Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Navy SEAL Newlywed\The Guardian\Security Breach (29 page)

“I found a good piece of glass.” She held up what looked like the bottom of a jar. “And I found these.” She opened the sling and began laying out the plants she'd gathered.

He took the glass and studied the plants. “What is all that?”

“Wild lettuce, cress and mustard. Wild onion. A few piñon nuts.” She pointed to the various plants. “We can have a salad for lunch.”

“If you say so.”

“I'll see to the baby first, then I'll prepare some of this for us.”

Using the piece of glass to focus sunlight on the tinder, Michael soon had a fire going. He fed the small blaze with more tinder, then twigs, and finally dead wood he'd salvaged from around the camp. Abby balanced the can of water on three rocks in the center of the blaze. When the liquid was boiling, she used the sleeve of her jacket like a potholder to remove it from the heat. “You still have Life Savers with you, don't you?” she asked.

“Sure.” He fished the roll from his pocket.

“Let me have a couple.”

He handed over the candies and she dropped them in the hot water. “They'll make a kind of sugar water for the baby.”

“Clever,” Michael said.

“The sugar will give her a little energy,” Abby said. “And the sweet taste might make her more willing to drink.” While the water cooled, she set about stripping the stems from leaves and cleaning dirt from roots she collected.

Michael moved closer. “Is all that really edible?” he asked.

“Sure. All our native salad greens started out as wild plants. People think of this as a desert, but there are really a lot of edible plants here, if you know what to look for.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

He'd already been a big help, keeping her calm and starting the fire. His steady, capable presence reassured her. “Just keep me company while I work. Were you a Boy Scout when you were little?”

“I was. And my family went camping a lot. Every other weekend in the summer, we'd pack the car with a tent and sleeping bags and a cooler and head to the national forest. We'd hike and fish and roast marshmallows around a campfire.”

“And you liked that?”

“Are you kidding? For two days, my sister and I had our parents all to ourselves. We ran around outside, ate hot dogs and hamburgers, and no one cared how dirty we got. It was great.” He smiled, remembering. “Those trips made me love being outdoors. They're probably why I was attracted to this job.”

“You weren't worried you'd end up in an office, reviewing paperwork?”

“There's paperwork in every job, but from the first I applied for positions that allowed me to be out and on my own more. If it weren't for the crime and the bad guys, this would be the ideal job. What about you? Were you a Girl Scout?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. My mother would not have spent the night outdoors unless forced to do so at gunpoint. I spent my weekends at dance recitals and beauty parlors and pageant practice.”

“Boot camp must have been a big culture shock.”

“It was and it wasn't.” She tested the water in the can. Still a little too warm. “When I was in high school, I joined the school hiking club. It introduced me to a whole new group of kids—kids who liked to camp and hike and spend time outdoors.”

“And they accepted you?”

“They were suspicious at first, but after I proved myself, they saw me as one of them. I discovered how much I liked spending time in the woods. A couple of my friends in the club went into the military right out of high school. Later, when I was searching for something to do with my life, I remembered them and thought, ‘Why not?'”

She settled back against the trunk of the tree and unfastened the sling, using it as a blanket to swaddle the baby. Angelique fussed and began to cry. “I know, sweetheart. You're probably hungry.” She dipped her finger in the can and brought it to the baby's lips. “Let's see if you'll take some of this for me.”

The little mouth latched on to her finger and Abby felt a pull deep within her womb. She dribbled more water into the infant's mouth.

“I think she likes it.” Michael had moved closer and watched the two of them with his usual intensity.

“At least it will keep her hydrated,” she said. “But I hope someone comes for us soon.”

“We might have to spend the night out here, but tomorrow, I know someone will come for us,” he said.

The idea of a night without shelter, blankets or formula didn't thrill her, but whining about it wouldn't change anything. For now, Angelique seemed content, and that was all that mattered.

“Why do you think Mariposa gave her to you?”

She'd had plenty of time to ponder the answer to that question. “The only reason I can imagine a mother would give up her baby was because she thought Angelique would be safer with me.” And Mariposa must have been desperate, to hand her child over to a stranger.

“Why didn't she give the baby to you the first day you two met?”

“Maybe she's learned some new information since then that made her fear for her safety—or the baby's safety.”

“Maybe breaking up camp today didn't have anything to do with us finding that dead man,” he said. “Maybe something else is up.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. But if she thought the baby was going to be in danger, she would have tried to protect her.”

Anger at the thought of anyone trying to hurt this baby pushed away some of her weariness. “I want to find whoever's responsible and make sure they're punished,” she said.

