The Heart of a Stranger (9 page)

“Juan?” Her voice came out of the dark.

His breath rushed out. Why was this happening now? With the woman he loved snuggled warm and sweet in his bed? “I'm just getting a glass of water.” He squinted at the outline of the furnishings blocking his way. His vision blurred, as foggy as his brain. “But I think I better turn on the light.”

He snapped on the lamp, keeping the three-way bulb on low.

Lourdes shifted her weight and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

He turned to face her. She looked like an angel, with the sheet falling to her waist. Her hair tangled over her shoulders and down her arms like sleep-tousled vines. Her breasts were bare, her nipples ripe and pink. Just hours before, he'd made love to her, and she'd cried out his name when she'd come, when she'd thrashed wildly beneath him.

“I have a headache,” he said.

“I'll get you some aspirin.” She pressed her mouth to the side of his neck, kissing the pulse that beat there. “Just tell me where it is.”

He sat like a zombie, wishing he could hold her,
that making love to her again would take the confusion away. “In the bathroom medicine cabinet.”

She climbed out of bed, and he watched her pad across the floor, as graceful as a gazelle, as naked as a wood nymph.

When she returned, he still sat in the same spot. Standing before him, she handed him a glass of water and two extra-strength aspirin. He swallowed the bitter-tasting pills, set the glass on a nearby end table and leaned forward to put his cheek against her stomach.

She slid her hands through his hair, comforting him. He could smell her glorious skin, the powdery scent she wore. Tracing a finger over her abdomen, he sketched the pale lines, the telltale marks from carrying twins. If he lowered his head, he could kiss between her legs.

“It's more than a headache, isn't it?”

He looked up. “Yes.”

“Tell me.” She encouraged him to get back into bed, to climb under the covers, where she settled beside him.

“I'm remembering things.”

“What kind of things?”

He frowned. His head still hurt. “The day I returned from the war. It was a big deal when we got home.” Wherever the hell home was. “There was a parade.”

She gazed at him with her exotic-shaped eyes. “A hero's welcome.”

“Yes.” But the word hero didn't sit well. Nor did being praised in a parade. “I was glad to be back, glad the ordeal was over. Our commander had mounted the rescue.” Whoever that daring man had been. Juan couldn't see the people involved. He just knew they existed. “Later, the media dubbed us the Fabulous
Five. My marine buddies and me. We'd destroyed a biological weapons plant during the war. That was the mission we volunteered for.”

“That's a good thing, Juan.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you so disturbed? Is it your memories of being held captive?”

“No.” The Fabulous Five had spent months being mistreated by the enemy, but they'd held their own. They'd survived. Then come home to a hero's welcome. “My sister drowned that day.”

“What day?”

“The day of the parade.”

“Oh, Juan.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I'm so sorry.”

“There's more.” More jagged puzzle pieces, more pain. He drew a breath, and then exhaled roughly, clearing his lungs. “My sister wasn't found right away. But eventually a body surfaced. I saw it at the morgue.”

“I'm so sorry,” she said again.

“I don't think it was her, Lourdes. I don't think the body was hers. Yet I cried over her. I mourned her.”

She tugged the blanket closer, as if his admission had given her a chill. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You must be confused. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

Was his mind taunting him? Teasing him with sick information? He couldn't be sure. “Why does it feel like the body wasn't hers? Why do I have doubts?”

“I can't say. But there's DNA evidence these days, Juan. And dental records. Scientific facts that would've proved that woman was your sister.”

He spiked a hand through his hair. “I know.”

“It must have been her. The woman you mourned must have been her.”

“I don't know. Maybe. Probably. I keep seeing different images of her. She doesn't look the same. She keeps changing. Not only her hair color, but her features.”

“Your memories aren't clear. They're jumbled.”

“Yes.” Horribly jumbled.

“Do you want to go to the authorities?” she asked. “Are you ready to let them help you uncover your identity? To help you figure this out?”

Was he? he wondered.

“No,” he said. He wanted more time. More time for his memories to clarify themselves, more time with Lourdes before their entire world changed. Before he tackled the man he used to be.

“I just want to hold you,” he said.

She moved into his arms. “We'll hold each other.”

He nuzzled her neck, and she slid her hands down his back, caressing him. Her touch was smooth and tender, and he grew hard and hungry.

He kissed her—with heat, with purpose, and she made a soft, kittenish sound.

