms tightened around his waist, liked it way too much, hungrily absorbing her soft, curved body as she sank against his hard frame.
“You won’t,” she murmured sleepily, nuzzling his neck, pressing a small kiss upon it.
Her lips were velvet and pliant. Cade hadn’t expected this affection and it rocked him as little else could. Had their one kiss torn down that old barrier that had always stood between them? He eased her beneath his arm and positioned her against him. “Let’s go to the refrigerator. I have some cold bottled water in there.”
“Mmmm, sounds wonderful,” and she entrusted herself fully to him, allowing him to guide her.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, opening the fridge, drawing out a bottle.
“I don’t even remember dropping off, but yes, I did.” Kara moved from beneath his arm as he reached into the cabinet for a clean glass. Rubbing her face, she muttered, “I feel better, though. Like I off-loaded a lifetime’s worth of stuff, maybe.” Giving him a questioning look, she added, “Maybe it was the kiss we shared?”
Cade poured the water. “Maybe it was.” He watched her place the glass to her lower lip, lift her chin, the graceful line of her neck revealed as she drank deeply. Her face mirrored peace, her delft-colored eyes soft, shining with happiness. He was happy too, his whole body lighter after her unexpected affection. Barely able to think, his own heart pounding with urgency for Kara, he tried to tamp down his needs and expectations from her. She was obviously defenseless after just waking up, not quite here and not quite there. Even her tousled hair made her look excruciatingly wanton to Cade.
“Thanks,” she whispered, setting the glass on the counter.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, peering into her barely opened eyes. Cade had discovered that Kara did not wake up easily. It was a process that involved at least two to three cups of coffee before she was alert.
Shrugging, she pushed away from the counter and came back to him, resting against his body, closing her eyes, her head against his chest as he placed his arms lightly around her shoulders. “I’m hungry, Cade, but maybe not for food…”
He caught the drift, his mouth lifting slightly
. He celebrated her directness because people like that were easy to understand. What you saw, you got. No games. No masks. No manipulation. When Kara lifted her chin from his chest, searching his eyes, he felt like a five-alarm siren had gone off deep in his lower body. There was no disguising her lust and sexual interest.
“I kissed you earlier,” she said. “I liked it, Cade. If you knew how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, I don’t think you would believe me.”
“Try me,” he teased, rocking her hips against his. Fire flamed to life and Cade knew without a doubt that Kara was aware of his growing erection. There was no way to hide it because it felt as if they were welded hotly to one another’s hips.
“First grade.” Her brows moved upward and she laughed. “See? I told you that you wouldn’t believe me! But it’s the truth!”
“Hmmm, well, I have a confession to make too, Ms. Knight. You were magical to me. You always have been.” He saw her expression grow pleased, the twinkle in her eyes making his heart long desperately for her.
“Well, Deputy Patterson? I’d say that the kiss we shared between us earlier is something we should both explore more. Don’t you?”
The moment she moved her hips against his, he groaned. Heat poured through him, awakening him on every level. “I like a bold woman who knows what she wants.”
“There are no wimpy women in Texas. You know that, Cade.”
He chuckled. “There is this thing about a Texas woman,” he agreed, leaning over, nuzzling her temple and inhaled her sweet scent. Cade waited to see how Kara would respond. Did she only want another kiss? Because the signals she was sending included a lot more than just a kiss and he didn’t want to assume one damn thing with her.
“Mmmm, I love when you kiss me, Cade. You make every dream I ever had about you come true.”
Easing her away from him so he could look into her slumberous, lust-filled eyes, he asked, “Tell me what you want, Kara.”
“You.”
He smiled a little. “I’ve always been yours, but from a distance before this. Are you sure about this? About us?”