Chapter Nine
After Rachel left for her meeting, Dyuvad used work and the companionship of her family to cool the lust heating his blood. It worked, mostly. By the time they sat down on the porch to a simple midday meal, he could at least think coherently without his mind drifting into daydreams.
Maybe if she hadn’t bent over in that tight skirt she’d worn. As soon as she had, his imagination had leapt to bending her over the table, sliding her skirt up, and sinking into her wet heat one slow inch at a time.
His groin tightened and tingled, and his half-hard dick twitched behind the fly of his shorts. He shifted on the top step, easing some of the ache. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with a woman. The mere memory of Rachel shouldn’t stir him so easily. No other woman ever had. What was it about her that wound him so tight, need tested the patient demeanor he’d vowed to maintain with her?
Fate cleared his throat and set his empty paper plate on the porch behind them. “Looks like rain.”
Dyuvad followed the other man’s gaze to the darkening sky. “Rachel might not make it home before it starts.”
“She’ll wait it out at Yasmin’s shop, most likely.” Fate cleared his throat again and scrubbed his palms against well-worn jeans. “I reckon I could take the girls for the night, if’n you and Rach want some grownup time. ”
Kelly swiveled around on the step, her dark eyes round. “You’re gonna let us spend the night on a weeknight?”
“School’s out, punkin.” Fate tugged a loose strand of her fine hair and a smile softened his lean features. “We could fetch a pizza, maybe put a movie on and pop some popcorn. What do ya say?”
Tiny leaned her head way back and grinned up at her uncle, nearly upside down. “Mallowmarsh.”
Kelly gasped. “You almost did it, Tiny. You almost made a real word!”
Dyuvad firmed his lips against laughter. How could he possibly explain that Tiny could speak English? She simply chose not to, or perhaps the many languages floating by her somehow melded into one in her mind and she was too young to sort them out. Either way, the effect was the same.
Tiny clapped her hands, and nearly tipped her plate off her lap. “Mallowmarsh!”
“Yup, I bet we can talk him into that, too.” Kelly stood and snagged Tiny’s teetering plate. “Come on, Sis. We gotta get you saying a real word on the record or Mama’ll never believe it. She didn’t believe you said spaceship , did she, even when I told her plain like.”
The two girls clamored between Dyuvad and Fate into the house in an excited babble of chatter. Fate turned around, watching them go, then speared Dyuvad with a laser sharp gaze. “I saw the way you was looking at her earlier.”
Dyuvad stifled a sigh. Wasn’t it just his luck that Rachel’s brother was, as the other man would put it, like a dog with a bone when it came to his sister? “She’s an attractive woman.”
“Hell, man. I’m her brother and I know that.” Fate glanced at the sky. “Thing is, I see the way she looks at you, too. Ain’t seen that kinda interest on her face in a long time. She fancies you.”
Dyuvad propped his forearms on his thighs, unsure what he could say that wouldn’t get him in trouble. Rachel was interested. That was obvious. Whether she’d act on that interest was another matter, but it wasn’t something he could discuss with her brother.
Fate shrugged and tapped a heel against a step. “First time I saw you, I thought you was just a no account drifter, but the way you work here? I figure you wouldn’t invest so much time in helping Rachel out if you didn’t plan on digging in your heels for a while.”
“She needs the help.”
“Don’t I know it, ol’ son. Thing is, she don’t give in to just anybody. She gives in to you.” Fate slapped his palms against his thighs and stood, his gaze still caught on the far horizon. “You hurt her, I’ll have to come after you. Ain’t nothing personal, ya hear? But I can’t have men messing with her. One heartache is one too many, and Juan Olvera done used that one up.”
Dyuvad stood and nodded solemnly. “If she were my sister, I’d do the same.”
“Then we’re in accord.” Fate grinned and jerked his chin toward the house. “Offer’s still good. It’s been a while since Kelly and Tiny had a sleepover. I sure do miss having ‘em in the old home place.”
As tempting as Fate’s offer was, Rachel wasn’t ready for more, and Dyuvad had no desire to push her. “Maybe soon.”
“Suit yourself. Just don’t let too much time pass. I might find me a woman soon, and then what’ll you do for a babysitter?”
Fate cackled as he followed the girls inside. Dyuvad shook his head, struck by the other man’s question. He hadn’t given a single thought to courting Rachel without her daughters around. Sneaking into her bed, stealing kisses when no one else was watching, and maybe cornering her for another late night cuddle session under the stars?
