The Soldier's Mission (7 page)

H
is heart actually started beating faster.

Paco didn't know what to say to that. What did a man say to a woman who looked at him with big dark blue eyes filled to the brim with hope? What did a man who'd up until today been content to be completely alone say to a woman who made all of his protective instincts go into overdrive? A woman who made him think about nice things such as long walks and laughing out loud. Happiness. He didn't even know what happiness meant anymore. And he sure didn't know what God was all about anymore.

“Let's leave God out of this.”

She looked disappointed and hurt. She turned away to stare out the window, her fingers twisting a paper napkin against the table. “We need Him now, Paco. I mean, really need Him.”

Thinking he was truly lower than a snake's belly, Paco grabbed her hand. “I shouldn't have said that.”

Laura glanced down at his hand over hers. “You have a lot of scars. God can heal them.”

She was looking at the jagged white scars lining his knuckles. “Yes, I do. Some of them show and some of them don't.”

That brought her gaze back up to him. “God can heal all of them. That's why I came to find you. I couldn't stop thinking about that night when you called. I wanted you to know that I can help you, too. That's why God called me to this career, I think. I always wanted to help other Christians, but I'm too chicken to go out into the missionary field or to do the type of things you do. My calling is in counseling and therapy. And I just knew God wanted me to find you. Especially after…”

“After what?” Did she have her own torment? He didn't have the right to ask her about anything. But between the abusive boyfriend and that kid's suicide, she probably had her own guilt weighing her down.

“Never mind,” she said. “I came here all self-righteous and determined, wanting to make a difference in your life.” She pulled her hand away. “But look at how that turned out. Running for our lives, getting shot at and shooting people.” Her words became choppy with emotion. “Your grandfather—”

“Hey, Wíago is tough. He's been through worse. And my brother Buddy is right there with him, guarding him and watching over him. If it makes you feel better, Buddy knows how to pray. He has a pipeline right to God's ear.”

She wiped at her eyes. “We all need to pray, for your grandfather, for whoever is doing this to us, for everything.”

“Why don't you pray and I'll plan?”

She pushed her food away. “I'd feel better if we prayed together.”

“Here, now?”

She bobbed her head, her eyes full of that glorious hope again.

“I… I'm not good at public displays of praying, Laura. I do my best bargaining with God when I'm faced with a bottle at three o'clock in the morning.”

Her eyes widened then and he saw her go from sweet to steely. “Don't you see, Paco? That bottle of liquor represents all your torment and your shame and guilt. All the more reason to learn how to pray without ceasing, no matter the time of day.”

“Got it.” He looked around, uncomfortable with this whole conversation and stunned by her sharp-edged logic. It wasn't like they didn't have pressing matters to take care of—such as staying alive. But hey, he'd tried everything else. Pray might be their best option right now.

She must have sensed his near-compliance. “Here, take my hand and just close your eyes. Nobody is looking. And so what if they are?”

Paco grunted, but he took her tiny hand, his scarred fingers accepting the lace-delicate touch of her skin.

“Dear Father,” she began, her voice going from strained to sure, “we don't know what's going on with us or why we are under siege. We do know that someone wants to do us harm. We ask that You intercede in this warfare, that You show us the right way and guide us through each step we take. And Lord, please help to change our pursuers—whatever their motives. Bless and keep Luke and Wíago and Buddy close, Lord. Protect them and guide them. Amen.”

Paco kept her hand when she tried to let go. “Father, don't forget Laura.”

When he opened his eyes, she has such a sweet, serene smile on her face Paco knew he was in serious trouble. His heart, so long guarded and lifeless, was
pumping new blood through his veins with such intensity, he had to catch his breath.

To waylay that, he said, “Satisfied? We need to get moving.”

She didn't answer, and if her smile seemed to fade at his callus treatment, he ignored it. He had to keep his emotions at bay so he could keep her alive.

That was
his
most urgent prayer right now.

 

Two hours later, they'd hiked out of the tourist-laden foot of the South Rim and were on some dusty back road into the desert. Laura was tired but secure in the knowledge that if anyone could get her across a desert, it would be Paco Martinez. He'd loaded up on gear after taking a quick shopping trip at one of the souvenir stores. He was now fortified with a backpack full of bottled water and power bars slung on his back along with the weapons of various shapes and sizes that's he'd strapped to his body earlier when they'd gone by his trailer, including a nasty-looking knife and a tiny pistol tucked inside his boot. He had compasses and maps and his trusty phone. And he'd made her buy a pair of sturdy hiking boots and good socks, using most of her cash.

