Solitary Soldier

“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.”

One side of his mouth quirked upward. “The only thing I have to do is die. And between now and then, all I plan to do is drink tequila and get laid. Anything else is uncertain.” He cocked his head and made a sound, more growl than laugh. “So unless you plan to help me with one of those two things, I would suggest that you don’t waste any more of your time or mine.”

A new surge of fear shot through Rachel’s veins. She could not allow him to dismiss her so easily. He was her only chance. “Victoria Colby sent me,” Rachel announced in a stronger voice than she had thought herself capable. “She said you could help me.”

Something flickered in that cold, remote gaze, then vanished as quickly as it came. “Victoria made a mistake.”

Before Rachel could protest, he turned and started toward the bar, his smooth stride unhurried and making her think of a panther as it stalked its prey.

Watching her only hope slip through her fingers, desperation tightened Rachel’s chest. She had to do or say something to convince him to help her.

Now!

“Angel intends to kill me,” she blurted. “If you won’t help me, what am I supposed to do?”

Sloan stopped and turned to face her. He stared at Rachel for a long moment with those pale, empty eyes, his unrevealing expression unchanged. What felt like a lifetime later, he spoke, “Get your affairs in order.”

Stunned by his indifference, and frightened beyond reason by his refusal, Rachel watched him walk to the bar and order another drink. The bartender filled a clean glass with tequila, the sound echoing around her, drowning her last shred of hope with its golden appeal.

Desperation exploded inside Rachel. She glanced at Josh to see that he was still occupied with his coloring, then she strode straight up to the bar, anger and frustration building almost as fast as the fear. She glared at Sloan’s unyielding profile and summoned the courage to defy his dismissal.

“I know what he did to you,” Rachel told him, her voice quaking with emotion she could no more hide than she could stop breathing. “I know about your wife and son.”

He stilled, the drink almost to his lips. A muscle flexed in his rigid jaw and his knuckles whitened around the glass. Slowly, with exacting precision, Sloan placed the untouched liquor back on the counter. He turned and stared at her, the full impact of his size slamming into Rachel for the first time. He was tall, with massive shoulders. He was more man than she had ever been this close to before. A new kind of tension zipped through her, adding to her already unbearable apprehension.

“Since you seem to know so much about my experience with Angel,” Sloan suggested with equal measures sarcasm and contempt, “why don’t you tell me what fascination you hold for the son of a bitch.”

Rachel’s throat constricted. She swallowed, but it didn’t help. “He wants my son.”

Sloan glanced at Josh. Josh was busy selecting another crayon from the well-worn box. Rachel’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. Would this man help her when she told him the rest? Please God, she prayed, please don’t let him turn us away. Not now. They had come so far.

Distrust or maybe disbelief flickered in Sloan’s otherwise emotionless eyes. “Why would he want your son?”

Everything inside Rachel stilled as she stared into the eyes of the only man on earth who could help her. And what she was about to tell him would likely be the very reason he would not.

“Because Josh is Angel’s son, too.”