Solitary Soldier

by Debra Webb

  He turned around and closed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. When he was toe to toe with her, he stared into those wide velvety eyes for three long beats before he could speak at a normal decibel level. “You’re sure you’re willing to give what I want to take.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, thick with the desire simmering just beneath the surface, but at the same time deadly with the other raw emotions churning wildly.

  “Yes.”

  His fingers plunged into her hair and pulled her mouth hard against his. Want exploded inside him. He had to have her. Now. He kissed her savagely until she gasped for breath. He lifted her then, and carried her straight to his bed, kicking the door closed behind him. He shrugged off his weapon and lowered it to the floor.

  Unable to slow the building momentum, they tumbled onto the bed together, a tangle of arms and legs. Hands everywhere, their hungry mouths seeking, torturing. The sound of their ragged breathing shattering the silence. He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t stop the plunge toward completion. Her fingers wrenched his jeans open and tugged desperately at the wet denim. They groaned simultaneously, the sound reverberating in the kiss they could not bear to end. She pushed harder on the confining fabric. And suddenly he was free. Sloan jerked the damp silk above her thighs, pushed aside the scrap of lace and shoved into her in one long thrust. She screamed her pleasure. He shuddered with the release that crashed down on him the instant he entered her.

  Her long legs wrapped around his, pulling him more deeply inside her. She kissed his chin, his lips. Her hands slid over his bare skin until she held him tightly in her arms.

  He braced his weight on his elbows and stared into her eyes. Just looking into those huge brown eyes made him ache for the rest of what she offered. But that could never be. He would not take the risk. She smiled tentatively when he continued to stare so intently.

  Sloan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. She cradled him so tightly that renewed need stirred in him already, or maybe it had never completely died. The sweetness of her lips tempted him even now, begged for his possession.

  She traced the line of his jaw, her expression suddenly somber. “You mean a great deal to me, Sloan.” She leveled her too serious gaze on his. “Nothing will ever change that. No matter what happens, I want you to know that. You’re the bravest man I know.”

  He brushed his lips across hers. “So I’m not a coward after all?”

  She blushed. “I was angry.”

  He hummed a sound of approval. “I like it when you put me in my place.”

  “I’m serious,” she protested. “I just wanted you to know that I won’t let you or anything else change my mind about how I feel.”

  “Is that a threat?” he teased.

  “No,” she huffed. “It’s a promise.”

  It was his turn to be somber. “Be careful what you promise, Rachel.” He flexed his hips. Her breath caught. Desire barbed low in his gut, urging him to thrust again. But he had to say what needed to be said first. She had to understand. “You might have second thoughts later. Things change.” He trailed a finger down her smooth cheek. “Right now you’ve got me up on this pedestal, thinking I’m some sort of hero.”

  She squeezed his buttocks. “I don’t want to talk.” She wiggled her hips to punctuate her statement. Those wicked hands trailed up his sides, then smoothed over his chest, stopping only long enough to tweak his nipples. “I want to make up for lost time.”

  He groaned and grabbed her hands to pin them above her head. He nibbled at her mouth, retreating when she would have kissed him.

  “Just remember,” he murmured thickly. “I won’t hold you to any promises you make tonight.”

  THE RINGING TELEPHONE woke him from the sweetest dream he’d ever had. The realization that Rachel was in bed with him, in his arms made his lips curl into a smile. He was dreaming of her. The phone rang again, disrupting his smile and his good mood. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 1:00 a.m. Who the hell would be calling at this time of night? Rachel snuggled closer to him. He watched her sleep a moment longer. So trusting, so giving.

  Another insistent ring shattered the pleasant silence. Sloan swore and reached across the woman in his arms and snagged up the receiver.

  “Yeah,” he snapped.

  The only sound he heard was a kind of mechanical hum that assured him someone was on the other end of the line but refused to speak.

  “Who the hell is it?”

  A strange scratchy sound.

