Solitary Soldier. Debra Webb

jerked weakly at his fierce hold on her left arm. “Let me go.”

      “You went to a lot of trouble to track me down,” he rasped as he snaked his arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. “Don’t you want to find out if I’m half the man you seem to think I am?”

      The dam broke loose then, tears trickled down her face. She pushed uselessly against his chest. “I already know all I need to know.” She was shaking uncontrollably now. “I saw how you reacted when you thought Josh was lost. You’re a good man. I know you are.”

      Sloan had no come back for that allegation. He could only stare into those deep brown eyes, watery with the kind of pain he understood all too well. Just when he felt certain that he would have to kiss her…kiss her or die, she wilted in his fierce hold. Startled, Sloan scooped her slight body into his arms.

      Damn.

      She had been through too much. He had pushed her too hard. All because he couldn’t control his own sadistic impulses.

      Sloan considered the sweet, innocent-looking woman lying unconscious in his arms for a long moment. He shook his head in self-disgust.

      “I told you I was no knight in shining armor.” He let go a mighty breath. “What am I supposed to do with you now?”

      Chapter Three

      Rachel moaned contentedly and snuggled into her pillow. Her lids slowly opened to the realization that it was now daylight. The last vestiges of sleep retreated bringing awareness one degree at a time. The fluffy pillow beneath her cheek, the cool sheet over her body, and the slight breeze whispering across her face. She inhaled deeply of a scent that was at once alien and soothing. A pleasant masculine scent, musk and leather.

      Sloan.

      Rachel’s eyes opened wide. She surveyed the part of the room readily viewable without having to move. This was not the same room Pablo had shown her and Josh to last evening. Her heart pounded in her chest as last night’s heated words with Sloan replayed in her head. She remembered collapsing…

      Her attention suddenly lit on the puddle of clothing a few feet away on the carpeted floor. Her blouse, her skirt and sandals. The fact that being on the small side in the bust allowed her to go braless most of the time slammed into her. She sat bolt upright on the side of the bed and looked down at herself. She wore what appeared to be a man’s T-shirt. Too large for Pablo’s. She swallowed tightly. Sloan’s. She looked around the room and realization dawned with unnerving clarity.

      She was in Sloan’s room. In his bed.

      Rachel spun around to look on the other side of the bed. It was empty.

      Where was Josh?

      Fear rushed through her limbs to lodge in her chest. She had tucked him into bed in the other room. She blinked, forcing herself to concentrate rather than losing herself to the panic. Maybe he was having breakfast already. What time was it? Her gaze sought out the nearest clock. The LED display on the bedside table read 10:00 a.m. Rachel shot to her feet. How could she have slept so long?

      Where was her son?

      Laughter floated through the open window. Josh. Rachel bounded off the bed and to the generous windows. She peered out into the backyard. Sheer, gauzy drapes fluttered around her in the gentle breeze. With Pablo watching, Josh chased a bright red ball. His delighted squeals and laughter brought the first relaxed smile to her lips in too long to remember. It felt so good to see her son play without worry that someone would snatch him away from her. Pablo tossed the ball again, and Josh’s enthusiastic race for the brightly colored, bouncing object gladdened her heart. This was all she had ever wanted for her son…for him to feel happy and safe.

      Taking stock of the area for the first time in daylight, Rachel amended her earlier impression. This was not a backyard, this was a courtyard. As beautiful as any she had ever seen. And she had seen a few while growing up. Rachel’s smile faded as she considered the bittersweet memories of growing up with her father. Her mother had died when she was only a small child. But her father had made up for the loss many times over. He took Rachel everywhere with him. A well-respected figure in the State Department, they had traveled frequently, abroad mostly. The hotels were always luxurious. But she had yet to view a courtyard any more spectacular than Sloan’s.

      Elegant tile or cobblestone pavers covered what was most likely a sandy yard. The house surrounded the courtyard on all sides, adding to the feeling of security. Numerous sets of French doors opened onto the courtyard from the rooms facing it, including the one in which she now stood. Lush foliage, mostly tropical, probably native to the area, nearly camouflaged a sparkling pool. Beyond the house, a water tank towered, supplying the residence with water despite the sprawling desert that surrounded it. The word fortress flitted through Rachel’s mind again. She wondered if there were generators and a bountiful food supply stored somewhere on the grounds, making the place self-sufficient despite the desolation and its remoteness.

      Relieved that Josh was safe, Rachel pushed her other curiosities from her mind. She would ask Sloan more questions when the opportunity presented itself. For now, she should get dressed and join her son outside. She had a feeling that Sloan would let her know what he wanted from her, monetarily and otherwise, when he made up his mind or developed some plan. He didn’t strike her as the sort of man one could hurry.

      Finding her reluctant host watching from the open doorway, Rachel gasped. That unreadable blue gaze traveled down the length of her, then back to connect with hers. Her state of undress sent a flush of heat up her neck and across her cheeks. She edged closer to the sheer material hanging around her for some sense of protection from his all-seeing gaze.

      The sound that rumbled from his chest was more growl than laugh. “Don’t be shy, Miss Larson, I’ve already seen all there is to see.”

      He had undressed her last night, then again just now with his eyes. On some level she had already known that Sloan was the one. Though she preferred to undress herself, Pablo having done so would have been a great deal less humiliating alternative. To her chagrin, her nipples tightened at the thought that Sloan had looked at her so intimately. That was not an appropriate reaction, she reminded herself with rising indignation.

      “I’d like to get dressed now,” she announced, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

      “Your suitcase is in your room. Pablo picked it up this morning, along with a few other things I told him you would need.” A holster, complete with sleek black gun, was strapped to one broad shoulder. He crossed his arms over his mile-wide chest and leaned against the door frame.

      Rachel tried not to follow the distracting movement of powerful muscle. She moistened her lips and asked the question that tightened the back of her throat. “Why did you bring me to your…in here?” Surely she would remember if anything happened. She couldn’t have been that far out of it. She shivered at the thought of those strong hands touching her bare skin.

      “The boy was asleep. I didn’t want to wake him.”

      Somehow she sensed that there was more to it than that. He hadn’t wanted to be in the same room with Josh—even for a few minutes, she suddenly realized. “I don’t usually…react like that,” she began in explanation of what he probably considered weakness. She squared her shoulders and stepped away from the meager protection the drapes provided. Somehow she had to learn to hold her own in the man’s presence. “Despite how it may look to you now, I am a strong person.”

      He straightened. Rachel jumped, instantly making a liar out of herself. Sloan crossed the room to stand directly in front of her. He stared down at her for a long moment before he spoke. Rachel had the distinct impression he was trying to read her mind. The same scent that lingered on the crisp white sheets of his bed emanated from his big, powerful body. The T-shirt he wore molded to his chest, outlining every ripple and contour. The sweatpants concealed little of his masculine assets.

      “Strong willed, yes,” he finally said. “That’s probably what has kept you alive until now.” His gaze slid slowly over her body once more. Rachel shivered.