“I want to find them, too.” He pulled out his phone and clicked over to the photos he'd taken earlier.

“Did you get anything useful?” she asked.

He squinted at the photos of the trucks lined up, ready to leave. “I can't make out the license plates,” he said. “I think they've splattered them with mud.”

“Who was the man you fought with?” she asked. “Do you have any idea?”

He shook his head. “Mariposa called h
im El Jefe—th
e chief. My guess is he's the boss, at least on this level.”

“So there's probably someone else supervising operations above him?” she asked.

“Probably. Someone who doesn't get his hands dirty by dealing with people directly. He probably ordered them to move camp, now that we've gotten so close.”

“Why didn't they leave yesterday, after the sniper fired at us?” she asked.

“I don't know. Maybe they had to get permission from someone higher up the chain of command. Or maybe they had to wait for the trucks to arrive from somewhere else.”

“Yet they still had time to gift wrap a rattlesnake for me.”

“If the two incidents are related. We don't know that for sure.”

She leaned back against a tree trunk, the baby cradled to her shoulder. “I promise you, no one else hates me enough to send me a deadly snake.”

“No jilted lovers or brokenhearted ex-boyfriends?” He kept his tone teasing, but she sensed a tension in the air as he waited for her answer.

“Not a one. I haven't been in any kind of relationship since before I joined the army. And none of them were serious. And please don't insult me with clichés like ‘a pretty woman like you' or ‘having so much to offer.' I get enough of that from my parents. I've been too busy—first with rehab, now with school—to worry about relationships.”

“I wasn't going to say anything.”

She shifted toward him. “What about you? Do you have a woman waiting for you back home—wherever home is?” Now it was her turn to hold her breath, waiting for his reply. She didn't like to admit how much his answer mattered to her.

“No. I didn't date a lot, though I always had women friends. The last long-term relationship I had, several years ago, she broke it off because she said I was too intense. I wasn't even sure what she meant.”

Yes, he could be intense, a trait that both drew her to him and made her wary. “I think you're the kind of man who, when you do something, you don't give a half measure. You put everything you have into it, whether it's a job or a relationship. If someone else isn't ready for that level of commitment, that can feel too intense. It can be scary.”

“Are you scared of me?”

She didn't look away from him, her gaze steady. He'd been honest with her; now it was her turn. “I'm not scared of you, Michael. But fear doesn't always—or even usually—come from other people. More often, we're scared of something inside ourselves. Of our own beliefs or emotions.”

“I'm glad you're not afraid of me,” he said. “I've got your back, remember?”

A hint of a smile curved her lips. “Yeah. I remember.”

Chapter Ten

Michael kept his eyes locked to Abby's, willing her not to look away. What was she scared of inside herself, and how could he help her let go of that fear? But he got the impression if he tried to get that personal, she'd just pull back. As with the fall of hair that kept hiding her scar, Abby liked to keep layers between her and other people.

The baby started fussing, breaking the spell between them. Abby turned away and he sat back, stifling a sigh of frustration.

“I need your bandanna,” she said. “The baby's diaper is soaked.”

He handed it over, and she folded it into a makeshift diaper and handed him the soaked one. “Wash this out—downstream.”

He made a face, but moved off to do as she asked. Washing dirty diapers wasn't on the list of things he had expected to do in this job, but there was something calming and grounding about the mundane, domestic chore. Yes, he was lost in the wilderness with the possibility that a killer was searching for them, but his duty was crystal clear—to protect this woman and this baby and somehow return them to safety.

The man in charge of this camp would be back. Everything in the man's attitude and posture told Michael he wasn't one to overlook a threat. He'd been outsmarting the Rangers for weeks. The urgency of moving his people might have forced him to delay the hunt momentarily, but he wasn't going to let two people who had discovered his secret get away. When he'd stolen Michael's Cruiser he'd left the couple stranded, so he could be confident they were still close by. As long as Michael saw the man before he spotted them, they'd be safe. He'd make sure of it.

He had Abby to help, too. Thanks to her, they wouldn't starve. Roots and leaves weren't steak and potatoes, but his growling stomach would be thankful for anything he fed it. And being with Abby made him feel calmer and more certain that they'd come through this all right. She was worried, but not panicking. Anyone who mistook her for a dumb blonde was delusional.

He rejoined her and she sat up straighter, her hand making a fist in her lap.

“What do you have there?” He nodded to her fist.

She flushed. “It's nothing.”

He spread the damp diaper on a tree branch to dry. “It's not nothing. What is it?”

She looked away. “I've been watching and I haven't seen any sign of anyone headed this way,” she said.

