The Warrior. Dinah McCall

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ scent of woodsmoke mingled with the passion-induced sweat from White Fawn’s body. Her tight, wet heat pulled at Night Walker with every thrust. She was everything beautiful to him, his own personal aphrodisiac. He would never get enough—could never get enough—of the woman who held his heart.

      Slowly, slowly, the rhythm of their lovemaking became less steady, more frantic, harder and harder, until it burst within. White Fawn held him as he spilled his seed into her so-far-fruitless womb, then wept quiet, happy tears as he collapsed on top of her with a soft, satisfied moan.

      John jerked, then sat up abruptly, searching the shadowed corners of his room for the woman he’d been making love to. His shoulders slumped as he wiped a shaky hand across his face and crawled out of bed.

      He didn’t think about his guest as he walked naked through the house, quietly disarmed the security system and strode outside. The cool air felt good against his heated skin as he made his way down the backside of the bluff to the water below.

      The steady ebb and flow of the ocean pulled at his senses like a drug as he walked into the surf. The water was cold—so cold—but he didn’t care. He needed the shock of it to wash away the dream—which was, if he’d ever stopped to analyze himself, ironic. While remembering their love and what he’d lost was often too painful, it was the memory of what had happened to her that kept him focused and sane.

      When he was knee-deep in the ocean, he dove headfirst into the next wave and began to swim, fighting the current because it was the only enemy at hand. He swam until his muscles burned and his legs felt like jelly. Only then did he stop. Treading water, he turned to look toward shore. From this distance, his house was barely the size of a child’s building block, but the anger was gone. All that was left was a bone-deep weariness.

      Without thinking, he began the long journey back, one stroke at a time.

      Dawn was imminent on the horizon as he came out of the surf, his head down, his shoulders slumped. His steps dragged as he began the climb up the bluff.

      

      Alicia woke up suddenly, her heart thumping, her eyes wide with fright. For a second she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there. Then her gaze centered on a dream catcher hanging on the wall opposite her bed, and a face slid into her mind.

      John Nightwalker.

      She rubbed her face with her hands, then swung her legs off the bed and stood, stretching slowly as she made her way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out just as the digital readout on the clock flicked over to ten minutes after six. The bed looked inviting, but there were too many unknowns in her life for her to be able to go back to sleep.

      She needed to get to the authorities as soon as possible. The quicker she put a stop to her father’s dealings with terrorists, the sooner she would be safe. Once everyone knew, it would serve no purpose to keep her quiet. Nothing else would stop him. She’d grown up seeing his ruthlessness firsthand. Her mother had been the one who’d taught her what it meant to love. Her father’s lessons in life consisted of disappointments and lies. But her mother had been dead for years now, and Alicia was a woman long grown and strong. And she swore that determination—the one trait she’d inherited from her father—was going to prove to be the one that took him down.

      Her suitcase was open on the floor. She thought about getting dressed, but it was nearing daybreak, and the idea of watching the sun come up on the horizon to signal the beginning of a new day was too enticing to miss. She noticed that the alarm system had been turned off, so she felt no concern as she hurried downstairs, then out the French doors to the terrace beyond. She walked to the edge, then out onto the grass and headed to the edge of the bluff.

      A sea breeze instantly caught the hem of her nightgown and threaded it between her legs as she braced herself against the railing. The view was everything she’d expected and more. Already the line between dark and dawn was fading fast. In the east, there was an aura of pink and orange playing at visibility. Just another minute or two, and the sun in all its glory would be evident.

      Alicia found herself watching intently, trying to guess the exact moment of its appearance, and because she was so focused on the sky, she didn’t see the man swimming in the water below. But then the sun broke, and all of a sudden the day was there. She smiled slowly in appreciation and was about to turn back when she saw him, waist deep and emerging from the ocean as steadily as the sun had appeared from below the horizon.

      The first thought that crossed her mind was awe. The second was lust.

      He’d been a commanding figure in clothes. Naked, he was magnificent. Even from this distance, the copper perfection of his body was impossible to ignore. Muscles everywhere they should be, wet and glistening in the new light of a new day. Then she looked past the obvious to the way his head was hanging, and the slight but weary slump of his body. He walked across the sand as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and something told her that had nothing to do with a strenuous workout.

      A lump rose in her throat. Then he paused. When she saw him cover his face with his hands, her vision blurred. She could feel his sadness from here. But why? She thought of the way he’d spoken about his wife, and her heart ached. She’d never known love like that.

      It wasn’t until John dropped his hands and looked up the bluff toward his house that Alicia realized he could see her. Now she was stuck. If she moved suddenly, he would think she was ashamed to be caught spying on him. So she did the only other thing she could; she waved and called down, “The sunrise was beautiful!” Then she waved once more and walked back into the house and up to her room.

      She swiped angrily at the tears in her eyes as she dug through her suitcase for a clean change of clothes. He could think what he wanted. It was his own fault for walking around naked. Ignoring him would have been a whole lot easier if he had a potbelly and thinning hair.

      A few minutes later she was dressed in a pair of blue shorts and a loose white blouse. She walked barefoot down the hall to the kitchen, hoping for a cup of coffee. But she got way more than she hoped for when John came in the back door.

      “Good morning,” he said, and strode through the kitchen, leaving sandy footprints on the wood floor.

      Alicia nodded, but the answer she might have given was stuck in the back of her throat. He was still unashamedly naked, but that wasn’t what had caused her heart to skip.

      It was the scars.

      Small ones.

      Large ones.

      All over his body.

      All she could think was, what in God’s sweet name has happened to this man?

      Three

      Dieter was heartily glad that there were several states between him and Richard Ponte as he listened to his boss berate him up one side and down the other. He shifted the phone from one ear to the other while walking to the impound yard, confident that whatever it was he’d missed hearing wasn’t going to kill him, although Richard might.

      “Do you have any idea where she’s gone?” Richard snapped.

      Dust puffed up on Dieter’s pant legs as he walked, but he didn’t have the luxury of caring. “Not yet. I just got out of jail, and I’m on my way to get my car out of impound.”

      Richard’s СКАЧАТЬ