Kitabı oku: «Solitary Soldier», sayfa 2
Sloan mentally stepped back from what every instinct urged him to feel. He refused to feel any of this. It was a hell of a sad story but it had nothing to do with him. Angel’s former lovers held no interest for Sloan. Besides, this sounded too good to be true. That someone Angel might care about, with his son in tow, would waltz into Los Laureles looking for Sloan’s help seemed a bit too pat. This had setup written all over it. Still, she had said that Victoria sent her.
“Sounds like a domestic problem to me, Miss Larson,” he suggested, testing the waters of sincerity. Sloan pressed her with a steely glare intended to intimidate. “And I’m no social worker.” She faltered, but didn’t scurry away as he fully expected.
“I don’t need a social worker,” she said with determination, and a hefty dose of bitterness. “I need someone who can protect my son from Angel.”
Still skeptical, Sloan cocked his head and eyed her speculatively. “Call a cop,” he offered.
The flash of anger that brightened her eyes took Sloan by surprise. He almost smiled, but he was too busy watching the metamorphosis in Rachel Larson.
“You know the police can’t help me,” she returned with barely controlled fury.
“Then tell me, Miss Larson,” he goaded. “What is it you think I can do that the police can’t.”
The look that passed between them proved immensely more telling than the words that followed. “Angel will come for his son. I want you to do whatever it takes to stop him.”
A long silence followed, but her fiery gaze never wavered. She was dead serious, Sloan realized then. Rachel Larson wanted him to do the one thing he had longed to have the opportunity to do for seven endless years. She wanted him to kill Gabriel DiCassi.
Time had not dulled his fierce desire for vengeance, only the urgency of it. His wife and son were dead. Nothing could change that. Sloan set his jaw hard against the paralyzing emotions that wanted to surface even now, after all this time. The finality had crashed down around him long ago, after almost a year of nonstop searching for Angel. Grief and the need to avenge his wife and son had kept him looking when everyone else had given up. The realization that nothing he did would matter, it sure as hell wouldn’t bring them back, hit him eventually. Then there was nothing. He stopped feeling anything at all.
But now anticipation surged anew through Sloan’s veins. The mere notion of killing Angel made him almost giddy. His gaze traveled back to the boy. The woman was even providing the perfect bait. How far would a piece of crap like Angel be willing to go for his own son? A strange calm settled over Sloan then. He knew just how far any man would go. And he wouldn’t have to do anything but wait Angel out. Long buried sensations bombarded Sloan. A dozen snippets of memory flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes in overwhelming despair when the sound of his son’s cries echoed through his soul. Sloan wanted to kill Angel more than he wanted to draw in his next breath. For the first time, Sloan had the perfect means by which to lure him.
Sloan opened his eyes to the woman standing before him. Self-disgust abruptly made him sick to his stomach. Uncharacteristic moisture stung his eyes. Had he fallen so very far? He shook his head. What kind of man would use a woman and child to assuage his own savage thirst for revenge? Sloan swallowed the answer that welled in his throat, the answer he didn’t want to acknowledge. But it was there, it had always been there. The urge was so strong that Sloan could taste it. Not one doubt had ever existed in his mind that, if given the opportunity, he would do anything, give anything, within his power to make Angel pay for what he had done.
But not this.
He would not use a child. He could not. Not even Angel’s child.
He leveled his gaze on Rachel’s and with his next words affirmed his decision, “I’m not the man you need for the job.”
Sloan walked away without looking back.
He pushed through the swinging doors and into the harsh light of day. He lifted his face to the sun’s warm kiss and drew in a ragged breath. No point wasting any effort on regret. There would be a day of reckoning, he had no doubt. He would take Angel down, Sloan had made that vow long ago. But he would never stoop to Angel’s level to do it. Sloan could not—would not—use a child.
Cool, soft fingers touched Sloan’s arm. He pivoted and glowered down at the woman who had followed him from the cantina.
“I told you I’m not the man for the job,” he growled. The little boy cowered behind his mother now, cautiously peeking past her skirt. Sloan swore under his breath. Now he was scaring small children.
Rachel held her ground, meeting his lethal glare with lead in her own. “You’re the only man for the job,” she insisted with quiet strength.
