Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Stoker Aces Production, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Special Forces: Operation Alpha remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Stoker Aces Production, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

SAVING SARAH

by

KATHY IVAN

BOOK DESCRIPTION

Haunted by memories of war and strangely prophetic dreams, Gaston "Ranger" Boudreau spends his time alone in the Louisiana bayou he calls home.   When fellow SEAL, Matthew "Wolf" Steel calls in a favor, Ranger can't refuse—a Boudreau always pays his debts.

Writer Sarah Sloane is in New Orleans on a mission, to find her missing sister. Unsure what she'll uncover, she needs somebody who knows the city—but more, she needs a bodyguard who can keep her safe. One sexy former Navy SEAL might be just the person for the job.  

As Ranger's dreams evolve, the dangerous search for Sarah's sister becomes a race against the clock. Can they find her before it's too late, or will their quest cost more than one life?

BOOKS BY KATHY IVAN

NEW ORLEANS CONNECTION SERIES

Desperate Choices

Connor's Gamble

Relentless Pursuit

Ultimate Betrayal

Keeping Secrets

Sex, Lies and Apple Pies

Deadly Justice

Saving Sarah (Susan Stoker's Kindle World tie-in)

LOVIN' LAS VEGAS SERIES

It Happened In Vegas

Crazy Vegas Love

Marriage, Vegas Style

A Virgin In Vegas

Vegas, Baby!

Match Made In Vegas

Yours For The Holidays

Wicked Wagers (Books 1-4 Box set)

DESTINY'S DESIRE SERIES

Second Chances

Losing Cassie

OTHER STAND ALONE BOOKS

The Remingtons:  Could This Be Love (Melissa Foster's Kindle World)

Visit my Amazon Author Page for more information and details for these books at

http://amzn.to/1IvBRc2 

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DEDICATION

To Susan Stoker for asking me to play around in her Special Forces Kindle World and write about her characters from books I love reading.  And for asking me to add a paranormal element to my romantic suspense story – this one's for you. 

Thanks to Drue Hoffman of DRC Promotions for designing the fabulous cover for Saving Sarah!

Special Thanks to Kimberly Dawn and Tanya Newbern – beta readers whose great insights into this book gave me inspiration and keep me writing. 

Thank you, Allison B. Collins, my wonderful editor who dropped everything on short notice to help me polish this story, giving such great feedback that only made it better.  You are awesome! 

CHAPTER ONE

Gaston "Ranger" Boudreau stared at the encrypted message displayed in bold capital letters on his laptop screen. 

He'd barely had a chance to plop down on the sofa, having climbed out of his pirogue only moments earlier.  Walking into his camp, which was little more than four walls, a tin roof, and a floor, he'd paused long enough to toss the freshly caught fish into the metal sink, ready to be cleaned and cooked for his lunch. 

Then his damned gut instinct told him to check his messages. 

He wished he could've ignored that antsy feeling which forced him to cut short his fishing and head back to his tiny cabin deep in the bayou.  But he didn't—because he knew better. 

The encoded message was brief but succinct. 

HOW'S YOUR DOG TANGO? 

That was it.  Four words that caused a gnawing hollowness deep in the center of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger—no, it engendered an impending feeling of something momentous about to happen.  Like that subtle buildup of pressure when you're sitting on the edge of the deck watching an electrical storm approach, see the flashes of lightning arc across the clouds, smell the ozone waft on the breeze, and hear the deep growl of thunder, and you expect the lightning to strike precisely where you're sitting.  Yeah, that feeling.

Wolf wouldn't have contacted him if it wasn't an emergency, and Ranger owed him. 

Matthew "Wolf" Steel had saved his life.  He was forever indebted to the man, though if you asked Wolf, he'd say he was simply doing his job.  After the hell he'd been through in Afghanistan, Ranger had made a solemn vow to repay that debt—now Wolf was calling in his marker.

He tried to not dwell on that dark time when he'd almost lost all hope, sitting in a bombed-out shell of a house on the outskirts of a crap-hole in Afghanistan, waiting for an extremist faction of the Taliban to execute him.  Instead, he did his damndest to put it behind him. 

Except in my nightmares. 

