Debra Webb - Solitary Soldier

Once Sloan had ushered them into his Jeep the interrogation had begun. Sloan wanted to know every detail of every moment Josh had been out of their sight. It didn’t seem to matter to Sloan that a four-year-old had no concept of time. Josh explained that he had followed one of the children who was chasing a dog and had gotten lost. When he couldn’t find his mommy he simply sat down and cried. A nice dark-haired lady, according to Josh, had come along and told him not to cry and that she had a gift for him from his daddy. Then she had led Josh to where he could find his mommy.

The lady’s description matched most every woman in this country, including Rachel’s. She consoled herself with the belief that perhaps some kind lady had offered comfort to a lost child and then helped him find his way back to his mother. Maybe the woman hadn’t had time for pleasantries, or didn’t care about being thanked.

Sloan was far more skeptical of Josh’s story. He had his own theory, though he hadn’t felt compelled to share his thoughts as of yet. But Rachel knew he was convinced Angel had something to do with it. Whatever motivated him, Rachel was grateful that he had changed his mind and decided to help them. The concern he had shown when she couldn’t find Josh warmed her, and gave her hope that Sloan wasn’t really as bad as he pretended to be.

But then, Rachel was a die-hard optimist.

She stared out at the passing landscape. The desert seemed to swallow them up almost as soon as they left Florescitaf. The sun was dropping even lower now, casting purple and pink hues like a halo around the descending ball of fire. And with it went the oppressive heat. Rachel shivered and chafed her bare arms with her hands to warm them against the cooler wind whipping through the open Jeep now.

“There’s a jacket in the back seat if you’re cold.”

Rachel glanced at Sloan’s unyielding profile. He could have been carved right out of the rugged Sierra Madre mountains that jutted skyward before them. How odd that he would show concern for her comfort when he had scarcely spoken a word since they left town except to question Josh. She couldn’t decide which persona she liked best. The Sloan who defined indifference, or the fleeting moments of the other man who obviously lay beneath all that bitterness and attitude. He hadn’t even named his price for the services he apparently intended to render. Now that Rachel thought about it, the fact of the matter was she had no idea where they were headed. His home, she assumed. A rustic cabin or a tent were the first images to pop into her mind. Sloan didn’t appear the type to put much stock in personal possessions.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” she said, in response to his offer of the jacket. Rachel focused her attention on the dusty road in front of them and asked, “Where are we going?”

“My place.” The answer was curt, and spoken grudgingly.

Iceman was back. Instinct told her that Sloan didn’t want anyone close to him. It would behoove her to keep her distance. His momentary lapse of concern had obviously passed.

“Our things are at the hotel,” Rachel realized aloud, only now remembering that they had checked into a hotel when they arrived the day before. With no idea how long it would take her to find Sloan or to persuade him to take her case, it had seemed like the right thing to do. But with Josh getting lost, sensible thinking had gone out the window.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” He said nothing. Determined to ignore his lack of social grace and to listen to her own instincts, Rachel leaned back into her seat and tried to relax. After two days without sleep, she was spent physically. She had no idea when she had eaten last either. In all honesty, food no longer held any appeal for her. Eating equated to survival. She survived for one reason and one reason only, to protect her son. Nothing else mattered at this point.

Sloan slowed and took a left, heading directly into the more rugged terrain that led to the foothills of the Sierra Madre. The Jeep bumped over the rough road for another mile or so before Sloan slowed once more. The mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks rising to the clouds to greet the darkening sky. The landscape that lay ahead sharply contrasted the sprawling desert land they had covered so far. Desert scrub and cacti eventually gave way to trees that sprouted up from the towering mountainous terrain.

Rachel saw the wall first, then the roof of the house that lay beyond it. She bent forward slightly, and stifled a gasp. The place looked like a modern-day fortress. A towering wall, at least ten or twelve feet high, surrounded the house. A huge iron gate stood before them when Sloan stopped the Jeep. He pressed a series of buttons on a keypad by the gate. The massive iron gates opened immediately, then closed automatically behind them. Rachel watched in a sort of surprised bewilderment as they drove away from the intimidating entrance.

Sloan parked before the double doors at the front of the southwestern-style house. The exterior was a stucco finish, painted a pinkish tan like the wall surrounding the property. The roof was a rustic red tile. One of the front doors suddenly opened and a short, thin man stepped out to meet them.

“This is where you live?” Rachel asked, then winced. God, what a stupid question. Of course this was where he lived.

“Ever since I ran off the local drug lord,” he said before hopping out of the Jeep.

Rachel frowned. Was that supposed to be a joke? Did she really want to know? Too tired to consider the remark any further, Rachel unfastened her seat belt and leaned between the bucket seats and released Josh’s. The boy, teddy bear in tow, scrambled out of the seat and into his mother’s arms. Rachel settled Josh onto the ground once they were out of the Jeep. Sloan was speaking to the other man in Spanish. Rachel couldn’t quite get the gist of the conversation. Something about a room, and trouble.

She and Josh were the trouble, of course.

“Good evening, Señora Larson,” the man said, his smile wide and pleasant. “I am Pablo. I am very sure that you are hungry. Come in and I will prepare a proper feast for such honored guests.”

Rachel took an instant liking to the man. She returned Pablo’s smile and followed as he led the way into the house. Rachel could feel Sloan behind her. She didn’t have to look, his formidable presence was unmistakable. There was an aura about the man that entailed much more than his air of danger.

Details flooded her senses. Muted colors, thick upholstered furnishings. Rachel had to admit that she had been way off base about the man’s taste in accommodations. Sloan’s home was elegant in an understated sort of way. Her artist’s eye was drawn to the clean lines and sparse but inviting furnishings of each large room she passed. The expansive hall cut through the middle of the house, flowing both left and right about midway. Pablo turned right and continued until they reached the third room on the left.

He gestured for Rachel to enter before him. “If there is anything you need, señora, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Pablo,” she said tiredly.

“I’m hungry!” Josh piped up.

Heat scalded Rachel’s cheeks. Josh was always hungry. “Josh,” she scolded.

“The boy needs to eat,” Pablo agreed. “Come with Pablo, little man, and we will prepare the feast together.” Pablo winked when Josh eyed him hesitantly. “You may taste as we go.”

Josh was ready to go then. He took Pablo’s offered hand and told him about his new bear as they disappeared down the hall. Rachel was amazed at how easily Josh befriended the strangers he met. She thought of the woman and the bear and decided that a long talk with her son was in order.