Hot Soldier Cowboy (The Blackjacks Book 2)

by Cindy Dees

  A heavy feeling settled in Susan’s stomach. What were they going to do now?

  Mac anticipated her unspoken question. “I need you to hunker down in a safe spot while I go help these idiots find their way out of here. Once I’ve herded them out of the canyon, then we’ll leave. Can you stay put for a while?”

  She nodded beneath his hand.

  “You need to be absolutely silent. One of the thugs is about a hundred feet from us behind some rocks. Understood?”

  She nodded again, and his hand eased away from her.

  He murmured, “I lost the infrared blocking blanket on the way down the hill. You’ll need to hide.”

  Mac looked around. He pointed at a crevice in the boulder at her back and then pointed at her. The opening was barely big enough to hold her if she curled up in a ball on her side. Moving quietly, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a fist-size black bundle. He picked at it until a matte black piece of silk unfolded, flowing over his hands like a ripple of water. It was a good two meters square. He gestured for her to pull it over herself.

  She took the silk and wrapped the cloth around herself, plunked down on the ground, and wedged herself backward into the crack.

  She felt Mac’s hands adjust the other end of the cloth about her. He made a small opening for her to see out of, then picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over her. He flashed her a quick thumbs-up, and he was gone.

  Silence settled around her, heavier than the stone pressing down against her back and shoulders. She wasn’t particularly claustrophobic, but being wedged into the base of this boulder was unnerving. She just prayed no rattlesnake made this little hollow his home. He’d find a nice warm bed waiting for him when he came home tonight if this was his hangout.

  The snap of a twig brought her to full alert. She gazed out at the little piece of the valley she could see, waiting for a stranger to materialize. Nobody appeared, and she eventually relaxed. But then the wind blew, and the ominous moan alarmed her anew.

  There were four men out there, a killer plus three more who were heaven only knew how violent or how well trained. And Mac was out there all by himself trying to lure them away from her. He was good, of that she had no doubt, but it was four against one.

  And here she was, hiding in a crevice that would barely conceal a rabbit. She had no radio and no idea where she was. One of the bad guys was going to find her and kill her.

  In all her life, she’d never felt so alone or vulnerable as she did now. Her life depended on a flimsy piece of silk, and the skill and dedication of a single man. But as the waiting stretched out, along with her nerves, her thoughts drifted.

  She didn’t remember much about the last time she’d been this scared; the night of the shooting. One second she’d been listening with utter absorption to Eduardo Ferrare making a deal with a band of terrorists to finance their campaign agaisnt the government of a tiny, South American country called Gavarone. Then that horrible, sudden flash of Ramon Ruala’s face in the van’s window. And the next second, the entire interior of the van had exploded in to flames.

  She only vaguely remembered the gunshot that hit her knee, and she had no idea how she got to the floor. She did remember curling up with her hands over her head and praying for all she was worth as bullets and pieces of destroyed electronics equipment flew everywhere. She’d been going into shock by the time the second bullet grazed her neck and just missed killing her.

  When she woke up in the hospital, Captain Foley told her Mac was in Gavarone shaking every bush and turning over every stone, looking for Eduardo Ferrare and his gunman, Ramon Ruala. Tex and the rest of the Blackjacks had hovered over her constantly, until she finally had to throw them all out of her room so she could have a little privacy to grieve and rage over losing Mac.

  By the time Mac got back to the United States, an ugly red scar puckered her neck and she knew she would never run or dance again. She’d been the one who refused to see him when he came to the hospital. She hadn’t been ready to face him, yet. Heck, she wasn’t sure she was ready now.

  Every time over the last ten years Tex mentioned that Mac had asked about her, which happened often, she’d been overcome by an urge to run and hide. She’d never wanted him to see her scarred and crippled. But Ruala took that choice out of her hands by showing up again.

  Looking back, it had been patently ridiculous of her to jump to the conclusion that the Blackjacks would ever give up on apprehending a criminal like Ferrare. But she hadn’t exactly been thinking straight after Mac made love to her and then dumped her like a hot potato.