Message received. She didn't want to talk about whatever she was holding. “We ought to be able to see the dust from a vehicle from a long way off,” he said.

“How far do you think we are from the main road?” she asked.

“About five miles, I think. Maybe a little more.”

“Where do you think they were taking those people?”

“To another camp in the park—or maybe all the way to Denver. I don't know.”

“What a harsh life.” She arranged the shawl to shade the sleeping infant. “Who's behind this?”

He sat beside her, wrists on his upraised knees. “We don't know that, either. There are rumors drug cartels have moved in from Mexico, but they need a local connection—a sponsor who can smooth the way for them.”

“Who?”

“That's one of the things we've been trying to find out. It has to be someone with money. Someone powerful. Someone who thinks he's above the law.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“We do. But we can't prove anything.” Though law enforcement might rely on hunches to guide their investigation, they needed proof to stand up in court.

“Tell me. It's not as if I'll tell anyone else.”

“Have you heard of a man named Richard Prentice?”

“No. But I'll admit, I've been so busy with school I haven't paid much attention to the news.”

“He's a billionaire who owns the land at the entrance to the park.”

“The place with the big stone pillars and iron gate?”

“That's the one. He's made a lot of money buying historic or critical wilderness properties and selling them to the government or conservation groups for inflated prices. But the Feds wouldn't bite when he tried to sell that place, and local governments passed restrictions that limited how he could develop it. So he made it his base of operations.”

“I suppose it's a good location for overseeing a drug operation within the park, but why would a guy like that bother with drugs? He's already rich.”

“Some people never have enough money. But maybe it's not about the money for him. Maybe this is one more way to stick it to a government he seems to hate. Or maybe he gets a rush out of having control over so many people's lives.”

“If he does have anything to do with this, I hope you can prove it and send him to jail for a long time.”

“That's what we hope, too.”

She shifted onto her knees. “Take the baby for a minute,” she said. “I think our food is about ready.” Not waiting for an answer, she shoved the infant into his arms.

The baby was heavier than he'd expected, warm and a little wiggly, too. As he tried to figure out the most comfortable way to hold her, she opened her eyes and stared up at him. She seemed so bright and alert, her gaze fixed on him, as if assessing him. “You're onto me, kid,” he said softly. “I don't have the faintest idea what I'm doing.”

She shifted, curling toward him with a little sigh that made his heart stop for a moment. He stared down at her, gripped by the most intense, protective instinct he'd ever felt. “I won't let them hurt you, little girl.” He stroked her cheek with the tip of his finger, the skin softer than anything he'd ever felt.

“She likes you.” Abby returned, holding a section of bark like a plate. “She settled right down.”

“I don't have a lot of experience with babies.”

“You're a natural.” She set the “plate” on the ground between them. “I can take her again if you want.”

“No. That's okay.” The infant fit neatly in the crook of his left arm, leaving the right arm free. “I don't want to disturb her.” He leaned forward to study the items she'd arranged on the bark. “What's on the menu?”

“The salad greens I talked about earlier—no dressing, I'm afraid. The little white things are mariposa lily bulbs I roasted.”

He popped one of the buds—about the size of a garlic clove—into his mouth and chewed. “Not bad. A little earthy, but a little sweet, too.”

“They'd be better with salt or other seasonings, but they'll keep us going until help arrives.”

“Not bad at all.” He crunched down on another bulb.

They finished the meal in silence. Hunger sated, with the warmth of the sun off the rocks and the profound silence of the wilderness closing in, his eyelids began to feel heavy. He sat up straighter. He had to stay awake and watch for rescue—or the return of the camp boss.

“I think the early morning and all that hiking is catching up with me,” Abby said.

“You can take a nap,” he said. “I'll keep watch.”

“I might have to.” She looked around them. “Not that all this rock is going to make for a comfortable bed.”

“Come lean against me.” He patted the spot beside him.

She hesitated.

“Come on. I won't bite.”

“You'd better not. I bite back.” But she settled beside him.

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Just lean on me.”

Again, she hesitated, but the gentle pressure from his hand coaxed her to lay her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She settled down with a sigh, her breast and side pressed against him, one hand resting on his thigh. He felt the same protective instinct toward her he'd felt toward the baby, but underneath the protectiveness was a more primal emotion, the awareness of her as a beautiful, desirable woman, and of himself as a man who wanted her.

The wanting was nothing new. He'd been physically attracted to her from the moment she walked into ranger headquarters. That in itself wasn't that unusual. He was attracted to women every day, a passing desire akin to seeing a luscious brownie and his mouth watering.

