A Warrior’s Mission Read online

  Every day in the wilderness meant Grace might find them. Hopefully, the weather had made it impossible for Bertram to fly overhead or spot them if he had. As soon as the storm let up though, Night knew the crazed scientist and his cohorts would be out looking.

  Night had been gone six days now. Colorado Confidential was also looking, he was sure of it. Especially since he hadn’t been able to communicate with them. But the blizzard would have slowed them down as well.

  He made more herbal teas and compresses, sang the prayers and rituals daily, washing Holly and warming her at night with his body. She still hadn’t woken. Every hour that she lay in misery, sweating, delirious, his fears grew. The battle between his belief in his heritage and the modern ways played war in his head. What if his medicinal efforts were useless?

  She needed a hospital, medical care, a modern cure for whatever insanity Grace had inflicted upon her.

  No, you must believe. Trust in the ways of your people. In your instincts.

  His small son pushed himself up on his hands and knees and rocked back and forth, trying to crawl. Night stretched onto his belly on the ground in front of him, coaching, urging, smiling as Schyler struggled to move his feet and hands forward.

  “Come on, my son, you can do it,” he murmured. “Do it for your mama. You will have something special to show her when she wakes.”

  As if his son understood him, Schyler moved his right hand forward, rocked some more, then shifted his right foot, finally moving two steps before he flopped onto his belly with a squeal.

  Night chuckled. “You almost have it. Another week and we’ll be chasing you everywhere.”

  Or would they? Would Holly survive and be able to watch her son crawl? Would she see him take his first steps? And if she did, would she allow Night to be part of that picture?

  Each night as he lay with her in his arms, he dreamed that the three of them were a family.

  But each morning his throat was choked with the reality of the situation.

  COLLEEN WELLESLEY had to check in with the operatives she’d placed in the field. “Vincent, Frank, any word on Night?”

  Frank’s voice echoed over the radio. “No. We tracked him partway to the Continental Divide—it looks as if he left markings. But the blizzard has made it impossible to track footprints.”

  “The weatherman said the storm should be moving on tonight.” Colleen sighed in frustration. Samuel Langworthy had been breathing down her neck for days. He and his wife were out of their minds with worry. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Night’s an expert tracker, he knows how to get through,” Vincent said. “If he’s found Holly Langworthy and her baby, he’s probably holed up somewhere safe until the blizzard lets up.”

  “Right.” Barring the weather though, she had a bad feeling something had gone wrong. “Let me know if you find anything.”

  She clicked off the radio and pac across the office, avoiding Lawson’s concerned look. All the “ifs” hacked away at her calm—if Night had found the baby and woman, if he had escaped, if Grace hadn’t already killed them both.

  And what if Grace was planning another germ test? He might already have plans underway….

  The phone trilled and Lawson answered it, his expression grave as he cleared his throat. “Langworthy’s on line two.”

  Colleen strode toward the desk. What the hell was she going to tell him?

  HOLLY WAS DREAMING again. Someone had kidnapped her baby. Where was he?

  Her father…why did she always keep coming back to her father? Did he know something?

  “Marry Carlton, it’s the best thing for you and your illegitimate son.”

  “But I don’t love him. I can’t…”

  “Love has nothing to do with this, Holly. Stop acting like a child and take some responsibility. Think about someone besides yourself for once. Joshua. Your mother—”

  “But Mother understands. She married you out of love.”

  “And because she was carrying you,” her father said.

  Holly felt the words like a knife to her chest.

  “Your mother and I do love each other,” he said, as if he’d realized his words had been too harsh. “But we were also suited for one another. Just like you and Carlton. He’s an up and coming political figure, you can help—”

  “I don’t care about politics. I don’t love him.”

  Then Carlton had walked into the study. Angry. A smirk on his face. He’d been listening at the door. “You still owe me, Langworthy. I did everything you said. Just because she refuses to close the deal doesn’t mean you don’t have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

  Holly sank against the bar. “What bargain?”

  “Shut up,” Langworthy had said.

  But Carlton had known he was about to lose out, and he had talked.

  Holly closed her hands over her ears to drown out his ugly words. No…her father wouldn’t do such a thing.

  NIGHT LISTENED to Holly’s mumblings, unable to understand her words. She’d been incoherent for the better part of the day, her fever soaring to its highest. He continued the cold compresses, sought help from the gods with prayers and another ritual around the fire.

  “I don’t love him,” she whispered. “Can’t marry him.”

  He froze again, the pain of her confession hitting him.

  “Carlton, no, no deal…”

  What? What was she talking about?

  He leaned over her and gently shook her, trying to wake her. She barely opened her eyes, squinting through the darkness.

  “What about Carlton?” he whispered. “Tell me, Holly.”

  “Can’t marry him,” she whispered hoarsely. “Don’t love him…”

  His hand stilled.

  “Why, Daddy, why? No, you can’t make me.”

  He wiped the cloth across her forehead again, patting away the perspiration beading on her skin. “Tell me Holly, what did your father do?”

