Solitary Soldier

by Debra Webb

  Sloan sat on the edge, his damp hair slicked back and curling around his nape. The golden hair sprinkled on his chest glistening in the sun. “You can stop anytime, you know,” he offered, obviously reading the strain on her face. “Ten laps was only a suggestion.”

  “One more,” she said between gritted teeth. Her arms moved awkwardly now. But she had to make just one more lap. She would not show weakness. She had to do it.

  “Mommy, Mommy, can I swim too?”

  Rachel kicked harder to make it the last few feet. She stopped in the waist-deep water and held on to the side of the pool to stay upright. Her muscles quivered in protest of the workout they had gotten.

  “Hey, sweetie.” She smiled wanly at her little boy. She glanced at Sloan then, who was busy ignoring the whole situation. “Do you mind?” she asked cautiously.

  He stood. “Why should I?” He gave Rachel his back and stalked away.

  Rachel watched him disappear inside the house. How could she feel sympathy for such a cold, hard man? But she did. He had lost so much. She and Josh were vivid reminders of just how much. Rachel produced a smile for her son and put thoughts of Sloan out of her weary mind. Nothing was more important than her son.

  Chapter Four

  “Spread your feet shoulder-width apart.”

  Rachel moved her feet farther apart and took aim once more. “Like this?”

  Sloan walked slowly around her, surveying her stance. If his irritable expression was any indication, she wasn’t doing anything right.

  “Lock your elbow,” he ordered.

  She stiffened her arm, her left hand supporting her right at the wrist.

  “Now.” He moved up beside her. “Close your left eye and look straight down the barrel with your right until you’ve sighted your target.”

  She did exactly as he told her. The circles on the silhouette blurred then cleared as she focused on the innermost ring—the bull’s-eye.

  “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly,” he said near her ear.

  Rachel shivered and lost her aim on the target. She swore silently, and refocused.

  “You can’t let anything break your concentration,” he warned, noting the subtle change. “Losing focus for one second can mean the difference between living and dying.”

  She drew in a long breath and let it out a little at a time, forcing her tense muscles to relax.

  “Fire!”

  Without taking time to think, she pressed the trigger just like he had demonstrated before. The recoil forced her hands upward. Rachel staggered back a step. The explosion echoed against the mountains in the distance.

  She turned to her instructor and waited for his appraisal. Sloan stared at the target she had missed entirely and made a dismissive sound.

  “Let’s try that again.”

  “I’ve never fired a gun before,” she offered quickly in explanation of her lack of skill.

  “I noticed.”

  Rachel steamed at his indifference. The man could be such a jerk. He had disappeared after this morning’s workout. Of course, that wasn’t so hard to conceive of when you considered the size of his house. She had played in the pool a while with Josh, then put him down for his nap. She smiled as she considered her son’s playful antics in the water. He loved it. Pablo was right. It wouldn’t take long to teach him to swim. He took to the water like a little fish.

  Sloan hadn’t reappeared until Josh was out of the way. It worried Rachel that he harbored such negative feelings toward her son. Maybe negative wasn’t the right word. He just didn’t want to be around Josh. Though she understood to some extent how he felt, it was difficult. She loved Josh. None of this was his fault. He was innocent. Yet, she supposed looking at him was painful for Sloan. Unfair as that was.

  “Your feet still aren’t far enough apart,” he said gruffly.

  Startled back to the present, Rachel gasped when his left arm closed around her waist. He tucked her hard against his muscular body. His right hand covered her left in support of her firing arm. Still holding her firmly against him, his jaw pressed to her temple, he thrust one jean-clad thigh between her legs and forced her feet farther apart.

  “Sight your weapon.”

  Rachel felt the words rumble from his chest. She tried to slow the pounding in her own chest. She moistened her lips and took another of those slow, deep breaths—for all the good it did. She knew he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, but she couldn’t slow her body’s reaction to his nearness.

  “Relax, I don’t bite,” he murmured.

  “Do you have to hold me so close?”