“Lady, you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve coming to a place like this.” He gestured at all that surrounded them. “Do you have a clue the kind of men you walked past in there?” He stepped closer to her, putting himself in her personal space now and forcing her to acknowledge his superior physical strength. “Florescitaf is the bottom of the barrel down here. There are sleaze-bags here that would sell their own mother for their next drink. Any one of them could eat you alive and not blink. I’m surprised you made it this far.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. “I had to come here,” she said finally. “This is where you are. And I need you.”
Sloan shook his head. Victoria had no business sending this woman and her son to him. He wasn’t a do-gooder anymore. Sloan took the jobs no one else wanted to take. The ones too dangerous for a man who cared whether he lived or died.
“I’m no knight in shining armor, Miss Larson. In fact, I’m so far from it that most women who know my reputation wouldn’t consider themselves safe this close.” He allowed his gaze to rove the length of her once more for good measure. “You’re sure it’s me you’re looking for?”
Uncertain now, she shifted nervously. “Victoria said you’re the best. She said you know Angel.” She licked her full lips. To Sloan’s irritation, he followed the movement with growing interest. “She said,” Rachel continued, “that if there was anyone who could help me, it was you.”
“Like I told you before, Victoria made a mistake.” He started to turn away, but something in those big, pleading eyes stayed him.
“You know what he’ll do,” she murmured. Tears slipped past those long lashes and streamed down her cheeks. “Can you turn your back on us knowing what he’ll do?”
Sloan looked away. He didn’t want to see or hear any of this. He wanted to go back into the cantina and finish off that bottle he left on the bar. He wanted to forget the name Gabriel DiCassi. He wanted to erase the image of this woman and her son from his mind. But he could never do either of those things.
“Josh!”
Sloan jerked his attention back to Rachel. She whirled around, calling her son’s name. Josh was nowhere in sight.
“Oh God, where can he be?” Rachel rushed forward, then hesitated as if unsure which way to go. “He was right behind me…. Josh!”
Sloan’s heart pumped hard in his chest. The vivid memory of endless days and nights of searching for his own son broadsided him with the force of a runaway train. The first moment of realization that his little boy was not at home…not at the neighbor’s…not anywhere. A cold sweat coated Sloan’s skin. The final gut-wrenching instant when he had to admit defeat. His son was dead…murdered. Sloan shuddered, then trembled with remembered pain so sharp that nausea burned the back of his throat.
“Josh!” Rachel cried out, her voice riddled with hysteria and the panic no doubt tightening like a steel band around her chest. She zigzagged in and out of the throngs of people milling from shop to shop.
Siesta had long passed and the streets were filled with shoppers and peddlers going about their business as the heat of the day slowly subsided with the retreating sun. Children played in the alleys and the streets. Dogs barked and sniffed about, looking for handouts. The occasional car horn honked to clear the way as it inched past on the cluttered cobblestone street.
Sloan scanned face after face, each distracted with his or her own agenda. Another handful of children skipped past, chattering and laughing. But none proved to be the one he was searching for.
Josh was gone.
Sloan moved toward Rachel, then caught her by the elbow and pulled her around to face him. He pinned her with a steady gaze, hoping to calm the fear dancing in hers. “Stay right here, out in the open where Josh can see you.” Another tear streaked downward. Before he could stop himself Sloan reached up and swiped that tear from her soft cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I will find him,” he promised, then turned away.
Josh couldn’t have gone far on his own….
Chapter Two
Rachel’s frantic search stalled in the middle of the street. Sloan’s warning to stay where Josh could see her belatedly echoed in her ears. She watched in utter despair as Sloan came out of the last shop empty-handed. Her heart pounded so hard that her chest ached with each heavy thud. She wanted to run through the streets screaming her agony, but her arms and legs felt like useless wooden clubs. This couldn’t be happening. The nightmare she feared most had reached long bony fingers from the blackest depths of her subconscious and climbed into her reality.
Josh was gone.
They had looked everywhere.
Sloan paused near a group of children and spoke to them in fluent Spanish. All other sound except his voice faded into insignificance. The children shook their heads in a sort of surreal harmony. No, they had not seen an American boy. Rachel blinked, once, twice. This was her fault. She had taken her eyes off Josh for just one moment and—
A horn blasted behind her. Strong hands jerked her forward and against a hard wall of muscle.
