The Last Honorable Man

She dropped the bottle next to his expensive boots, and the smile that had been so close to breaking, died, unborn. His eyes hardened, as did his voice. “Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll drop you off and not bother you anymore.”

“I will go no further with you.”

“I just want to help you.”

“I do not need your help.” She shook free of his grip, took two steps down the road.

In one agile move, he stepped in front of her, blocking her way again. Containing a heavy sigh, she stopped short of plowing into him. Just short. They stood nearly nose to nose, close enough for her to see the beginnings of the stubble that would shadow his jaw in a few hours. Close enough for her to see the shadows in his eyes, too, though their source was less clear to her.

“Bull,” he said.

She tilted her chin up. “You are certainly acting like one.”

“Only because you’re being unreasonable.”

“Because I don’t wish to be helped by a man with my fiancé’s blood on his hands?”

The ranger’s face blanched, and at that moment she knew the source of the shadows in his eyes. Pain. Guilt. Shame. She would not have thought a policía capable of these emotions.

“You don’t want my help?” he said. “Give me the number of someone to call for you. A name. Anything.”

“No.”

“No, you won’t? Or no, you can’t? There isn’t anyone to call, is there? You have no one.”

Her face heated. “That is none of your concern.”

“Lady, right now that is my only concern. Because until I know you have someone to go to, I’m stuck with you. And you’re stuck with me.”

Sensing the turmoil in him, she could almost feel sorry for him. Almost, if the seedling sympathy sprouting inside her had not been quickly trampled by the stronger emotions she felt. Rage. Fear.

Hate.

She held on to the hate. It was the only emotion capable of keeping her on her feet. It gave her the strength to shoulder past him and start again down the blistering blacktop.

Behind her, his footfalls kept pace with her own. “Eduardo’s place has been sealed since the shooting. Where have you been staying?”

She ignored him.

“When was the last time you had a decent meal?” he called to her.

At the mention of food, her knees nearly buckled. The ranger’s hands were on her shoulders, holding her, as she swayed. For a moment the broad male chest behind her was the only solid in a fluid world. The kick of his heart against her spine was a beacon, guiding her from the stormy sea to firm ground.

When the ground stopped rolling beneath her, he turned her gently toward him, the way a parent would nudge a tired child. Instinct screamed at her to resist, flee or fight, but she had the strength for neither. Unable to meet his gaze this time, she stared at his chest. Weakness was so uncharacteristic for her. Pregnancy was doing wild things to her body, her stamina. She hated the feeling of helplessness that consumed her.

“Please let me go,” she said, humiliated by the pleading tone in her voice.

“Go where?” His words, like his hands, held her softly in place. “Back to San Ynez?”

Her gaze jumped to his, but before she could speak, he continued. “How do you plan on doing that with no plane ticket, no money, no credit cards? Nothing but your passport, some clothes, two bananas and a rosary to your name?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You searched my bag?”

“You left it in my car.”

“And this gives you the right to invade my privacy?”

He scowled. She’d caught him, and she knew it. She had studied American culture enough to know they had laws about these things. Search and seizure. But since when had the policía in any country cared about the law?

“I thought you might have some medicine to settle your stomach,” he said. “Or some crackers to nibble on.”

“Inside my passport?”

He looked chagrined but defiant. “I was curious. It’s not a crime.”

“Is it a crime to force me to go with you when I have said I do not want your help?”

“I’m not going to let you just walk away. Not when you have nowhere to go.”

Exasperation filled her voice. Had there ever before been such a stubborn man? “Where would you take me, Ranger?”

The question seemed to stump him for a moment, then he stammered, “I can help you get home.”

The laugh that welled up inside her felt hysterical. “Do you know much about San Ynez?”

“Just that it’s a small military dictatorship in South America.”

“You are a Texas Ranger. An elite police officer. You must know more than that.”

He drew his brows together. “It’s rumored to be a major drug-producing nation, but it’s still a poor country. All the money goes to the cartels, I suppose.”

“It is a place where men are killed for resisting the military police who force them to manufacture narcotics. Women are given as rewards to the soldiers for their brutality and schools are closed so that the children may work in the coca fields. Yet this is the place you want to help me go back to?” Her hand curved protectively over her abdomen. “The place you would have me raise my child?”

“I just assumed—”

“You assumed wrong! I escaped San Ynez at the risk of my own death to give my child—Eduardo’s child—the life it deserves. I will not go back.” Her vehemence surprised her. Until now, she had assumed she would have to return to San Ynez, with Eduardo gone.

Poor Eduardo, who would never see his child.

Now, even considering going back to her homeland, to the violence, the madness of drugs, the death, made her stomach roll. She’d come to America for her child; she would stay for her child. Somehow.

The ranger’s expression twisted as understanding set in. “You don’t have residency in the U.S.” Statement, not question.

“I am carrying the child of an American. That is all the residency I need.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m no immigration lawyer, but I don’t think so. You’ll be deported.”

“Not if they can’t find me.” She angled her head, feeling superior now that she’d finally found an argument he couldn’t counter. He was the police, bound by his law. He would not help her. She just hoped he wouldn’t arrest her, either. “So, Ranger, do you still want to help me?”