Still, it looked like Wolf planned on calling in the chip he owed him and his team.  One he'd pay, no matter the cost.  He owed them, and a Boudreau never shirked his debts.  Gator Boudreau, his daddy, taught him and his brothers from the time they were knee high to a grasshopper that you always pay your debts.  Otherwise you're no better than a coward and a liar.

Frowning, he pulled up the encryption program Tex had installed in his e-mail browser and shot a reply back to Wolf.  It didn't matter what the man wanted, he got it.  No questions asked. 

Within seconds, he heard the ping of the answering e-mail. 

Must have been waiting for my response. 

The only words in Wolf's reply were a date, time, and address in the French Quarter.  The simple fact it was in his neck of the woods had Ranger more than intrigued.  What happened to bring Wolf to The Big Easy? 

Born and raised in Orleans Parish, Ranger knew both the city and its surrounding bayous and parishes like he knew his own name.

He wouldn't ask the man outright, though.  As a fellow Navy SEAL, Wolf played his cards close to the vest, and would tell him what he needed to know when they met up.  Glancing at the corner of the screen, he noted the time.  Per Wolf's instructions, their meet-up would take place in just under four hours at a local bar on the backstreets of the French Quarter. 

Not a bad place to meet.  Wolf could play up the whole tourist angle without raising any suspicions, and keep a low profile at the same time. 

Since he'd come home after the FUBAR in Afghanistan, Ranger kept mostly to himself, out at his camp hidden in the depths of the swamp.  Stayed isolated.  Except when his busybody family decided he'd been alone too long and showed up unannounced and dragged him back to civilization.  Lately that seemed to mean just about every Friday night, playing and singing on the street corners in the touristy section of the French Quarter.  Man, his daddy loved making music.  Didn't matter who was listening.  Music fed something in his soul, he always said.

Ranger stood and stretched, heard the audible clicks as his joints popped.  Yeah, he'd been cooped up far too long.  An afternoon down in The Quarter might be just the ticket to ease his boredom. 

But first, he needed to shower because he was rank.  Grabbing the fish he'd caught earlier, he made quick work of gutting them before tossing the filets into the small generator-run ice chest beside the sink.  Barely big enough to keep his beer cold, it would handle the three fish until he got home to cook 'em. 

A short time later, he'd showered and shaved, electing to pull his hair back with a piece of leather.  It had grown out a lot since leaving the military and the rest of his SEAL team behind.  The dark length came in handy when he didn't want people staring at him or the long jagged scar decorating the right side of his face.  Angling toward the dim light, he studied the scar running from the edge of his eyebrow, where it bisected his cheek, and ended right above the corner of his lip.  He'd been damned lucky not to lose his eye. 

Should he stop at Gator's place on the way?  If anything was brewing in the area, chances were good his daddy would have the heads-up.  The man knew everybody, from the fat-cat politicians to the homeless vets living hand-to-mouth down on the waterfront.  If even a whiff of something was going down in New Orleans, word always got back to Gator Boudreau.

No, he'd wait.  Talk to Wolf. The SEAL would provide the intel needed to get the job done—whatever it was.  But that burning, insistent pinging in the corner of his brain, the one he associated with trouble coming?  It had been building for days and now blared like a red alert siren. 

Steering his boat to the rented dock space he kept handy year round, he climbed out, tied off, and headed for the rendezvous point Wolf had picked.  The bar he chose wasn't dead center of all the activity and nightlife.  Instead, it was a place frequented mostly by locals, though a few tourists sometimes ambled through its doors looking for local flavor.  They didn't hang around long.  Lucky, the owner, set them straight pretty quick. 

Taking a deep breath, he absorbed the unique smells of the city he called home.  A myriad of scents assaulted his senses.  The over-arcing brine of the Mississippi flavored everything, like a layer of salt coating the back of the throat.  Ever present, always in the background, as familiar as his favorite pair of jeans.

Then there was the yeasty smell of the bakery at the end of the block.  Fresh French bread baked to order all day long, along with croissants and fancy pastries.  Floral notes from the flower shop blended into the mix.  Exhaust fumes from the busy streets and the docks never seemed far away. 

Smells like home.

