Warrior Spirit

by Cassie Miles

  She knew he wasn’t lying. Trevor wasn’t the kind of man who spoke falsely. He was true and brave and so very sexy. The gleam from his blue eyes hinted that he wanted to kiss her senseless.

  She was all he dreamed about. Her instincts told her that making love to him would be fantastic. Why not? They were alone in a motel room, lying side by side on a queen-size bed. Why the hell not?

  Because she was scared. She’d thought she was in love with Lyle. And that had resulted in five years of misery. It was safer to be alone, fighting her own battles. And yet some things were worth taking a risk for. Trevor was worth it.

  He patted her shoulder and sat upright. “You need to have a shower and warm up before you get under the covers.”

  “Join me,” she said. The words popped out before she had truly considered them.

  He gazed down upon her. “What are asking me to do?”

  More firmly, she said, “Join me in the shower.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Trevor didn’t need a second invitation. Now that Sierra had taken the first step—no matter how hesitant—he wasn’t about to let her turn back.

  He knelt beside the bed and loosened the laces on her sneakers, which were still wet from their escape through the mountain stream. Gently, he removed her shoes and socks. Even her well-shaped feet were sexy. He rubbed the soles. “You’re ice-cold.”

  “Not for long,” she said.

  He stood and took her hand. With a light tug, he pulled her off the bed and into his arms, where she landed with an awkward thud. She was tense; he could see it in the set of her jaw, could feel it in her tight muscles, could hear her nervousness as she exhaled a ragged breath.

  Though he was anxious to strip off her clothes, drag her into the shower and make love to her, Trevor knew this was a time for patience. He glided his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders. “Are you scared right now?”

  “Should I be?”

  “It’s been a long time for you,” he said. “For me, too.”

  “That’s hard to believe.” She tilted back her head so she could look him in the eye. “I mean, Trevor, you’re gorgeous. You must have women throwing themselves at you.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I bet you and the other bounty hunter hunks have more babes than you can handle.”

  “Lombardi is a ladies’ man. So’s Watson.” And their exploits were mythic. “But not me. I’m picky.”

  Cautiously, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose.

  She jerked backward, intending to move away from him. But he held her in place. Not this time, Sierra. This time, she wasn’t going to run away from her feelings. Or from him.

  She tossed her head, sending a ripple through her thick, golden hair. “Why pick me?”

  He traced the line of her full lips with his index finger. “The first words I heard from this pretty mouth were after you spat on Lyle’s coffin. You told him to burn in hell.”

  “That turned you on?”

  “It told me that you’re a woman of deep passion—a brave woman who doesn’t care what other people think. You’re a challenge, Sierra. A woman worth waiting for.”

  And his time for waiting was over. His lips claimed hers in a long, hard kiss. He tightened his embrace, pulling her luscious body against his chest. Tonight, she would be his.

  As he kissed her again, he felt her resistance wane. The tension in her muscles relaxed as her arms encircled him. She swayed against him. The rhythm of her heartbeat synchronized with his. The dance had begun.

  His hips moved against hers, and she responded gracefully. Follow my lead, Sierra. Her back made a subtle arch. Her full, beautiful breasts pushed against him, and he could feel her tight, hard nipples. When he cupped her sweet flesh, she gave a little cry that became a soft moan of pleasure.

  With gentle insistence, he unbuttoned the waistband on her denim jeans and slid the zipper down. Her skin was delicate, smooth and tantalizing. He wanted to tear off all her clothes. Instead, he maintained taut control, carefully unlocking the treasures of her body, proceeding at her pace.

  Her jeans were gone. Her shoes were off.

  When he started to slide the fabric of her T-shirt over her head, she stopped him. She stepped back.

  He swallowed hard. If she called a halt right now, he was pretty damn sure that he’d erupt like Mount Saint Helens. His erection throbbed. His need for her was all-consuming.

