San Antonio Secret

He pressed the final strip of tape against her skin but didn’t move his tan hand from her thigh. A tingling of awareness rose across her skin, settling deep in her belly.

Now if she could just convince her body to listen to her mind.

Rafe simply looked at her, the muscle in his jaw pulsing, holding her gaze hostage.

Despite her decision and best of intentions, she couldn’t control her response to his closeness. Being in her underwear on the receiving end of Rafe Vargas’s hot stare was a bad place to be. The man could still make her heart flip-flop. Even when he was obviously furious, like now.

She blinked, breaking the spell, and quickly tossed the bedspread over her naked legs.

Only one way to handle him. Get on the offensive and don’t back down. “In what fantasyland are you my husband?”

* * *

IF THE MOTEL owner hadn’t been so damn protective of Sierra’s room number, Rafe wouldn’t have had to resort to the lie. He wasn’t about to dwell on why the statement had crossed his lips all too easily, nor was he willing to apologize for it.

He’d dreamed of having Sierra in his bed for the past two months. His hand stroked the bandage on her thigh gently. But not like this. Never like this. When Rafe had first entered the room and had seen that bloody towel on the floor, his knees had nearly buckled.

A few inches and the bullet would’ve nicked her femoral artery. She’d have bled out.

She’d come too damn close to dying. Twice.

But she was alive. And mostly well. She lay propped up on the bed, shadows beneath her eyes, her cheeks pale. He cataloged the injuries he could see: the scrapes, the bruise darkening her jaw and cheekbone. She must be black-and-blue.

Someone needed to pay.

At his silence, a flash of blue fire erupted in her eyes. He’d witnessed the flame more than once: usually when someone crossed her, but also when she’d wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Her very presence drew him in. The small motel room’s walls closed in on him. He had to let the past go.

Every instinct inside him fought the urge to wrap his arms around her, breathe in her scent and just hold her close. If he closed his eyes, he knew he could feel the silk of her skin beneath him, smell the clean scent of her hair, remember her generosity as he held her, giving him her heart and soul.

And he’d been stupid—or smart enough—to throw it away when all he’d wanted was to stay with her.

He’d done the right thing. He had to believe that. The alternative—well, he just wouldn’t consider the alternative.

Instead of acting on his urges, he cocked his head to the side. “What am I doing here? Oh, no reason. I get a call from Noah that you’d vanished from Denver without telling your family only months after being held captive by a serial killer. And then, after you use your debit card at a convenience store, I find you a mile away in a barely up-to-code motel room, shot and obviously assaulted. I don’t know, Sierra. Why don’t you guess what I’m doing here? Saving you one more time.”

“A mile would’ve been far enough if anyone but you had been searching,” she muttered under her breath. Her lips flattened in a straight line. “Go home, Rafe. And tell Noah if he wants to send a babysitter, pick someone else.”

The words, though expected, still hurt. No distance would ever be far enough if she was in trouble. “Tough. You got me. And I’m not budging.” He lifted his hand and hovered over the stark mottling on her face. “Honey, who did this to you?”

Her eyes glistened and she looked away. “Don’t be nice. I can’t take it.”

“What are you involved in?” He leaned closer and with gentle fingers clasped her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. “An op?”

“You and Noah got me suspended, remember?”

“And if I remember correctly, you seem to find ways to insert yourself into places you shouldn’t be.”

“The Kazakhstan situation was different. Zane needed help. He just didn’t know it yet,” Sierra countered. “I found the link between the terrorists and that charity, didn’t I?”

“Not the point. I’m not saying you’re not good at your job. Hell, you’re the best. We all know that.”

Her mouth dropped open, but instead of coming back at him like Rafe had expected, she gripped the sheets, twisting the fabric. “I might be good at the keyboard, but not in the field. I screwed up. I should’ve stopped it.”

Her eyes shifted away from his gaze. She seemed to be struggling for words. Finally a sharp curse escaped her. “I want more than anything to kick you out of this room and tell you and Noah to shove your concern where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Sierra—”

“But I can’t.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze, direct, unwavering. “I bought a burner phone to call Ransom. I need CTC’s help, Rafe. Someone kidnapped my best friend and her daughter. My goddaughter.” She paused, pain slicing over her features. “I let it happen, and I need you to help me save them.”

* * *

MALLORY COULDN’T STOP staring at the blood seeping from the dead man’s body. Her insides went cold. She glanced back at the trailer. She had to get Chloe out of here, but how?

“Get rid of the body,” the voice from the passenger side of the police car snapped. “And bring the girl here.”

“Yes, boss,” her guard said.

“No. Please.” Mallory would say anything, promise anything, to keep her daughter safe.

Two men picked up Judson and carried him to the side of the trailer. Mallory’s captor disappeared inside, leaving her alone.

Every instinct screamed to run.

A tall man opened the car door and stood. He wore a cop’s uniform. There was a touch of gray at his temples; his eyes were obscured by sunglasses.

“I wouldn’t advise trying to escape, Mrs. Harrigan. Or your daughter will pay the price.”

The aluminum door fluttered closed.

“Mommy! Don’t leave me anymore. I was scared.”

Chloe pulled at the cowboy’s arm.

“Let her go,” the cop ordered.

Within seconds Chloe raced to her mother. Mallory lifted her little girl into her arms and hugged her tight. She looked over her daughter’s shoulder. “Please let her go. She’s only five.”

“Chloe, do you want to leave?” the police officer asked.

The little girl nodded against her mother’s shoulder. “Princess Buttercup needs me. She has to eat her dinner. Kitties can’t miss dinner, you know. You have to take good care of them.”

The man smiled, a grin that made Mallory’s stomach roil.

“I’ll bring your cat to you, Chloe, but only if you tell me something very important.”

Chloe bit her lip. “I don’t know anything ’portant.”