Solitary Soldier

Sloan had nothing to offer her

She was a client, nothing more. When this was over, Rachel and her son would go back to their lives. And Sloan…well, he would return to his usual existence.

He watched Rachel trudge across the courtyard. She looked beat. She couldn’t have had more than two hours’ sleep last night.

Sloan caught himself. He would not feel any sympathy. No way. He had to rebuild that mutual dislike that had first stood between them.

When he was sure Rachel had retired to her own room, he finally went inside. The house was quiet. No sweet, feminine laughter. No pitter-patter of little feet. Already he missed the kid’s questions, and Rachel’s singsong voice as she played with her son. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He had sworn that no one would ever get this close to him again.

Solitary Soldier

Debra Webb

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a day care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Rachel Larson—She cannot allow Angel to get his hands on her son. She will do whatever it takes to protect the child from his father.

Trevor Sloan—The last thing he wants or needs is a woman and a child reminding him of all he has lost.

Josh—Rachel’s four-year-old son. Can she protect him from his own father?

Gabriel DiCassi, aka “Angel”—A highly paid assassin. He wants his son and he will stop at nothing to get him.

Victoria Colby—The head of the Colby Agency. She sends Rachel and her son to Sloan. Despite Sloan’s mercenary mentality, Victoria knows that he is Rachel’s only hope.

Tanya—Angel’s longtime lover. She wants Angel all to herself, but can she risk his wrath to accomplish her heart’s desire?

Ric Martinez—Colby Agency’s newest field operative. He has attitude and charm, necessary skills to get the information he needs to fulfill his mission.

First, I must thank Greyhound bus lines for the ride of our lives, and God for providing the snow that trapped us in Cleveland on our way to New York. Had I not been stuck on a bus with my partner-in-crime for thirty-one hours, this story might not have been born.

This book is dedicated to a dear friend and fellow writer. She is my partner-in-crime, just as Ethel was to Lucy. We began this journey together—may it always be as fun, exciting and “bizarre” as it was in the beginning when we couldn’t wait for “the call.” Cheers, Rhonda, we made it.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Prologue

“I’ll pay anything you ask,” Rachel Larson insisted.

Victoria Colby regarded the woman across the wide expanse of her oak desk for a long moment before she responded. “Miss Larson, this is primarily an investigations agency. We accept clients who require personal protection on a case-by-case basis, and generally by referral only.”

Disappointment shadowed Rachel’s pale features. Dark circles beneath eyes that contained as much wariness as fear, and the ill fit of her clothing told Victoria that this young woman had not slept or eaten well in too many months. Her overall look of extreme fatigue signaled her proximity to the edge. The ability to size up a client had facilitated Victoria’s climb to the top in this business. And right now, every instinct told her that this young woman was more than simply desperate.

“I’ll need to know a great deal more before I can make a decision as to whether the Colby Agency will take your case,” Victoria explained.

Rachel drew in a shaky breath and squared her shoulders. “Detective Clarence Taylor sent me. He was a police detective here in Chicago before moving to New Orleans.”

Victoria considered the name for a moment. “Yes, I remember Detective Taylor. He left three or four years ago I believe.”

Rachel nodded, hope kindled in those dark brown eyes. “That’s right. He knows that I’ve exhausted every other possibility, including the police.” Rachel leaned forward and clutched Victoria’s desk like a life-line against the violent waters churning her obviously troubled soul. “You have to help me, Mrs. Colby. He’s going to take my little boy.” A single tear slipped down her colorless cheek before she could swipe it away with the back of her hand. “I can’t let him do that.”

Sympathy tugged at Victoria’s softer side—the side that hadn’t hardened over the years in this cutthroat business. She knew all too well that kind of fear, that kind of pain. She blocked the memories. If Clarence Taylor had sent Miss Larson to her, Victoria would certainly do all she could to help her. “All right,” she offered. “I will consider your case, but you have to tell me everything, Miss Larson.”

“Thank you.” Rachel’s voice cracked with emotion.

Victoria opened her notepad and removed her gold pen from its holder. “I’ll need to know as many details as possible about the stalker.” She glanced up from her pad. “First, do you know his name?”

Rachel licked her lips, then swallowed visibly. “I believe your agency has worked on a case involving him before. His name is Gabriel DiCassi. They call him—”

“Angel,” Victoria finished for her, the name barely more than a whisper. She shuddered with remembered dread. Several years, but not nearly enough, had passed since she heard that name. Not since…Sloan left.

“Detective Taylor thought that one of your investigators might have experience dealing with…him,” she said uncertainly.

Taking her time, Victoria placed her pen on the blank notepad, then leveled her gaze on Rachel’s. “Unfortunately, I do know him.”

Despair reigned supreme in the young woman’s features. “Then you know that this is no ordinary situation.”

