Warrior Mine (14 page)

V
ail had
the lion’s share of long nights during his career. The longest weren’t the ones spent laid-up in the hospital not the ones perched securely in the nest of an enemy camp awaiting the quietest dark morning hours to make his move. Time all but ground to a halt his first day back in the home he’d shared with Ellie and, strangely enough, this night. The moon swung across the muted night. The sun brightened the sky one degree at a time. The windows frosted and collected the easy snow that fell all the while.

At one point he turned the water in the kitchen and bathroom to drip to keep the pipes from freezing. Walking past her bedroom door he’d paused, not knowing exactly what made him stop, until the rustle of sheets caught his attention. Sleep evaded her too. The urge to go to her sent him one step in the direction of her door. He needed to better explain what he didn’t understand himself. His desire to protect her and Sophie. His need to possess her as perhaps he’d never possessed anyone before.

A primal surge sent him forward another step and another. Soon he stood inches from the flimsy wooden entryway. His hand hovered over the knob. One hushed sniffle halted his advance and nearly knocked him on his butt. When she’d hurried from the porch hours ago sadness and indecision had marbled her eyes, and still he’d never imagined Carmen Ruez crying. The one tear he’d seen slip from her lashes seemed all she’d been capable of producing. A deep inner strength allowed her to deal with the hell of her life, so she could enjoy Sophie. Resolve like that also set her apart from the rest of the world, an untouchable force even he couldn’t reckon with. Then again, maybe not so untouchable. Regardless, he’d slunk back down the stairs, lay with his hands behind his head, and watched the minutes crawl past.

When Vail could no longer stare at the sun’s arduous climb into the sky he hurried upstairs and rushed a shower. He ignored his jutting cock. The hard flesh and harder desire refused dissuasion, swelling thicker under the hot beat of the water. Vail turned the hot water off altogether. He braced against the icy water, while he eradicated the day’s and rough night’s grime from his body.

It did the trick. His pants buttoned and zipped without crushing his manhood.

Small favors and all.

After a full seven hours awake with no food, Vail’s stomach turned against him like a rabid dog. He hurried downstairs, failing in his effort to ignore the light shining from beneath Carmen’s bedroom door. After raiding the fridge for the essentials, Vail set about preparing breakfast. His stomach snarled as the salty richness of pan-seared bacon wafted up his nose.

Not one minute later, Sophie bustled down the steps while wrestling her hair into a messy blob atop her head. “Good morning.” Her molars gleamed in her oversized smile.

“Good morning, Sophie.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, launched her dainty frame into the air, and
smacked
a kiss on his cheek.

Vail spread the sizzling meat onto the napkin-covered plate he’d fixed earlier and hoped she didn’t desire conversation. True enough, that insignificant peck rendered him dumb. Sophia bebopped to the refrigerator as though the world hadn’t just flipped poles. She pulled the jug of orange juice from the recesses then grabbed three glasses from the cabinet.

“You want juice or milk? Or coffee?” she asked.

For the life of him, his lips refused to move.

She sidled up to him, jug in hand and now a silly grin on her face. “Hey, you in there? Or are you daydreaming?” Her stomach must have tormented her too, because her gaze zeroed on the scalding bacon and her hand followed.

“Sophia!” From the steps, Carmen’s voice spiked with panic.

The girl’s delicate fingers hovered just over the still cooking meat. Vail snatched Sophie’s hand away and pulled it protectively to his chest.

“What?” she whined. The wispy fly-aways framing her face flittered in the breeze of her swiveling head.

“You could have burned yourself.” He intended to speak normally, but the words hardly broke the hum of the refrigerator’s compressor.

“I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” he said with a little more gusto.

“Sophia Ruez, remember your manners,” her mother admonished.

“It’s okay. It seems I’ve also misplaced mine.” He pinched a piece of bacon between his thumb and forefinger, tossed it into the air, and bobbled it between his hands until the heat dissipated. Then he broke the length in two and handed one to Sophie. “I’d like juice, please.”

“Mom, what do you want? Juice? Milk? Water?”

“Water, please.” Carmen’s voice grew nearer.

Sophie hopped off to fill their orders. Her mother took up the post her daughter vacated, allowing more space between them. Unlike her daughter, Carmen didn’t give him a smile. Her mouth pursed and her brows snuggled in the middle of her forehead.

