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Awareness cleared the sleep from her eyes. She dropped her gaze with a guilty flush and murmured, “Sorry.”

The taste of her still lingered on his lips and tongue. With a deep, longing sigh, he rolled off her. The springs of the mattress creaked as she scrambled off the bed.

“I’m sorry, Damien.” Her nervous glance landed on everything but him. “I should have taken that book upstairs.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He left the bed and rummaged in his duffel bag for clean clothes.

Her involuntary glance at his bare chest scrambled his pulse. Blushing furiously, she fled to the loft. He chuckled wryly and watched her go, wondering how long she’d fight her desires and why.

How long could he keep his hands to himself if she continued to sleep in his bed? The memory of her snuggled next to him fired his blood. Teeth clenched, he dressed quickly, resolved to resist her temptation.

* * * *

Subdued and uncertain, Laurie led Stacy downstairs. Damien wasn’t there. A quick look out the window puzzled her. Damien was stacking sandbags at the far side of the clearing.

Watching him, she settled Stacy at the table with a bowl of cereal then poured a cup of coffee.

Curiosity sent her outside. She studied the man-high stacks of sandbags and arched an eyebrow.

“What’s this for?”

“Target practice.” Damien pulled a holstered gun from the back of his waistband. She recognized it as the one he had given her when they left her house. He slid the gun from the holster. “This is a Tokarov .9mm pistol.”

He pushed a small button on the grip. The magazine dropped into his waiting hand. He pulled the top piece of the gun back and another bullet fell out. He caught it deftly and shoved it into his pocket. He indicated the moveable piece. “This is the slide. Watch.”

Under Damien’s careful tutelage, Laurie learned to load and chamber the pistol. He made her repeat the actions several times. Though uncomfortable and leery of firearms, she soon relaxed until Stacy wandered, bored, outside. Jolted, Laurie lowered the Chinese rifle Damien had switched her to and stared at her daughter in alarm.

Obviously seeing her concern, Damien nodded for her to continue shooting at the rough red circles of paper on the sandbags. He kept Stacy well back from the firing line, patiently answering her questions. Laurie shot him a brief grin knowing full well Stacy would pester him with questions until someone stopped her. At noon, Damien called a halt to target shooting.

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“Keep this gun with you,” he insisted, handing her the loaded pistol once more in the holster. “Wear it during the day. Keep it with you at night. Get used to it.”

“Can I try?” Stacy piped up, her eyes sparkling with fascination.

Laurie eyed the gun warily then glanced uncertainly at her daughter. Stacy exhibited a healthy child’s typical fascination with the unknown—in this case, guns.

“Don’t worry about Stacy.” Damien grinned at Stacy, who smiled brightly back at him.

“I’ll teach her a few things, too.”

Alarmed and shocked, Laurie gaped at him then shook her head vehemently. “You are not putting a gun in my daughter’s hands.”

“Damn it, Laurie.” His expression went hard and his eyes glittered with harsh light. “All right, we’ll discuss it later. For now, do as you’re told. If you want to survive, do what I tell you, when I tell you, without argument.”

Laurie instinctively stepped back from his cold anger but not out of fear. Irritated, she silently made sure the gun was on safety and holstered it. With an icy glare at Damien, she led a protesting Stacy into the cabin and left him to put away his ‘toys’.

Obviously sensing the tension between the adults, Stacy cast furtive glances at each in turn. She pouted but finished her peanut butter and jelly sandwich then sat back in her chair, her small arms crossed over her chest.

“Mommy.”

Laurie glared at her. “Take a nap.”

“But

….”

“Go!” Laurie ordered, more sharply than she intended. Flooded with guilt at taking her irritation out on her daughter, she glared out the window. Stacy shoved her chair back and stomped up to the loft.

“Damn it!” Stacy’s voice carried quite clearly down to the table.

“Stacy!” Laurie scolded loudly. “I’ll wash your mouth out with soap, young lady!”

Damien smirked. Laurie glared at him. But her anger subsided as a reluctant grin tugged at her lips. Stacy tried to be independent, which for a five year old meant imitating adult behavior. Guns. She frowned at Damien across the table.

“I don’t want my daughter around guns. They’re dangerous—especially in the hands of children.”