  “Sight your weapon and fire,” he ordered, ignoring her question.

  Summoning her determination, Rachel tuned out the many ways he affected her one by one. First, the feel of his hard, male body spooned against hers. Second, the whisper of his breath on her cheek. And then the unmistakable scent that belonged uniquely to him. A fine line of perspiration formed on her forehead as she closed her left eye and focused intently on the silhouette hanging in the distance.

  She pulled the trigger. Sloan’s strong arm controlled the effect of the recoil, his powerfully built body absorbed the force that rocked her hard against him. Each stimulus she had worked so laboriously to disregard flooded her senses once more.

  He released her and started toward the target. “Much better,” he allowed.

  Lowering her weapon, Rachel swayed, this time from the loss of his arms around her. She attempted without success to rationalize her physical reaction to the man. Obviously her tremendous gratitude for his help was spilling over into other emotions she wasn’t prepared to deal with and certainly shouldn’t feel. She hadn’t allowed herself this close to anyone in more than five years. She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand and pulled in another of those calming breaths. Maybe it was need, pure and simple.

  Sloan held the silhouette out for her inspection. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”

  Rachel studied the figure and smiled at the small hole she had made on the edge of the outermost circle. Now, if she could just learn to do that without his arms around her.

  “Next time just think about Angel when you set your sights on that faceless silhouette.”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his and tried to decipher the hint of emotion in his eyes. She considered the way he had emptied the weapon into the first silhouette, each shot a near perfect bull’s-eye.

  “Is that what you do?”

  That strange understanding passed between them again. Just like before, in the cantina. He didn’t have to say yes. Rachel read the response in his eyes. He turned away and made the return journey to the stand. She watched as he placed the target back into position in preparation for her next shot. With complete clarity Rachel knew precisely what drew her to Sloan. It wasn’t just the fact that he could protect Josh and her. It wasn’t even the knowledge that he knew Angel better than anyone, thus offering the best hope at beating him. No, that wasn’t it at all. The single thread that bound them even now, so early in their new alliance, was their mutual hatred for Angel. The desire to make him pay for the pain he had inflicted in their lives.

  And he would pay, Rachel felt confident for the first time in five long years.

  SLOAN SAT IN THE near darkness on the patio. The lights from the pool cast just a hint of light in his direction, but not enough to disturb his sense of concealment. He stared at the bottle on the table and wondered why he even bothered. Hell it didn’t do him any good, no matter how much he drank. The damn nine millimeter lying next to it would do a much better job of putting him out of his misery, but he hadn’t been able to do that seven years ago and he couldn’t do it now. He moved through each day, doing his job and caring about nothing. But now he had the opportunity to take down the son of a bitch who had destroyed his family. And suddenly everything changed.

  His ability to take the edge off his waking nightmare had evidently grown impotent with the arrival of his guests. He clen
ched his jaw hard against the bitter words he wanted to shout into the dark night. Rachel Larson had waltzed into his life hardly more than twenty-four hours ago and already nothing was the same. He couldn’t drown the demons from his past. He couldn’t sleep and didn’t really care to eat. He only forced himself to do so because it was necessary to survival.

  Survival.

  He laughed at his misnomer. He wasn’t surviving, he was existing. He reached for the bottle, but hesitated. What was the point? Whenever he closed his eyes Rachel would still haunt his dreams, waking as well as sleeping. And then the other memories would creep in. The betrayal would stab at his battered heart for allowing the son of Gabriel DiCassi into his home. For allowing the woman who had once been Angel’s lover to enter his dreams at all.

  Sloan knew better than to direct any of his rage at the kid. The kid was innocent, a victim just like him. He closed his eyes and forced the boy’s image from his mind. He didn’t want to know this child, didn’t want to care about him.

  Sloan swore under his breath. He was pathetic. His existence was pathetic. But something so deep inside him that he couldn’t touch it and he sure as hell couldn’t name it, urged him to keep going…wouldn’t let him quit.