  Sloan clenched his jaw and prepared to hang up. The next sound he heard stopped him cold.

  “Daddy…”

  Mark.

  “Daddy!” his son cried.

  Chapter Twelve

  “It wasn’t a local call,” he said quietly. “A cell phone probably.”

  Rachel stood a few feet away, watching the agony manifest itself in the lines and angles of his strong body. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, but hadn’t bothered to button either. The holstered weapon hung loosely over his left shoulder. Pain and weariness etched itself across his handsome face. What could she do or say that would make that kind of suffering tolerable?

  “You’re sure it was him?” she asked hesitantly. She had awakened to Sloan standing naked next to the bed staring down at the telephone. She had never seen that much devastation in anyone’s eyes. When she touched him, he’d trembled as if unable to bear even that slight human contact.

  Sloan stared at the small, framed photograph he held in his hand. It was the first and only picture of his son Rachel had seen anywhere in the house. He’d had it tucked away in the right bottom drawer of his desk.

  “It was his voice.” He caressed the smiling face beneath the glass with his thumb. “It was the same recording Angel used seven years ago.”

  Rachel shuddered with the sudden, overwhelming urge to strangle Angel with her bare hands. How could he do this? Hadn’t Sloan suffered enough? She shook her head slowly. He had agreed to help her and Josh, that decision had put him back in the line of fire.

  “I made a mistake,” he murmured.

  Rachel wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to the little boy with the curly blond hair and big blue eyes in the photograph. She only knew she had to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow. She moved closer and placed her hand on his arm.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He stared at her hand for a moment, then turned his attention back to the child in the photograph. “I should have stopped.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “But I didn’t. I wanted to bring Angel down. To do what no one else had been able to do.” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. But nothing was going to make those haunting memories go away. “That mistake cost me everything.”

  “You were only doing your job.” Rachel slid her arms around his waist and held him. His arm went automatically around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Hope bloomed in her chest at that simple gesture.

  “It was supposed to be between him and me.” He closed his eyes against the horrifying images Rachel knew were replaying in his head. “I was following another lead on Angel late that night when I got the call.” He fell silent for several long seconds. “I should have been at home with my family. Cops were everywhere when I got there. I pushed my way into the house and she…she was dead.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rachel pressed her face against his warm chest. Moisture spilled past her lashes. She didn’t try to stop it, there was no point.

  “The detective in charge wanted to know where our son was. He wasn’t in the house. He wasn’t at the neighbor’s.” Sloan swallowed hard. “He wasn’t anywhere. Angel had taken him.”

  She felt him shudder, and she held him tighter.

  “We searched for days, hoping we’d find him. Ran pictures of him in the newspaper and on the news. Somebody had to have seen something.” His voice grew distant and lost all inflection. “No one came forward. Then the calls started. Every nig
ht.” He laughed a mirthless sound. “At that point, I even prayed…but God wasn’t listening. Or maybe I wasn’t worthy of his ear.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “For weeks we followed every lead, searched that damned city from top to bottom. While Angel continued to call and haunt me with my son’s voice.”

  Rachel braced herself for what he would say next. The tension drained from his big body, leaving the hopelessness she knew had engulfed him seven years ago. She couldn’t help imagining how she would feel if she lost Josh. She trembled beneath the immense anxiety of the mere thought.

  “Two months, one week, and three days later we found his body,” he continued. “For almost a year after that I searched for Angel,” he said through gritted teeth. “I wanted him dead, but he’d vanished without a trace. I pushed harder and harder…until I lost it. And then there was nothing.”

  She swiped her eyes and struggled to keep her voice even. “Why is he doing this now? This is about my son, not yours.”

  “Payback for what I did today.” Sloan placed the precious photograph on his desk and turned to her. “We’ve got his attention now. You can bet he’ll be here soon.”