“Dammit, woman, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Sloan growled, the sound rumbling from his massive chest.
Beyond caring whose strong arms were around her, Rachel wilted against him. The tears she could no longer restrain flowed from her, bleeding out the last of her resolve in salty rivulets. She fisted her fingers into the soft cotton of Sloan’s faded shirt and fought to hold on to consciousness. She could not give in to the relief her exhausted body propelled her toward. She had to find Josh. She couldn’t live without her son. She had to find him…to protect him.
With renewed determination Rachel pushed away from Sloan, oddly bereft without his powerful arms around her now. But she had to do something. She couldn’t just stand here. She swiped the moisture from her cheeks and stared up into those piercing blue eyes. “He has to be here…”
“I told you I would find him and I will. But I can’t look for him and keep you out of trouble at the same time.” The irritation in his voice manifested itself in a line between his eyebrows.
The look of concern that emanated from Sloan’s gaze frightened Rachel all the more. If a man like Sloan was worried, then the situation must look pretty hopeless. A tremor shook her. No. She wouldn’t believe that. Josh couldn’t have gone far. He was just curious that’s all. Sloan was right. He was probably exploring and had wandered out of sight. The goats had captured his attention earlier. And the children…
“I have to look for him, too.” Dragging in an uneven breath, Rachel averted her gaze from the one watching her so very intently. She dug furiously through her bag until she found a recent snapshot of her son. Armed with the only weapon she possessed, her determination, she hurried to catch up with the children who were slowly meandering down the street. With both of them looking they could cover more ground.
“Excuse me.” Rachel displayed Josh’s picture. Maybe they would remember seeing him if they knew what he looked like. A half-dozen sets of dark expectant eyes looked first at Rachel then at the picture she held in her trembling hand. “My son…my niño is lost.” Rachel moistened her lips and forced herself to take a breath. The blood roared in her ears. She wanted to cry again. Her mind whirled, making concentration difficult, but she had to focus on finding Josh. The children only looked at each other, then at her and shook their heads. Frustration twisted inside Rachel. Surely someone had seen him.
He couldn’t have simply disappeared into thin air.
Unless…Angel was here already. Overwhelming dread pooled in Rachel’s stomach. No…he couldn’t have known she was coming here. He couldn’t have found her so quickly.
Rachel felt strangely detached from her surroundings. She squeezed her eyes shut to chase away the black spots and to slow the spinning in her head.
“Mommy!”
Sloan was the first to spot the boy. Josh stood on the other side of the street. To Sloan it looked as if someone had just left him there. Instinct pricked him. This didn’t feel right. Sloan waited for a rusty old truck to chug past then he ran to the boy. He crouched in front of him and surveyed him for injury. Profound relief raced through Sloan’s veins, chasing away the suspicions niggling at him. The kid was fine.
Josh’s lips protruded into a pout. “I want my mommy,” he muttered, tears welling in his dark eyes.
Rachel was suddenly on her knees next to Sloan. She hugged her son so close Sloan was sure the kid couldn’t possibly be breathing. Rachel was crying and kissing Josh and telling him how much she loved him.
Sloan stood and looked away.
What the hell was he doing with this woman and her child? They aren’t your problem, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t his fault that Rachel Larson had herself in a no-win situation. Sloan would just send them back to Victoria on the next flight out of Chihuahua. The last thing he needed or wanted was complications. And this lady and her kid were definitely complicated. They reminded him too much of the past…of what he had lost. And even if Angel did care enough about his kid to come for him, Sloan had no desire to start a war with a woman and child caught in the middle.
No way.
“Josh,” Rachel said hesitantly. “Where did you get this bear?”
Sloan’s gaze swung back to the boy. Rachel pulled Josh’s hand from behind his back. He quickly hugged what appeared to be a small brown bear to his chest.
“It’s s’posed t’be a secret, Mommy,” the boy whispered too loudly. His doubtful gaze darted up to Sloan, then widened with distrust.
“Look at me, Josh.” Rachel held him firmly by both shoulders. “Where did you get the bear?”
Josh huffed a big breath. “It’s a present from my daddy.” He turned the bear to his mother then so that she could see his prize. “See.”