  He picked up the tequila bottle with the intention of giving those demons a run for their money anyway when something in his peripheral vision snagged his attention. A movement near the pool. Adrenaline surged through his veins, sending every nerve ending on alert. Sloan slowly placed the unopened bottle back on the table. He picked up the Beretta as he silently stood and started in the direction of the pool. He stayed near the edge of the light’s reach, cloaking himself in the concealing darkness.

  Taking the weapon off safety, Sloan prepared to move around the wall of foliage. He listened intently for any sound. Nothing. He considered only for one moment the possibility that he had imagined the movement. He had seen it all right. Someone or something was out there. It wouldn’t be Pablo, he was gone for the evening. Rachel and her son had gone to bed an hour ago.

  Sloan slipped between two large potted plants. The lights shimmered off the water at the shallow end of the pool. He inched closer, then swung around the palm tree into the open area around the pool, his weapon leveled on the first thing that made a move.

  Josh.

  Sloan’s hand shook as he lowered the weapon. His body weak with receding adrenaline, he set the safety. It wasn’t until that definitive click that Josh looked up from his position near the edge of the pool.

  “I founded my bear.” He displayed the stuffed animal to back up his announcement, then smiled unsuspectingly up at Sloan. “He was lost.”

  A harsh breath shuddered from Sloan’s lungs. Dammit, he could have—

  He forced the thought away.

  “What are you doing out here, kid?” He forced his body to relax from its battle-ready posture.

  Those big dark eyes blinked at his brusque tone. “I waked up and couldn’t find my bear.” He hugged the toy close. “My mommy was in the baf’tub…so I comed to look for my bear.”

  Sloan glanced at the French doors leading to the room Rachel and her son occupied, one door stood open. He swore. Josh’s eyes grew even rounder.

  “Mommy’ll wash your mouth with soap.” He nodded knowingly.

  Sloan heaved another heavy breath. He motioned for the kid to stand up. “Come on, I’ll take you to your mother.”

  Josh gazed longingly at the pool, then back up at Sloan. “We can’t go swimmin’?”

  Sloan shook his head. “You can talk to your mother about that. Let’s go.”

  Josh scrambled to his feet, his bear wrapped in one arm. He looked at the weapon in Sloan’s hand, then at Sloan. “You want t’play army? I could play wif your gun.”

  “This isn’t a toy,” he explained. Sloan nodded toward the house. “Come on, kid, it’s late.”

  Josh obeyed. Sloan scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to calm his racing heart. The thought of what could have happened throbbed inside his head. He had never once fired a weapon without identifying the target first, but he was edgy. It could happen. It wasn’t impossible. The woman would just have to keep a better watch on her kid. Sloan glanced at the boy. Wearing nothing but a T-shirt and his underwear, it was obvious he had been in bed. Why the hell didn’t Rachel have the door locked?

  The kid suddenly stopped and peered up at Sloan. “If you had a little boy, mister, then I could play army wif him.”

  A chunk of ice formed in Sloan’s stomach. If he had a little boy…

  RACHEL TOWEL-DRIED her hair and then studied her reflection as she brushed it. The huge tub full of hot water had felt great to her sore muscles. She would be surprised if she could move come morning. Sloan had really pushed her hard today.

  Or maybe she had pushed herself. She examined the details of her reflection in the mirror. Not failing was extremely important to her, especially where he was concerned. She wanted to please him, and she couldn’t fully understand that. His approval shouldn’t mean nearly so much to her.

  Rachel’s gaze lowered to her nude body. He had undressed her last night. She swallowed, and couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her body. Were her small breasts a disappointment to him? Men like him probably liked full, voluptuous breasts. And she was too skinny, even she recognized that. She was fairly tall, about five-seven. She wasn’t blond, she wasn’t beautiful or big breasted. Then there was the cesarean scar.

  Rachel sighed.

  What the man thought of her in that respect shouldn’t matter to her. She wasn’t here to improve her social life.