  She took another step away from him. “I’m going to the shower now. Join me in a few minutes.”

  When the bathroom door closed behind her, he sank onto the bed. His whole body was one big erogenous zone. He’d never been so turned on. How much longer should he wait? A few minutes? Literally? Should he count to sixty twice?

  The hell with that! He peeled off his boots and his clothes and tossed them aside. Before he charged into the motel bathroom, he remembered: protection. From his wallet, he took out a packaged condom. And he grabbed his handgun.

  Through the bathroom door, he heard the sound of the shower. He twisted the knob and stepped inside. Wisps of steam circled the tiny white-tiled bathroom. The shower was a bathtub with frosted glass doors that showed a pink silhouette of her voluptuous body. Let me in there! He tucked the gun under her discarded T-shirt.

  Sierra slid the shower door open and peeked out. Her brazen gaze surveyed his naked body. “What are you waiting for? An engraved invite?”

  “I’m ready.”

  She glanced down at his erection. “I see.”

  When she looked up to his face and grinned, he felt a surge of happiness. He was almost giddy. “Let me see you.”

  “Like this?” She pushed the frosted glass door aside and stood before him, naked.

  Water droplets clung to her satin skin. Her full breasts were perfect globes. Her small waist flared out into rounded hips. “Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Am I?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He was in the shower with her. His hands slathered soap across her body, as hers did to him. Then they rinsed with special care until they were both sleek and hot and clean. She turned her back to him, and he washed her thick hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. The falling water slid down her spine and over the perfect round swell of her buttocks. She was incredible. He turned her around to lick the spray from the crook of her neck and to nuzzle her breasts.

  When she touched his erection, he shuddered. “Don’t.”

  “But I want to.”

  “I’m hanging on by a thread, Sierra. I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

  “Don’t worry,” she teased. “We can always do it again. And again.”

  He sheathed himself with the condom, then yanked her close. Her slick body glided against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. With the water from the shower pelting his back, he pressed her against the shower wall, nudging her legs apart with his knee. Holding her firmly, he entered her. She closed around him, hot and tight.

  Their groans of pleasure echoed against the tile. Gasping wildly, she rocked against him.

  The pressure was more intense than he’d ever felt before. He couldn’t wait one second more.

  “Now,” she cried. “Now. Now.”

  Gratefully, he took his sweet, earthshaking release. For a moment, the world stood still. Gravity was gone. He felt as though he’d passed out and gone straight to heaven. It was the finest lovemaking he’d ever experienced.

  He looked down at Sierra. Her head lolled back against the tile wall as she exhaled a shivering sigh. Her eyelids opened slowly. Through her thick lashes, she gazed at him with an expression he had never seen before.

  He couldn’t wait to do this again.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Sierra thought the sun might be shining a little more brightly. The air might taste more pure and fresh. Last night, when she and Trevor made love, her world had changed, and this was definitely a better, more hopeful place to live.

>   At half past nine, Mike Clark picked them up at the Piney Lodge Motel. Sierra was glad Mike was driving. The intelligence expert that Trevor referred to as the “human lie detector” was much more discreet than Tony from the Bronx, who would surely have teased them about spending the night together. Such jokes wouldn’t have been appreciated. She didn’t want to talk about their lovemaking; it was still too new and special.

  She sat in the back seat of the SUV behind Mike and Trevor, listening as the two men discussed the ongoing search for Perry Johnson. The car he had been driving was located, but provided no clues because it was stolen. Then Perry had swiped another vehicle. Then he’d been on foot, on the run from an army of law enforcement officials and bloodhounds. Still he’d escaped.

  She should have been scared, but fear was far from her mind. She couldn’t take her eyes off Trevor. Swept away by a tidal wave of infatuation that would have been corny if it hadn’t been so real, Sierra knew she was glowing. Her cheeks were warm. Her mouth wouldn’t stop grinning. She showed all the classic symptoms of a woman who had been well-loved the night before. Once in the shower. Twice in the bed. And then they’d run out of condoms, which was fortunate because they could have gone on all night and she would have been too sore to walk, too blissful to think, too satisfied to do anything but lie on her back and sigh.