Weaving in and out of the pedestrian traffic got a little trickier the farther he walked.  Tourists congested the sidewalks at the outer edges of The French Quarter, and he maneuvered around them with predatory ease.  When his path got too obstructed, he detoured around a corner and took an alleyway between buildings.  It wasn't long before he stood at the back door of Lucky's, the hole-in-the-wall bar that was today's rendezvous point. 

Lucky's bar wasn't some chic New Orleans hot spot.  It wasn't on any list of tourist attractions, though it had been around for decades.  Nope, it was the kind of place men like him frequented when they wanted a cold beer and a distinct lack of conversation. 

The bar's scarred and pockmarked wooden floors had seen customers come and go for the last ninety years.  Though gouged and rough in spots, the golden brown patina felt warm and welcoming.  Huge plate glass windows heavy with painted advertisements fronted onto the street, where people strolled past, intent on seeing the sights of the touristy part of The French Quarter.  Lucky's didn't broadcast its location with fancy neon lights or huge signs trawling for customers.  Lucky claimed the garish neon was too pretty for his place.

Ranger looked around the half-empty bar, scoping out the dark corners for Wolf or any of the other guys from his SEAL team.  He'd met them all during the rescue, except Tex, though he'd talked to the man several times since he'd been back stateside.  Another SEAL, Tex had stayed behind and coordinated the extraction of him and his teammates.  Ranger respected each of the men who'd helped save their lives, and brought home the ones who hadn't been so fortunate.  Not a single member of Wolf's squad was here in the nearly empty bar.

Knocking his knuckles against the huge wooden bar top, he got Lucky's attention and within seconds held a longneck bottle in his hand.  With a practiced ease that came almost second nature, he checked out the smattering of tables spread out throughout the right half of the bar.  Some held bikers wearing leather jackets and a lot of attitude, but they kept mostly to themselves and weren't causing any trouble—yet.  A couple of dock workers sat at another table, nursing longnecks, and one couple doing their best Hoover imitation rounded out the motley crew. 

He eased his tall frame into a chair in the farthest corner from the front door, his back against the wall, leaving a clear line of sight to both the front and back entrances, and twisted off the cap of his beer.

Long minutes passed with only the occasional straggler coming through Lucky's front door.  If he hadn't had that itchy feeling at the back of his neck, he'd have chucked it all after the first hour and headed home. 

But he didn't.  Couldn't.  Something big was headed his way—that damned psychic connection of his was buzzing, though he hated when it didn't give him anything concrete.  This lousy ephemeral woo-woo crap was for the birds.  Give him solid, concrete, hold-it-in-your-hands proof and he was a happy camper. 

Still, he couldn't discount his gut instincts, or whatever anybody called it.  They'd never let him down.  And the one time he hadn't paid attention, he and his entire team ended up in a bombed out hovel, surrounded by Taliban gunmen.  He didn't plan to make the same mistake twice.

A flash of light shone on the worn and gouged wooden floor of the bar as the front door eased open, but that wasn't what caught his attention.  It was the gorgeous brunette framed in the battered wood opening that held him mesmerized. 

Dressed in ragged jeans and a faded AC/DC T-shirt, there wasn't anything extraordinary to make her stand out from the crowd.  Except he knew, with a deep down, positive-to-the-bone certainty, she'd come to Lucky's to meet him. 

She slid off the dark glasses shading her eyes, and plunked them on top of her head.  From this distance, he couldn’t tell what color they were, but strangely found himself certain they'd be blue. 

Ranger watched her scan the room.  Yep, the woman definitely had a specific target in mind, and he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who she searched for.  When their eyes met, he was positive. 

Wolf isn't coming.  Instead, he'd sent this raven-haired beauty.  Although casually dressed, she didn't seem the type to visit seedy biker bars.  Lifting the beer to his lips, he took a long pull, his eyes never leaving her.  Noted the second her eyes spotted him, partially hidden in the darkened corner. 

With determined steps, she strode across the floor, marching in a direct path toward him. He couldn't help noticing the enticing sway of her hips as she crossed the floor.  An unconscious, sensual movement as she walked in his direction.  He found his eyes wandering upward, pausing on the lush breasts outlined by the old rocker T-shirt.

When she reached his table, she stared without saying a word.  He knew what she saw, though he admired she didn't flinch when she noted the scar.  A lot of people weren't so diplomatic.

