Always a Warrior(14)

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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Chapter Three




“What about?” she demanded anxiously as she followed Damien back into the cabin.



She yanked a chair from under the table and sat down and gripped the edge of the seat so tightly her knuckles ached. She shot glance out the window at Stacy still playing in the tree then looked back at Damien.



“As of two days ago, Crawford was still very much alive,” he stated tersely, “and still smuggling.” His face hardened and his eyes turned to brittle chocolate.



Laurie gaped at him. It was all still unbelievable despite the evidence she had seen with her own eyes. One day her father was dead—the next he was a very much a live terrorist. Fate demanded too much of her. She could not change the illusions of a lifetime in just a day.



“Laurie.” Damien snapped his fingers and she blinked. “Did your mother ever tell you anything besides that he was dead?”



“No.” She shook her head on a wave of anguish. “I never even saw a picture. You people know more about him than I do.”



And it isn’t supposed to be that way, she thought bitterly. Her father still lived. New feelings of abandonment and anger replaced the old sorrow and loneliness. Bitterness only scraped the surface.



“Where is he?” she demanded abruptly, clenching her fists at her sides.



“I don’t know.” Damien, his voice harsh and his expression unyielding, admitted.

“They’ve moved. We don’t know where they went.”



Laurie watched him, her hands once more curled around the edge of the seat. Barely controlled fury emanated from him. He gripped the back of a chair so hard tendons stood out on the backs of his hands and his knuckles turned white. Laurie instinctively flinched back from his fury and eyed him nervously. He stood ramrod straight, every muscle rigid, and glared at her.

Anger blazed in his eyes.



Her voice barely above a whisper, she dared ask, “What happened?”



He did not reply immediately so she let the silence linger and tore her anxious stare from him to watch Stacy through the window.



“I don’t know,” Damien finally ground out through clenched teeth, “but when I find out--

.” He broke off, forcing the rage down. There had been a breakdown in communication and his source had disappeared. He could not tell Laurie that but if he had to train her to fight, he would damn well make sure she fought well. Without current knowledge of the terrorists’ movements, they had to be ready for anything. He was damned if he would be caught flat-footed with an untrained civilian on his hands, especially since Laurie had to play a part in the capture of Crawford.

“Damien.”



Her tentative tone broke into his thoughts and he focused on her. Her face pale, she regarded him solemnly. Fear lurked in the depths of her eyes despite her best efforts to hide it.

He blinked, almost surprised. She was beautiful. Just looking at her was a sucker punch to his ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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hormones. She tangled him in knots without even trying. Watching her, he shoved lust aside and wondered if she was up to the violent confrontation awaiting them. He remembered what she had done to the terrorist they removed from her house and smiled grimly.



“What now?” she asked quietly. Only the slight waver in her voice betrayed her apprehension.



“I teach and you learn.” His expression tolerated no argument.

“Learn

what?”



“To fight and to kill,” he shot back harshly, glaring at her.



Silence descended around them. Laurie detected no compromise in his rigid demeanor.

He meant every word he said. His sharp glare pinned her in place, though his face somehow remained expressionless. She forced herself to look out the window at her daughter, her reason for living and the only reason to follow every one of Damien’s orders.



Stacy had left the tree to chase a butterfly across the clearing. She stopped at the edge of the woods, shoulders slumped in disappointment, and then trudged back to the cabin. Laurie sighed. If only her world could be as simple as her daughter’s. She looked back at Damien and squirmed under his intense stare.



The situation suddenly overwhelmed her. Terrorists—her father was still alive.

Conflicting emotions flooded her. My father is still alive! The thought pounded in her skull.

Elation, anger, and fear fought inside her. He was alive, all right, and dragging her and Stacy into his violent, traitorous world. Screams bubbled in her throat but her father was not there to scream at. Without a single word, she fled to the loft to sort out her thoughts and emotions and the tangle of lies and illusions her life had become.