The Soldier's Mission (4 page)

She dropped her hand away. “I have to tell them I shot that man.”

Missing her warmth and needing to protect her, Paco said, “We could tell them I did it.”

“No, I won't lie to them. And you said to be honest. I shot him because he was trying to kill you. That's the truth.”

Paco knew she was right. They couldn't lie. But he had a very bad feeling about this whole situation. And he knew this wasn't over. Someone had sent a killer here two different times this morning. And they would keep coming until they hit their target.

He headed to the door to show the paramedics where to go and to greet the two officers pulling up outside. Then he glanced back at Laura to make sure she was holding up.

She gave him a wobbly half smile, her eyes still moist. Then she pushed at her hair and straightened her clothes, her head lifting as her eyes met his again.

And Paco had to wonder who in the world would want to hurt this woman?

She'd come here to help him, but in doing so she might have put herself in danger. Then she'd somehow managed to shoot a man in order to save Paco, which meant she was stronger than she looked. But that also meant she was now Paco's responsibility.

He had to get his grandfather to a safe place and he had to protect this woman no matter what. Maybe in the
process, he just might find that heart she thought he was searching for.

Or lose it completely to the woman who'd come with such an unexpected determination into his life.

P
aco went into action after the ambulance and the sheriff's deputies left. Good thing the deputies knew his grandfather and him well enough to access the situation and keep it under wraps for now.

“I have to call my brother.” Touching a finger to his phone, he waited, his eyes never leaving Laura. “Hey, Buddy. It's me, Paco. There's been a break-in at the café. Grandfather was hurt.”

“Hurt? Is he okay?”

His brother's worried question filtered over the line.

“He's unconscious. Got knocked on the head. Listen, they took him to the regional hospital near Jacob Lake. I have a situation here, so I need you to go to the hospital and call me with a report.”

“What kind of situation?”

Paco huffed a breath. “I can't explain right now.” Then he said on an urgent whisper, “I'm on the job.”

His brother's silence told Paco Buddy was processing this. His older brother would understand and take action. “Can you talk?”

“Negative.”

“Will you call me?”

“Yes. Just go to Wíago and stay with him. Call me
when you hear anything from the doctors. Or I'll call you when I get things straight here.”

“Got it. I'm on my way to the hospital.”

Paco turned toward Laura. “Let's get out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

He didn't explain. He had enough to think about without having to report every detail to her. Seeing the distress in her eyes, he gently lifted her up. “You'll be okay. This has become official now.”

She followed him without protest. Getting an argument from her would have eased Paco's mind even if he didn't want to hear it. She might be going into shock and that was the last thing he needed right now.

“Do you think the sheriff believed us?” she asked.

“I mean, he didn't take me away. I thought he'd take me into custody after I told him what I'd witnessed and what happened.” She didn't finish, didn't state the obvious.

Paco did a scan of the road and the desert, careful to shield her by keeping her behind him. “I explained things to the sheriff. Self-defense. He's a good friend of my grandfather's and for that reason he trusted me and he'll keep a lid on this for as long as possible. We both gave a statement and we've been cleared for travel.”

“Cleared?”

He shoved her into his truck and closed the door. Once he was inside and feeling confident that they weren't being watched, he turned to her. “CHAIM clearance. For your safety, you're in my custody until we figure this out. The sheriff knows how to reach me if he needs to talk to us. We always alert the locals when we're on a case.”

“Oh, of course.”

Paco didn't like her quietness but he let it ride for now
while he watched the long, flat road and did a couple of quick searches of the desert on either side. When they turned off the dusty lane to his trailer, he slowed the truck.

“I live there,” he explained, pointing to the tiny white home on wheels. “I need to get some equipment and then we're going to your hotel room to check it out.”

“All right.” She studied the travel trailer, her gaze moving between the RV and his face. “That's not very big.”

“I don't need much space.” Except the emotional kind, he thought, refusing to elaborate out loud.

She went silent again.

“Stay right here while I get some things,” he told her. Then he handed her a loaded handgun he kept in the glove compartment, removing the safety before he handed it to her. “Use this if you have to.”

Before she could protest, Paco was out the door and running toward the trailer.

 

Laura sat staring down at the gun. She's just shot and killed a man and now she was holding a gun. What had become of her life, of her plans to help Luke Martinez?