"Are you Gaston Boudreau?"  Her voice held a husky tone, and sent a curl of need straight to his gut.  Damn, he'd been out at his cabin too long if he got turned on simply by hearing a woman speak.

"That's me."  He motioned to the chair across from him.  She slid onto its hard surface with an elegant grace that definitely didn't match the normal clientele of Lucky's. 

"Matthew Steel sent me."  She dug into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded envelope, creased and a little worn, though he noted the seal was intact.

"Why?" 

"I…this explains everything."  She laid the envelope on the scarred tabletop, sliding it closer to him.  His name was scrawled across the front in bold black letters. 

"No.  Before I open that," he pointed to the envelope, "I want to know why me?" 

She drew in a deep breath and he found his eyes locked on her breasts again.  And some damn fine ones they were too.  Full and round and most definitely not silicone enhanced.  Leaning forward, she placed both hands on the tabletop and stared into his eyes.

He'd been right—her eyes were a startling ice blue, a striking combination with her midnight-dark hair.  A nimbus of light surrounded her in a haloed effect, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the large front window silhouetting her in golden rays.

His stomach knotted until it felt like he'd taken a punch to the gut.  Not a physical blow, but a metaphysical one, because he knew as surely as he knew his name she belonged to him.  No doubts, no questions. 

Love at first sight was for suckers and losers, and he didn't believe in it for one damned second.  But a single word circled around in his brain, echoing over and over until he didn't hear anything but it.

Mine.

"Mr. Boudreau, I've documented everything inside that envelope.  It explains precisely why…"

"I'm sure it does, but I want you to tell me.  Why are you in New Orleans, and what in the hell do you need with me?"

Her blue eyes met his head on, no evasion, no pretense.  "I need you to save my life."

CHAPTER TWO

Sarah stared at the stranger seated across from her.  Half hidden in the shadows, there was a deceptive casualness to his posture, a relaxed I-don't-care-what's-happening-around-me vibe, but she knew beneath the façade, his body was coiled, ready for action.  His long dark hair was pulled back away from his face, and she couldn't help noticing the long jagged scar along the right side. 

Somehow it did nothing to detract from his masculinity.  Just the opposite.  This man's bearing bespoke a warrior through-and-through, and exactly the kind of person she needed.  The mission she'd undertaken was wrought with pitfalls and possible danger, and he might be her one shot at coming out unscathed. 

Deep brown eyes the color of fine whiskey bored into her, and she fought the urge to squirm in her chair. 

Get hold of yourself.  You're a professional.  He's just another guy, even if he's a Navy SEAL. Wolf promised Mr. Boudreau will protect you, so screw your head on straight and get to the point.

"Mr. Boudreau, my name is Sarah Sloane.  I'm a friend of Caroline Steel, Matthew's wife."  She waited to see if he'd respond in any way, but he never uttered a single word.  Instead he watched her, his penetrating gaze never leaving hers.  Under that intense scrutiny, she felt like a bug under a microscope, and battled back the urge to spring from her chair and head for the nearest door.  But she couldn't afford to tuck tail and run.  Her sister's life, hell, her own life, depended on getting Gaston Boudreau's protection. 

"Matthew, I mean Wolf, would have come himself, but his team is heading out on an assignment.  Some last minute thing."  She picked at the edge of the envelope beneath her hand.  Wolf told her to make a list of everything she knew, everything that had happened since her sister's disappearance.  It would be so much easier if he'd just read the damn thing instead of making her talk. 

"Start at the beginning."  His voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard it loud and clear, even above the noisy sounds around them. 

Tapping the envelope with a finger, she slid it across the table, where he left it untouched.  "I'm making a mess of things.  Everything's in there.  I wrote down every detail I know.  Names, dates."  She watched his face for any reaction, but had to admit the guy was good.  There wasn't even a tic to give a clue to his thoughts. 

"Details about what, Ms. Sloane?  You still haven't told me why Wolf thought you need me." 

"He said you're more familiar with New Orleans, better than anybody else he knows.  That's what I need, somebody who can get me access to the places I need to go." 

His brow rose, the only indication he'd been listening.  "What places?" 