“What?” he whispered.

“You’re making me the bad guy,” she huffed.

“What?” he said again. He truly had no idea what she referred to. Maybe the Base Branch. Maybe her brother.

“Sophia.” She managed to yell in a whisper. “You can’t just give her what she wants. It does her no good in the long run. Life isn’t like that. Ask and receive.”

“No, it’s not.” He placed several more slices into the pan. “Will you push down the toaster?” he asked without looking up. She sidestepped and depressed the lever, sending the bread to tan. When she settled her hip back again the bar he found her gaze and smiled. “But sometimes it can be.”

Carmen buried her face in her hands and shook her head. Her dark curls danced about her chest. Then, little by little, in the small separation of her hands a smile stretched her lips. Her hands dropped and slipped into her tight jeans pockets. The move shifted her already up-right posture, thrusting her cotton-covered breasts at him. He shifted the bacon to keep from panting like a hound-dog.

“You’re impossible,” she laughed.

I’m way too possible.

He barricaded the word inside his mouth. Any more prodding from him and she’d scoop Sophie into her arms and go to ground.

“So, Mom?” Sophie’s words questioned without asking anything at all.

“Yes, Sophia.” Carmen turned her wattage on her daughter.

“Me and Vail planned to—”

“Vail and I,” he and Carmen corrected in unison.

“You’re ganging up on me.” Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Ugh!”

Carmen’s gaze cut toward him. “It’s all for the good of your grammar. Now, what did you plan?”

“Vail and I,” she elongated the
I
as only a petulant child could, “planned to fish this morning. You wanna… Do you want to come with us, Mother dearest?”

“You might want to take a peek outside, Sophie.” Vail warned.

He pulled the last of the bacon off the flame, yanked the final two pieces of toast from the machine, and constructed their BLT’s.

“Aw, man. Wow.” Sophie muttered from the front window. He turned at her bedazzled exclamation. Laughter would have plagued him. Her nose nearly smashed against the glass at the winter wonderland. However, the one duck-taped pane whiplashed his humor with utter solemnity.

The gravity of their situation choked him, until Carmen assumed the task. Next to him, she leaned closer to peer out of the kitchen window. His head snapped around as the heat from her jutting breasts whispered over his arm, curling need deep in his belly.

“We can go,” he choked, “but we probably won’t catch anything.”

“But a cold,” Carmen corrected. One corner of her mouth quirked in amusement.

“There is that possibility,” he agreed.

Carmen’s head pivoted, huddling them eye to chest. Her cheer expired the moment their gazes locked and the proximity of their bodies registered. Those likable red lips parted on a silent gasp. His fingers itched to cradle her nape in his palm, pull her forward those few inches, and fuse their mouths together.

“Let’s go for a little while, please,” Sophia begged.

For Carmen the trance broke with her daughter’s voice. She eased away. He let her retreat and turned to Sophie’s bright and hopeful eyes. Whether about the near kiss or the snow, he couldn’t be too sure. Either way, he couldn’t deny that face. Not him. He nodded. Carmen’s nod came after a suspended delay, entering his periphery. But it did come.

He and Sophie scarfed down the sandwiches. With some prodding from her daughter, Carmen ate faster than she had last night. When she finished, she stood, collected Sophie’s plate and glass, and then tried to get his.

“I can clean up. You don’t need to do that,” Vail said, guarding his plate.

“You cooked. I’ll clean.” She scooted his hand from in front of the dishes. The contact, casual and insignificant, ignited their gazes. They locked and held for several seconds.

“Thank you,” he conceded.

Sophie had the gear ready and Carmen had the kitchen cleaned in no time. They stood at the door. When he hustled downstairs Sophie shifted back and forth on her heels in a comical dance of impatience. “Jackets off,” he ordered. Carmen’s eyes inflated, while Sophie’s narrowed. Both females’ cheeks reddened, though Vail guessed for very different reasons. He waved the sweaters in his hand. “Put these on underneath. It’s too cold out there for your puny layers.”

Realizing what he meant to do, Sophie dropped the gear and shucked her jacket in seconds. She held up a hand. “Are those yours? Because I’d rather freeze to death than wear anything that belonged to those scumbags.”

