The Soldier's Mission. Lenora Worth

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ called for a reason. Maybe someone else out there thinks you have a problem.”

      Paco turned to lean over the table, glad when she slid into the corner of the booth. Glad and a little ashamed that he’d stoop to a frowning intimidation to make her go away. “You wanna know why I called that night? Really want to know?” He didn’t wait for her to nod. Pushing so close he could see the swirling violet-blue of her eyes, he said, “I wanted to take a drink. I wanted to get so drunk I could sleep for a week without nightmares or guilt or regret.”

      He lifted up and sank back down, the shock in her vivid eyes undoing him. “But I promised that old man in the kitchen back there that I was done with drunken brawls and feeling sorry for myself. I respect him and I didn’t want to let him down. You see, he lost his son—in-law—my father—to the Vietnam War. And you probably know about my brother—he’s in a wheelchair, compliments of Desert Storm. But…it’s hard sometimes, in the middle of the night. So I wanted a drink, okay. But I didn’t take that drink. Instead I prayed really hard and in a moment of sheer desperation, I dialed the number on the card Warwick gave me and blurted out all of my frustrations to you.”

      Hitting a finger hard on the table, he said, “I hope you’re satisfied now. All clear?”

      “Do you still want to drink?” she asked in a silky-strong whisper, her wide-eyed expression daring him to deny it.

      Paco looked down at her, saw the strength pushing away the fear in her eyes, the solid concern out-maneuvering the shock on her face. He had to admire her spunk. His grandfather was the only person in the world who never backed down when it came to Paco and his moods.

      Maybe he’s finally met someone else worthy of that kind of status. Someone else he could learn to respect. And someone else who was willing to go the distance with him.

      “Yes, I still want a drink,” he said, surprised at this whole conversation. “But I won’t take another one. I go to my AA meetings on a regular basis. I’m better now, I told you. So let’s focus on the problem we have here, right now.”

      The doubtful stare she gave him implied she didn’t believe him but she nodded her head in understanding. And right now, Paco couldn’t worry about what she thought.

      “Are you driving back to Phoenix today?” he asked, pulling her up out of the booth.

      The confusion in her eyes slammed head-on into his own conflicting feelings. “No. I have a hotel room at the foot of the Grand Canyon.” Looking sheepish, she said, “I thought if I couldn’t find you I’d do a little hiking.”

      He drew in air, thinking it a blessing she’d found him. Just the thought of her alone near the Canyon with a lunatic tracking her sent fingers of dread racing across his spine. “Does anyone know where you are?”

      “My parents and my supervisor at the clinic.”

      “Would they tell anyone else?”

      “They might mention I’m at the Canyon. I didn’t exactly post what I was doing. Just told them I’d be gone for a few days on a trip to locate a client.”

      A knock at the restaurant door caused Paco to spin around. His grandfather came out of the kitchen. “It’s a delivery man bringing fresh produce,” Walter said, waving Paco away. “Sorry. They usually pull around to the back.”

      Paco watched as Walter headed to open the door, the hair on the back of his neck bristling. His gaze hit Laura’s, both of them realizing too late—

      “Grandfather!”

      Paco went into motion, rushing toward the door. But Walter already had it open, a smile on his face. “Joseph, why didn’t you—”

      A fist in Walter’s face knocked the old man back onto the floor. Walter hit his head on the corner of a bench as he went down. Then he didn’t move.

      Paco heard Laura’s scream even while he rushed the man at the door, taking the intruder by surprise, one hand pressing down on the man’s weapon hand and the other one on his throat. With a grunt and heavy pressure on the wrist, Paco forced the man to drop the handgun he was carrying. But his opponent didn’t let that stop him. He reached around with his other hand and tried to bring Paco down. Paco countered with an uppercut to the man’s chin. Then they went down with fists popping against skin. The man was big and solid but Paco didn’t let up until he had him rolled over faceup. Struggling to hold the man down, Paco memorized his face—scarred and brutal—just before he slammed his fist back into it.

      Laura ran to Walter. “Mr. Rainwater? Are you all right?” Paco’s grandfather didn’t respond. Blood poured out of his nose and his breathing was shallow. Deciding the best thing she could do right now was to help Paco, she searched for a weapon and saw Walter’s rifle leaning against the kitchen door. Without thinking, Laura grabbed it, trying to focus on the man who’d managed to get in and knock out Paco’s grandfather. When Paco rolled the man over and begin hitting him in the face, she waited, her pulse flat-lining then spurting into overdrive. But the stranger reached up and managed to get his hands around Paco’s neck. Paco grunted, working to flip the man over. When that didn’t work, he tried hitting at the man again but he couldn’t break away. Pushing at the man’s thick arms, Paco finally managed to get his own fingers around the other man’s throat.

      Then it became a battle of wills as both held tight, each trying to squeeze the life out of the other. She had to do something. If she didn’t stop this, Paco might not make it.

      Laura raised the gun, her heart beating a prayer for strength. And a prayer for good eyesight. She’d come across the state to save Paco, not watch him die. She would have to shoot the intruder.

      Paco knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Matched in sheer strength by the other man, he fought for control—and his life. With each grunt, each surge of renewed energy, he wrestled and pushed his fingers against the stranger’s thick throat muscles. If he could just find the right amount of pressure—

      The room shook with a thundering roar and then the man holding Paco in a death grip went limp, his hands loosening and falling away, his expression going from determined and enraged to a surprised tranquility. Paco watched while the intruder’s bulging, hate-filled eyes closed and he fell back on the floor with a heavy thud. For a minute, Paco didn’t let go of his own frozen grip on the man’s throat. But the silence and his own fast-moving breath brought him out of his stupor.

      Looking up and around, he caught at a hitched breath. “Laura?”

      She stood with the shotgun aimed high, her whole body trembling. “I’m okay.”

      Paco hopped up and stared down at the blood flowing from the stranger’s side. The man wasn’t breathing. Then he hurried to her. “Laura?”

      “Your grandfather,” she said, pointing a shaking hand toward the floor. “Go check on him!”

      Paco took the gun, prying it away from her white-knuckled fingers to carefully lower it to a table. Then he went into action.

      “Grandfather?” Paco felt for a pulse, relief washing through him when he found a faint beat pumping inside his grandfather’s wrinkled neck. “Wíago, talk to me!” Turning Walter’s head, he saw blood on the floor then felt around until he found the deep gash on the old man’s skull. “He’s bleeding from his nose and he hit his head. We need to get him to СКАЧАТЬ