Paco.

The man frightened her as much as he intrigued her. He was all muscle and male, all mad and mysterious. Not the kind of man to whom she was attracted. No, she went more for the button-down, preppy type. But then, that type hadn't exactly been working out for her lately, come to think of it. Her last boyfriend hadn't taken their break-up very well. And why was she even
thinking along those lines anyway? She'd come here on a mission of mercy, her faith intact, her concern real.

And now, in the span of less than two hours, she'd been shot at and she'd killed a man. And she still didn't understand who these people wanted to kill—her or Paco.

She looked out across the Painted Desert toward the mountains. They looked misty and solid as they hunched in watercolor shades of orange and mauve like sleeping giants off in the distance, the saguaros and fan palms stark and scattered across the arid vastness.

Who was out there?

Laura felt a chill in spite of the rising heat. She had to get out of this truck. She didn't want Luke to be alone. And she didn't want to be alone. They should stick together. She opened the door and hurried around to the back of the tiny trailer, her gaze taking in the canvas covered tented porch, a small grill and one lonely scarred lawn chair.

He didn't need much space.

Except the desolate emptiness of a desert.

What had she gotten herself into?

 

Paco whirled when he heard footfalls on the rickety steps, his gun trained on the door.

“I told you to stay in the truck,” he shouted, relief washing over him. Relief followed by remorse. Laura was standing with one foot inside the door and the other one lowered on the steps, her gun shaking in her tiny hand.

“I was worried about you,” she said, her gaze sweeping the cramped kitchen. Lowering the gun to the step, she asked, “Are you always this messy?”

“I didn't do this, sweetheart,” he replied, disgust making him harsh as he looked over the ruin of his home. Someone had gone through ever nook and cranny, without regard for clothing, dishes or paperwork.

“Apparently, I had a visitor this morning.” He touched a hand to something on the counter. “And they left yet another one of your business cards.”

She stepped away. “What? But why?”

At least that shocked her out of her fear again. Good. She needed to clear her head because they were just getting started with this thing.

“Good question,” he replied as he strapped on knives and guns, tugging weapons in his boots and underneath his shirt. “Either you have a fan, or someone is stalking you.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes coloring to a deep blue. “Oh, no. No, it can't be.”

She fell back and turned to sit on the metal step. Paco quickly slid out the door and hopped around her then turned to face her. “Talk to me, beautiful.”

Laura put her head down in her hands. “I dated a guy for a few months, a while back. On the surface, he was a successful nice guy who said all the right things. But after a few months, things got weird and I broke it off. He started harassing me and I had to take out a restraining order. But he stopped bothering me about a month ago.”

Paco leaned down, one hand reaching to lift her head up. “Define ‘weird.'”

“After we broke up, he'd still call me and text me all day and night. He got really angry when I didn't call him right back. I got a funny feeling—instincts I guess. I told him to quit pestering me. He didn't take that very
well. When he turned violent, I knew I'd made a big mistake. I think he suffered from paranoid delusional disorder.”

“Did he hurt you? Hit you?”

She looked away. “He slapped me once.”

Paco couldn't tolerate men who hit women. “And?”

“And I reminded him that we were over, he left a note on my apartment door, threatening me, calling me a tease.” She looked up at Paco. “I never teased him or led him on about anything. I thought we were having a friendly relationship that might turn into something else. It didn't turn into anything but…creepy. I told him he needed help. I even offered to find him a therapist, since I certainly couldn't deal with him.”

“You think this might be the guy?”

“I don't know. He stopped calling me after I took out the restraining order. I live in a secure building with a doorman, so everyone watched out for me. I would have known if he'd come back there.”

“What's his name?”

She looked at the phone he'd pulled out of his pocket.

“Alex Whitmyer. He came from a prominent family. He was handsome and a bit narcissistic, which I figured out a little too late. I'm still embarrassed about it. I'm supposed to help people like him, but I was too caught up in the relationship to see he was sick. And he was very good at hiding his real personality.”

Paco wondered about that. Wasn't she supposed to be able to read people? Maybe not with her heart, but with her head. Had she cared about this guy? “I'll put in a call to Kissie. She can check him out in addition to the father of that kid you mentioned, too.”

“Mr. Henner,” she said, shaking her head. “I'd put
my money on Alex. He was just strange enough to go all ballistic and decide to teach me a lesson.”