Sure, he’d pondered all of those scenarios and more, but sending Kelly and Tiny away simply so he could seduce their mother? Never. They were as much a part of Rachel as the land she worked. If he couldn’t accept her family the way it was, he had no business pursuing her.
The sky burst open not long after, forestalling outdoor work. Fate raced home under the scant cover of a folded newspaper on the pretext of catching up with a friend.
Dyuvad settled in the living room between Kelly and Tiny with a book Kelly chose, and listened while she related a winding tale of two sisters who lived a long time ago in the far away land of Big Woods. Tiny fell asleep midway through the first chapter, snuggled against his side under his right arm.
The rain pounded on the tin roof, occasionally drowning out Kelly’s careful reading, and the power flickered. She finished reading chapter two, tucked a bookmark between the pages, and leaned her head against Dyuvad’s left arm. “Mama shoulda done been home by now.”
“Fate said she might eat lunch with Yasmin,” Dyuvad said.
“But what if she didn’t? What if the van broke down or something?”
“She has a phone with her.”
“But what if it’s broke?” Kelly huffed out a forlorn sigh and rubbed her cheek against Dyuvad’s bare upper arm. “It’s a long walk from here to town, and her wearing them fancy heels. Maybe we should go fetch her.”
Dyuvad’s heart softened at the worry thinning her young voice, and his earlier thoughts replayed in his mind. How could a man want a woman without accepting her children? How could any man walk away from a daughter who loved her mother as much as this one did?
“Don’t worry, Kelly. I placed a tracking device on the goat van.” He jiggled his left hand, flashing his wrist com for her benefit. “Would you like to see where your mother is?”
She brushed a tentative fingertip against the edge of his com. “You can see that through your watch?”
“It’s not a timepiece.” And beyond that, he couldn’t explain without telling her everything. “But yes, I can track your mother through it.”
In Pruxn?, he relayed rapid fire instructions to his ship requesting Rachel’s location overlaid on an area road map. Three ticks later, a flat projection shot out of his com into the air above it, displaying a stationary, blinking dot to the side of a curvy section of road.
Kelly gasped. “Wow, Mr. Dyuvad. I ain’t never seen nothing like that except on TV.”
“It’s a relatively simple technology. Here. You try.” He eased his arm away from Tiny, flicked the wrist com’s clasps open, and fastened it around Kelly’s much narrower wrist, adjusting it to the smallest size. “What do you want to see?”
She fingered the loose com, sliding it back and forth along her forearm. “What Mama’s doing now.”
Dyuvad dutifully translated her request into Pruxn?. Almost immediately, the projection zoomed in on the scene surrounding Rachel’s location and morphed into a holographic sphere encompassing a one-quarter hrik radius around her. The goat van was parked in a gravel parking area surrounded by a handful of vehicles, two four-wheeled, the others two-wheeled. Men of various sizes gathered around the van.
The view wasn’t tight enough to discern more than that, including whether Rachel was inside the van or out, but it was plenty close enough for fear to squeeze a tight hand around Dyuvad’s spine. In Pruxn?, he said, “Computer, alert emergency services and mobilize them to Rachel’s coordinates.”
Kelly wrinkled her nose, her brown eyes wide. “Your voice got all funny.”
He forced his muscles to relax, forced himself to calm the tumult raging within him. Rachel was in danger. Why had he allowed her to journey to her meeting unescorted?
Tiny stirred and shifted against him, and Dyuvad’s eyes slid closed. Right. He wasn’t here to protect Rachel. He was here to protect her daughter. The two tasks should’ve been simple to accomplish in tandem.
He was beginning to believe nothing about his assignment was as simple as it appeared.
“Mr. Dyuvad?” Kelly said. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing, sweet.” Nothing for her to worry over, anyway. He pulled her into a hug, kissed her forehead, and hoped he hadn’t just lied to her in the worst way possible. “Are you familiar with the location where the goat van is parked?”
She nodded, swishing fine strands of hair around her sun kissed face.
“Good. Call your uncle and tell him to go there as quickly as he can. Describe the scene for him. Can you do that?”
“Yessir, I can do that.” She hopped off the couch, took off his com, and handed it to him. “You reckon Mama’s ok? I mean, them men was only checking on her, right?”