While she felt safe knowing he was prepared, Laura also fretted about how he'd react to whatever came at them next.

Luke Paco Martinez was in full black ops mode from what she could tell. And that “take no prisoners” scowl he wore as they marched through the fall heat didn't bode well for anyone who crossed him. Including her.

“Rest,” he said now, his tone curt and no-nonsense. He was the point man, of course, explaining that they would take a five minute rest at the top of every hour.
That five-minutes wasn't nearly enough for Laura but she didn't complain. She was at the man's mercy, after all.

He pointed to a big bronzed rock jutting out from a heavy cluster of yucca plants. Laura gingerly looked around for scorpions, snakes and spiders before she sank down on the warm rock.

“Drink.” He handed her a bottle of water.

Laura took it and chugged until the bottle was unceremoniously taken out of her hands.

“Slow, sweetheart. Drink it slow.”

Well, at least he was still calling her sweetheart. That endearment coming from any other man would have made her bristle. But Luke seemed to use it almost absent-mindedly, making her think he called a lot of people that.

Not just Laura Walton, and not because she was special. She was nobody special, just the woman he was now forced to protect. The woman who'd come here hoping to redeem herself away from the guilt nagging at her, hoping to cure her own ills and insecurities by picking Paco's brain. Fat chance of that. He'd have her talking and confessing everything from stealing a kiss from a boy in the fourth grade to eating too much ice cream while she watched sappy movies, she guessed, before he spoke to her of any of his own pain.

“Thanks,” she said, handing the bottle back to him.

“I'll save the rest for later.”

He drank the rest. Then he halved a power bar and handed her part of it. “Eat.”

Laura ate the chewy, nasty-tasting bar with a firm smile on her face.

His next words were, “Let's go.”

“Could I ask where we're going?”

“To my brother's house. We can rest there and regroup.”

“How far?”

“Another ten miles.”

That sounded like a hundred miles in desert time, she decided. Hadn't they already been at least twenty miles? And because she needed to distract herself from the dry heat and the sun and the creepy-crawly things, she said, “I wish I knew why they wanted my laptop.”

“To get information,” he replied with a “duh” tone.

“But what information? How could they benefit from my patient files?”

“Maybe they wanted your personal stuff.”

“That doesn't make any sense either. They apparently know a lot about me already.” She shrugged. “And besides, I don't have much personal stuff. My work is my life.” A sad admission and one she wished she'd kept to herself.

“Maybe they wanted to get next to you—that thing you said about showing you they could invade your privacy anywhere.”

“That worked, then.”

Laura decided she'd keep quiet for a while. He didn't seem in a chatty mood and she'd spill even more of her pathetic personal information if she didn't shut up.

Then out of the blue, he said “Tell me more about the stalker.”

“Alex?” Surprise and dread filled her. “Big mistake. We met at a business function. He worked selling alarm systems and seemed to enjoy it. At first, he was so great—kind, considerate, fun to talk to. He asked me a lot of questions.”

“Hold it right there. What kind of questions?”

“You know, about my life, my work. The usual.”

“Sometimes the usual can be the most obvious.”

“You mean, he had an agenda maybe?”

His grunt indicated yes. “How long did you date?”

“A few months. But then he got a little too possessive for me to feel comfortable. He became demanding and paranoid. He even accused me of cheating on him. Things escalated and I got scared. I tried to reason with him, tell him it just wasn't working. I offered to get him help. But he kept at me, telling me he loved me and we were made for each other. After he started showing up at my apartment and my work and sending constant text messages and voice mails, I broke things off. He cornered me in the parking lot and that's the day he slapped me. I was advised to take out a restraining order.”

“And he didn't take that too well?”

“No. Not at all. His pleas turned to even more threats. But I never could prove much beyond the text messages I'd saved. He was always careful to leave typed notes or things that couldn't be traced. Little clues—”

She stopped. “Luke, little clues. What if this
is
him doing all of these horrible things and that's what he's done with my old business cards? Left some sort of clues or threats for me to find—just to scare me.”

“Already considered that, sweetheart. I'm going to check those out more when we get to Buddy's place.”

Well, of course he'd considered that. “Do you believe it's him then?”

He guided her past a giant saguaro. “I'm liking him for it, yeah. But it's almost too easy.”

“Too obvious?”

“Yeah. Like I said, things don't add up. If he's stalking
you because he's obsessed with you, he wouldn't try to kill you right away. He'd want to come after you and maybe take you away to convince you to love him the way he loves you. And then he'd kill you if you didn't see things his way.”

