Tangled Pursuit (6 page)

“You know,” he said, suddenly changing the subject, “when I was a boy, I spent a lot of time breaking wild mustangs at my father’s ranch near Van Horn, Texas. I loved the land there, the animals, nature. My dad always told me I was good at working with wild animals. On a regular basis, he’d rescue ten or fifteen mustangs from a chicken feed factory up in Amarillo and have them trucked down to our ranch. Then he gave them to me to tame. We’d put them in a huge, round corral, and I’d bring in a hose and fill buckets of water. I knew how thirsty they were, and I wanted to show them that a human could be trusted. I knew all they had experienced from us was pain.”

He saw Tal’s shoulders lose some of their tension and the fear dissolve in her suspicious eyes. Wyatt knew the importance of a low, soft voice with frightened four-legged animals, or in this case, a wary two-legged human female.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice turning husky.

He heard the anger leave her voice. Now her tone was frayed and she was still breathing roughly, struggling to get the unfamiliar emotions he’d stirred up under control, probably feeling as trapped as those wild mustangs had been. He smiled a little and lifted his hands. “I’d fill a bucket with water, speak softly to them, and walk over toward them. As soon as they got the scent of that water, they wanted it more than anything else, so they slowly made their way toward me. It was always the stallion who came over first, the mares and fillies hanging back, watching the stud check me out. He’d eyeball me and I’d just stand quietly, speaking in a low, crooning voice. That stud would sink half his face into the pail, drinking in huge gulps. When I ran out of water, I’d slowly back away from them, never turning my back on them, and go fill up that bucket again. Then I’d come back, stand in the exact same place, and let them snort, make all kinds of scared sounds, but eventually, they’d haltingly come forward and drink.”

Wyatt smiled a little, wanting to caress her flushed cheek and dispel the distrust he saw in her eyes. “Pretty soon, I had two or three mustangs all trying to get their noses into that same bucket all at once.” He laughed. “I was soaked, water splashing everywhere as they crowded in around me to get a drink. And when the bucket was empty, I’d back up to the hose, set the pail on the ground, and fill it again. Now those mustangs would follow me over to it, and before I could fill the pail, they were crowding around me, sucking up that water. They’d lost their fear of me. They knew I was going to provide them life-giving water and that I wasn’t going to hurt them.”

He opened his large, square hand toward her. “They learned my hand brought only good things to them. Later, it was a dandy brush to brush their ears that always itched, clean the dirt off their faces and their lower legs. And then I brought a currycomb and ran it along the heavily muscled parts of their body. It was like giving them a massage at a horsey day spa.”

“You tamed them with love,” Tal said softly, choked up by the story. She was a softy when it came to any child or animal.

Wyatt was pleased. Mission accomplished! Now he had gotten Tal out of escape mode. Her breathing had settled down, her arms were across her chest, and she was no longer tense. People, like horses, needed a little TLC, so when he could employ similar methods, like that low Southern voice of his, to get the best from a frightened adversary, he would do it.

“I showed them that a human could love them, but the first thing they learned about me was that they could trust me.”

“And your story is another way of telling me I can trust you?” This was an unknown facet of him she’d never seen before. And Tal was fascinated and drawn powerfully to him, whether she wanted to be or not.

“I know your mama raised highly intelligent children . . . ,” he said, showing her his surefire, amiable grin.

Tal shrugged and managed a small smile. “My mother raised the three of us on Greek, Turkish, and American myths, fables, and fairy tales. I loved listening to her read to us at bedtime.” She sighed and looked him up and down in the shadowy darkness now surrounding them. “So you see me as a wild mustang? Someone who doesn’t trust you?”

He scratched his bearded jaw. “I’m afraid if I shared how I really saw you, you’d deck me and run for that B-hut and for sure never want to see my face again.” His teeth showed white against the shadows.

Tal smiled a little, feeling badly about how rude she’d been to him. That just wasn’t like her, but this cowboy did things to her she couldn’t explain or control. “You’re probably right.”