He hadn’t the heart to tell her any differently, yet couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. “Call Fate, sweet.”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, and her lips thinned into a firm line. “Yessir.”
Dyuvad didn’t wait to see if she obeyed him. He cradled Tiny in his arms and carried her to her room, tucked her gently into bed under a thin blanket, then stalked into his own room through the opening between it and Rachel’s, refastening his com as he walked. He hated it, but if jumping was the only way he could protect Rachel and her daughters, he would by Wode do it.
And hope by Fryw’s mercy he didn’t pass out in the doing.
The rain continued through Rachel’s meeting into the lunch hour, drenching her when she exited Jude’s office. A quick check of her phone and she sighed. Yasmin had messaged and canceled their lunch plans, adding a promise to drop by after work with an explanation.
Rachel tousled the wet strands of her hair while her van’s finicky engine warmed. It was just as well Yasmin had had to work. Rachel’s carefully selected outfit had been soaked in the twenty or so feet between Jude’s office and the parking lot. Summer rain did that to a body.
Resigned to a cold sandwich at home, she fastened her seatbelt, shifted the van into gear, and carefully navigated out of the parking lot onto Main Street. It wouldn’t be so bad. The girls would be napping by the time she got home. Dyuvad would likely be puttering on some project or other, and Fate would’ve run home at the first drop of rain. She could settle down at the kitchen table with a library book, a ham on rye, and a tall, frosty glass of lemonade, and enjoy the rare reprieve from family and work.
The scenario was so pleasant, Rachel allowed it to distract her from the winding drive home on rain slicked roads. The traffic had thinned during the worst of the storm and was reduced to the odd farm truck whishing by in the other lane on its way into town. The rain was steady here, a light drizzle drenching the summer green trees and parched grass. Cows sloshed through fields, bowing their heads as they nipped wet greens out of the ground, and houses hunched under the dark sky like sullen children waiting for the sunshine to reappear.
A mile away from Warwoman Dell, three motorcycles passed her on an infrequent straight section. All three riders wore helmets and not a stitch more of protective gear over their soaked t-shirts and baggy shorts. Rachel clucked her tongue, aghast at their lack of regard for their own safety. What was it about young people these days? Did they all think they were invincible? Didn’t they know better than to drive a motorcycle helter-skelter during a rain shower?
She shook her head. Not a lick of sense between the three, she’d wager.
The rain finally sputtered out just as she was slowing down ahead of the curves in the Dell. She glanced at her rearview mirror, did a double take at the black sedan riding her bumper. Where in the world had that come from?
As soon as she thought it, a second car sped by her, passing her illegally at the head of a sharp curve. It swerved back into the lane ahead of her, barely clearing her front bumper. Rachel inhaled sharply and tapped her brakes on the slim hope she could slow enough to keep from hitting the dingbat or, worse, fishtailing off the road into the forest surrounding it.
The car in front of her tapped its brakes. Lights flared brightly across the back end under a rear spoiler, a close match to the lurid red paint job. Rachel gritted her teeth against the irritation jerking her heart into erratic beats. What in the good Lord’s name was that driver up to?
It didn’t take her long to figure it out. The car in front of her kept slowing. One of the motorcycles she’d spotted earlier doubled back, flying through the curves, then did a u-ee in the middle of the road behind them and finally came alongside her.
She was cinched in, bracketed by the three vehicles and the forest. The first hint of fear skipped into her stomach. She swallowed and focused on the road, her hands tight on the steering wheel as a million thoughts flashed through her mind. It could be anybody in those cars, anybody at all, but a nasty feeling joined the fear in her gut, and with it a growing certainty.
It was Miguel Ramirez’ boys, had to be. Nobody else would risk turning the top heavy van over on a dangerous stretch of highway. Nobody else wanted something out of her she wasn’t willing to give or barter for.
Her breath choked in her throat and sweat broke out on her skin. Dear Lord, why hadn’t she brought Fate or Dyuvad along? Why did she have to stick so stubbornly to her independence now of all times?
The car in front of her slowed to a crawl, then stopped just past the entrance into the Warwoman Dell Recreation Area. The motorcycle pulled up beside her and stopped. The driver turned a helmeted head toward her and gestured toward the entrance, and Rachel’s mind swirled to a stuttering stop.