A shiver raced up her spine as she thought about exactly what she was getting herself into, but she didn't have a choice.  She needed to find Anna.  And time was running out, if it wasn't already too late. 

"Let me start over, Mr. Boudreau.  I have a younger sister, Savannah.  Everybody calls her Anna.  She's in her first year at LSU.  She's funny and loving and brilliant, but a little naïve.  Our parents meant well, but they kept her sheltered growing up."  She reached up and toyed with the end of her ponytail, twirling a curl around one finger.  "She's the baby, and we've all protected her.  This is the first time she's lived away from home.  She's doing great in school and maintains a 4.0 grade average." 

She paused, taking a deep breath.  Talking about Anna with a stranger was harder than she'd imagined.  Her stomach knotted again at the thought of what her baby sister might be going through, while she tried to convince the aloof SEAL seated across from her to aid in her search. 

He glanced toward the bar and raised two fingers, and within seconds two frosty longnecks were placed on the table.  With a shaky hand, she lifted one to her lips and took a swallow, the icy cold liquid refreshing her parched throat. 

"What happened?" 

She didn't want to think about it.  Didn't want to relive the days of anguish her parents endured after the school notified them Anna hadn't shown up for classes.  Phone calls started trickling in from her friends, and then her roommate. 

She fisted her hands, placing them in her lap so he wouldn't see.  The frustration of trying to deal with the New Orleans police had been the last straw.  It was why she sat across from him now—because she was tired of waiting and getting no answers.  The police wouldn't or couldn't do a damn thing because technically Anna was a legal adult.  They'd said if she didn't want to stay in touch with her family, she didn't have to.  They acted like this kind of thing happened all the time—maybe it did, but not to her family. Other people might sit back and wait, but I can't, because Anna wouldn't disappear without a word.    

"My sister and a couple of her friends decided to celebrate Spring Break in New Orleans.  She called home and gave us her itinerary, where she'd be staying, who was going.  I told her to have a great time."  Her voice cracked on the last word, and she wrapped both hands around the beer bottle, needing something to anchor her. 

"Have you talked to the other girls?  Contacted the NOPD?"  See, he was smart, she couldn't help thinking.  He'd already figured out part of the problem. 

"First thing we did.  Her roommate, Karina, stayed behind at LSU to study instead of heading to New Orleans, because she was having trouble with a psych class and needed to put in extra study time.  When Anna didn't come back on Sunday, she called her cellphone and it went straight to voicemail.  After her fifth or sixth call, she couldn't even leave messages—it was full."

She saw the spark of interest flare in his eyes.  Finally, something more than the intense stare he'd been giving her since the moment she stepped through Lucky's front door. 

"What do you think you can do?"  He practically growled the words, the deep timber in his voice making them almost sound like a threat. 

"I'm going to retrace her steps.  I know from talking to the other girls on the trip most of the clubs and bars they visited.  Even the tourist sites where they spent their afternoons."

"What—you think somebody's going to remember one woman out of the hundreds or maybe even thousands that came through the clubs that week?  Sweetheart, I hate to burst your bubble, but you're searching for a needle in a haystack." 

"I don't care, Mr. Boudreau.  Nobody else seems to give a damn that my sister has vanished, disappeared without a trace, except for me and my family.  I'll do whatever it takes, go anyplace I have to, to find her and bring her home."

He took another long pull on his beer, studying her.  She matched him stare for stare, refusing to back down.  Wolf had assured her that Gaston Boudreau was a good man, a man with integrity and honor.  He'd promised that if anybody could help her find Anna, it would be Boudreau. 

"Wolf told me you were the man for the job.  Are you saying you can't keep an eye on me?  I assure you, I'm not going to cause any trouble." 

He had the gall to laugh.  Bastard.  

"Sweetheart, you've got trouble written all over you." 

Showed what a lousy judge of character he was.  She was the most boring person she knew, rarely leaving her apartment—too intent on getting her stories onto the page, and she hated to disappoint her readers.  Too bad she didn't write mysteries and suspense, that would have come in handy right now.  Nope, she wrote romance with hot alpha heroes and strong kick-ass heroines, which was how she'd met Caroline and Wolf.  She'd been doing research for a new series on Navy SEALS, and wanted to get information straight from the source.  Her readers expected accuracy and the proper details interwoven with their sexy romance. 