“Yes,” Victoria agreed gravely. “Angel is a highly paid assassin whose reputation boasts a perfect record of kills. He’s ruthless. If you’re his target, he won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“Please tell me you’ll help me.” Desperation weighed Rachel’s weary tone. “I have to find a way to protect my son.”

A frown tugged at Victoria. Somehow the part about the child didn’t quite gel. “Why would Angel want to take your son?” Victoria thought briefly of the small dark-haired boy sitting in her outer office under her secretary Mildred’s watchful eye.

Rachel looked away for a moment. “Because he’s Josh’s father.” Her lips trembled with the effort it took to force her next words. “Five years ago, we were…involved.”

“Involved?” Victoria heard the contempt in her own voice, and immediately regretted it. Humiliation clouded Rachel’s expression.

“I was very young. It was a mistake.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slowly from side to side. A soul-deep pain clouded her gaze when she opened her eyes once more. “He used me to get to my father.”

“Yet you’re still alive.” Victoria arched a speculative brow. “That’s not Angel’s style. He never leaves loose ends.”

“He would have killed me…” Rachel blinked furiously at the tears gathering, then shrugged. “I was lucky to escape. I’ve been running ever since. Later, he found out about Josh, and now Angel wants him.”

If her story were true, Rachel Larson was as good as dead. Angel allowed nothing to stand between him and what he wanted. Anyone who tried to stop him was accepting a death sentence. Though Victoria employed the very finest in their fields, tracking down a man like Angel would take resources she simply could not risk. She had learned that lesson too well seven years ago.

Victoria braced herself for what she knew had to be said. “Regrettably, Miss Larson, the Colby Agency cannot provide the services you have requested.”

Rachel stiffened. “You won’t help me?”

“I don’t mean that at all.” Victoria pulled open her right desk drawer and flipped through her files. She removed a manila folder and scanned its contents. Satisfied with what she found, Victoria turned her attention back to Rachel. “There is only one man, to my knowledge, who knows Angel well enough to be of any assistance to you, and he doesn’t work for me anymore.” Victoria copied the name and address from the folder onto the back of her business card. “I can’t guarantee that he’ll be willing to take your case, but he’s your only possible hope at succeeding. Tell him I sent you.”

Rachel accepted the offered card. “Who is he?”

“Someone who used to work for this agency.” Victoria leveled her gaze on Rachel’s. “Someone I would trust with my own life. His name is Trevor Sloan.”

“He must be the investigator Detective Taylor mentioned.”

Victoria dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Sloan was the best investigator the Colby Agency has ever had the privilege of employing.” Regret trickled through her. “As I said, he doesn’t work for me anymore. Although this agency has utilized his services from time to time over the past couple of years, Sloan is very selective in the offers he takes these days.” Victoria paused before continuing. “Considering the circumstances, he might not want to take your case at all.”

Rachel searched Victoria’s gaze. “If he’s willing, how can he help me?”

Memories Victoria would rather not have recalled played in the private theater of her mind. “He knows Angel. He knows how the man operates and what motivates him.”

Frowning, Rachel hesitated at first, but then asked, “How is it that Sloan knows Angel so well?”

Victoria sighed her own hesitation. What would it hurt to tell her? If Sloan could help the woman, Victoria rationalized, understanding would make dealing with him somewhat easier. “Seven years ago Angel assassinated two very prominent businessmen here in Chicago,” she began. “The Colby Agency was called in to consult on the case.” Victoria tamped down the guilt that quickly surfaced. “I assigned Sloan to support them. He possesses an uncanny ability to read people. He studied Angel’s case, tracked him for months.” Victoria met Rachel’s unsuspecting gaze knowing that what she would say next would only add to her growing fear. “When Sloan got too close, Angel retaliated in a particularly ruthless manner. Recognizing the kind of man Sloan was and what would hurt him most, Angel murdered Sloan’s wife and took his three-year-old son.”

Rachel gasped and her eyes widened in horror. “Oh God.”

“The child’s body wasn’t discovered for a while, and during that time Angel taunted Sloan with telephone calls of his son’s recorded cries for Daddy…” Her voice drifted off as the painful memories of that seemingly endless year of tracking Angel sifted through Victoria’s thoughts. Sloan had pushed himself beyond any man’s physical and mental limitations, and found nothing. Then, finally, they’d discovered the small body burned beyond recognition. Something had snapped inside Sloan then and he’d simply disappeared. Months later, Victoria learned that he’d resurfaced as a private contractor in Mexico. He hadn’t allowed her close since. But he was still the best in the business of tracking and protection.

Rachel’s complexion turned a whiter shade of pale. “How will I ever stop him?”

Victoria studied her a long moment before answering. Perhaps Angel had some sort of twisted reasoning for allowing Rachel to live just as he had when he spared Sloan’s life. Living with the loss was much more difficult than dying. Gabriel DiCassi was evil incarnate.