“But yes, I would like to gain your trust, for a good reason,” Wyatt offered, completely sincere now. “I’m an Eighteen Delta corpsman for my platoon and on my time off, I go out to the villages and offer medical assistance to the males. As a man in a Muslim country, I can’t look at, speak to, or touch an infant female, little girl, or woman. I’ve got a friend, another Eighteen Delta corpsman who works for another SEAL group, who helps out. Her name is Cindy Goldman, and I bet you’d like her. She’s bringing out a prosthesis for a little eight-year-old girl we met. The kid’s a fighter—she’s from a nearby village, where she stepped on an IED a year ago. We’re doing what little we can to give her a new start.” He cocked his head and studied Tal in the lulling silence.

“I know Cindy could use another woman with a medical background. Matt told me you’re a paramedic, and you’d be perfect to help us. How about it?”

Now Tal was beginning to loosen up, leaning against the building, one boot heel resting on it. The tension she always carried had lessened. “I like helping kids,” she admitted, frowning, waffling.

Was it his story? Him? A combination? Wyatt didn’t know, but he felt he was getting closer to Tal and getting her to trust him just a little bit.

“That sounds good,” she said thoughtfully. “I usually volunteer my time when I’m here in Bagram for village medical duty.” She remembered when she first met him at the pool, teaching young Afghan boys how to swim. And that mind-blowing kiss he’d given her out of the blue. Tal knew he had a good heart despite his always having a woman on his arm.

“Good. Then meet me over at the helo terminal at 0800? I’ve got a CH-47 scheduled to take us, and a pallet of shoes and clothes for the kids. They’ll drop us off and then pick us up at 1700 and bring us back here. I’d pack a lunch in your rucksack, and bring along a couple of gallons of water, too.”

“You’re a real mother hen deep down, aren’t you, Lockwood,” she said sarcastically, but the sharpness was gone.

He took a step back, dramatically throwing his hands on his chest. “Dang, you found me out, woman.” Wyatt saw Tal completely relax, her arms falling to her sides. She moved her shoulders, as if to free them from some burden she carried.

He never forgot how lethal a warrior she was. Snipers were a special bunch, with a personality all their own. They were infinitely patient, stubborn, and laser-focused on their objectives.

Looking into her shadowed green eyes, he smiled and found warmth and interest. As for arousal, he knew that would come, too. But later. He should have cornered this filly a long time ago and told her his horse story. Maybe she was a wild mustang in disguise.

What Tal didn’t know was that she was an exception to one of Wyatt’s rules. He didn’t chase women—he let them pursue him. She was the only one that he’d had to pursue, for years before this moment, when he’d finally trapped her and gotten her undivided attention.

“Come on,” he urged, gesturing toward her B-hut, “let me walk you home.” He stepped away, giving her plenty of room. There was a thoughtful expression in her eyes, her soft mouth full and no longer pursed. “What?” he asked as she walked over to him.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“There’s a whole other side to you, isn’t there?” she said curiously, searching his face.

“Isn’t that true of everyone, darlin’?” He thought better of it once the word was out, but this time, she didn’t react to his casual endearment. Instead, she kept him in her sights and dug deep inside like the sniper she was. Wyatt didn’t mind. He let himself stay open and vulnerable to her inspection, knowing that was the key to getting Tal’s trust. And he wanted that more than anything else.

“Yes, but you’re different from other people. I often wondered . . .” And she turned her head, staring out into the night for a moment, carefully choosing her words. Tal frowned and looked up at him. “You’re an onion, Lockwood.”

Grinning, he said, “An onion? Good grief, woman, couldn’t you say something more romantic rather than calling me a lowly, smelly, ugly-lookin’ vegetable that makes people cry?” He liked teasing her, because he saw her first real smile pull at those lush lips of hers. Tal didn’t realize just how beautiful she was, with or without makeup.

He felt an ache for her begin and gave thanks that she couldn’t see his erection beneath the heavy trousers he wore.

“I always talk in symbols. I see people as animals too,” she murmured. “Being like an onion means you have many layers. You’re a lot more complex than I gave you credit for. Course, I can’t speak to your smell.” A faint smile lurked at the corners of her mouth.