“They’re mine. They’ll be a little big, but we’ll fold up the sleeves,” he explained.

Sophie grabbed eagerly for hers. Carmen looked loath to touch the one he offered, like its insulating layer was elementary school cooties. The young girl wormed her way into the cocoon. She stared down at herself. “Gah, it’s huge.” The bottom hem hit her mid-thigh and her hands hid a good five inches up the sleeves.

“Come here,” he instructed. She shuffled forward and presented the drooping fabric. He knelt and maneuvered the extra up her arm. By the time he finished she had nearly two layers of wool covering her arms. She hopped to the door, retrieving the gear. His gaze lifted to Carmen.

“You need help?” he asked.

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, even as she wrestled with the excess fabric.

She pinned the end she struggled to fold back against her breasts and attempted to flip it with the other hand. Time and again, she shoved the wool up her opposite arm and twice the stiff material straightened over her fingers, thwarting her efforts.

“Here. Let me help.” He stayed on one knee and offered his hand.

After a last useless push, she stepped in front of him, but remained far enough back that she didn’t enter the part of his thighs. He grabbed the edge of the sweater. The muscles in her sleek neck worked on a large gulp. Pleasure coursed through him. He flipped both without touching her, and then stood, closing the distance between them.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“No problem.” Slowly he slid both hands on either side of her neck, reveling in the smooth, warm skin under his touch. Again she swallowed, but this time her muscles danced beneath his hand. When he almost completely encircled her tender flesh he lifted his hands, tugging her trapped hair from between the sweater and tank. Her lashes rested on her cheeks and her chin arched slightly. He settled her flowing locks around her shoulders. “All right?”

“Yes,” she breathed and opened her eyes.

The softness of her upper lip tempted him. So, he stepped around her and hurried to open the door for Sophie. Progress to the lake was slow as they dodged ice slicks and felt their way along the hidden trail. Finally the ice-glassed surface came into view. On either side of him, the females stalled.

“Whoa,” Carmen gasped. “It’s frozen over.”

“Oh my gosh,” Sophie squealed, dropping the tackle and tugging his arm. “I’ve never been ice skating.”

“And one day you will, but not today.” Vail squelched both girls’ excitement with that statement. Carmen’s wide eyes narrowed and Sophie’s everything drooped like a wilted flower. “It may look frozen from here, but this isn’t Michigan. It’s probably only paper-thin ice toward the middle. And I’m sorry to break it to you, but we’re not fishing in it either.”

“But can we go closer?” Sophie prodded.

“Sure,” he agreed.

Growing up in Mexico, they’d probably never seen snow or a frozen lake. Sophie forgot the fishing equipment in the powder. She grabbed Carmen’s hand and they ran to the water’s edge. Vail hung back, giving them distance, and also working diligently to stuff the well of emotion into the neat and tightly sealed travel case where he usually toted them. The desire to pack these two into his car and drive north until they found a proper ice staking rink overwhelmed him, along with the knowledge that something so familial and carefree would never happen with the girls or anyone else.

“You’ve got to come see this,” Sophie hollered back. At him.

The knot in his throat looped and cinched so tight it would do any sailor proud. He coughed, and then strained for simple words. None came. So, he nodded, ran a hand over his growing scruff, and put one foot in front of the other.

“Look.” Sophie eased one foot onto the crystalline ice and settled her weight more heavily on the frosty surface.

Vail shook his head. When he reached her side he tugged her back onto solid ground. He leaned down and picked up a rocked half the size of his palm. “Hold out your hand.” She did and he placed the stone in her bowled palm. Carmen sidled next to him, but he paid her no attention. He couldn’t right now, not when desperation pushed him toward ridiculous notions. “How much do you think it weighs?”

“Less than a pound.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Twelve ounces.”

“That’s a good guess.” He took the chunk of earth back and tossed it a few inches into the air a couple of times. “How much do you weigh?”

She grinned and swiped at her nose. “It’s a good thing you didn’t ask my mom that question. You’d never get an answer.”

“I weight one-hundred thirty-five, or so, pounds, thank you,” Carmen scoffed.

A chuckle lightened his burden. He clung to the temporary high. “And you?”