Laura shivered in spite of the rising heat. “If he was trying to do that, then he might have tried to shoot you, too. If he thought, you know, that you and I—”

“Possibly. But why send another hit man?”

“To keep his hands clean? Or to help him, make it easy for him to take me.”

He shrugged, but the look he gave her reassured her. “If we ever get to a safe place, I'll sit down and figure this out.” He turned, doing one of his panoramic views, looking behind them.

Laura turned to respond and found herself flat on the sandy desert floor, his hand over her head.

“Don't move,” he said, drawing weapons with a swift clarity. “We have company.”

Dirt ground like shards of glass against her skin. “Where?”

“On the road behind us to the east. Don't look.”

Laura breathed dust, her pulse hitting against the hard desert floor, her mind very much aware of Paco there beside her. “How many?”

“Only one so far. I think I can take him.”

She chanced a glance at him and watched as he pulled that mean-looking knife out of his boot. Not wanting to see this, Laura closed her eyes again and prayed with all her might.

Paco held his hand on her neck. “Don't move a muscle. We wait until he's right on us.”

“Are you sure it's someone after us?”

“Yeah, since he's packing a high-powered rifle and since I'm pretty sure he has that rifle trained on the spot where he last saw us.”

Beads of sweat caught in the center of her back between her shoulder blades and evaporated with each beat of her heart. Her throat was so dry, she couldn't force a swallow. Breathing became impossible. Then she lifted her head an inch and saw something that terrified her every bit as much as the person tracking them.

“Luke?”

“Shh.”

“But—”

“Be still. I mean it.”

She was going to pass out. Laura knew this but she couldn't voice it. She froze, her gaze fixed, her mind whirling with visions of imminent death.

“Luke, please?”

Had she managed to say that out loud?

She would never know because a gunshot rang out and then in one blur of motion she only caught out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Paco stood and threw the knife at their pursuer, hitting him square in the chest.

And then he whirled and shot in midair the rattlesnake rising up to strike just inches away from Laura's face.

“A
re you hurt?”

Paco grabbed Laura, dragging her up with one arm, his gun still aimed on the twitching snake.

“I'm… I'm all right,” she said. She buried her head against his chest and closed her eyes. “Is he dead?”

“The snake or the man?”

“Both?”

“Man down and snake giving his last dying twitch. You can open your eyes now.”

She lifted away to stare up at him. “I can't take much more of this. I thought snakes went into hibernation this time of year.” But obviously, bad guys didn't.

He glanced at the dead snake. “That old-timer was probably on his way to hibernation. Just getting in one last sunning in this warm weather.”

The warmth was lost on Laura. A chill went over her when she thought about the man gunning for her and the snake that had come close to striking her. “I don't like snakes.”

“I hear that.” Paco checked her over, wiping at the dirt smudges on her cheek. “You have a scrape right there.”

His finger stilled on her skin while their eyes locked
and held, the awareness between them a brief flare that warred with the sun and sent a new kind of chill down her spine.

Paco stepped back and turned to go to the man. Taking back his knife, he rubbed it through the sand then wiped it on a cactus stalk. Checking the man's pulse, he turned to Laura. “Yes, he's dead.” Quickly going through the man's pockets, he pulled out a handgun and a wallet. “Howard Barrow. Do you know him?”

He heard her gasp then turned to see her rushing toward the man. “Howard? Did you say Howard?”

“Yes. Howard P. Barrow. According to his driver's license, he lives in Phoenix.”

“He…he was my patient about a year ago.”

“Really? No kidding?”

Her eyes burst into blue-tipped flames. “Why would I be kidding about this? Yes, he was a patient. He came to the clinic with a recommendation from…from Lawrence Henner. That was before Mr. Henner's son committed suicide and I got put on his blacklist.”

“Okay, this is beginning to make me crazy,” Paco said. At her disapproving look, he added, “Sorry. Crazy with
wondering
.”

She stared down at the chubby, bleeding man. “Howard was a nice man. He worked for the government but he'd gone through a bad divorce and he had some emotional issues. We spent several sessions trying to get him through those issues. Last time I talked to him, he was dating again and happy.”

“So a man who now blames you for his son's death once recommended you as a counselor to this man?”

“Yes.” She pushed at her hair. “Poor Howard. This doesn't make any sense. He was a quiet, passive person
who worked in records at the courthouse, not exactly someone who'd chase me through the desert.”