He needed her. So damn much.

Lowering his head, he licked one of her nipples, then took it in his mouth, suckling gently.

She held him there, watching him.

“Love me,” she said.

I do, he thought. He loved her beyond reason.

And that still scared him.

But fear had no place between them, not now, not when they were naked, when their bodies hummed for slow, sweet sex.

He rubbed himself all over her, showing her how aroused he was, making her eyes glow.

“More.” She stroked between his legs. “More.”

He gave her everything. He sheathed himself with a condom and slipped into her, penetrating her as deeply as possible.

Then he made love to her, with his body, his heart and his mind.

She gave him what he gave her, and when it ended, they lay in each other's arms.

Solid and real.

He glanced at the clock. He knew she would leave before daylight. But tonight she'd brought her toothbrush, a change of clothes, things that made their time at the bunkhouse seem less rushed.

“Shower with me,” he said, not ready to let her go.

She smiled, and they headed to the bathroom, where they stood in the tiny stall and let water rain over their sated bodies.

“It's going to work, Juan. It has to.”

“Yes.” It was going to work. No matter what, they would find a way to stay together.

Or so he prayed.

L
ourdes sighed. She, Cáco, Amy and the twins gathered around while Juan checked out Cáco's SUV. The slightly battered Chevy had overheated. The older woman had barely gotten home from the market without breaking down.

Lourdes brushed her hair out of her eyes and assessed Juan.

He looked good, she thought. Natural under the hood of a car. Just as he looked natural mending fences and working with horses.

She couldn't help but wonder what kind of work he'd done after his tour of duty in the marines ended, what he'd done for a living before he'd come to the ranch. His hands had already been strong and callused when he'd arrived, but that didn't mean he was a laborer.

She knew he enjoyed woodwork, a hobby that would roughen up a man's hands.

“It's a water hose,” he said.

Lourdes breathed a sigh of relief. “That's simple enough.”

“True. But some of these other hoses are about ready to go, too.” He jiggled one to show her how cracked and worn it was.

Cáco stepped forward, and Juan turned to the old woman. “I'll replace them for you, but I'll need Lourdes to give me a ride to an auto parts store.”

“That's no problem.” Cáco spoke up, volunteering Lourdes's services.

Not that Lourdes minded. She would accept any excuse to spend time with Juan. He adjusted his hat, and her heart went girlish and soft. Who was he? she wondered. What name was on his driver's license? The ID that had been stolen from him?

“It's good to have a man around,” Cáco said. She glanced at Lourdes. “Isn't it?”

“Yes, it is.” She knew her surrogate grandmother approved of Juan, that the opinionated old woman didn't mind that he and Lourdes were lovers. But she was still cautious about sneaking into the house on those glorious morning-afters, still cautious about keeping their affair from her children.

She knew the twins wanted Juan as their daddy, but until Juan's past was settled, she didn't want to encourage their young minds in that direction.

Or her mind, even if she secretly wished that his commitment to her included a marriage vow.

But as it was, their future still hinged on who he was and where he was from.

What if his career took him out of the country? If
relocating to her ranch presented unforeseen complications? If he worked for the government? Or had a private contract with the military supplying some sort of highly trained service?

The more time she spent with Juan, the less he seemed like an average, nine-to-five guy.

Maybe it was the hero in him, the dangerous, risk-taker side, the ex-marine. The man who'd volunteered for a top-secret mission. Who'd been a prisoner of war. Who worried about his sister's mysterious death.

Or maybe all of this stemmed from her fear of losing him. Her hope that he was just a simple man with a simple past, someone who could walk away from his old life without looking back.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready?” She batted her wind-tousled hair. She'd worn it long and loose today because she knew Juan liked it that way. “For what?”

“To go into town.”

“Oh. Yes. I just need to get my bag.”

“Can me and Paige go too, Mama?” Nina asked.

Lourdes glanced at her older twin, who looked up with hopeful eyes. For the past few days, her girls had been following Juan around like puppies, dogging almost every step he took. Paige still had a crush on him, and Nina loved to chatter in his ear.

“If Juan doesn't mind.”

“Of course I don't mind.” He shot Nina and Paige a handsome grin. “I could use the help.”

From two four-year-old girls? In an auto parts store? Lourdes headed to the house for her purse. No wonder her daughters adored him. He possessed the requirements of a true family man—strength and patience. Juan was real daddy-in-waiting material.