  “Said you would take my baby to the reservation, I’d never see him again.” She began to keen then, a low sobbing that tore at him.

  “He told you that?”

  Her eyes were wide with fear, and he realized she was delirious. “Want to see my baby. Why won’t you let me have him?”

  “Shh, he’s sleeping.”

  “You took him away, like Daddy said.”

  “No, Holly, Schyler’s right here with us. He’s asleep.” He patted her head with the cloth again. “You’re sick. We don’t know if you’re contagious. I thought it would be better not to expose him.”

  A frown marred her face as if her mind kept jumping back and forth from past to present. He knew it was the fever and hoped it broke soon. He didn’t know what else to do.

  He shouldn’t take advantage of her condition, but he had to know the truth. “What were you saying about your father and Carlton? What happened between you?”

  Her bottom lip quivered as the memory obviously returned. “Daddy…made a deal with Carlton, tried to buy him to m-marry me.” She shook her head from side to side vehemently. “But I won’t do it. Don’t care about their deal. Politics. I just want my baby. I know what they said, the news,” she whispered. “They called me unfit, said I took a sedative…” her voice broke. “But I didn’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you didn’t know?”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “About the drug, someone, Antonia must have put it in my tea because I was so upset with Daddy.”

  He stared at her, remembering the way he’d blamed her, that he’d let himself believe every negative thing the press had printed about her. He’d wanted to make her the villain because she’d hurt him. But he heard the agony in her cries and knew she was speaking the truth now.

  She had been a victim, too.

  He pulled her into his arms, rocking her back and forth, rubbing her back to soothe her. Schyler started to cry, and her eyes turned panick grabbed his hand, clinging to him. “Dying, Night. I—”

  “You’re not going to
die, Holly. Don’t think that way.”

  The eyes that had once been laughing overflowed with tears, were filled with the inevitably of what Grace had done to her. “P-promise you’ll take care of our baby, promise.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Holly, don’t talk like that. We’re going to get out of this, safe and sound, all three of us.”

  She gripped him tighter, her nails biting into his shirt as his son’s cries escalated. “Promise me, Night.”

  He dropped his head against her forehead and nodded, uncertain if the moisture on his cheeks stemmed from Holly’s tears or his own.

  He hadn’t come this far to lose her.

  TEDDY GRACE ran a hand through his wiry white hair and smiled. He had the power of evil at his very fingertips. And he had made too much progress in his research to let that baby escape. “We have to find Walker and Ms. Langworthy and the baby. They have to be somewhere in the mountains. They couldn’t have gone very far in the storm with a child.”

  Bertram nodded. “I’ve been checking the weather conditions hourly. As soon as we can take off, I’ll let you know.”

  “I want Walker alive,” Grace said. “I’ve discovered some interesting genetic elements in his blood that might be useful.”

  One day the world would know that he was a genius. Creating a virus like the one he’d used in Silver Rapids, a retrovirus that didn’t affect adults, but one that the unborn child had been susceptible to. Just wait until he announced his findings. The retrovirus had enhanced the baby’s immune system and could be used as a cure against disease. Excitement surged through him at the ramifications. One day, he might find a cure for HIV. And if this discovery with Walker’s blood proved to be as he suspected…the possibilities would be endless.

  He would be famous worldwide, a hero.

  The fact that he’d been forced to sell deadly germs to Helio DeMarco to support his research was inconsequential. Even if Helio died, he’d find a new source of income. The government could blame themselves for his transgressions. But he wasn’t worried. He was already making contacts, searching for the highest bidder…

  It just proved how stupid the government was to let him go. Oh, they had professed to be noble, deciding to follow the peace treaties. But they were fools, leaving the U.S. citizens unguarded. They knew their enemies were not trustworthy, that they were preparing germ and chemical warfare to use against the United States. Some already had enough power to wipe out the States altogether.

  They should have listened to him.

  One day they would regret their mistake. All the political do-gooders would be sorry they had fired Theodore Grace.

  Yes, they would beg him to come back and save the world.

  And only then would he reveal his secrets, let him know just how wide-reaching his germ testing actually extended.

  Chapter Nine

  Holly’s fever finally broke sometime during the night. Night felt her relax into his arms, her constant shivering slowly abating. He sent thanks to the heavens, but lay and watched her sleep, unable to rest himself for worrying she might have a relapse.

  Her earlier pleas still haunted him, resurrecting memories of his childhood years on the reservation. The hard years of not belonging, of poverty, of being teased by the white kids he met in town but not quite fitting with the Cheyenne—the years without his father, then without his mother. A child of both worlds, the white man’s and the Cheyenne, yet in some ways, a child of neither.

  He didn’t want his son to suffer the same fate.

  “Night.”

  He shifted, well aware his body had hardened with hunger during the night while he’d lain beside Holly. Entwined with her, bare skin brushing bare skin, her curves tucked into the hard planes of his body, and not making love to her had been torturous. “Are you feeling better?” he whispered.

  Firelight bathed her face in a majestic glow, silhouetting her chestnut hair with honeyed hues of gold.