  When Trevor turned in his seat and looked back at her, his blue eyes smoldered. His lips curved in a proud, possessive smile. He should have been speaking words of passion. Instead, he asked, “Do you have the key for Lyle’s safe deposit box?”

  She dug into her pocket and pulled out her ex-fiancé’s key chain. “Right here.”

  “If the bank gives you a problem about opening the box, we can get a court order,” Trevor said. “But we might as well give it a try.”

  She nodded. That wasn’t all she’d like to try with him. They were definitely buying more condoms today.

  Mike parked on the main street of the small mountain town. The Horton bank was on a corner, distinguished from the other storefronts by a stone facade. “This is the place,” she said.

  When she’d come here with Lyle, they might have even parked in this exact spot. The memory of that day wasn’t unpleasant. They’d talked about her pregnancy, and Lyle had promised he would always care for her and his child. Hah! What a liar.

  She slammed the car door a little harder than necessary and fell into step beside Trevor—a man who always told the truth and meant what he said.

  Inside the bank, Sierra automatically reverted to her former identity as an administrative assistant for a Wall Street law firm. Her tone was assertive and businesslike when she presented the safe deposit box key and identified herself to a self-important young man in a black suit. Even though she was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and parka, the young man responded to her attitude.

  He checked his records and nodded. “Ms. Collins, you’re listed as a co-owner of the box.”

  “Am I?”

  “That’s right.” He handed over the forms so she could read them. Lyle had filled out one. And her signature was on the bottom of the other.

  Vaguely, she remembered filling in her name, but she hadn’t attached much importance to this stop at the bank in Horton. When Lyle brought her here, she’d been more focused on the fun she’d been having on the road. Maybe this box was important, after all.

  She signed a ledger book, and they followed the bank clerk down a flight of stairs to a lower level, where he retrieved the metal box from a vault and led them to a small private room. After Sierra thanked him, he closed the door and left them alone.

  She sat at the square wood table with the box in front of her. “What do you think is in there?”

  “I’m hoping it’s a map to the Militia’s hideout,” Trevor said. “What’s your guess?”

  “Why would Lyle need a safe deposit box? After Boone took all his money, Lyle didn’t own anything of value. Not like jewelry or coins or anything. When we got engaged, the ring he gave me cost less than fifty bucks.”

  She plugged the key into the box and opened it. Inside was a manila envelope and a spiral notebook. From the envelope, she removed a stack of documents and scanned them quickly. Her background in legal matters came in handy as she deciphered the meaning.

  “It’s a life insurance policy. I’m the beneficiary.”

  This was a big fat surprise. She had never expected Lyle to do anything as practical as planning for the future in case something happened to him. A life insurance policy? Amazing!

  “It’s probably lapsed by now,” Trevor said.

  She checked the figures and the dates. The policy was all paid up through the end of next year, and the cost of the premium had been substantial. At first glance, it looked as if the policy had been purchased before Lyle hooked up with Boone, back in the days when good old Lyle actually had a family fortune. Then, five years ago, he’d changed the beneficiary to her.

  She flipped through the pages and read the numbers. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and read them again. “The payout is one million dollars.”

  Trevor gave a long, low whistle. “He never told you about this policy?”

  “Never.”

  Sierra stared down at the papers, the letters and numbers blurring as her eyes filled with tears. Lyle Nelson had been a mean son of a bitch who’d slapped her, shoved her and stolen her savings. As a member of the Militia, he was responsible for mass murder and terrorism. A terrible person, he was a villain of the first order.

  And yet he had cared about her and their unborn son. This document was clear evidence that in some deeply buried part of his soul, he’d tried to do the right thing.

  Trevor placed his hand on her shoulder, and she held on to him, drawing comfort from his touch.

