Microsoft Word - AlwaysaWarrior (3 page)

“It wasn’t just a dream,” she murmured, breathless, referring to the soldier as well as the destruction.

He said nothing, his gaze locked with hers. His eyes were as dark, as compelling, as she remembered. Her nerves tingled, sizzled. He made her very aware of being a woman as she took a step toward him. Glass crunched under her foot, snapped her back to reality. She stepped over what used to be a glass-topped coffee table and all but ran past him to the kitchen.

“Want some coffee?” she offered, keeping her voice carefully neutral as she passed him.

“I need some.”

McAllister stepped aside, not touching her. But her stomach fluttered in sensual awareness. His piercing stare seemed to bore into her skull as he followed her. He seated himself in the same chair he had used a few hours earlier, facing the kitchen and back doors. Of course, she realized. He wanted advance warning of intruders. A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of him.

Laurie poured herself a cup from the pot he had already made, lit a cigarette, and joined him at the table. Glancing at her ‘bodyguard’, she wondered idly if he had bothered to sleep at hall. He needed a shave and a shower, though the dark stubble made him sexy rather than scruffy. Unruly black hair was tousled around his head in a mass of waves her fingers itched to slide through. He still wore the same rumpled uniform but her mouth watered at the sight of him.

Dark circles under his eyes proclaimed fatigue but those dark eyes glittered with steely determination. His presence seemed to fill her kitchen, overwhelming her. She forced herself to look at the tabletop, lifted her cup to her lips.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” he demanded suddenly.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

11

Startled, she glanced at him in surprise. “Why do we have to leave?” She forced herself not to clatter the cup as she set it down.

“The terrorists know where you are,” he replied succinctly. “It makes sense not to be here when more of them arrive.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “But with you here they can’t get in.”

He flashed a brief but weary grin. “I’m good at my job but I’m not superhuman or bulletproof. We can’t take such a dangerous chance.”

Hearing Stacy move around upstairs, Laurie peered at him. “Where would we go?”

“A place only I know about.”

“Stacy will be absolutely safe?” Laurie demanded anxiously. Her voice shook with love and fear. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.”

He nodded slowly, lifted his cup. His stare locked with hers over the rim of the cup, promising safety.

In a subdued tone, she told him, “Give me an hour. We’ll be ready.”

* * * *

Damien loaded Laurie and Stacy’s two suitcases and his duffel bag into the back of a rented four-wheel-drive pickup truck then climbed in behind the steering wheel. Laurie buckled Stacy into the middle of the bench seat and fastened her own safety belt. Worried, she looked at Damien over her daughter’s head. She clamped her teeth on her lower lip. Damien glanced at her and reached under the seat. He pulled out a holstered handgun and peered at her.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” he demanded stonily as he removed the weapon from the holster and checked the load.

She shook her head, staring at him. She twisted her fingers together to stop the nervous tremors. She had no experience with guns. She did not want to touch it.

With a grim expression, he slid the gun back into the holster and handed it to her. She barely managed not to flinch at handling the deadly object.

“It’s ready to fire,” he advised curtly. “Just don’t point it at anyone unless you intend to use it.”

Uncertain, Laurie stared at the gun, tempted to hand it right back to him. Her glance moved to her daughter’s head and she let out a slow breath as she tightened her grip on the gun.

“Just point and pull the trigger?” She cursed the fear in her voice.

He nodded, held her gaze for a moment, then started the engine and backed out of the driveway. Laurie cast a last lingering glance at her home and wondered how soon she might return.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

12

Several hours later they had left the city of Wilcox behind. Damien drove deeper into the mountains but Laurie wanted to stop soon. She barely refrained from asking ‘how much longer’, like a small child. Her lips twitched at the notion. She glanced down at Stacy snuggled beside her. She was sound asleep.

Laurie smothered a yawn and blinked at the fatigue pulling at her. She lifted her weary gaze to Damien as he kept his attention focused on the road. His grim expression testified to intense concentration. Long lean fingers gripped the steering wheel as he turned it, forcing the truck off the asphalt onto a narrow dirt road.

