Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Saving Sarah (Kindle Worlds Novella) (New Orleans Connection Series Book 7) (8 page)

"You don't believe me?"  He lifted his head, and she saw the truth shining in his gaze.  He truly believed she was beautiful.  What could she say to that?

Before she could open her mouth, the sound of a phone ringing broke the spell.  Ranger stood, wrapping a towel low around his hips. 

"I need to get that, it might be about Anna." 

"Go."  She grabbed another towel, and wrapped it around her body.  "I'll be right out."  He jogged down the hall, and she collapsed against the sink, her body still feeling the tiny aftershocks from her release moments earlier. 

"What have I done?"  She whispered the words and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.  How had she let him get so close?  But she knew—she'd wanted him from the second their eyes met that afternoon in Lucky's.  Why couldn't this have happened when she wasn't dealing with a crisis?  If they'd met under normal circumstances?  Hell, she didn't try to fool herself.  She'd probably have fallen into his bed even faster. 

She quickly went into the bedroom and placed her suitcase on the messy bed.  Obviously had a restless night, spent tossing and turning.  She'd spent the previous night awake in her hotel room, thinking about him.  Now that she'd had a taste of what she'd been fantasizing about?  She waved a hand in front of her cheeks as they heated with her blush.  Whoa, momma!  The man was a package of TNT, and she was ready to light that fuse all over again.

Flipping up the lid on the suitcase, she frowned at the wrinkled mess of clothes.  She'd tossed everything into the bag haphazardly after they'd returned to find her hotel room in shambles.  Now, looking at her unwearable clothing, that might not have been the smartest move. 

She pulled out a pair of jeans and tossed them onto the mattress.  Hopefully when she put them on, her hips and thighs would smooth out the worst of the offending wrinkles.  Her tops though?  Hopeless.  If she tried wearing one of them, she'd look like a bag lady or worse.  Maybe Ranger had indoor laundry, and she could toss one of the shirts into the dryer.

She quickly put on underwear and a bra, and tugged the jeans on.  Walking into the hallway, she heard Ranger's voice speaking quietly.  Thinking he was still on the phone, she headed toward the living room.

He looked up when she walked into the living room, and a smile spread across his lips.  Holding up one hand, he continued speaking.  Within a few seconds, he ended the call and stood, strolling over to her and running a finger along the top of her breasts, exposed above the lacy cups of the bra. 

"I like this."  His tanned skin was a stark contrast with the creamy paleness of hers.  "Of course, I liked them even better a few minutes ago."

She felt the scalding heat rush into her cheeks at his compliment.  Awkwardly, she held up the shirt in her hand.

"Do you have a dryer?  I need to try and get the wrinkles out." 

"Laundry's in the basement.  Come with me."  Grabbing her hand, he headed back toward the bedroom.  Opening the closet, he started skimming through the hanging clothes, until he stopped on one.

"Try this."  He handed her a T-shirt with the NAVY logo across the front.  Taking it, she pulled it over her head and stuck her arms through the holes.  It was big, but fit well enough she could go out in public. 

"Thank you." 

"My pleasure, sweetheart.  I like the thought of you wearing something of mine against your skin." 

She grinned.  "Changing the subject, or we'll never get out of here this morning, was that call about Anna?" 

She listened to him, or at least she tried, but all she really heard was blah, blah, blah, because the edge of the towel around his hips slid lower.  Her eyes followed the line of muscles from his chest to his abdomen, which stood out like a Michelangelo statue, defined and seemed to be carved out of stone.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, and she knew she'd been caught.  "Hey, you can't blame me," she shot back, enjoying teasing him.  "I mean, look at all that.  How could I not appreciate all that hotness?"

It was Ranger's turn to blush, and she watched the flush spread across his cheeks.  Acting on instinct, she leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss against his lips, drawing back when he would have deepened it. 

Her hand snaked down to the knotted area of the towel, low on his hips.   

"Get dressed, big guy, and let's go."  With a flick of her wrist, she snatched the towel and strolled out of the bedroom, listening to his bark of laughter. 

She had a good feeling about today. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Remy, we're going to have to walk on eggshells here.  Walter's got a bad case of PTSD, and stays drunk or high half the time, whenever he's flush with cash." 

Remy gave him a don't-screw-with-me-I'm-a-cop look.  "I know how to interrogate a homeless guy, jackass."  He winked at Sarah.  "Excuse my language,
ma chere."