Recognition slammed into Sloan. The bear with its big button eyes and red ribbon tied neatly around the neck mocked him. Sloan’s son had cherished a bear very much like this one. The bear had been found with his…body. Sloan had buried the toy with his child. Sloan tugged the bear from Josh’s grasp and inspected it more closely.
Josh wailed his protests. Rachel pulled him to her and tried to quiet him, her face stricken with a mixture of fear and desperation. She was thinking the same thing Sloan was. He could see it in her eyes.
As if in slow motion, Sloan turned all the way around, his gaze searching every face, every shop window, every shadow.
Could Angel be this close?
Anticipation ignited the adrenaline already flowing with the wild hammering in his chest. His attention still tracking every move around them, Sloan passed the bear back to Rachel.
“Let’s go.”
Rachel stood, Josh clutched tightly in her arms. “What do you mean?” Hope flashed in her eyes.
Sloan shot her a look that quelled any other questions she might have asked, “You’re coming with me.” A new kind of evil just rolled into town, he didn’t add.
RACHEL FELT COMPLETELY drained. She glanced over the seat at Josh who was preoccupied with his new bear. Fear twisted inside her each time she recalled Josh’s words. It’s a present from my daddy. The more distance they put between them and the town the calmer Rachel felt.
Once Sloan had ushered them into his Jeep the interrogation had begun. Sloan wanted to know every detail of every moment Josh had been out of their sight. It didn’t seem to matter to Sloan that a four-year-old had no concept of time. Josh explained that he had followed one of the children who was chasing a dog and had gotten lost. When he couldn’t find his mommy he simply sat down and cried. A nice dark-haired lady, according to Josh, had come along and told him not to cry and that she had a gift for him from his daddy. Then she had led Josh to where he could find his mommy.
The lady’s description matched most every woman in this country, including Rachel’s. She consoled herself with the belief that perhaps some kind lady had offered comfort to a lost child and then helped him find his way back to his mother. Maybe the woman hadn’t had time for pleasantries, or didn’t care about being thanked.
Sloan was far more skeptical of Josh’s story. He had his own theory, though he hadn’t felt compelled to share his thoughts as of yet. But Rachel knew he was convinced Angel had something to do with it. Whatever motivated him, Rachel was grateful that he had changed his mind and decided to help them. The concern he had shown when she couldn’t find Josh warmed her, and gave her hope that Sloan wasn’t really as bad as he pretended to be.
But then, Rachel was a die-hard optimist.
She stared out at the passing landscape. The desert seemed to swallow them up almost as soon as they left Florescitaf. The sun was dropping even lower now, casting purple and pink hues like a halo around the descending ball of fire. And with it went the oppressive heat. Rachel shivered and chafed her bare arms with her hands to warm them against the cooler wind whipping through the open Jeep now.
“There’s a jacket in the back seat if you’re cold.”
Rachel glanced at Sloan’s unyielding profile. He could have been carved right out of the rugged Sierra Madre mountains that jutted skyward before them. How odd that he would show concern for her comfort when he had scarcely spoken a word since they left town except to question Josh. She couldn’t decide which persona she liked best. The Sloan who defined indifference, or the fleeting moments of the other man who obviously lay beneath all that bitterness and attitude. He hadn’t even named his price for the services he apparently intended to render. Now that Rachel thought about it, the fact of the matter was she had no idea where they were headed. His home, she assumed. A rustic cabin or a tent were the first images to pop into her mind. Sloan didn’t appear the type to put much stock in personal possessions.
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” she said, in response to his offer of the jacket. Rachel focused her attention on the dusty road in front of them and asked, “Where are we going?”
“My place.” The answer was curt, and spoken grudgingly.
Iceman was back. Instinct told her that Sloan didn’t want anyone close to him. It would behoove her to keep her distance. His momentary lapse of concern had obviously passed.
“Our things are at the hotel,” Rachel realized aloud, only now remembering that they had checked into a hotel when they arrived the day before. With no idea how long it would take her to find Sloan or to persuade him to take her case, it had seemed like the right thing to do. But with Josh getting lost, sensible thinking had gone out the window.
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” He said nothing. Determined to ignore his lack of social grace and to listen to her own instincts, Rachel leaned back into her seat and tried to relax. After two days without sleep, she was spent physically. She had no idea when she had eaten last either. In all honesty, food no longer held any appeal for her. Eating equated to survival. She survived for one reason and one reason only, to protect her son. Nothing else mattered at this point.