  Rachel laughed at that one. What social life? She hadn’t had one in nearly half a decade. Hadn’t been kissed, or touched intimately, by a man in the same. Her body trembled at the sudden memory of Sloan’s powerful arms around her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth that being near him usually elicited. She had to be losing her mind to allow a man so dangerous to make her feel so…needy.

  “Enough, Rachel,” she scolded. She snatched up her panties and tugged them on. The only thing she should feel for Sloan was fear. And respect, she amended. It took a great deal of courage for him to face this nightmare again, and she knew that. She would have to be a fool not to. But no amount of admiration or gratitude should send her hormones into hyperactivity.

  She slipped into her gown. The cool, silky material felt heavenly against her skin. Rachel took a deep breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Sloan is not the kind of man you fall in love with. This is a business arrangement…not a lovers’ liaison.”

  With that declaration firmly resounding in her ears, she padded back into the bedroom to check on her sleeping child. Josh had worn himself out chasing Pablo’s shiny red ball this evening. The man’s patience was never ending.

  The bed was empty. Rachel’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “Josh?” The sound leaked out of her with the air in her lungs. She turned all the way around in the room. “Josh!” Was he hiding? Had he awakened and decided to play—

  The door to the courtyard stood open. Fear snaked around her chest and squeezed.

  The pool.

  Her feet had taken her out the door before the rest of her realized she was moving. “Josh!”

  How could she have been so careless? Did she forget to lock the door? What if…

  Rachel trembled, then dragged in a gulp of air. He had to be here. He had to be all right. “Josh!” she screamed again.

  “Mommy!”

  She raced in the direction of her son’s voice. He was hugging his bear, walking toward her from the direction of the pool. Sloan was with him, his gun in his hand.

  A new kind of fear saturated her senses. He would never harm her son…would he? Rachel’s gaze locked on Josh. Those dark eyes, the dark hair, the shape of his face. He looked so very much like his father. Rage boiled up inside her.

  Without another hesitation she flew to her child and scooped him up in her arms. “What are you doing?” she
demanded, her fury aimed at Sloan. The idea that he would go near her son with a gun in his hand shook her to the very core of her being. He was still wearing the shoulder holster. Why wasn’t the gun holstered? “Are you insane? Why do you have that gun in your hand?”

  Clearly confused, Sloan looked from her to his gun and back. “What the hell are you talking about? Why weren’t you watching your kid?” he countered as he holstered the weapon.

  Rachel held Josh closer to her chest. “I don’t want to talk about this now.” She glowered up at Sloan. “I’ll be back in two minutes, and then we’ll talk.”

  “Fine.” Fury snapping in his eyes, Sloan pivoted and strode away. Rachel took Josh back to their room and tucked him into bed. She tamped down the anger Sloan’s actions fueled. She would not allow her son to be touched by her irritation with the man.

  “Why on earth did you go outside, sweetie?” She smoothed the hair from his cherub face. “You should never go outside without Mommy or Mr. Pablo. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  “I’m a big boy,” he insisted. “I hadda find my bear. I forgotted him by the pool.” His little lips curled down into a frown. “I couldn’t play army. I didn’t have a gun.” He sighed a sleepy sound. “He wouldn’t let me go swimmin’ or play wif his gun. He said I hadda ask you first.”

  Ire rushed through Rachel, but she restrained the outburst that threatened. She would finish her business with Sloan shortly. “He’s right,” she told her son. Though she hated to admit it. “I don’t want you playing with guns and you should never go to the pool without my permission. Promise Mommy that you will never do that again.”

  He sniffed. “Promise,” he murmured.

  She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the soft cheek. “Good. Now, it’s way past time for little boys—and big boys,” she amended, “to be asleep.”

  “Night, Mommy.” Josh turned on his side and hugged his bear to his chest.

  The memory of where the bear had come from still stirred uneasiness within her. But Josh had made the stuffed animal his new favorite toy. Rachel patted him softly and murmured, “Good night, sweetie.” She watched him a moment longer, then pushed to her feet. Her anger renewed itself as she walked as quietly as possible to the door. She closed it carefully behind her and then stormed across the courtyard to where Sloan waited.