“But you didn't know our intruder. Why would he send other people to do the deed if he's the one stalking you?”

“He certainly could hire someone to scare me, but then so could Mr. Henner. Maybe it wasn't Alex after all.”

He made the call to Kissie, giving her Alex Whitmyer's name. After explaining what had happened, he said, “Looks like I'm on a case, Kissie-girl.”

“Paco, you sure you're ready for this?”

“Not you, too,” he replied, closing his eyes. “I told Warwick I was doing okay.”

“Well, he's so happy he just wants everyone else to feel the same,” Kissie said through a chuckle. “Me, I think you find your strength when you need it the most.”

“Well, then, we're about to test that theory,” Paco replied. “Look, about Alex Whitmyer.” He looked at the card. “He dated Laura Walton. Counselor. Works for CHAIM-approved clinic in Phoenix. Except right now, she's with me. I'm sure you've been updated on the shooting here this morning since I had to get clearance from both the sheriff and CHAIM to move the client.”

“Heard all about it. We've got your back, Paco. And I've heard of Laura's work at the Phoenix Rising Counseling Center. But how in the world did she wind up with you?”

“She thinks I need counseling for some strange reason.”

“I know Laura,” Kissie said. “We've met at some of
the company get-togethers. Nice girl. And if anyone can help you, it'd be Laura. Do you need help?”

Paco grunted. “Why is everyone asking me that?”

“We care about you. What about the get-together at Eagle Rock. You gonna be there?”

“Hadn't planned on it,” Paco replied. “Since when did CHAIM start having company functions anyway?”

“You've been out of the country too long, my child. We like to get together for some down time now and then. Good for the soul. And just FYI, this is a big to-do coming up next week at Eagle Rock. You know, to remember the fallen on Veteran's Day and to celebrate Thanksgiving. You should come. It's a mandatory callout.”

“I'm kinda busy here, Kissie. We'll have to see about that.”

“Okay then, but you might want to read the memo. I'll get right on this. You take care of my girl Laura, you hear.”

“I hear.”

He signed off then turned to Laura. “Kissie seems to think you're a nice girl.”

“I am a nice girl,” she replied without skipping a beat. “And I'm still wondering how I managed to kill a man.”

He hated the tiny bit of little girl in her voice. She was way too nice to be sitting here in this old trailer, in the middle of the desert, with him of all people. She was the good girl who went to church and baked cookies for nursing home residents and planted petunias by the back door. The good girl who actually tried to help warped, scarred, tired souls.

He was the bad boy who shunned crowds, liked his
solitude and really never let anyone get too close. He was the loner, the soldier, the warrior who'd fought the good fight and yet, had somehow managed to lose both his soul and his sanity in doing so. “How
did
you wind up here?” he asked her.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she reminded him.

He lifted her up, grabbed the gun she'd laid on the step and pulled her toward the truck. “Well, honey, that's gonna have to wait. 'Cause whoever this is, they seem to be determined to either scare you or kill you. I just don't get why they keep leaving your cards everywhere like a trail. They obviously want us to find these cards.”

She grabbed the tattered card out of his hand then gasped. “I didn't notice this before but this isn't my up dated business card, Luke. This looks like my old set of cards. I had them changed about two weeks ago. I added my website on the new ones.”

“Then where did these come from?”

“I threw them in the recycling bin at my apartment building.”

He steadied her hand to stare at the card. “So someone went through that bin and found them. How many did you have left?”

“About twenty-five or so. A little box—almost empty.”

“Just enough to spread the word.”

“And what is the word?”

“That's the big question,” he replied. “That's what we need to find out.”

“Do we have to report this to the police?”

“Not yet,” he said as he guided her to the truck. “We gave our report this morning about the break-in and the
shooting. We might have to go in for more questioning once they identify the man who—”

“The man I killed,” she replied, her eyes going all misty. She turned away to stare out into the desert.

Paco didn't press her. Sooner or later, she was going to fall apart and they both knew it. He dreaded it. He'd never been good around hysterical women. But this one was deserving of a little meltdown. He'd see her through it, because
he
wasn't allowed to have any more meltdowns. He had a mission. And he was alone in this until he could figure out what was going on. He couldn't abandon this innocent woman even if he did resent her being here.