As she packed he had showered and changed into street clothes. Wearing faded jeans and a white sweatshirt under a black vest full of pockets, Damien appeared very much an outdoorsman. Rugged, strong, he handled the truck expertly on the rough road. He drove slowly.

Her gaze lingered on his hands. She imagined those same hands on her, gliding smoothly over her bare skin. Her breath caught and she nearly choked. Her vivid imagination burned the tantalizing images into her mind.

She yanked her gaze from his hands and stared out the window. The road, little more than a dirt trail, twisted through the dense wilderness. In the gathering dusk, huge gnarled trees crept past. Glimpses of a steep drop on the right kept Laurie peering out the window.

The truck’s headlights lit the road, pushing back the encroaching gloom to show the trail more clearly. The trail twisted sharply, dangerously, as it climbed and curved through the trees.

Darkness fell quickly, leaving only a few stars to peek through the treetops. A log cabin came into view and Damien slowed the truck to a stop. He shut off the engine and quietly opened the door.

“Stay here,” he ordered tersely. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Laurie shivered in the cool mountain air and pulled Stacy, still sleeping, into her lap.

Damien disappeared around the side of the cabin. Her gaze wandered but Laurie saw very little in the moonlight filtering into the small clearing. The front wall and door of the cabin stood stark and plain, distinctly unwelcoming in the dark. The two windows were dark. The forest surrounded the overgrown clearing and the cabin. No one who did not know exactly where the cabin was would ever find it.

Minutes later, movement snagged her attention. Damien emerged from the darkness on the other side of the cabin and went to the front door.
Actually
, she thought, watching him duck under the window,
he sneaked up on the door
. He braced himself, gun drawn, and feet shoulder-width apart. He pointed the gun skyward, reached forward, and grasped the doorknob.

He pushed open the door, ducked around the doorjamb, and slipped inside. Seconds later, the lights blazed in the two front windows and spilled out the open door, a welcome sight to Laurie’s tired eyes. Relieved that no danger awaited them, she opened the truck door and climbed out. Stacy slept in her arms. Looking very dark and dangerous, Damien strode past her, gun on his hip, to retrieve their supplies.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

13

Laurie shivered again, cold, as she followed him inside. A cold wind blew around them, whistling morosely through the trees. She kicked the door shut behind her. Stacy stirred in her arms, opened her eyes, and Laurie set her on the floor.

While Damien built a fire in the wood-burning stove, Laurie looked around what was essentially a one room cabin with a loft at the far end. A sofa bed, already pulled out and made up, stood under the loft. A large table and six wooden chairs stood in the middle of the room.

The stove threw out plenty of heat now that Damien had a fire roaring in it. Laurie moved closer and the fire chased the cold from her body. Enveloped in warmth, she stood by the fire and took in the rustic design as she listened to Damien putting things away in the kitchen area along one wall.

“Mommy,” Stacy whined beside her. “I’m hungry.”

And tired
, Laurie thought in the midst of her own exhaustion. She glanced at Damien rummaging through the cabinets then looked at her watch, surprised to find it was only a little after seven in the evening. The lack of sleep caught up with her and she stifled a yawn as she put Stacy in a chair at the table then sat beside her. Damien poked around in the refrigerator. Laurie eyed him curiously.

“How do you get power here?”

He grinned wearily. “Generator. It uses gasoline.”

“Need help?” she offered though she really did not want to move.

“Nope.” He lit two stove burners, set a saucepan on one and a skillet on the other. He moved around the kitchen as easily and knowledgably as she imagined he roamed a battlefield.

Dinner was a silent affair of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Laurie and Damien eyed each other but said nothing as they ate. Her serene routine life had been turned upside down and she did not like it one bit. She had no doubt her face and the events of the previous night were plastered all over the media.
I can do without this upheaval
, she thought bitterly. What effect would it have on Stacy? Laurie expelled a ragged breath and lifted her gaze straight in Damien’s penetrating stare.

