Always a Warrior(28)

Something flickered in his eyes then disappeared but he maintained his impersonal scrutiny of her. She read nothing of his thoughts. But she had realized early on that his carefully blank expression meant he was not telling her everything. Dread churned her stomach as she watched and waited.



“I have to leave,” he finally said. “Someone will replace me. In a couple of days you can go home.” Another brief flicker of something flashed in his eyes.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

42



That impersonal declaration disappointed but did not surprise her. She knew instinctively what the next phase of his mission entailed.



“You’re going after him.” Her unwavering stare held his.



He raised an eyebrow but made no denials. He did not say a word. Restless with sudden anxiety, Laurie pushed the chair back and crossed to the window. Leaning her shoulder on the wall, she stared into the forest. The day was cloudy, dark with the threat of heavy rain, maybe even a thunderstorm as gloomy as she felt.



“I want to see him,” she stated abruptly, her breath momentarily fogging the window. “I want to see my father. I need answers. I want to go with you.”



He did not reply. She stewed for a moment then turned, afraid to look at him, and returned to the table. She sipped her coffee and finally lifted her gaze to meet his.



He shook his head, his expression hard and unrelenting. “No. You are not walking into the middle of this operation just to blow off steam. We will get him and I will not let you screw it up.”



She caught that strange flicker in his eyes again. What wasn’t he telling her? He dropped his gaze to the tabletop and stayed silent. Her stomach churned more as she eyed him intently.

Things were obviously more complex than Damien was leading her to believe. With everything no doubt classified, she did not expect his full confidence. He told her only what he deemed it necessary for her to know. Grumbling in exasperation, she drained her cup and left the table.



Laurie fixed breakfast for Stacy and Damien but, not being hungry, she went outside. The cold damp air struck a chill but she ignored it as she wandered across the clearing. She stepped between two huge trees and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her sweatshirt was not enough to ward off the chill. Cold shivers shook her but she only leaned against a tree, her forehead resting on the trunk. Her mind spun with what little she knew. Her father’s capture was imminent. Damien was leaving



And she did not want him to go. When, she wondered, had she fallen in love with him?

Yes, she acknowledged, love. Lust was easily ignored and faded quickly. Love lasted a lifetime.



She turned her head and looked back at the cabin. Love also hurt when it was not returned. Damien wanted her. He left her in no doubt of that. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kisses. Her body throbbed with the need for his possession. And her heart ached for his love—the one thing she would never have from him. She could have him in her bed but not in her life.



Tears welled in her eyes and she turned blindly back to the tree. She crossed her arms, leaned on the tree trunk, and let the tears fall. When they subsided, she sniffled, wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve, and drew in a steadying breath.



Something warm covered her back and shoulders. Gentle hands covered her shoulders.

Damien. She almost sighed.



“It’s cold out here,” he murmured gently as he turned her to face him. She blinked and stared at his chest.



He shifted his jacket to drape over her shoulders and snapped the collar closed. His knuckles brushed her throat. Sizzling bolts of need shot into her and she stumbled back against the tree. He skimmed a knuckle up her throat until he tipped her chin. She looked into his concerned eyes as they searched her face.



“Crying?” he said softly as his finger traced the path of her tears.



She shook her head in denial. His heat swamped her, warmer even than his jacket that carried the sheer male scent of him. She shuddered but not from the pervading chill of the ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

43

approaching storm. He took one step, slid his arms around her, and pressed her closer to his hard chest. It seemed he surrounded her, drew her into his enervating heat. And, oh, how she wanted to stay there, wrapped in his arms. A heavy sigh escaped her and she tilted her head to look at him.



His eyes were dark, dangerous, and compelling. Something even darker, even more dangerous lurked in the depths of that relentless gaze. Her heart lurched then pounded erratically in her chest. He shifted, his arms tightening around her for a brief moment before he slid his hands to her waist. She was caught, trapped, between the tree and the hard length of him. The rough bark pressed into her back. His erection pressed into her. His eyes glittered with a feral hunger that sparked a raging fire deep inside her.