Victoria pointed to the card in Rachel’s hand. “Talk to Sloan.” If even a small part of the man she once knew lived behind that hardened, go-to-hell armor he wore, Sloan would never be able to turn this woman and her child away. And maybe the opportunity would allow him to lay his own demons to rest. “And don’t let his attitude scare you off,” Victoria added. “If there is anyone who can help you, Sloan can.”

RACHEL STOOD ON the street corner in downtown Chicago and stared at the card in her hand. Los Laureles Cantina in Florescitaf, Mexico. That’s where she would find this man named Sloan. What sort of man used a cantina for his business office? Maybe she didn’t want to know. Rachel shivered despite the August sun beating down from the clear blue sky. No amount of heat would ever make her feel warm inside knowing what lay ahead of her.

But she had no choice…she had to do something.

No matter how far and fast she ran, Angel always found her. He wanted her son. Angel only allowed her to take care of Josh for the time being because he felt the boy needed his mother. He had said those very words to her on more than one occasion. One day though, he intended to take Josh. Rachel shuddered at the thought. She had to do something before that day came.

“I’m hungry, Mommy.”

Rachel’s attention jerked back to the here and now. She smiled at the little boy whose hand she held tightly in her own. “I’m sorry, honey. We’ll have lunch soon.” Satisfied, Josh smiled back at her. Somehow she had to find Sloan and convince him to help her.

No matter what it took.

Chapter One

Thank God.

After searching all afternoon beneath the blistering August sun, Rachel Larson had finally found the place no one seemed to know about. Or perhaps it was her poor excuse for Spanish they didn’t understand. Rachel surveyed the run-down building before her. Located in an unsavory part of an obscure little Mexican town called Florescitaf, the cantina known as Los Laureles looked even more forbidding than she had expected. Maybe that’s why no one would admit to knowing its location.

Squaring her shoulders against the uneasiness skittering up her spine, Rachel reminded herself of why she was here. She had to do this. There was no other alternative. Besides, the place was named after some sort of flower, surely it couldn’t be so bad.

Instinctively Rachel tightened her hold on Josh’s hand when he peeked around her skirt to watch the children playing in the alley between the cantina and the equally run-down, open-air meat market next door. Rachel glanced down at her son and smiled when his eyes widened in wonder at the goats the children appeared to be tending. Barefoot, and faces bright with smiles, the local children stared back at Josh with that same wonder in their dark eyes.

Josh seldom played with other children. They were never in one place long enough to make friends, and even if they were, ties to anyone was just another risk Rachel and Josh couldn’t afford. Rachel sighed. Would their lives never be normal?

Rachel stole one last, lingering moment to savor the children’s innocent faces, the warmth of the merciless sun, and the pungent smells of raw, drying and roasting meat from the nearby market. After today, one way or another, her life would never be the same.

Today things were going to change.

Drawing in a deep, bolstering breath, Rachel took the first step toward that end. The stench of stale tobacco, alcohol and sweat enveloped her as she entered the disreputable-looking cantina. Overhead ancient fans slowly stirred the fetid air. Before her eyes adjusted to the dim, smoky interior, Rachel felt one narrowed gaze after the other scrutinize her as if she were the latest addition to the menu. Uncertainty warred with the desperation that was her constant companion.

You can do this, Rach, she reminded the part of her that wanted to run as far away from here as possible. Angel had warned her that he was growing impatient with her useless measures to elude him. What would he do when he discovered that she had come to this man named Sloan? Rachel shivered, and pushed away the thought. She couldn’t think about that now.

This was the only way.

Still holding Josh’s hand in her left and with her right clenched tightly around the strap of her over-stuffed shoulder bag, Rachel weaved her way between the tables and to the bar that extended half the length of the room. She hated to bring her four-year-old son into a place like this, but what else could she do? She didn’t dare allow him out of her sight. And she had to find Sloan.

Their lives depended upon it.

“Excuse me,” Rachel said as politely as possible with fear pounding through her veins. “Do you speak English?”

“Sí. What is your pleasure, señora?” Propped against the worn smooth counter, the bartender’s examining gaze lingered on Rachel’s breasts before he looked up and smiled.

Heavyset, with thick dark hair and a wide mustache, the man oozed what he likely considered charm. Rachel swallowed the fear clawing at her throat and manufactured a tight smile of her own. “I’m looking for a man called Sloan.”

One bushy eyebrow quirked the slightest bit, but the smile stayed in place. “And why would such a pretty lady look for such a dangerous man?” he asked in that heavily accented voice, putting emphasis on the words pretty lady.

“A friend sent me.” What if he wouldn’t tell her where Sloan was? What if Sloan wasn’t even here? He could be working some other case in God knows where. What would she do then? Rachel’s heart pounded so hard she felt sure the man behind the counter could hear it.