  She nodded. “So thirsty.”

  A slow smile spread onto his face. “That’s a good sign.” He eased up to a sitting position, the blanket falling to his waist as he reached for the canteen. When he turned to help her drink, she was staring at his bare chest. She glanced down then and realized she was naked, too. Suddenly self-conscious, she tugged at the blanket, although no amount of cover could hide her features from his memory. Once he had loved every inch of her. Had taken her innocence, and planted his seed inside her, a seed that had created their son.

  And now, he had bathed that same tender, beautiful skin, kissed it with his prayers and the medicine of his people, every delicate, delicious inch of skin would forever be imprinted in his brain.

  Her hand trembled slightly as she gripped the cup. She drank so greedily, he finally had to take the canteen. “Not too fast. Are you hungry?”

  Her gaze locked with his, a heartbeat of silence stretching between them.

  “I can make some broth if you think you can hold it down.”

  “Maybe in a bit.” She relaxed, lying back onto the pillow he’d formed with her shirt and stared up at him. “Your face?”

  He touched the paint beneath his eyes. “To go with the ritual prayers.”

  She nodded, seemingly accepting his odd answer. “How long have we been here?”

  “Two days.”

  She glanced across the interior of the cave, searching. When she spotted Schyler snuggled beneath the other blanket asleep, she smile“I tried to put him on his back, but he rolls over and sleeps with his rump stuck in the air,” Night said quietly.

  “You’ve been taking care of both of us.”

  He reached out and tucked a strand of her tangled hair behind her ear. “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”

  He lifted her chin with the pad of his thumb, remembering the things she’d revealed the evening before. “Don’t apologize, Holly. None of this was your fault.”

  A wary look darkened her eyes as she lowered her head and looked down at his hands. “But you…hate me?”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled. “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

  “You were angry.”

  “There’s much between us,” he said, knowing it was true. “And much to discuss when we return to Denver. But for now, you must focus on recovering your energy so we can travel again.”

  A frown creased her brow as if she was suddenly remembering the night before. “We talked last night?”

  “Yes.”

  She hesitated, sadness robbing those pretty green eyes of the life he’d seen in them moments earlier. “I told you about Carlton?”

  Her gaze locked with his again, the pain and grief so strong he couldn’t resist. He nodded, then lowered his mouth and kissed her, determined to ease her anguish, even if it was just for a little while.

  HOLLY TOOK solace in Night’s arms, trying to banish the humiliating memory of her father’s betrayal and Carlton’s sneer that he hadn’t wanted to marry her in the first place. He certainly hadn’t wanted a Native American baby, either.

  She hadn’t told Night that, had she?

  Thoughts of Carlton screeched to a halt as Night parted her lips with his tongue and delved inside. She had forgotten how sensuous a kiss could be, how Night could evoke such need in her by sipping at her lips. How the sight of his sleek bronzed chest could make her swoon into his arms and forget reason.

  How much she had missed him all these months and how much she had wanted him to be beside her when their baby was born. The blanket fell away from her shoulders as she tunneled her fingers hungrily through the silky strands of his black hair. His hands skated down over her bare shoulders, stroking, strumming her desire, and she leaned into him, sensations rippling through her at the feel of her nipples brushing his smooth slick skin.

  He trailed kisses down her jaw, licking at her skin, then lower, but a soft cry broke through the haze of the moment and dragged them both back to reality.


  Schyler was stirring, had rolled over and was kicking his feet in the air.

  Night slowly pulled away, dropped his head forward against hers with a grin. “He’s an early-morning riser.”

  “Like his father,” Holly whispered, raing her nails across the stubble of his beard.

  He nodded, then kissed her once again, this time so tenderly that tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. An emotion akin to possessiveness flickered in his gaze as he stared up at her, but wariness lingered there, as well as questions. Then he handed her her shirt and rose. Unashamed of his nakedness, he strode to the rocks where he’d left his jeans, firelight flickering off the corded muscles of his chest and stomach. As if he knew she was watching, his dark gaze latched onto hers, and his sex surged even bolder.

  She could almost see him wearing the loincloth of his Native American ancestors, hiking barefoot out into the wilds with bow and arrow to kill the buffalo and bring home food for his family. Battling the elements and any enemy who might attack to keep them safe. Crawling in their tepee at night, the raw savage within him uncontained as he claimed his woman, his name bead necklace his only clothing.

  She licked her dry lips, unable to tear her eyes off his muscular backside and the potency of his sex as he dressed. The kiss he’d left her with only whetted her appetite for more.

  NIGHT HEATED chicken broth for Holly from the instant packages he’d brought in his stash of provisions, feeding Schyler his morning cereal while Holly looked on and talked to her son. Their eyes constantly met over the firelight as they sipped coffee and ate, a silent acknowledgment between them that things had changed. Uncertainty still existed, but the tension between them had sharpened. Would the flame between them ever be extinguished?

  Not until you have her again.

  Yet, when they made love, would one time be enough?

  He knew the answer, knew that he should resist, just as he’d known he should have months ago. But the draw was too strong.