  Rachel thanked God that Josh was hidden safely away. At the same time, she worried that Angel might kill her and Sloan, leaving Josh alone. No, she affirmed. That wasn’t going to happen. Fate couldn’t be that cruel again. But, if the worst did occur, Pablo would care for Josh. Rachel was certain of that. He would keep him hidden away until Angel stopped looking.

  She leveled her gaze on Sloan’s. “What do we do?”

  He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. Concern flickered in his gaze. “You should get some sleep.”

  She shook her head adamantly. “How can I sleep knowing he may show up at any moment?”

  “There’s no way anyone is getting in here without me knowing it.” He gifted her with a weary smile. “Trust me. I have a backup system for my backup system. He won’t get in without setting off an alarm.”

  “I don’t think I could sleep anyway.” She shivered, suddenly cold wearing nothing but his shirt. “How about some coffee?”

  Before Sloan could respond to her offer, a single chime sounded. His head went up. She recognized the tone as the warning that someone had opened an exterior door. “Stay right here,” he ordered.

  Fear gripped Rachel by the throat. She tunneled her fingers through her hair and tried to slow the pounding in her chest. She had to stay calm. Becoming hysterical would not help. She stood statue still as Sloan moved silently toward the door on the other side of the spacious office. He drew his weapon and paused before moving into the hall to listen. Pablo burst into the room, Josh in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel flew to him, reaching for her child.

  “Sorry, señora,” Pablo said breathlessly. “The fever started this afternoon. The healer could not bring it down. I had no choice but to bring him to you—”

  “My God he’s burning up.” Rachel touched his cheeks, his forehead. A new kind of fear twisted inside her. She took Josh into her arms. His body was on fire. Hysteria climbed into her throat and lodged there. “We have to do something.”

  “Run a cold bath,” Sloan instructed Pablo. “I’ll get the ice.”

  Sloan disappeared before Rachel could gather her wits and comment.

  “This way.” Pablo ushered her into the hall.

  Rachel followed him, Josh cradled in her arms, to their room. While Pablo ran the bath, Rachel stripped Josh down to his underwear. He whimpered but didn’t rouse from the heavy sleep. There was no sign of any kind of injury. A virus? Something from the water or maybe the food? Was there a doctor in Florescitaf? What if he—? Rachel slammed the door on that line of thinking. She had to stay calm. She couldn’t help Josh if she became hysterical.

  Sloan came with the ice. Rachel carried Josh to the bathroom and watched as the two men readied the water. This couldn’t be happening, she argued. But it was. Nausea burned the back of her throat, her knees felt suddenly weak.

  “Let me have him.” Sloan scooped Josh from her arms before she could react.

  Rachel didn’t want to let him go, but Sloan was already crouched in front of the tub with her son in his arms. She knelt beside him as he lowered Josh into the icy water. Her baby cried out. Rachel’s heart squeezed painfully and a new rush of tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she soothed. His thin little body trembled and he sobbed softly. Rachel prayed like she had never prayed before. Sloan’s words echoed inside her head. I even prayed…but God wasn’t listening. God would listen tonight. He had to.

  “Pablo,” Sloan said over her head. “Take the Jeep into town and roust Doc Hernandez from his bed. Bring him back here with you if you have to do it at gunpoint. We can’t risk leaving the house with the boy. Angel may be close by.”

  Pablo placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “He will be fine, señora. I will bring the doctor.”

  Rachel nodded, she couldn’t speak. She could only watch her baby fight Sloan’s efforts to keep his little body submerged. His feeble cries ripped her heart to shreds.

  Five minutes or maybe fifteen passed, she couldn’t say which, before Sloan jerked her from her near catatonic state by asking for towels. Rachel grabbed two from the cabinet and quickly wrapped them around her son as Sloan lifted him from the icy water.

  “We need to get plenty of water down him,” he told her as he carried Josh to the bed. “Do you have any Tylenol or anything like that for him?”