“Something didn't get all the way cured in Howard, I'm thinking.” And Paco also had another bad thought.

“Better check his other pockets.”

Laura wiped at her eyes while he dug around in Howard's jean pocket. “Just as I figured. He's carrying one of your outdated business cards.” He held it up to the sun. “And it looks like the same indentations are on the back of it. Probably planned on leaving it with our dead bodies.”

Her low groan brought Paco around. “What?”

“What?”
She waved toward the dead man. “We're being stalked by the hour, Luke. You tell me. This man was a patient. What about the others? What about the man I shot?”

“Did you recognize him?”

“No, but it happened so fast I never actually got a good look and people change. They appear rough when I see them—lack of sleep and over or under eating, not to mention other indulgences. That man could have been someone I treated or spoke to in the clinic but he might have changed so much I didn't recognize him.”

“When we get to Buddy's, I'll find out,” he said.

“Right now, we're too exposed. We need to get going.”

“What about Howard?”

“What about him? He was going to kill us.”

“He's dead now, though. We should do something.”

“Look, we can't do anything. We don't have time and if we bury him it won't look so good for us. That whole hiding the body thing and all.”

“So we just leave his body here for the vultures?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Cause he sure didn't.

She nodded. “We need to say a prayer over him and then, we need to call someone to come and get him.”

Paco let a groan of his own. “Okay. You say a prayer and I'll text in a report to the sheriff.”

And so he did. He explained the situation to his friend at the sheriff's department, giving him a location and a promise of a call later for more details. Then he stood silent while Laura said a prayer for the man who'd tried to take them both out.

When she was done, he tugged her along, marveling at her fortitude and her commitment to doing the right thing. “We're not waiting for the sheriff. Too dangerous. Let's go.”

She followed him, beating a wide path around the coiled dead snake. “Was that a rattlesnake?”

“Yep. Looked like a western diamondback.”

“You saved my life again.”

“It's getting to be a habit.”

Paco slowed down, thinking this woman had been through a lot for one day so maybe he should cut her some slack. But if they didn't hurry, the sun would go down on them in the desert. He did not want that to happen. He needed to get her to a safe spot so she could rest and digest all of this. And so he could call all the people waiting for him to give updates and reports. Everyone wanted answers. Well, so did he.

“Why would they bother leaving your card if they killed us?”

She pushed at her hair. “Maybe so whoever found us would also find the clues—if there are any clues on those cards.”

“I'm guessing there's something on these cards.”
He did a quick search of the area. “Of course, whoever's behind this might have given the cards to his goons just in case they did get in trouble. That way, it looks like your patients had your business card—which would make sense and that would lead the authorities and CHAIM to think all of your patients were seriously deranged and chasing you all over the state to do you in.”

“I'd have to quit work if that's the case. Maybe that's the point—to cause me to lose my license and my job.”

He shot her a long hard stare. “We'll figure it out, Laura. While I don't exactly believe in therapy, I can see that you're probably good at your job. You seem to care about people. You went out of your way to find me.”

She seemed to bask in that halfhearted compliment but she didn't push him. She was too numb and disturbed to try and break him down right now, Paco reasoned.

They walked in silence a few more miles, with the usual five-minute stops along the way.

“Not much farther now,” he said after one of their breaks, hoping to help her along.

She didn't respond, but she got up and started walking again. Paco hated the way she kept looking back at the spot where Howard Barrow had met his demise, even though they were a long way gone from that area.

After they'd walked a while longer, she said, “It doesn't bother you, does it?”

A lot of things bothered him. Especially pretty women in trouble in the middle of the desert. That and the growing body count bothered him a lot. The whole way his day had gone from self-imposed solitary confinement to wide open with visitors bearing guns
bothered him. And the fact that his grandfather might be having surgery right now really bothered him. “What
doesn't
bother me?”

She missed the message in the question. “Killing people. It doesn't seem to bother you.”

Paco grunted, but her words floored him. “You have no idea how it gets to me, trust me. And I'm not going to discuss that with you since we're not in your office and I'm not lying on the couch.”

“But killing has become second nature to you. I saw the way you threw that knife. And killed that snake.”

“Instincts, darlin'. I was trained to defend myself when I'm being attacked. I was trained to defend our country and to fight our enemies, both here and abroad. And I'd say we have several enemies on our back right now, right here in my backyard.”

“No wonder you can't sleep.”