  Honestly, she couldn’t say if she’d ever really had her act together since then. Something in her heart died that night, and she’d never gotten over it. Pathetic. No wonder Mac walked away and never looked back. From his point of view, he must see her doing the same thing she had the last time—pushing her way into a dangerous op that she wasn’t remotely prepared to handle. Why was she driven to put herself into these insane situations?

  Mac had called her a groupie and a wannabe. He’d probably been right. A shrink told her right after the shooting that she’d pushed her way into working with the Blackjacks to be with her brother, to gain approval from him. While it was true she’d been an incredibly annoying big sister who hovered over her baby brother everywhere he went, fussing like a nervous mother hen, she could hardly be accused of being obsessed. Had she replaced her mother henning for Tex with doing the same to Mac? Was that why she’d taken that van out by herself that night? To cover for Mac’s inexplicable failure to do his duty?

  As painful as it was to admit, loving Mac hadn’t been enough to hold him. It wouldn’t be enough now, either. Problem was, now she couldn’t be his equal physically. Heck, she couldn’t even begin to keep up with him. She was deluding herself if she thought she could hold on to Mac for keeps.

  The sound of gravel rolling underfoot snapped her attention back to the present. Her nerves couldn’t take much more of this. This tiny space was smothering her. She reached for the edge of the cloth.

  A pair of designer lizard skin boots stepped into view, not ten feet away from her nose. She froze. Cowboy boots. Mac was wearing combat boots with beige nylon tops.

  She inhaled lightly, careful not to make even a whisper of sound. An urge to squeeze her eyes tightly shut and pray came over her. But the compulsion to watch those cowboy boots take a step, and then another, was even more overwhelming.

  A slight movement caught her eye. At the same ground level she was at. Ohmigosh. It was Mac. Lying on his belly under a bush, not more than three feet from the boots. What in the world was he doing? In horror, she watched his hand ease out from under the scrub toward the man’s ankle. Holding a knife. It struck like lightning, jabbing the side of the cowboy boot through the thin leather so fast Susan barely saw the motion.

  A shouted profanity. The boot leaped straight up in the air. “Carlos! Carlos! Come quick. A rattlesnake bit me!”

  Good God. That was Ruala’s voice. Not six feet from her. Terror ripped through her, tearing the air right out of her lungs. She couldn’t gasp for breath or the killer would hear her. She could only lie there in frozen agony, praying he would leave so she could breathe again.

  His frantic yelling was accompanied by his boots hopping out of her line of sight. She dragged in a sobbing breath. Any second, he would turn around and see her.

  She jumped as Ruala called out abruptly, his voice irritable, “You idiot! I’m injured! Come over here!”

  Apparently Carlos was not forthcoming, because Ruala limped off into the night, loosing a stream of invectives against his companions, who were going to let him die out here in this godforsaken wasteland.

  Susan all but fainted in relief, her head spinning and pinpricks of light dancing before her eyes. Lord, that had been a close call. For her and for Mac. She looked for him in his hiding place under the bush, but he was gone. She hadn’t seen or heard a thing, and she’d been looking right at him as he lay oppo
site her. How in the world had he managed to disappear in the blink of an eye?

  It couldn’t be a good sign that Mac was blatantly risking his neck like that. Dismayed by the chances he was taking on her behalf to herd these guys out of the valley she did the only sane thing she could think of.

  She clamped down on her panic and hunkered down to wait out this nightmare.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mac watched the last thug stumble out of the valley. He sat down heavily, leaning against a boulder. Exhaustion pulled at him. What a night. Not only had it been dicey to subtly prod four separate, roaming men into heading the right direction, but two of them had practically tripped over Susan. He never, ever, wanted her in danger like that again.

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rock, letting fatigue wash over him. What in the world was he going to do with her? One minute she drove him crazy with her fierce independence and the next, drove him crazy with desire.