  Her responses sluggish, Rachel nodded and tried to remember what she had done with her bag. The closet. She hurried to the closet and grabbed the bag and immediately uprighted it. She fished through the items until she found what she needed. With the chewable Tylenol in hand, she sat down on the side of the bed next to her baby. Sloan had pulled a sheet over him. The wet towels and underwear lay in a heap on the floor.

  “I’ll get a pitcher of water and a glass.”

  Rachel opened the small, plastic bottle and tapped out tiny, pink tablets. Her baby’s drawn, pale face made her want to cry all over again. But she had to be strong for him. He would be upset if he saw her crying.

  “Josh, sweetie, Mommy needs you to take your medicine.” His dark eyes fluttered open and she held one tablet close to his chapped lips. He made no move to take it. “Please, baby, you have to chew it up and swallow it. It’ll help you get better.”

  He opened his mouth and took the tablet. Rachel waited until she was sure he had chewed and swallowed it before she offered the next one. By the time the tablets were ingested, Sloan appeared with the water.

  Rachel coaxed Josh into drinking as much of the water as possible before he fell into another heavy sleep. His temperature felt much lower now. Sloan produced a digital thermometer and according to it, his temp was only slightly above normal. Rachel breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. Now, if they could only keep it that way. But he would still need to see the doctor. She wanted to be sure he was all right.

  Sloan smoothed a comforting hand over her hair. “Get some sleep, Rachel, I’ll check on the two of you in a little while. If Josh’s temperature starts to rise again, I’ll wake you.”

  Too drained to respond verbally, Rachel nodded. She climbed into bed next to Josh and closed her eyes. Sloan stayed in the room awhile before leaving. Though she was too exhausted to talk to him or even to open her eyes, she was glad he was there.

  Just before she drifted off, she remembered to say another little prayer. This time to thank God for listening.

  WHEN RACHEL WOKE again it was five in the morning. She smoothed her hand over Josh’s face and was pleased to find his skin only slightly warmer than it should be. She sat up and reached for the medicine bottle on the night table. After tapping out more tablets, she roused Josh enough to chew and swallow them. She managed to get a few sips of water down him as well.

  Reaching to the night table again, she pulled his favorite pajamas from the top drawer. H
e wouldn’t like it if he woke up naked. He loved his pj’s. After slipping the soft cotton outfit on him, she kissed his cheek.

  Easing off the bed, she stretched her neck and shoulders. She must have slept in an awkward position. She should probably get dressed and find Sloan. She frowned when she considered that Pablo should be back by now. It wasn’t that far to town. Surely the doctor hadn’t come into the room and checked Josh without her realizing it. She was tired rightly enough, but not that tired.

  She licked her lips and cringed at the bad taste in her mouth. Noticing the water still standing in the tub as she entered the bathroom, Rachel flipped the lever to drain it. Those frantic moments whirled in her head. Sloan had taken charge of Josh’s care. Surely that meant something. He had to feel something for the child, no matter who his father was. Grimacing, she raked the brush through her tousled hair and scowled at the dark circles under her eyes. She looked a mess.

  After washing up and brushing her teeth, she dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She needed to talk to Sloan and see what the plan was for hiding Josh. Though she was thrilled to have him with her again, this new turn of events definitely required a new strategy. Josh was not safe here. Maybe not anywhere. Before leaving the room, she smiled down at her son and switched off the lamp on the bedside table.

  Her stomach rumbled and Rachel suddenly remembered that she hadn’t eaten dinner last night. Warmth glowed inside her when she considered what she had been doing. She hadn’t been hungry earlier, by the time she decided she could eat she had been otherwise occupied. Sloan had attempted to prove that she didn’t need him. Heat flushed her cheeks when she thought of the way he’d given her physical satisfaction without actually touching her himself. But he was wrong, it was his nearness, the sound of his voice that had pushed her over the edge. She closed her eyes and relived that moment when he filled her. She had thought she would surely die from the pleasure of it.