Okay, the woman was tired, shocked and stressed. Paco knew all of those feelings. And in his gut, even though he knew she was being purposely harsh, he also knew she was right. He had become a machine. A killing machine. And her words cut to the quick with a pristine precision that caused him to lower his head and keep walking.

How was he supposed to reconcile that with the big guy in the sky? And how was he supposed to win this woman's respect when she'd witnessed him in action?

“Now I'm just like you,” she said on a winded hiss.

“I've killed another human being. And I'm beginning to think I'm responsible for all these people chasing us.”

“Okay, enough!” He stopped as they made a turn on the path. “Just because you defended us this morning, doesn't make you like me. You will never be like me,
understand? I can't help what happened today. Can't change what I've done in the past in the name of war. But I can save you if you let me—that's my job right now and that means I might have to hurt or kill other people in order to get you to safety. Will that be enough for you?”

She glared up at him, her face dirty and scraped, her eyes full of fury. And despair. “Enough for what?”

“Enough for you to forgive me?” he asked, his words going soft. “Enough for God to forgive me. You said God saved me for a reason and that you might be that reason. But not if you don't trust me and believe in me. And not if you can't forgive me.” He held his hands on his hips and gave her a hard look. “I could use a little bit of forgiveness, okay?”

She looked up at him, the emotions boiling over in her misty eyes, a look of utter despair on her face. “It won't be you I'll need to forgive,” she said on a raw whisper. “First, I have to forgive myself.”

He shook his head. There was no reasoning with this woman. She had a shield of faith wrapped tightly around her true feelings. And now she was shouldering the blame for all of this and taking on his sins, too.

But Paco had a feeling once she let that shield down, let that guilt keep eating at her, she'd sink as low as he'd been at times. When that happened, someone needed to be there for her, the way she'd tried so hard to be there for her patients. And him.

Maybe God did have a plan after all.

Maybe Paco would have to be the one to pick up the pieces when Laura fell apart.

But that particular assignment scared him more than going into battle ever had.

 

He'd stopped walking just as the sun was setting off over a distant canyon rim. To Laura, it seemed as if they'd trekked over and over in the same circle for hours but Paco kept right on moving, stomping, marching. Did he actually know where they were going or was he as lost as she felt?

“There's my brother's house,” he said.

Shocked and relieved, Laura glanced up to see the golden rays of the sunset striking against a small, flat adobe house that looked as if it had been perpetually added onto over the years. It leaned and sagged in places and grew and expanded in other places. And all around the yard, between yucca plants and tall cacti and iron-wood and desert willows, parts of cars and parts of motorcycles lay scattered like washed-out bones against the pinks and browns of the desert landscape.

“Interesting,” she said on a dry-throated croak.

“Buddy's a mechanic of sorts but he's not known for being neat. Take that as a warning.”

She didn't need to be warned. But when they got inside the house, she sure wished she could have stayed at that nice inn they'd left at the South Rim.

Paco must have seen her disgust before she could pull a blank face. “Keep in mind, he's in a wheelchair. He has a cleaning lady, but she only comes once a week. And he wasn't expecting company.”

“It's okay. It's shelter.” She sidestepped a stack of newspapers, pretty sure a scorpion ran across the floor when she did.

Paco turned on the kitchen light then stood as if waiting for the night creatures to scatter. “Kitchen looks reasonably safe. I'll find us something to eat.”

Laura nodded, so tired she couldn't muster up conversation. In spite of the untidiness of the place, it wasn't dirty. There were clean dishes in the cabinets and the refrigerator was well stocked.

“Found some canned soup,” Paco said. “Hope you don't mind another sandwich.”

“I never ate my sandwich at lunch, so no, I don't mind.”

He pushed past her. “Two bedrooms. I'll find sheets for the bed in that one.” He pointed to a little room right off the den. “I'll keep watch here on the couch.”

“You'll need to sleep, too.”

“I don't sleep.”

Then he whirled and turned on the bathroom light.

“Towels are in the cabinet. I'll try to find you some clean clothes. I think Buddy's ex-wife left some here.”

“He's divorced?”

“Yep. She couldn't deal.”

“I'm sorry.”

He grunted a response.

She noticed family pictures lining the wall. Men in uniform of various ages. “Your grandfather with your father?”

“Yeah. Wíago is my mother's father. My dad was part Hispanic. That was taken right before he left for Vietnam. He didn't make it home for Christmas. And he never knew about me.” He shrugged. “He got killed before she could write and tell him.”

“Where's your mother?”

“She died about five years ago.”

“Did they live here in this house?”

“We've all lived here in this house at one time or another.”