Sloan slowed and took a left, heading directly into the more rugged terrain that led to the foothills of the Sierra Madre. The Jeep bumped over the rough road for another mile or so before Sloan slowed once more. The mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks rising to the clouds to greet the darkening sky. The landscape that lay ahead sharply contrasted the sprawling desert land they had covered so far. Desert scrub and cacti eventually gave way to trees that sprouted up from the towering mountainous terrain.
Rachel saw the wall first, then the roof of the house that lay beyond it. She bent forward slightly, and stifled a gasp. The place looked like a modern-day fortress. A towering wall, at least ten or twelve feet high, surrounded the house. A huge iron gate stood before them when Sloan stopped the Jeep. He pressed a series of buttons on a keypad by the gate. The massive iron gates opened immediately, then closed automatically behind them. Rachel watched in a sort of surprised bewilderment as they drove away from the intimidating entrance.
Sloan parked before the double doors at the front of the southwestern-style house. The exterior was a stucco finish, painted a pinkish tan like the wall surrounding the property. The roof was a rustic red tile. One of the front doors suddenly opened and a short, thin man stepped out to meet them.
“This is where you live?” Rachel asked, then winced. God, what a stupid question. Of course this was where he lived.
“Ever since I ran off the local drug lord,” he said before hopping out of the Jeep.
Rachel frowned. Was that supposed to be a joke? Did she really want to know? Too tired to consider the remark any further, Rachel unfastened her seat belt and leaned between the bucket seats and released Josh’s. The boy, teddy bear in tow, scrambled out of the seat and into his mother’s arms. Rachel settled Josh onto the ground once they were out of the Jeep. Sloan was speaking to the other man in Spanish. Rachel couldn’t quite get the gist of the conversation. Something about a room, and trouble.
She and Josh were the trouble, of course.
“Good evening, Señora Larson,” the man said, his smile wide and pleasant. “I am Pablo. I am very sure that you are hungry. Come in and I will prepare a proper feast for such honored guests.”
Rachel took an instant liking to the man. She returned Pablo’s smile and followed as he led the way into the house. Rachel could feel Sloan behind her. She didn’t have to look, his formidable presence was unmistakable. There was an aura about the man that entailed much more than his air of danger.
Details flooded her senses. Muted colors, thick upholstered furnishings. Rachel had to admit that she had been way off base about the man’s taste in accommodations. Sloan’s home was elegant in an understated sort of way. Her artist’s eye was drawn to the clean lines and sparse but inviting furnishings of each large room she passed. The expansive hall cut through the middle of the house, flowing both left and right about midway. Pablo turned right and continued until they reached the third room on the left.
He gestured for Rachel to enter before him. “If there is anything you need, señora, do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Pablo,” she said tiredly.
“I’m hungry!” Josh piped up.
Heat scalded Rachel’s cheeks. Josh was always hungry. “Josh,” she scolded.
“The boy needs to eat,” Pablo agreed. “Come with Pablo, little man, and we will prepare the feast together.” Pablo winked when Josh eyed him hesitantly. “You may taste as we go.”
Josh was ready to go then. He took Pablo’s offered hand and told him about his new bear as they disappeared down the hall. Rachel was amazed at how easily Josh befriended the strangers he met. She thought of the woman and the bear and decided that a long talk with her son was in order.
With Josh and Pablo gone, Rachel had no choice but to acknowledge her host’s brooding presence. She turned hesitantly to face him.
“I don’t know why you changed your mind,” Rachel began, trying hard not to allow that icy blue gaze to undo her. “But I—”
“You should eat and get some rest,” he said, his words an order rather than a suggestion.
He turned to go but Rachel stopped him with a hand on his arm. He stared first at her hand then at her, as if her touch were somehow offensive to him. But the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips was anything but offensive to Rachel. She jerked her hand back when a mild shock radiated through her, but caught herself before she frowned.
“I’d like to discuss your plans,” she managed in a surprisingly even voice. “I don’t want to be left in the dark. I need to know what you have in mind.”