His desire for Abby went deeper. She wasn't a passing fascination. The more he knew her, as a complex, capable, sympathetic person, the more he felt drawn to know her more fully. Intimately.

She shifted against him and he looked down to find her head tipped up toward his. “You wanted to know what I was holding earlier,” she said.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” he said. “It's none of my business.”

“No—I want to tell you.” She held out her fisted hand and slowly opened her fingers to reveal the figure of a leaping rabbit, about three inches long. “It's just a kind of good-luck charm I keep. I know it's silly, but holding it makes me feel calmer.”

“It's not silly.” He was feeling anything but calm himself right now, but he didn't want to scare her by overreacting. “Do you remember where you got it?”

“I don't know.” They both studied the little rabbit in her palm. It was white with brown spots, four legs outstretched as if running, ears erect. “When I came to in the hospital, I was holding it.”

“I wasn't sure if you remembered.” He could hardly get the words out past the knot of emotion in his throat. He tried again. “Before they unloaded you off the chopper, I put it in your hand and you grasped it. It seemed like a good sign. Even unconscious, you were fighting. Hanging on.”

She stared. He tried to read the emotion in her eyes and drew back a little. She looked upset. Maybe even angry. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

“My cousin gave it to me when I deployed,” he said. “She said if one rabbit's foot was supposed to be lucky, she figured four feet, still attached to the rabbit, were even better. I figured you needed the luck more than I did right then.”

She wrapped her fingers around the little figure again and returned it to her pocket, not looking at him. “Thank you,” she said. “I always wondered where he came from.”

“Did it help?”

She nodded. “It did. Whenever I was stressed or worried or needed distracting, I'd take him out and hold him. It reminded me that someone I didn't even know had been rooting for me to make it.” She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Now I know that someone was you.”

He couldn't speak, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of breaking the connection between them. She sat up a little straighter, though she remained pressed against him. “I have a hard time warming up to people. Especially since I got home from Afghanistan.”

“The things you went through over there—you can't really share them with others. They're like an invisible wall, separating you from everyone else who doesn't know what it's like. They can never see things from your point of view.”

“But you can.”

“Not entirely. But I have a better idea than some.”

“Yes.” She put her hand on his chest.

“Do you think that's all we have in common—the war?” He forced himself to look into her eyes, not sure he'd like the answer she gave. He hated the idea that she'd see him as just another damaged veteran with whom she could compare notes.

“I didn't mean it like that,” she said. “Only that I felt comfortable enough with you to let my guard down a little. When you look at me, I feel like you see all of me—not just the beauty queen, and not just the scarred veteran, but the whole package.”

He touched her cheek with his free hand. “It's a very nice package.” He dragged his thumb across the corner of her mouth.

She let out her breath in a soft sigh and leaned closer. That was all the invitation he needed. He bent his head and covered her lips with his own. She returned the kiss, arching into him and sliding her hand around to clutch his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her to his chest, her soft, feminine curves molding to him. He slanted his mouth more firmly against hers and she parted her lips, her tongue tracing the crease of his mouth, setting his heart racing.

She melded her body to his, urgent, needy. This wasn't a casual, flirtatious kiss, or one of tentative exploration. This kiss spoke of built-up longing, of a craving for a connection that went beyond words.

Angelique squirmed against him and began to whimper. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and tried to comfort the baby. “I must have been crushing her,” he said.

“I'll take her.” Head down, hair falling forward to cover the side of her face and shield her expression from his view, she reached for the infant.

He slipped the baby into her arms, unsure of what he should say. Kissing was one thing—talking about it was another. Still, he couldn't let the moment pass as if nothing had happened. He reached out and brushed back her hair. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine.” She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his. “We probably shouldn't have done that.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” She bit her lower lip, then shook her head.

“Tell me.” He cradled the side of her neck. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself at the time.”

A warm flush crept up her cheeks—all the answer he really needed, but he held back a smile of triumph. “I don't want you to get the wrong idea,” she said. “I'm not really ready...for more than kisses. For a relationship.”

Her obvious distress touched him. “I'm in no hurry. No pressure, I promise.” He sat back again. “If the baby's all right, you can take that nap now. I promise I won't bother you.”

After a moment of hesitation, she settled against him once more, the baby wrapped in the sling and fastened around her. He stared out across the empty landscape and listened to the rhythm of her breathing slow and deepen as she fell asleep. At least with her this close, every nerve in his body aware of her, he wasn't too worried about falling asleep himself. He'd stay awake and keep watch, protecting her with his life if he had to.