Pam Crooks - The Mercenary's Kiss

“Time to pull up, Elena. We’ve ridden long enough.”

Elena started at the low voice of the man she knew only as Jeb. It was the first time he’d spoken to her since they had left her father in the woodlands.

“No,” she said. “I want to keep moving.”

But she slowed her horse to rest, just for a few moments. Again she studied the horizon. She could barely discern the narrow ribbon of water ahead, but the shimmer of the moonlight on the surface confirmed it was there. A westerly tributary of the Nueces River, she realized, and an opportunity to water the horses.

In the silence of the night, a gun cocked. Her heart began a slow pound. Slowly, carefully, she turned.

And faced the wrong end of Jeb’s Colt revolver.

“It’s best that you understand right now, Elena,” he murmured. “I give the orders. And I expect you to follow ’em when I do.”

She couldn’t see his unshaven face in the shadows beneath the broad brim of his hat. But she could feel him watch her with a cold cunning that left the blood faltering in her veins.

He could kill her right now. And no one would know. Except Pop, and by then, it’d be too late.

She refused to show her fear. Her vulnerability.

“Even when a defenseless woman just happens to disagree with you?” she taunted softly.

The calm in her voice amazed her. Steadied her. She held that dark gaze of his without flinching. In the shadows, his teeth gleamed. It chilled her, that smile.

“You learn fast, Elena. That’s good. Real good.”

“My son has been kidnapped by a vicious band of rebels. The longer it takes to find him, the harder it will be.” A sudden surge of emotion welled up inside her. “For both of us.”

“Doesn’t matter. We have to rest. You want to kill your horse?”

Panic flickered inside her. It was harder to control, to hide, than the fear.

“It does matter, damn you!” she said, her breath quickening. “I can’t stop. Not yet.”

“It’s after midnight. We’ll get an early start in the morning.” The Colt jerked toward the river. “Until then, we’ll camp by the water where the horses can drink their fill.”

Elena hated the harsh truth of his logic and debated taking off in a hard run southward—away from him. After all, she didn’t need his services, despite what Pop said. She could find her way to the nearest border town without him. She could find help with the local lawmen, too. The sheriff. The chief of police. She’d wire the governor of Texas if she had to.

But the revolver was proof Jeb intended to do things his way without a care to hers.

“He’s my son,” she said through her teeth. “If he were yours—”

“—I’d do the same thing.” The interruption was swift. Impatient. “You’ll do him no good when you’re too exhausted to think straight.”

“I’m not exhausted!”

“You will be when the adrenaline stops. Now let’s go.” The revolver waved toward the river again.

He was wrong. She could ride for hours yet. All night, if she had to. And then again all day.

Nicky would be missing her right now. Was he crying? Calling her name? He wouldn’t understand who the men who’d taken him were or why she wasn’t there with him. He’d never gone to sleep before without her cuddling and rocking him first.

Elena bit her lip. The need to hold him in her arms again stole the very breath from her lungs. She ached from it.

She sat straighter in the saddle. She had to keep looking for him, but for now she’d do what Jeb commanded her to do. She’d ride to the river so they could rest. Then, when he fell asleep, she’d slip away and resume her race to Mexico.

The plan soothed her. Gave her focus. Allowed her to turn her mount toward the water without further protest. Elena watched Jeb dismount and tie his horse to the shrubbery growing wild along the bank.

Despite her plan, she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. The minutes ticking away tortured her with the knowledge she should be chasing after her son instead of sitting here going nowhere.

Jeb glanced at her. “Get off the horse, Elena.”

She suspected he knew what she was thinking. But did he have an inkling of how much it hurt to have Nicky stolen from her?

He couldn’t possibly. And what did he care anyway? He didn’t even know her or her baby.

The self-pity rolled through her in waves. She blinked hard at the tears that surfaced with a vengeance, and swallowing convulsively, she swung out of the saddle.

But once on the ground, her knees threatened to give way. With the horse and the night’s shadows to shield her from Jeb’s view, she gripped the saddle horn and sagged against the horse’s neck. She buried her face against the warm hide.

She just needed a few moments to compose herself. She needed control. Strength. She needed—

“Elena.”

She whirled toward Jeb with a gasp.

“Sit down while I light a fire.”

His fingers closed over her elbow, but she jerked free. She didn’t want this man touching her when he was so determined to keep her from going after Nicky.

“I don’t want to sit,” she said. “I want—”

“I know damn well what you want.” In the silence of the night, his voice sounded rough. “You just can’t have it yet.” He took her elbow again, but this time his grip remained firm. “Sit over here.” He pulled her with him away from her horse. “I’m going to start a fire. We’ll eat. Then we’ll sleep. When it’s morning, we’ll get up, eat breakfast and ride again.”

She stiffened at his condescending explanation. Did he think she wouldn’t understand the routine? He released her, but she remained standing. “You needn’t talk to me as if I were a child.”

“I’m just telling you the way things are going to be.”

She glared at him. “Have I no say in any of this?”

He kicked pieces of wood into a pile with the toe of his boot, then lit a match. In the glow of the flame, his hard eyes met hers. “No.”

“Nicky is my son. Not yours.”

“Which is why I’m giving the orders. I can think better than you can.” He hunkered over the firewood. In moments, flames hissed and snapped. He straightened again. “So until you can step back from being afraid for him, I’m going to do your thinking for you.”

He strode toward the horses. Clearly he considered the conversation at an end. Elena’s mouth opened to protest.

But she closed it again. He didn’t even spare her a glance as he bent to uncinch the saddle on his horse. Why would he bother to listen to anything she had to say anyway? He hadn’t so far, had he?

She folded her arms and shivered, more from worry for Nicky than the chill in the air. Energy coiled through her, a tight, nervous energy that threatened to spiral out of control.

She began to pace. Jeb expected her to trust him. Why should she? She knew nothing about him—his skills, his background, his credibility. Yet she was supposed to let him lead her around by the nose? Place in his charge the daunting task of finding her precious child? What would he know about confronting the ruthless Mexican, Ramon?

Then again, what would she?

Jeb expected her to step back from her fear and worry. Ha! Easy for him to say. She couldn’t imagine a hard man like him ever having a child of his own. How would he know what it was like? What could Pop have been thinking, insisting that she go with him?

But what choice did she have at the moment?

The first ragged edges of fatigue seeped into her muscles. With it, doubt. And a whole new round of worry raised its ugly head. What if she failed Nicky? What if she never saw him again? What if—

Elena stopped short. She had to stop thinking like this. It’d destroy her if she didn’t.