“She’ll learn.” His steady stare caught hers.

Laurie stubbornly crossed her arms over her breasts. “It’s all over the news, Damien.

Kids take guns to school and kill each other. Then their parents, who are stupid enough to have guns in the house, plead ignorance. I don’t want my daughter to be a statistic!”

Damien let out a frustrated breath and leaned forward on the table. “Do you trust me to know what I’m doing with a gun?”

Laurie studied him for a moment and nodded sharply. “You’re trained to use guns. Stacy is only five! She could hurt or kill herself or someone else.”

“Listen to me. Stacy is around guns for the duration of my assignment,” he pointed out sternly, a sharp glint in his eyes. “Now, would you rather have her pick up a gun and treat it like a fascinating new toy, or would you prefer that she know she is looking at a dangerous weapon?

Do you want her to understand or do something tragic and stupid out of ignorance?”

Laurie gave his logic careful thought. She considered knowledge a formidable weapon.

She rarely excused stupidity. Ignorance, however, could be cured. In light of the circumstances, ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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Damien’s stand had some logic. The more Stacy knew about guns, the less likely she was to cause a tragedy.

“All right, Damien,” she conceded reluctantly. “Teach her but, please, keep her safe.”

He peered at her, his expression thoughtful. “That’s the idea. The more she knows, the safer she’ll be. I can do the same thing with her that my father did with my brother and me. I did it with my kids.”

Puzzled, she stared at him. “What was that?”

“I’ll show her what guns will do,” he replied. “I don’t have watermelons but we can use jugs full of water.”

“For

what?”

“To simulate a person’s head. She’ll see what a gunshot will do to people. It will teach her that guns are dangerous and should be treated with respect. I want you to watch.”

“Hmm,” Laurie murmured. “It might be effective.” She actually hoped the demonstration scared Stacy away from guns. “I know guns are dangerous if misused. Why should I watch?”

“You never point a gun at someone unless you intend to use it,” he emphasized, his gaze stern and unwavering. “Shoot to kill.”

Abruptly

apprehensive,

Laurie

only stared at him. He expected her to kill? An image of

Stacy sleeping in the loft flashed in her mind. Her heart swelled with love. She would kill to protect her daughter. Resigned to the inevitable, she left the table to stare out the window. The pile of sandbags waited at the clearing. She squirmed. The gun on her hip was not uncomfortable or even heavy. But the extra weight was a constant reminder of danger.

Behind her, Damien’s hands settled on her shoulders. His presence was strangely comforting.

“I’m not trying to scare you.” He paused, tensed behind her.

“Yes, I’m scaring you,” he continued, his tone grim. “I want you to be scared. A healthy dose of fear might keep you alive.”

Tears threatened but she scoffed bitterly, “I guess you’re not scared.”

His gentle hands turned her to face him, his piercing brown eyes holding hers relentlessly. Grim determination burned in the dark depths of his gazes. “Honey, I’m always scared. I get scared on every mission. Fear keeps you from being stupid or reckless. But don’t let it paralyze you.”

Honey
. The endearment echoed in her mind, warmed her heart. She searched his face but found only truth. Leaning against him, she sought strength as his arms closed around her.

“This is so unreal,” she said into his chest. “I’m scared, Damien—especially for Stacy. I don’t want to lose her.” She wrapped her arms around him and clung.

“Trust me, Laurie.”

She tilted her head and looked deep into his eyes, so full of determination. Tightening her embrace, she trusted him with her life and Stacy’s. Could she trust him with her heart? She deliberately pushed that thought away. It didn’t belong. She laid her head on his shoulder. His heart beat steadily, infusing her with his calm strength as his arms sheltered her.

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After Stacy woke up from her nap, Damien took her outside, talking to her in a low serious voice. Stacy followed eagerly, chattering excitedly as Damien placed a plastic one-gallon jug of water on top of the sandbags. Stacy grinned, her excitement almost tangible. Damien unloaded the rifle and his pistol. Stacy touched, held, and examined them.

Her heart in her throat, Laurie watched them through the window, hoping the demonstration curbed her daughter’s fascination. Sheer anxiety finally drove her outside.

“Can I shoot it?” Stacy pleaded, her emerald eyes as bright as a child’s on Christmas morning. “Please, Damien?”