For the first time, Tal was teasing him! That was real progress! “Is that a good thing?” he asked innocently, cocking his head, meeting and matching her hesitant smile. Now they were less than a foot apart, and he could feel the heat from her body. Even better, he could inhale her scent, which made him long for her. He had to do something to relieve it. But what? Wyatt wasn’t about to ruin the mood he’d created, or he might be set back another three years!

She smelled like a Turkish spice bazaar, like cinnamon and vanilla. Wyatt had traveled the world and had been in a lot of Middle Eastern and Asian countries. This scent turned him on, and he had an urge to taste her skin, lick it, breathe her essence into him and let it flow like liquid fire throughout his hungry body.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she demurred, turning away, her boots crunching across the gravel as she made her way toward the B-huts.

Wyatt smiled and followed, leaving a good foot between them. He didn’t want to accidentally touch her—it was way too soon for intimacy. Creating an opportunity for further contact had been his objective tonight, and he’d done just that. With a horse story.

“Then you’re not going to throw the baby out with the bathwater?” he teased, catching her wry look and admiring her keen intelligence as she ruthlessly studied him.

“Not yet.”

“Good thing I’m an onion, then.”

She laughed, shaking her head. Halting at the door, Tal turned, her hand on the knob. “I’ll bring my paramedic ruck with me tomorrow. Is Cindy going to give vaccinations or do anything else I should know about?”

“No. But I’d have plenty of syringes and antibiotics on hand.”

“Okay.” She studied him in the darkness. “Good night, Chief Lockwood.”

“Could you call me Wyatt when we’re alone, maybe?” More than anything, he wanted to remove the “officer” and “enlisted” barrier between them whenever possible.

She looked away from him for a moment, considering his plea, and he watched her mull things over.

“Okay,” she finally muttered, frowning.

“I know you’re worried,” he told her. “I promise, Tal, I won’t embarrass you or undermine your position as an officer. I will fully protect your status. That’s a promise.” His voice was serious.

Searching her upturned face, Wyatt wanted to reach out, cup her cheeks, and lightly kiss her lips, but he forced himself to remain where he was. He didn’t want to jeopardize that slender thread of trust she’d just handed him.

Looking deep into her eyes, he said, his voice low with barely checked emotion, “I will
always
have your back, Tal.”

At that moment, she believed him. She knew a SEAL would give his life before he left his teammates open to injury or danger of any kind.

“Okay,” she murmured, “that’s good enough.” She looked at him, his beard less scruffy now that he’d tidied up. Suddenly, she wondered what he’d look like without one. Her hunch was that he would be ruggedly handsome, not a pretty boy. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes were probably from a combination of squinting into the sun during his missions and laughing deeply. She began to feel her fears melting away. This Wyatt seemed to be a different man from the one she’d been resisting all these years. What had changed all of a sudden between them? Had
she
changed? Was she over the grief of losing Brian? Was it Wyatt? His horse story? Her body wanted him. Clearly, it did. But her heart was wary. Could she risk it again? And Tal was very unsure about Lockwood’s ever wanting anything but a one-night stand, which was a place she wouldn’t ever go. All she saw was insurmountable hurdles standing between them.

It was crazy to trust Wyatt so quickly, but she realized it was because he had pledged to protect her reputation. Not that she’d agreed to any kind of relationship with him. All she had agreed to do was help out at a local village and dole out medical care. Looking up into his dark, emotion-filled eyes, she could sense a fierce, guard-dog part of him—and he was offering it to her. She’d been told his men would follow him to hell and back; now she knew why.

She was also impressed with his passion for protecting children. Clearly, Wyatt cared for them or he wouldn’t have been offering medical services to the villagers. He also cared about mustangs that were thirsty for water. And now, apparently, he wanted to take care of her—at least, as far as her reputation went. But could she face risk again? Her heart had been shattered when she’d lost Brian. When she loved, she loved completely. And she had. Now? Wyatt Lockwood was asking her to give him a chance. On him. Of all people. He was a gambler with a woman’s heart, and Tal never gambled.

Looking up at him, she could have sworn she felt him reach out and caress her cheek, but no, his arms remained at his sides. It had to be her imagination. She had heard that black ops people had a very high level of psychic ability because their survival depended on it. Was he sending her a message without jeopardizing their newly established connection?