  Face it pal, you’re hosed.

  He had learned one important thing about Susan’s pursuers from this night’s work. Ruala’s minions were also serious criminals who’d kill her in a heartbeat. He had to nail them all to ensure her safety.

  Some objective operative he was turning out to be, living in a constant state of half panic and full arousal. He grimaced. He’d promised Colonel Foley he could pull off this mission.

  First things first. He’d better go get Suzie. She was no doubt scared to death out there by herself. He stood up slowly, stretching out the kinks of a hard night’s work. He made his way silently toward her hiding place. He’d long since figured out her radio was broken, or he’d have called to warn her of his approach. But as it was, he had to sneak up on her and get a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream if he scared her. Ruala and his men were out of the valley, but not necessarily out of earshot.

  Sure enough, she started every bit as badly as he expected when he slapped his hand over her mouth. Poor kid. He picked her up, parachute silk and all, cradling her in his arms. Sleek heat and soft curves curled against him, and despite his exhaustion, his body responded powerfully to her.

  He murmured into her silky hair, “I’ve got you. It’s over. The bad guys got tired of playing cat and mouse.”

  Her arms looped around his neck, half choking him. He held her close as she sobbed out her fear. He muffled her sounds against his shoulder, soaking up her tears with his black shirt. Each racking breath she took called to something deep within him—an urge to protect her, to surround her, to absorb her entirely into himself. So much for the tough facade she’d worn ever since he arrived at the ranch. His relief was enormous to know that this vulnerable side of Susan still existed within the capable, independent woman she’d become. A guy liked to be needed a little bit, after all.

  Finally she lifted her head. Her eyelashes were dark, wet spikes, and tear tracks shone on her cheeks in the first, faint easing of the night into dawn. She gazed up fearfully into his eyes, her heart an open book. “Mac, promise me you’ll never leave me alone again.”

  He stared down at her. Many possible layers of meaning to her words leaped into his head. What, exactly, was she asking of him? Was that a simple plea not to be stashed under a rock by herself? Or was it something else? A deeper request not to walk out of her life again? To stand beside her forever?

  “Promise me,” she whispered urgently.

  “I promise, Suzie.”

  The second the words left his mouth, the same questions popped back into his head. Exactly how much had he just promised her, consciously or unconsciously? It felt like a hell of a lot more than not leaving her under a rock.

  She hugged him tight, murmuring against his neck, “I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I was so worried about you taking such crazy risks. I saw you jab Ruala’s ankle to make him think a snake bit him…”

  She was too scared. It was no good working with panicked civilians. Time to lighten the mood. He grinned down at her. “That was cool, wasn’t it? I’ve always wanted to poke someone like that.”

  She frowned. “You’ve been that close to bad guys, before?”

  He chuckled. “More times than I can count.”

  She shuddered in his arms. He squeezed her close. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” He had to admit it. He liked the way her arms tightened protectively around his neck. “What say we head back to camp, Suz? Dutch says the hostiles have left to go lick their wounds.”

  “Will Ruala come after us again?” Susan asked.

  “I don’t think he knows what hit him. They’ll spend most of the day trying to figure out what happened. By the time they muster up the nerve to come play again, we’ll be long gone.”

  “Won’t they follow us?”

  He hesitated. Standard procedure dictated that the civilian under protection be kept calm, relaxed and able to follow instructions. The rule was Never Panic the Protectee. And telling Susan that Ruala most certainly would follow them and try to kill her again would definitely panic her. Damn. He really didn’t want to lie to her. But he couldn’t count how many times he’d heard Colonel Foley say over the years, “Procedures are what they are because they work.”

  Mac sighed. And lied reluctantly. “Nah. Ruala and his men won’t mess with us again anytime soon. Don’t you worry about it.”

  God, he hated lying to Susan. A lie ten years ago, in the name of following procedure, had cost him her love. Standard ops or not, he didn’t like doing it. You owe me, Foley. I followed your damn procedure again.