“It’s very important that I find him,” she forged ahead, her voice faltering despite her best efforts to keep it firm. Rachel moistened her lips and held her ground as he took his time considering her request.

“El solitario.” With a jerk of his head, the bartender gestured toward the darkest corner of the establishment. “The one who sits all alone.”

Rachel nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

Before she could turn, his next words stopped her. “Do not thank me, señora. It is not my habit to send sheep to slaughter, but you asked.” He picked up a grimy cloth and absently wiped the counter, his gaze still leveled on hers.

Rachel stared at him, uncertain what to do with his offhanded warning. Should she run now and cut her losses? Her hand tightened around Josh’s. Maybe Victoria had been wrong about Sloan.

“It’s very important.”

The bartender shrugged. “Perhaps, pretty lady, you should come back later.” He darted a look at the faded plastic clock on the wall. “It is just four o’clock, his mood will be nasty for a while yet.”

“I’ll…” Rachel backed up a step. “Thank you,” she said hesitantly. She glanced down at Josh and said another quick prayer before starting in the direction the bartender had indicated. Surely the bartender was exaggerating. Sloan couldn’t be as fearsome as all that. Victoria Colby had recommended him. He was a former employee of hers. The Colby Agency had come highly recommended to Rachel. She trusted Detective Taylor’s judgment implicitly.

Ignoring what were most likely lewd Spanish remarks tossed in her direction, Rachel walked straight to the far end of the room. She would show no fear. She was not afraid, she chanted like a mantra with each step she took. Rachel paused a few feet away from her destination and pulled out a chair from an unoccupied table. After settling Josh into the seat, she crouched in front of him and forced a wide smile she didn’t in any way feel.

“Josh, I want you to stay right here until Mommy speaks to the man just over there.” Rachel pointed out the table only a few feet away. “Okay, sweetie?”

Josh bobbed his head up and down, his eyes wide with uncertainty, and even a little fear. Rachel’s heart squeezed in her chest. Josh would start school next year. How many of his classmates will have experienced a place such as this? Then again, how many of them could claim the devil himself as a father?

Rachel pushed aside the painful thoughts and ruffled her son’s dark hair. She pulled a coloring book and small box of crayons from her bag and placed them on the scarred tabletop. “I want you to color Mommy a pretty picture and I’ll only be a minute.”

Josh nodded once and flipped the coloring book to a fresh page. Satisfied, Rachel stood. She forced herself to turn away from the child she loved more than life itself. She looked back twice as she took the few remaining steps, each time hoping to comfort Josh with the halfhearted smile her trembling lips managed to maintain.

Her son waved shyly and Rachel felt a real smile spread across her lips then. Yes, she could do this. She would do it for Josh. Confident in her decision, Rachel turned back to her objective.

The man sat alone, an empty tequila bottle on the table before him. El solitario reverberated through Rachel. A solitary soldier. A mercenary for hire. Just the kind of man she needed. He didn’t look up when she stopped an arm’s length away. He seemed fascinated with the gold liquid in the glass he was turning between his thumb and forefinger.

Rachel’s first up-close impression of the man was dangerous, just like the bartender said. Sloan looked like he would be tall, and he was definitely solidly built. His too-long tawny hair brushed his broad shoulders. The sleeves had been cut from the faded shirt he wore, displaying muscled arms. He looked very strong, and for one fleeting moment Rachel felt a little safer in the knowledge that this was the man who could help her.

But then he spoke…

“Unless you’re selling your wares, I’m not interested.”

Rachel shivered at the husky sound of his deep voice. Disregarding his crude remark, she summoned her waning courage and asked, “Are you Sloan?”

He lifted his gaze to hers then, and Rachel’s breath caught. Icy, translucent blue eyes cut a hole straight to her soul. His square, beard-shadowed jaw reaffirmed her first impression. Dangerous.

“Unfortunately—” He tossed back the last of the tequila in his glass without taking that piercing gaze from hers. Rachel jumped when the glass clunked down onto the table. “—I haven’t had enough to drink to be anyone else.” He licked the taste of liquor from his lips. “But it’s still early.”

Mustering her scattered courage, Rachel forced herself to speak. “I’ve come a long way and—”

“You do know,” he interrupted as if she hadn’t spoken at all, “that this is no place for children.” His gaze darted past her to where she had left her son.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder to make sure Josh was okay. She swallowed back the mushrooming uncertainty. “I know,” she replied slowly, her resolve crumbling beneath his stony, emotionless glare. “My name is Rachel Larson. I…I need your help.”

In one fluid motion he stood and towered over her. She battled the urge to flee. Absolute silence screamed around them for the space of two heartbeats before he responded.

“Then you’ve wasted your time, Miss Larson.”

Her heart lurched. “Please, you have to hear me out.”