In the Dell, she’d be mostly out of sight of the road. Cell reception was spotty at best, thanks to the natural granite bedrock underlying the soil and the National Forest cushioning the Dell from civilization. Even if she could call for help, nobody would get here in time to save her.
From what, she couldn’t say for sure, but she had a couple of ideas, none of them pleasant to dwell on.
She eyed the car in front of her. If she waited long enough, surely another car would come along and see her and Miguel’s dang fool henchmen sitting in the middle of the road.
On the other hand, the van was bigger than the dinky, souped up car blocking the lane. She could push it out of the road and make a run for the house. Not quickly. The van wasn’t very powerful. On a good day with a tail wind, it might hit fifty-five. There was no tail wind today, but she had to try, didn’t she?
Before she could make up her mind, the motorcycle rider leaned toward her and popped a balled up fist into the driver’s side window. Rachel yelped and pressed a damp palm to her pounding heartbeat. No choices, then. Please God, let Dyuvad get curious about what was taking her so long and round up Fate to come find her.
She turned the steering wheel hard and eased the van onto the Dell’s access road, then scrounged inside her purse for her cell phone as she drove one handed. The signal icons dotting the phone’s glowing face were blacked out. As she’d thought, there was no cell service. She was alone with these goons, alone and dang near helpless. Too bad she hadn’t thought to bring her bat with her on the trip or a gun. One of Fate’s pistols sure would come in handy right about now. Who could’ve predicted that Miguel would extend his bothering outside her property?
She parked in the uncharacteristically empty gravel parking lot, locked her door and the passenger’s side door, then switched the engine off while the motorcycles and cars parked around her. It’s not like she could go anywhere, but she didn’t have to make it easy for them, either.
A grinning man stepped to the side of the van, his swarthy skin glistening. “Get out of the van, chica.”
Rachel shook her head slowly, afraid to glance away from the man who’d tried to sneak into her house the day Miguel had come a-calling and steal her daughters away. What had Miguel called him? Pablo? Didn’t matter. The no good son of a biscuit eater wasn’t getting his hands on her today unless he wanted to come through the window at her.
Another fist banged into the passenger’s side window. Rachel jerked around, her heart a wild gallop in her chest, and stared at the young man from the beach. Oh, the hits just kept coming, didn’t they? Would she never live down Juan’s reputation? Would it always be like this for her and the girls? God above, what would she do if it came down to a choice between living in fear of constant harassment or having to move to keep her girls safe?
Hands slapped against the side of the van, and it rocked slightly. Rachel bit back the urge to scream. There had to be a way out of this. There just had to be, but what was it? If she went out there, those boys would hurt her or kidnap her or something. But she couldn’t stay where she was. They were going to figure out how to get in. It was just a matter of time.
“Get out of the van, chica,” Pablo repeated, and the van rocked again, harder. He placed his palms against the driver’s side door and shoved, matching the van’s side to side momentum. “Get out before you get hurt, little girl.”
She curled her hands into fists in her lap, one around her useless phone, the other tangled in the fabric of her sodden skirt. “I’m not coming out.”
Pablo’s grin widened. “Oh, yeah, chica. You’re coming out. We got to have a little conversation, me and you.”
The van swayed on its tires, rattling the doors of the cooler in the back and the storage equipment stored there for transporting her goat products. Her bottom slid along the seat every time the van rocked and her breath matched the uneven rhythm, stuttering in sharp starts and fits out of her tight chest.
Think, think . There had to be something she could do .
But nothing came to mind, not a goll darn thing.
A hard shove and the van tilted off one set of tires, resting fully on the other. The men shouted triumphantly and rocked the van onto all four tires. It bounced once, then swayed again. Rachel grabbed the door handle and held on for dear life, dropping her phone in the process. A prayer ran through her mind, half formed and incoherent. Miguel’s men were gonna turn the van over, and after, they were gonna come inside and drag her out, and she wouldn’t be in any shape to stop them.
A sharp pop overrode the jangling of doors and trays in the back, and a large hand wrapped itself around her upper arm. Her shrill scream pierced the men’s jeers and yells, halting them, and the hand slapped itself over her mouth.
Warm breath blew against her ear as Dyuvad whispered, “When I let go, exhale fully.”
She didn’t have time to wonder where he’d come from, didn’t have time to ponder much of anything. The next thing she knew, his hand slipped off her mouth. She inhaled and exhaled reflexively, then the world tilted and swirled through a brilliant kaleidoscope into utter darkness.