  He felt her draw breath to question his statement that Ruala would leave her alone. No surprise there. She was smart as a whip. He spoke quickly. “It’s almost sunrise. What say we go catch some shut-eye? We’ll need to ride again tonight.”

  That snapped her out of her dangerous train of thought. She lurched upright in his arms. “Gosh, I didn’t even think about the horses! Are they okay? Did those jerks leave them alone?”

  “Dutch hid them well. Ruala and his thugs didn’t get anywhere near your babies.”

  She sagged in his arms. “Thank goodness.”

  He set her down gently. “Let’s go.”

  To Susan’s surprise, the walk back to camp took only a few minutes, even at the snail’s pace her knee would tolerate. The joint was stiff and unbendable after the night’s acrobatics. Thankfully, Mac didn’t make a big deal of it; he just kept pace beside her.

  She was surprised to see Dutch efficiently taking apart the tent and packing it when they got there. “Why are we breaking camp?” she asked the tall Viking.

  Dutch glanced over at Mac, who sent him some sort of hand signal. A slight nod from the blond giant, and then he answered her. “We’re moving. Ruala and company tromped right through here last night and know where to find us.”

  Mac asked his partner, “Have you got a new spot in mind?”

  Dutch pointed over his shoulder. “There’s a side canyon up that way. It’s where I’ve got the horses stashed. I thought we might park close to them today. Plus, we’ll hold the high ground if it comes to a shoot-out.”

  Susan blinked. A shoot-out? As in right out of a bad western movie? This wasn’t happening to her. Any moment now, she was going to wake up from this madness and resume her real life. Her real life. The thought was sobering. This would all go away—Mac would go away—as soon as Ruala was caught. She’d testify against the assassin, and then she’d go back to the same old solitary grind of everyday life. She jumped when Mac’s fingers touched her arm.

  “Need a hand?” he asked quietly.

  She realized she’d stopped at the foot of a scree slope. “Thanks.” His hard palm was dusty and callused against hers, but it steadied her gently as she picked her way up the unstable slope. When they reached the top, she ventured a smile at him. His answering smile crinkled the layer of dust around his eyes. Dark circles showed through the dirt, testament to how little sleep he’d gotten the past couple of days.

  “Mac, when this is all done and w
e get back to the ranch, I’m putting you to bed and making you stay there for a week.”

  He grinned broadly. “Will you be joining me?”

  Heat rushed through her at the idea. She replied gamely, “If I do, you’ll need another week to recover.”

  “Done,” he answered promptly.

  Her pulse skittered wildly. But she managed to retort lightly, “Men. You’ve got to be so tired you can hardly walk, but you’re still thinking about sex.”

  “Honey,” he murmured, “if I stop thinking about sex when I’m around a woman as hot as you, it’s time to bury me.”

  Dutch called out low, “Are you two coming or not?”

  Mac grinned ruefully and turned away from Susan. Mildly in shock, she followed him. A woman as hot as her? She couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since a man had desired her. Since Mac had desired her.

  A TAP on his foot woke Mac up. He lifted his head and saw Dutch squatting at the opening of the tent. The blond man gestured for him to come outside. Mac slid his arm carefully out from under Susan’s head. Even though his side was sweaty where she’d been plastered against him, he already missed the feeling of her. He stepped out into bright sunshine. It must be approaching noon.

  “What’s up, Dutch?”

  “Ruala and his gang just packed up and drove away.”

  Mac stared. “You’re kidding. Why?”

  Dutch shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Mac swore under his breath. They didn’t have the manpower both to protect Susan and track Ruala to figure out what he was up to now. “We need Doc and Howdy back here ASAP. Have you called headquarters? We need an estimated time of arrival on those two.”

  Dutch nodded grimly and held up his cell phone. “I was just getting ready to make the call. Thought I’d let you know what was up first.”

  Mad nodded his thanks. “I’ll make the call. Why don’t you hit the rack? You look beat.”