Beverly Barton - This Side of Heaven

"Cyn!" Nate's voice was loud and insistent.

"He said... he said that I had signed my own death war­rant...when...when I became the Conquistador's woman."

"Listen to me very carefully," Nate told her. "Go out­side and get Dundee. Tell him that I said for him to stay in­side with you until I get there."

"But Nate—"

"Do what I told you. I'll be there as quick as I can."

"Nate, why did he call me?"

"Because he's playing a game," Nate told her. "It's called 'Let's make Nate sweat.' He wants me to know that he's aware that you're important to me, that he knows where you live and how to get to you."

After she'd spoken to Nate, Cyn calmed down consider­ably and fixed a fresh pot of coffee for Dundee and her. They were both on their third cup when the doorbell rang.

Dundee pulled a Magnum from his shoulder holster and stood to the side of the door, his big hand hovering over the doorknob.

"Ask who it is," he instructed her in a whisper.

"Who is it?" she asked, her voice so tight and highly pitched she barely recognized it as her own.

"Nate. Open the damned door!"

Releasing the safety latch, she opened the door and flung herself into Nate's waiting arms. He lifted her off the floor in his protective embrace. God, he hated himself for allowing this woman to become so important to him. Until she had come into his life, he'd never had a weakness, and now he had a major one, just at a time when he needed to be strong and invulnerable.

Half walking her, half carrying her, Nate guided Cyn to the sofa. Dundee closed the door behind them.

Cyn ran her fingers over Nate's face, stroking his flesh, cherishing the sight of him, alive and safe in her arms. "I was so afraid that he'd found you... that—"

Nate covered her moving lips with his index finger, mo­mentarily silencing her babbling. He looked over her head where it rested on his chest and saw that Dundee held a Magnum in his right hand.

"Go check around outside. Scout out the area," Nate said. "I'm going to take her to a friend's house, and I want to make sure we aren't followed."

"Sure thing," Dundee said. "I'm glad you're here. I couldn't convince her that you were all right."

The moment Dundee left, Nate took Cyn's face in his hands, stared at her tear-filled eyes, then released her. Why her? he asked himself, and why now? The last thing he needed was to have to worry about her safety when his own life was on the line. Ryker must be laughing his fool head off, Nate thought. The minute Carranza told Ryker about Cyn, he probably realized that using her to destroy Nate would be the sweetest form of revenge. After all, he blamed Nate for his lover's death.

"Call Mimi and tell her that you'll be spending the night," Nate said. "Then go pack a bag."

"Mimi's? You want me to stay with Mimi?" Cyn's gaze questioned him. "I don't understand. I don't understand any of this."

"Ryker knows where you live."

"But how—"

"How doesn't matter." If he told her about Carranza, she'd think it was her fault and start feeling guilty. But she wasn't guilty of anything except loving a man like him—a man who had no right to let his emotions overrule his common sense. "Dundee will stay with you at Mimi's until I talk to Romero and get a government man to protect you."

"No, please, Nate." She grabbed hold of his jacket la­pels, tugging fiercely. "Don't leave me. Don't send me to Mimi's. Let me go home with you. You can protect me."

He held her face tightly, probing the depth of conviction that showed plainly in her rich brown eyes. He released her face and pulled away from her. "I can't protect you and fight Ryker at the same time. Try to understand that you're safer without me."

"Are you safer without me?" she asked.

He stood up, rammed his hands into his jeans pockets and strode across the room. "Yes."

She turned to face him, nodding her head in a gesture of understanding. "Why... why did he call you the Conquis­tador?"

Nate's face visibly paled. No one had used that damna­ble nickname in years. Hell, how had a label given to him by a friend turned into a curse? "It was my nickname. I ac­quired it in SEAL training at Coronado."

"Why—"

"Nick Romero dubbed me. Everybody called him Ro­meo because he was such a ladies' man. While we were in training I acquired a reputation. Because of my Hispanic looks and... undisputed abilities as a commando, Nick started calling me the Conquistador. The name stuck. In Nam, and for years after the war."

"I see."

"No, lady, you don't see." His voice was filled with all the pent-up rage he felt.

Nate cared for Cyn, more than he'd ever cared for an­other human being, but he hated himself for caring so damned much. He had allowed her to become far too im­portant to him. He had put her life in danger by loving her. "You don't see a damned thing but some fairy tale legend about a couple of ancient lovers. Of all the men on earth, why did you pick me, huh? Why me?"

She gasped, new tears flooding her eyes as she huddled into a ball and hugged her legs up against her chest.

More than anything, Nate wanted to drop to his knees beside the sofa and put his arm around her trembling shoulders. But that sort of stupidity would solve nothing. This woman was one of his biggest problems. He had to get her out of his life—for both their sakes.

"You've made me weak." he stood with his back to her, fear and anger combining to strengthen the warrior within him. "I've never had a weakness before in my life, and it's the last thing I need right now. You are the last thing I need." When he heard her choked sobs, the anger inside him grew, building until he wanted to rage at the world, to ap­pease that anger on Ryker. But Ryker wasn't here.

He turned on her then, facing her, afraid for her. "Ry-ker's going to try to use you against me. He's already using you. He knew when he called you that the first thing you'd do was get in touch with me, tell me what he said. It was his way of turning the screws, of prolonging my agony. He knows that, if you're with me, all I'll be able to think about is protecting you. I won't be thinking like a warrior, but like a lover. That kind of thinking could get us both killed."

"Are you saying that... that..."

"I don't want you with me. You're trouble, lady, more trouble than I can handle."

"Nate, please..." She reached out for him again, and felt as if he'd physically shoved her away when she saw the re­jection in his eyes, the withdrawal in his stance. She was losing him, and she couldn't bear the loss. "If you loved me—"

"I don't!"

The pain was unbearable and yet she bore it. The tears that had only moments ago run so freely from her eyes lodged inside her, building the ache that threatened to choke the life from her. Nate had never told her that he loved her, but he had never said that he didn't. Until now. Did he honestly think that there was nothing more between them than the physical desire neither of them could deny?

"Call Mimi. I'll explain things once we get there." He could feel her pain, and it was almost his undoing. But he would not allow himself to comfort her. More than love and comfort, Cyn needed his strength. Only his strength could protect her.

"Should we... involve Mimi?" Cyn asked. "Won't my going there put her in danger?" An icy numbness had taken control of Cyn's emotions. She felt nothing, absolutely nothing. The pain of Nate's harsh rejection had spread through her so quickly that it had anesthetized her feelings.

"Dundee will make sure we aren't being followed. He'll stay with you and Mimi until an agent arrives." Hesitating for a brief moment, Nate looked at her. He hated himself for hurting her, but he hated himself even more for putting her life in danger. "Call Mimi. Change clothes. Pack a bag."