Solitary Soldier. Debra Webb
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But Rachel also knew full well that he was right. “That’s why I came to you. You have the strength and the know how to protect us.”
“When Angel comes—” Sloan glanced out the window, his gaze tracking Josh’s energetic romp, then quickly moving to something else “—it won’t be for me.” His gaze returned to Rachel’s. “He’ll come for you and the boy. You have to be prepared to protect yourself.”
Rachel swallowed at the lump of uncertainty clogging her throat. “Isn’t that the service you’re supposed to provide?”
He made a sound of distaste in his throat. “Lady, I’m not about to get myself killed trying to help someone who isn’t willing to help herself.”
Irritation grated her nerves. “I do the best I can. Fighting and eluding madmen weren’t choices on the curriculum in any of the schools I attended.”
Anger flickered in his steely gaze then. “Well, maybe it should have been, and just maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he growled, his expression fierce, “that there’s no time like the present to get your act together.” He stopped her with a look when she would have interrupted to argue with his summation. “You and your son need protection. I can give you that temporarily, but long term you need to be prepared to deal with what life throws your way. This ain’t a perfect world, lady.”
Rachel exhaled, forcing her frustration back to a controllable level. “Fine,” she acquiesced. “You’re right. I need to know how to defend myself and Josh.” She lifted her gaze to his. “You can teach me how to do that while we’re here?”
He shrugged. “You wanted a plan. That’s the plan.”
Annoyed by his attitude, she glowered at him. “Is this going to cost extra?”
“I’ll throw this part in for free.” Sloan turned and walked toward the door. “You’ll find what you need to wear for today’s lesson in the other room.” He paused at the door. “Put the swimsuit on under your clothes and be in the kitchen in twenty minutes.”
The man might be barbaric in his manners, but Rachel refused to forget hers. He was doing her a tremendous favor, and she owed him her gratitude, even if she momentarily forgot at times when he made her so angry. Taking care of her the way he did last night wasn’t part of the bargain. “Thank you,” she offered before he could disappear through the door.
Sloan turned back to her. “For what?”
Rachel moistened her lips and summoned the courage to say what needed to be said. “For taking care of me last night. That was above and beyond the call of duty. I appreciate that you didn’t take advantage of me.”
Something changed in his eyes. Something Rachel couldn’t quite identify.
“You were exhausted, not to mention out of it,” he explained. “When I have you, you’ll be very much aware of what’s happening.”
When, not if. Anger washed over Rachel. “That’s comforting,” she retorted, her irritation building once more. She wouldn’t bother to tell him that he could wait until hell froze over and she still wouldn’t allow him to seduce her. She had been a fool once. And it would never happen again. Dangerous men—men in general truthfully—were not to be trusted. “After that remark about my ending up in your bed,” she added quickly, “I only meant that when I woke up I wasn’t sure if…” Her voice trailed off at the renewed intensity in those fierce blue eyes.
The barest hint of a smile tilted one corner of his mouth. “Last night isn’t what I meant when I said you would end up in my bed.”
With that warning he disappeared down the hall.
Rachel fumed. She would just see about that. Maybe Sloan was accustomed to having any woman he decided he wanted, but she wasn’t any woman. She had a son to think of. This was a business deal, nothing more.
Never again would she fall victim to any man’s charm, no matter if this particular man stirred some restless feeling deep inside her. She had come here for Josh’s sake. If she was lucky, when she returned to New Orleans, Angel would be dead. She knew with complete certainty that Sloan understood what she wanted. She wanted Angel out of Josh’s life forever.
She wanted him dead.
In that crystalline moment, Rachel acknowledged mentally that she would do anything necessary to ensure her son’s future safety. She considered the man in whose home she now resided, then the wide inviting bed which belonged to him. She drew in a shaky breath and released it slowly. Could she do that if he pressed the issue? Angel had been her first, and there hadn’t been anyone since. Her judgment was obviously flawed. How could she trust her instincts? How could she bring herself to allow another man’s touch?
Rachel frowned when an old memory filtered through her thoughts. There had been a man once who seemed awfully nice, but, of course, she hadn’t been interested. Not really. It was about a year and a half ago, before she and Josh had moved to New Orleans. The man had been their neighbor. He was a widower, and seemed as lonely as Rachel. He had dropped by a couple of times and brought fresh bread from the bakery he owned in town. And she had enjoyed the companionship of his short visits. Her frown deepened. But he died only a couple of months after she and Josh moved there. A car accident of some sort.
A chill raced up Rachel’s spine. Not once in all this time had she considered that Angel might have had something to do with his death. But now, out of nowhere, the revelation broadsided her. And she knew as surely as she knew her own name, that it was so. Angel watched every move she made.
Just like now.
And, just like Sloan said, he would come. For her. And for Josh.
None of them were safe.
SLOAN GLANCED AT the clock on the wall once more as he poured the freshly brewed coffee into a mug. Rachel Larson’s twenty minutes were up. Where the hell was she? He placed the carafe back onto the warming plate, and then the mug onto the table. Patience was not one of his virtues. He hated to wait. Especially unnecessarily. This woman had come to him for help. She would have to learn that it was his way or no way.
Irritated beyond reason, he strode out of the kitchen and in the direction of his bedroom. He slowed in the hall long enough to check and adjust the thermostat as he passed. The previous night’s unseasonably cool temperatures had waned, and the wilting August heat had taken its place.
His bedroom was empty. Sloan crossed the room to close the windows since the air-conditioning had just kicked on. He had already closed the other windows Pablo had raised last night to allow the cool desert air to filter through the house. But he had left these open to keep from disturbing Rachel this morning. She had needed the rest.
The bed was made, he noticed when he turned around. His T-shirt was neatly folded and lying atop one pillow. The one she had slept against last night. He picked up the T-shirt and held it to his face to inhale her scent. His groin tightened when her sweet fragrance filled his nostrils. He closed his eyes and allowed the memory of holding her in his arms while he sat on the bedside undressing her to replay. The sandals had been the first to go. After releasing the button and lowering the zipper, he had dragged the long, silky skirt from under her and then down her legs. Her skin had felt like satin beneath his callused palms.
By the time he released the final button of her blouse, he was painfully aroused. Sloan opened his eyes and stared out the window, seeing nothing but the image of the woman who had been in his arms last night. Even now the memory of seeing her small breasts made him hard. It had taken almost more restraint than he possessed not to touch her. Her nipples had tightened into tempting, rose-colored peaks, as if even in sleep her body responded to his touch.
He hadn’t wanted to cover her, but he had. His fingers fisted in the soft cotton of the T-shirt that had just minutes ago covered her slim body. He could have carried her to the bed where her son slept, but