By the time they arrived in town, Nina had told Juan the plot of every cartoon she and her sister had watched that morning.

She even prattled in the parking lot, jabbering as he took her hand. Paige remained quiet, but she held his other hand and glanced back at Lourdes, checking to see if her mom was keeping up.

I am, Lourdes thought. Keeping up with how happy Juan made her children.

The auto parts store was huge, stocked with aisles and aisles of man stuff.

“I need to go back there.” Juan pointed in the direction of the parts counter, where a short line already formed.

“Us, too,” Nina announced, as she and Paige skipped along by Juan's side.

Deciding she was the fifth wheel, Lourdes chose to wander the store. “I'll meet up with you in a bit,” she told the tight-knit trio.

“Take your time, Mama,” Nina said, eager to hog Juan for herself and Paige.

Juan winked at Lourdes and disappeared with her kids. She smiled to herself and set out to keep busy.

She found those cute little air fresheners that hung from rearview mirrors on aisle six. Picking through them, she browsed like a female shopper with nothing to do.

“Lourdes? Is that you?”

She turned to find Tyler Murdoch, an old acquaintance, standing behind her, with a stunning, dark-haired woman at his side.

“Yes, it's me. My goodness, Tyler. It's been ages.” He'd dated a friend of hers in high school, but the relationship hadn't lasted very long. He'd always been
a loner, a bit fierce, she supposed. A guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Not exactly steady boyfriend material.

Yet the beauty beside him wore a wedding ring.

And so did he.

He introduced his wife as Marisa, and the women shook hands.

Lourdes had lost track of Tyler after high school, but she'd gone off to college and then ended up getting burned by Gunther. Keeping up on old acquaintances, particularly hard-edged men, hadn't been high on her list of priorities.

“How's life treating you?” he asked.

“Fine. I'm running my grandfather's ranch.” And struggling to keep it, she thought.

His gaze turned gentle. “I heard about that jerk you married. I'm sorry, Lourdes.”

So he'd caught wind of her disastrous marriage, of the mistake she'd made. “Thank you, but things are good now. I have someone new in my life. And he's…” Her words trailed. What was she doing? Telling Tyler about Juan? Admitting that she was in love?

“He's what?”

“Wonderful. He's here, with my children.” She motioned to the back of the store, but Juan wasn't visible from where they stood.

“That's great. I'm really happy for you.” He reached for his wife's hand and took a moment to gaze at the woman he'd married, letting Lourdes see how happy he was, too. “I guess we better get back to what we came in for. It was nice seeing you.”

“You, too.”

Lourdes watched them walk away, her heart picking
up speed. She'd done it. She'd actually admitted out loud that Juan belonged to her.

And it had felt darn good.

With a fluttery little smile, she went off to find Juan and her children, pleased with the way the day was turning out so far.

 

A short while later, Tyler Murdoch looked up and saw Lourdes and her children heading out the door.

Curious, he glanced at the man she'd spoken about, then did a double take.

“Oh, my God.”

Marisa started. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Did you see him?”

“See who?”

“The guy with Lourdes. This is going to sound strange, but he looked a hell of a lot like Mercado.”

“Mercado?” His wife tilted her head. “Ricky Mercado?”

“The very one.” The mobster that the sheriff, the FBI and the ATF were looking for. A manhunt the general public didn't know about.

“What would he be doing with your old friend and her children? Strolling around Mission Creek as if he didn't have a care in the world?”

“He wouldn't be. Not with everything that's going on. The last I heard, he skipped town.”

“Exactly. That couldn't have been him.”

“Yeah. I know.” Tyler had only gotten a glimpse of Lourdes's boyfriend, a flash of his profile in a timeworn Stetson. At this distance, he couldn't make out details.

But still, Lourdes's new beau looked liked Mercado. And Tyler knew Mercado well. After all, they'd at
tended Virginia Military Institute together, served in the same unit, been taken hostage in the Gulf. At times he'd loved the other man like a brother. And other times, he hadn't trusted Mercado as far as he could throw him.

“That guy was built just like him. He even had that same badass vibe.”

Marisa laughed. “You're the one with the badass vibe, Tyler.”

He rolled his eyes, then frowned. He'd been out of town for the past few weeks, so he wasn't sure what was going on with Mercado's investigation.