For one long moment his gaze held hers and something intense passed between them. For Rachel, it felt all too much like sexual awareness. Sloan was handsome, in a fierce, rugged way. He was big and muscular and with eyes that could unsettle her with just a look. He frightened her, yet drew her on some level that Rachel could never hope to explain. Maybe it was simply the need to feel protected by someone who was strong enough to go up against Angel.
“I don’t have a plan.” His gaze remained unreadable, as seemed customary for him. “I’ll let you know when we have anything to discuss.” He brushed past Rachel and sauntered in the direction into which Josh and Pablo had disappeared.
Rachel leaned against the door frame, crossed her arms over her chest and sighed wearily. The man’s attitude infuriated her. How on earth would she ever tolerate his rude indifference? Rachel was too tired to contemplate the issue any further at the moment. She was so tired she wasn’t even sure she would make it through dinner. For Josh’s sake she would have to muster up the energy to at least show up, then see to her son’s bath and to get him tucked into bed. And just maybe, she could manage a leisurely bath of her own.
She glanced around the spacious room she and Josh were to share. She thought of the property’s elaborate security system, and then of Sloan himself. Despite her enigmatic protector’s personality, or lack thereof, Rachel felt safe for the first time in nearly five years.
SLOAN STARED AT the bottle of tequila on the table before him. He knew there would be no sleep for him tonight, no matter how much he drank. His mind was reeling with bits of information he didn’t want to remember. Faces he didn’t want to see. Voices he didn’t want to hear. But there were certain points he had to allow himself to recall. He had waited too long, planned too often for this very moment, yet feared it would never come. Not once since pulling himself from the gutter pain and depression had hurled him into had he allowed a glimmer of real hope. Anticipation was one thing, but hope entirely another. He’d learned the hard way that hope was only for those too weak to acknowledge defeat when it had them by the throat.
Sloan had faced defeat, but he hadn’t wallowed in it, at least not for long. He couldn’t change history, but he sure as hell had some say in the future. And he would make Angel pay. Very soon.
To Sloan’s supreme irritation the vivid mental image of Rachel Larson suddenly loomed large in his mind. He could still hear the fear and panic in her voice when she called out for Josh. That same desperation had haunted his own voice seven years ago. The euphoria still lingered from the profound relief he had felt this evening when Josh was in his mother’s arms once more. The relief he had been denied seven years ago. Then the realization that Angel might be close by.
Too close.
Sloan shook off the feelings nagging him, but he couldn’t completely shake the picture of Rachel. The fear in those big brown eyes, the way her lips quivered with uncertainty. If anyone he had met in this business had ever needed protecting, she sure as hell did. But Sloan wanted to do more than protect her, he wanted to know her as a woman. That simple touch this evening in her room had sent fire raging through his veins. For the first time in more years than he cared to admit, Sloan yearned for more than mere physical release.
Ire burned in his gut. He couldn’t feel this way.
It was nothing more than his exaggerated instinct to protect. That’s all, he assured himself.
Angel flickered amid the other tangle of images and thoughts involving Rachel Larson. Sloan swore. His attraction to a woman who had once been involved with Angel made Sloan’s gut clench. Those feelings were a betrayal to the memory of his wife and son. He must be losing his mind to entertain such a fantasy. Hell, he had already lost his mind. He had brought Angel’s son into his own home.
Sloan swore repeatedly.
He hated himself for what he was doing. But it was the ultimate goal that made it all worthwhile. Angel would come for his son. It was the basic concept of possession. The kid belonged to him. Angel would want him back, so he had to come. When he did, Sloan would be ready.
And Angel would die.
Then Rachel and Josh would be safe.
That wasn’t supposed to be what counted to Sloan…but somehow it was. Somehow their welfare already meant entirely too much to him. And that didn’t sit well with him. But he would not let either of them any closer. He would stay in control—no matter what it took. All these jumbled feelings were nothing more than his deeply entrenched need to protect those weaker than him.
The way he couldn’t protect his own wife and son.
“Excuse me.”
Sloan’s head shot up at the softly uttered greeting. Rachel Larson hovered near the door. Hesitantly she stepped out onto the patio and approached him, her bare feet soundless on the cool tile. His gaze followed her movements, his body automatically responding and he silently cursed himself again. He was a fool. Sloan leaned back in his chair and leveled an impatient gaze in her direction.