Laurie swallowed the lump of fear in her throat as she approached them. Damien looked at her over Stacy’s head, leaving the final decision to her. She gulped, relinquished that bit of fear, and gave a reluctant nod.

Stacy squealed in utter delight while Laurie fidgeted, her thoughts in turmoil. Was her daughter’s interest in guns a little morbid? Or was it another aspect of a child’s healthy curiosity?

Or was it simply a by-product of a bizarre, dangerous situation? She sighed, watching intently as Damien loaded the rifle. She didn’t have the answers.

“Stacy, pay attention,” Damien commanded, his tone getting even Laurie’s attention.

“Pretend that jug of water is someone’s head. Guns are not toys. They are very dangerous if not handled properly.”

Stacy nodded, her expression as serious as possible in her enthusiasm. Damien squatted behind her and put the rifle in Stacy’s hands, his larger hands covering hers to support the weight. Guiding the small hands under his, Damien pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, echoed through the woods. Stacy cringed at the explosive sound. Laurie winced herself. The water jug exploded, splattering water everywhere. Awed, Stacy snatched her hands from beneath Damien’s and ran to look at the damage.

Water soaked the bags, spreading in irregular splotches. Stacy stared in silence then looked back at Damien, her small face solemn for such a lively child.

“It’ll do that to people?” she asked in a hushed tone.

With a grave nod, Damien said, “Yes, Stacy. Guns do that to people if you shoot them.

People die.”

Laurie wrapped her arms around her stomach and restrained herself from hugging Stacy in comfort a she mulled over Damien’s words. Laurie hated seeing her daughter so serious and even troubled and had protected her from violence all her life. But if Stacy was to be safe, she had to learn. Stacy nodded with all the solemnity a child could muster as she walked slowly back to Damien. He flipped the rifle’s safety switch to the ‘on’ position.

“You never touch a gun without my permission or supervision,” Damien ordered, stern and forbidding as he peered down at Stacy. “Understood?”

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“Yes, Sir,” Stacy replied. Her expression turned thoughtful as she looked up at him, her green eyes wide and pleading. “If I promise to be real careful, can I shoot when you and Mommy do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re just a little girl.” Damien appeared to think hard, rubbing his hand over his chin. He lifted his gaze to Laurie’s, obviously leaving the decision to her. But amusement sparkled in his eyes and his lips twitched as he stifled a grin.

Standing behind Stacy, Laurie smirked at her daughter’s attempt to drive a hard bargain and nodded. But her agreement was reluctant. Stacy’s fascination had not diminished but Laurie hoped she realized guns were not toys.

“Please, Damien?” Stacy cajoled, turning on her considerable little girl charm.

“Well, okay.” Damien gave in with mock reluctance. “But you have to do exactly what I tell you. Deal?”

“Deal!” Stacy squealed in absolute delight and unexpectedly launched herself at him.

She hugged him fiercely around the waist. Startled, Damien hesitated. Pain flashed in his eyes and disappeared. Laurie held her breath, her gaze riveted to him in silent plea. Stacy was so spontaneously affectionate she never met anyone who didn’t like her. A sharp withdrawal by Damien would only hurt and confuse her.

His throat moved convulsively as he swallowed hard. He lifted his stricken gaze once more. Laurie nodded encouragement. Damien pulled Stacy up into his arms, her feet dangling, and smiled at her. Laurie let out a sigh of relief and grinned at them. He obviously was not used to being around children. Hadn’t he mentioned teaching his children gun safety? Was he married? Was he divorced? Or maybe he was widowed?

As he lowered Stacy to the ground, she started to ask. However, one look at the pain lingering in his eyes as he watched Stacy scamper back into the cabin made Laurie bite her tongue. That was a personal wound best left alone.

Later Laurie listened in amusement to Stacy’s excited chatter. Her avid curiosity kept Damien answering questions about guns all through dinner.

“How many guns do you have?” she demanded, staring at him as he ate.

“Just three.”

Stacy barely paused, her eyes glowing. “Do you go hunting?”

“Sometimes.” His eyes darkened as he struggled to keep his answers simple and straightforward without scaring her. Laurie appreciated his sensitivity and winced in sympathy at his discomfort.