Dark, dangerous, and strangely compelling, he drew her in and had her contemplating urges she had buried long ago. Her earlier fantasy of his hands roaming over her bare skin streaked through her mind. She lowered her lashes but peered at him surreptitiously. Her gaze lingered on his full, sculpted lips. Would they be firm on hers? Or would they be soft, supple, and mobile?

The slight rustle beside her interrupted her thoughts. Hoping her face was not fiery red at the direction her thoughts had taken, she dragged her gaze from Damien. Stacy had almost fallen asleep after barely touching her dinner. Laurie quickly finished eating, then carried her daughter up the stairs to the loft. Stacy groggily changed into warm fuzzy pajamas and crawled into bed with a wide yawn. Laurie pulled the covers over her, tucking her in with a gentle good night kiss.

Then she simply sat on the edge of the twin bed and watched her little girl sleep. Stacy was too young to understand and too tired to care, but she was young enough to be badly frightened and unsettled. Laurie wanted her life back to normal. She wanted her daughter safe and sound in her own home.

Reluctant, she left Stacy’s bedside and trudged back down the stairs. Damien had cleared the table and now stood by the side window, staring out into the dark of night. When had she started thinking of him as Damien instead of McAllister or the soldier? She swallowed a derisive chuckle—probably the same time she started fantasizing about him touching her.

“Lt. McAllister,” she said softly as she crossed the room.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

14

Her jerked at the sound of her voice but did not turn around. “Call me Damien. We’ll be in close quarters for a while, so drop the formalities.”

His toneless suggestion made sense. “Okay—Damien. What’s going to happen now?”

“Hopefully, nothing,” he said flatly. “But I won’t guarantee it.”

Laurie huffed in exasperation. The entire situation seemed like the plot of a low budget action movie. In the next scene she would probably end up chasing terrorists with guns blazing.

No way will I wear a slinky dress and heels to do it, either
, she thought sarcastically. That notion brought a smirk to her lips but she squelched the chuckle.

“Turn around, please,” she asked quietly. “I prefer to talk to your face not your back.”

Slowly, as though in a trance, he faced her with haunted eyes. She read nothing in his blank expression except that tragedy in his eyes. It startled her and she simply stared at him for a moment before finding her voice again.

“Are you all right?” She frowned in concern, walking toward him.

He blinked and his eyes cleared. He regarded her coolly and professionally as he moved away from the window. Eyeing him curiously, she bit her lip in consternation.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “For a minute you looked ….”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted harshly.

She blinked, stung by his abrupt harshness, and stepped back figuratively and literally.

“Tell me more about this terrorist,” she ordered curtly.

He studied her for a moment then shrugged. “Nathaniel Crawford is a physicist and weapons technology specialist. He disappeared several years ago. We got a lead on him when he showed up in some photos taken by agents in Mexico. He’s smuggling weapons technology out of the country.”

Skeptical, Laurie watched him through narrowed eyes. “What makes you think he’s related to me? Crawford is a fairly common name.”

“Standard procedure,” Damien replied, sitting on the edge of the sofa bed. “Paper trail—

birth certificates, court records, medical records—everything was pretty extensive considering he had a top secret security clearance.”

“Why would he suddenly take up with terrorists?”

“No one knows. His record was impeccable up until the day he disappeared.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, but she did not want to believe any of it. She did not want her previously comfortable life stripped from her. She peered directly into Damien’s implacable eyes. “I want proof, Damien, not just words and speculation.”

He nodded sharply. “Understandable. I probably would not believe it either if our situations were reversed. I have a file that might help.”

He dug into his duffel bag, withdrew a file folder, and opened it. He removed several pages and handed her the file. “These are classified,” he explained, putting the pages in his duffel. “But you can look at the rest.”

Laurie took the file in suddenly trembling hands and sat at the table. She hesitated, filled with trepidation, and lifted the cover. An eight-by-ten glossy color photograph lay on top. It showed several men coming out of an old building. One face was circled in black marker. He had gray hair and a full mustache. The other men appeared distinctly Latin American. All were hard, rough-looking men. The next item was a blow-up of the white man. It was a grainy, black and white picture.