“I think I better give the sheriff a call. Maybe set up a meeting with the FBI.” Just to ask a few questions, he thought. Just to see if there was any relevant news about Ricky Mercado.

 

Juan, Lourdes and the kids returned to the ranch just in time to help Cáco with lunch.

Juan liked the idea of pitching in, of gathering in the kitchen as a family.

The twins helped their mother arrange a green bean casserole, and Amy grated cheese for chicken quesadillas, made with meat leftover from the night before. Cáco had a knack for stretching groceries, for planning low-budget meals that filled the belly and satisfied the palate.

“I'll get your car done right after we eat,” Juan told the older woman.

“Thank you.” She handed him a head of lettuce and put him to work on the salad. “I appreciate that. I worry about driving on these isolated roads, of getting stuck somewhere.”

He rinsed romaine lettuce leaves. “I'll do my best not to let that happen.”

“Good.” She opened a package of tortillas. “By the way, there were some men nosing around here today while you and Lourdes were gone.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? Nosing around?”

She stopped to lean against the counter. “They came to the door and claimed they were interested in our yearlings, but I wasn't convinced. I think they were after the ranch.”

Lourdes piped up. “That's been happening since my grandfather died. People think I'll sell, that I'll let the place go for less than it's worth.”

Because Painted Spirit was in trouble, Juan thought. Because Lourdes struggled to keep it afloat.

“These men weren't very subtle.” Cáco made a disgusted sound. “They even asked how many employees we had.”

Juan added tomatoes to the salad. “What'd you tell them?”

“Nothing pertinent.” The old woman took the casserole from the twins and popped it in the oven. “I wanted to tell them to mind their own business, but I kept quiet. The taller one had cold eyes. I didn't trust him.”

“He probably worked for some mogul in the area.” Lourdes sigh. “They're always looking to steal someone's ranch.”

Juan couldn't imagine Cáco being intimidated by anyone, which told him the man with the cold eyes had an icy soul, too. “Let me know if they show up again.”

“I will.”

The older woman left the kitchen to set the table, and Juan glanced at Lourdes.

“I don't like this,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“Strangers showing up, asking questions.”

“It's happened before. I've even had offers on the ranch.”

“It still bothers me.” Gave him a wary feeling. “Don't talk to anyone when I'm not around. Don't show any horses unless I'm nearby.”

Lourdes began filling tortillas, showing her daughters how much cheese to sprinkle on top of the chicken. “Are you going to protect me from real estate moguls, Juan?”

“Damn straight.” He flashed a teasing smile, but the wariness wouldn't go away. “I'm going to protect all of you.”

Lourdes, Cáco, Amy and the twins, he thought.

His newfound family.

The women and children who'd touched his heart.

“I'll be careful,” Lourdes said. “I won't let anyone swindle me.”

Did men with cold eyes just swindle young widows? Or did they do far more damaging things?

“Promise?”

“Yes.” She handed him a tortilla, prodding him to get back to preparing their meal.

But Juan couldn't shake the uneasiness, and the feeling that the man with the cold eyes would be back.

 

A few hours later, Tyler Murdoch sat in the sheriff's office in the meeting he'd requested. Everyone in attendance—Sheriff Justin Wainwright, Lt. Col. Phillip
Westin, ATF operative Cole Yardley and FBI agent Elise Campbell—had a history with Ricky Mercado.

The sheriff's wife had been a close friend of Mercado's since her teenage years, something Wainwright had finally learned to accept.

Westin had been Mercado's commanding officer, and Yardley and Campbell had been investigating Mercado's activities in a gun-smuggling ring.

Westin spoke first. “Tell us what's on your mind, Murdoch.”

Reacting to a voice he knew well, Tyler squared his shoulders. The colonel had been his CO, too. A man he admired and respected. A man he and Mercado had rescued from a hostage situation not all that long ago.

But they owed Westin their lives. He'd freed them from being captives in the Gulf. He'd saved their young, sorry asses when they'd gotten caught behind enemy lines.

“This morning I saw a man who looked like Ricky Mercado. He was with an old acquaintance of mine.”

Cole Yardley sprang to the edge of his chair. Clearly, the tall, leanly muscled ATF agent had a strong and steady stake in this. If Tyler had his guess, the Mercado investigation had been keeping Yardley up at night.

“Where'd you see him?” the agent asked.

“At the auto parts store in town.”

Yardley blinked. “And what was he doing?”