Together they walked around the corner of Bimini Jack's, looking for the bolt-hole where Gator said Walter hid out, when he wasn't panhandling.  Tucked away toward the back of the lot, almost obscured between the fence and an old oak, was a half-rotten piece of plywood, leaning cattycornered, with a blue plastic tarp across the top.  A rusted out metal drum partially blocked the entry.  This had to be it. 

When they'd moved a bit closer, Ranger could see one sneaker-covered foot sticking out near the plywood.  Looked like they were in luck—Walter was home. 

"Let me go over first, he's met me before."  He took the cardboard holder out of Sarah's hands.  They'd stopped along the way and picked up some hot coffee and a couple of burgers.  Briberies sometimes worked.  Besides, who knew how long it had been since the guy had seen a decent meal?

He covered the distance slowly, giving Walter plenty of time to hear him approach.  Startling a vet with PTSD was never a good idea.  Throw in the fact he was homeless, he'd probably be more skittish, terrified somebody was after his crib. 

"Walter?  Hey, it's Ranger—Gator's son." 

A face peered out from beneath the blue tarp.  A dirty gray straggled beard and long hair framed a wrinkled face.  He'd lived a hard life and it showed.  The years hadn't been kind to Walter, and it ate at him, seeing somebody who'd served his country reduced to scrounging for his next meal.  As much as he wished it wasn't true, it happened a lot more than most people realized. 

"Which one are you?" 

Ranger knew what he was asking.  "Navy, sir.  SEAL." 

"Thought so.  You got that look about you.  Don't just stand there, help me up."  A bony hand extended through the opening, and Ranger reached forward, wincing at the thinness.  Dammit, he hated what addiction reduced good, solid men to, and Walter had fallen hard. 

"Brought some grub.  Figured we could share," He indicated the bag, and Walter reached for it, an eager expression on his face.  The hand stopped inches away, and he yanked it back, stepping back into the shadows provided by his makeshift tent. 

"Who're they?" 

"Well, the dark-haired guy with the ugly mug, that's Remy Lamoreaux.  I think you've seen him around."  He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't hold it against him that he's a cop, I swear he's one of the good ones.  He's not here to arrest you, I promise."

Walter gave Remy the stink eye, but didn't say anything. 

"The pretty lady, her name is Sarah.  She's lost her sister, and Remy and I are trying to help her search.  Gator said you might've seen something.  Another pretty gal with sparkly shoes.  Remember her?" 

He held the bag closer to Walter, who, with another look toward Remy and Sarah, grabbed it out of his hands faster than a rattlesnake strike.  With a smile, he handed him one of the coffee cups, and held onto the other.

Walter unwrapped a burger and shoved half of it into his mouth, barely chewing.  Once he'd swallowed, he took a sip of the coffee, and screwed his lips tightly together.  It looked like he was either thinking really hard, or had to go to the bathroom.  Ranger hoped it was the former. 

"Mebbe I remember somebody." 

"Hello, Mr. Walter.  I'm Sarah.  May I show you a picture, see if it's the girl you saw?"  When had Sarah snuck up on him?  Remy stood just a step behind her. 

Walter smiled at Sarah, showing a gap-toothed smile with a few of his teeth missing or blackened.  "I'd be happy to look at the picture for you, ma'am."  He drew himself up to his full height, standing straighter, taller.  Ranger felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips, and bit his cheek to keep from chuckling. 
Looks like the old coot isn't immune to the charms of a beautiful woman either. 

"This is Anna, my sister."  Sarah handed the phone to Walter.  "Was she the woman you saw that night?"  Damn, there was that hopeful note in her voice again. 

"Could be.  I didn't get a good look at her face.  Was she about yea tall?"  Walter held his hand up where it was a couple of inches shorter than Sarah's height. 

"Yes, that's about right." 

"The gal I saw had hair kinda like yours, only longer and a little lighter.  Had it up in one of them ponytails." 

"What else do you remember about that night, Walter?  Any idea what time it was when you saw her leave?"

"I know it was the weekend, 'cos everybody and their brother was down on Bourbon Street.  Don't like the crowds, so I left.  Came back here.  Might've been Friday, too.  All the days kinda run together." 

"Was it dark outside?"  Remy asked the question, and Walter took a step back.  He held out his hands open at his sides and Walter relaxed. 

"Yeah, it was already dark.  I'd made some money earlier, so I got a bottle and holed up for the night."  Which meant he'd been drunk or pretty darn close by the time he'd seen Anna. 

"Do you remember if she was alone when she came outside?" 
Good question, Sarah, though I was leading up to it.  Guess I wasn't getting there fast enough. 