  “Lyle wasn’t all bad,” she said. “I grew to hate him so much that I forgot about the good times.”

  “This must make you happy,” he said.

  Startled, she looked up at him. “Why would you say that?”

  “Now you finally have enough money to leave Montana. You can go back to Brooklyn and restart your life.”

  “With this money? It doesn’t seem right.”

  “You’re the beneficiary. The money is yours.”

  Confused, she shook her head. “Lyle was Militia. He did terrible things. If I profit from his death, it seems like I’d be linked with him forever.”

  “Are you saying that you’re not going to cash in the policy?”

  “Of course I will.” She dashed away her tears and looked up at him. “I might have ethics, but I’m not a fool. This appears to be a legitimate document.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  For a moment, she was tempted to take the money and run. She pushed back her chair from the table and paced in a tight circle. A million dollars. It would take her a lifetime to save that much.

  Her brain revved on all cylinders. She could buy a house. A new car. She could go to college.

  She pivoted and paced counterclockwise. If she and Trevor had a million dollars, they could go anywhere and do anything. She wouldn’t have to work two part-time jobs just to make ends meet. And Trevor could quit being a bounty hunter and risking his life…not that he’d want to quit. His work wasn’t about the paycheck.

  And her life wasn’t about cashing in on misery, sorrow and pain. Yes, she’d had some good days with Lyle. But that didn’t change who he was—a member of the Militia who had been responsible for the deaths of innocent people. A terrorist.

  Taking money from that source could only bring pain. Her ticket to a better life would have to be purchased with something other than this cash.

  Integrity didn’t come cheap.

  Bye, bye, million dollars.

  “I made up my mind,” she said, still pacing furiously. “I’ll take the payout and donate every penny to the fund set up for the families of the Galleria victims.”

  “Good decision.” Trevor stepped into her path and gathered her into his arms
. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  Reaching up, she took off his hat and tossed it on the table beside the insurance policy. Her fingers stroked his smooth black hair. “I think I deserve a kiss.”

  “A million dollar kiss?”

  “Do your best.”

  He snuggled her body against his, awakening memories of last night’s passion. He was so tall that it seemed impossible they’d fit together, but they did. Her breasts grazed his broad masculine chest. Their legs entwined, and his erection rubbed against her thigh.

  His mouth teased her lips apart. His tongue darted. Then he deepened the kiss. Instinctively, he knew exactly where to touch her body. He knew when to stroke, when to squeeze and when to caress softly as a whisper. All her senses were aroused.

  “Nice,” she murmured.

  “Very nice,” he echoed.

  She wrinkled her nose. “But I think that kiss was only worth about two hundred thousand.”

  “Don’t worry, partner. I’ll pay the rest tonight.”

  “Even if it means making love until dawn?”

  “It’s for a good cause.”

  Though he stepped away from her, she could still feel his embrace. He was a part of her. All she wanted was to be with him, to stay in his arms and let the rest of the world take care of itself for a while.

  He picked up the spiral notebook that was on the table. “What’s this?”

  “A journal.” With a sigh, she dragged herself back to reality. “I gave it to Lyle so he could write down his thoughts.”

  “You make it sound like he’d write poetry.”

  “The closest Lyle ever got to poetic was singing country-and-western ballads off-key. I wanted him to journal as a way of focusing. He had trouble expressing himself. Like most men.”

  But not Trevor. When he chose to speak, he was nearly eloquent.

  She took the spiral notebook from his hands and randomly flipped open to a page that listed all the things Lyle needed to buy at the grocery store. “This wasn’t why I got him a journal. He was supposed to write down his innermost thoughts.”

  But Lyle had never been a deep thinker. On another page, he had scribbled a primitive sketch of a horse. Most of the entries were brief accounts of what he’d done for the day. “Trip to hardware store.” “Ate burger and fries at café.” “Went hunting with Perry Johnson.”