"She was with a man.  Big dude, over six feet by a couple of inches.  Big shoulders.  I noted him because he was a lot bigger than her, that's for sure."

"Did she seem to know him?  Were they together?"  This from Remy.

"She seemed to.  Laughed at something he said.  Then she seemed to sway, and he grabbed her.  She jerked her arm back, like she was trying to get loose, then he whispered something.  Her eyes got real big, and she started going with him.  Kinda stumbled—that's when she lost her shoes.  Never even looked back for 'em, just followed along behind him.  He did have a pretty good grip on her arm, right here."  He pointed to his upper arm, around the biceps area. 

"How well did you see him, Walter?"  Remy eased a step forward, asking the question in a low voice.  "Can you give me a description?  Hair or eye color?  Tattoos or distinguishing marks?  I'd like to find him, so we can see if he knows where Anna might be."  Though he didn't come right out and say it, Ranger was pretty sure Walter could read between the lines of what was said, and figure out something bad had happened. 

"Didn't get close enough to see anything like that.  It's dark back here at night.  Only light's right there by the doorway.  Once you walk away from it, it's pretty black."

"Which way did they head?" 

Walter pointed.  "Round that corner.  Last I saw of 'em." 

"Thank you, Walter."  Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to him, and despite the fact he probably hadn't bathed in heaven knew how long, she hugged him.  Ranger exchanged a look with his friend and shrugged.  "You've been a big help.  Use this later to get a good meal." 

He knew that wasn't going to happen.  Chances were better it would buy Walter's next fix or a couple of bottles to keep him warm at night. 

"Wish I could be more help, ma'am." 

Ranger reached out and clasped him on the shoulder.  He knew he'd be coming back around in a day or so and checking on the guy.  Make sure that Gator checked on him too, though he knew his daddy would already have that handled. 

Sliding his hand onto the small of Sarah's back, they turned and started for the front.  They hadn't made it more than a couple of steps before Walter's voice called out from behind them. 

"Wait.  I remember something—the dude—he had red hair.  I remember because when they started going around the corner, the back door opened and the light shined on it.  Really red, tied back in a tail.  Does that help?"

Ranger looked at Sarah, knowing she recognized that description.  They'd both met a big man with long red hair.  Somebody who'd also met Anna—and remembered her. 

The bartender—Danny. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

Anna stared out the window overlooking the city, watching the sky turn from light to dusky twilight in the blink of an eye.  The buildings' lights shone against the blackness, cheerful and beautiful in the way only a cityscape can be.  Instinctively, she knew deep inside something big was about to happen. 

She'd had another dream last night.  The tall stranger with the haunted eyes was back, only this time he wasn't alone.  Sarah stood by his side.  Thinking about her sister made her want to smile and cry simultaneously. 

The dark-haired stranger always reminded her of a warrior, a defender of the weak and innocent.  A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another.  What she wouldn't give for a warrior right now. 

She scrubbed at them, fighting back the overwhelming need to collapse into a blubbering heap on the carpet, but she refused.  She was battered and bruised, but she'd be damned if she'd let them break her. 

She didn't recognize the woman staring back at her, reflected in the shiny glass window.  One eye was swollen completely closed, ringed with bruises.  The other sported a reddened welt beneath it, and her lip was swollen and bloody from the fist that smashed it.

He'd lost his temper and lashed out, and she'd been too slow to get away.  The ache in her ribs made it hard to breathe.  She couldn't help but wonder if they were broken, since he'd slammed into her hard enough to knock her off her feet. 

It had taken longer to get past the monster this time.  Each time he visited now, he slid into the darkness easier, and it lasted longer. 

And she hurt—so much.  She'd been in a car wreck once, and been bruised and battered, but this felt ten times worse. 

It had to end—because she didn't think she could take much more.  He'd come so very close to raping her this time, only stopping at the last minute when she'd cried out in pain at his weight atop her injured ribs.   For a brief moment, sanity had returned and he'd rolled away, pleading remorsefully, telling her how sorry he was, but it was her fault.  He just wanted to love her. 

Sorry didn't excuse the facts.  She was a captive to his desires, and he could snap her like a twig at his whim.  He truly terrified her.

But as much as he scared her, she feared the other one more.  After what she'd witnessed—and the way he'd talked—he could destroy her with a flick of his wrist.  The only thing standing between her and certain death was a monster.

Some choice
. 

Turning, she walked away from the window and curled up on the bed, and did the one thing she'd been doing since she'd been locked into her palatial prison.

She prayed.