On a whim, she'd contacted the naval base in San Diego, and after a few false starts, had finally been put in contact with Caroline Steel.  The woman was practically a hero in her own right, and was married to her own personal SEAL. 

"I'm going to look for Anna with or without your help, Boudreau.  Since I wasn't familiar with your fair city, Wolf thought it best I have a…bodyguard."  She lowered her head when she spoke the last word, watching him from beneath her lashes. 

"Bodyguard?  What kind of places were your sister and her friends visiting anyway?" 

"No place dangerous, but we're talking about college students out having a great time, away from school and parents and rules.  I'm afraid if she got caught up with the wrong crowd…" 

He set the bottle on the table with such care, she thought for one brief second he was going to refuse to help her.  Until he looked up, and she saw the burning rage behind his gaze.  Though she knew it wasn't directed at her, she leaned back in her chair, putting more space between them.

He noticed, of course.  He drew in a deep breath and held it, then let it out.  Did it a couple of times, and she could only watch in silence. 

"Okay, here's how things are gonna work.  You're going to do exactly what I say.  No questions.  I'll help you look for your sister, and I'll keep you safe—because Wolf asked it.  If you step out of line one time—we're through.  Got it?" 

"Absolutely.  Thank you—"

"Keep your thanks until we find your sister.  In the meantime, let's go.  We'll head to my place, and I'll make some calls."  He watched her closely, as if waiting for her to back down.  Fat chance of that happening. 

"Lead the way, Mr. Boudreau."

He sighed.  "Might as well call me Ranger." 

Tossing several bills onto the table, he stood and headed for the back door, not giving her another glance. 

Watching his ass as he strode toward the exit, she rolled her eyes. 

Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought.

CHAPTER THREE

Ranger pushed open the door to his apartment, guiding Sarah across the threshold.  The place was clean.  Well, pretty much.  It had been a couple of weeks since he'd been here, so there might be a layer of dust.  He'd spent all his free time out at his cabin, needing the escape and the peace the bayou afforded.  Escape from the memories and the nightmares plaguing him.  And the strange dreams—ones he didn't understand—and hadn't told anybody about.  

The shrinks he'd been forced to see after returning stateside called it PTSD.  He called it a pain in the ass, because he didn't feel normal anymore. Hadn't since he'd been rescued from that hellhole in Afghanistan.  Though whenever anybody asked, he was A-OK. 

"Have a seat.  Feel free to grab a drink from the fridge.  I'm going to call a friend at the police station, see if I can get any info on your sister's case."  Spinning on his heel, he headed for the bedroom and some much-needed privacy. 

Shaking his head, he tried to clear away thoughts of the beautiful woman not thirty feet away.  Something about her called to him, and he didn't want or need the complication of a woman in his life.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.  Plus, he didn't want to make this particular call in front of Sarah, in case the news he got from Remy wasn't good.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he dialed Remy Lamoreaux's cell.  He knew Remy would be at the station at this time of day.  He kept his gaze locked on the hall outside the partially-ajar bedroom door.  The phone rang twice before Remy answered.

"New Orleans Police, Detective Lamoreaux."

"It's Ranger."

"Hey, Ranger, what's up?" 

"I need some information.  Can you check a police report for me, a missing person's case?" 

"Hang on, let me get something to write on."  Within seconds, Remy was back.  "What am I looking for?" 

"Girl's name is Savannah Sloane.  Friends call her Anna.  Just turned nineteen.   Freshman at LSU.  Visiting for Spring Break, and went missing the Saturday night before she was to return to Shreveport." 

"Damn, hate to hear that.  Okay, lemme see what I can find out and I'll call you back."  He hung up without another word, but Ranger knew he'd get on it immediately.  Remy Lamoreaux was the kind of friend you could depend on in a pinch.  A detective with the New Orleans Police Department, he'd worked homicide for a few years before deciding that gig wasn't for him and transferred over to vice.  The man knew everybody in and around New Orleans, and had the kinds of contacts Ranger couldn't even imagine.  A good man and honest cop, and someone he trusted with his life.  Remy would look into Anna's case file, and if anything looked hinky, he'd spot it in a heartbeat. 

He'd known Remy and his brother, Max, for as long as he could remember.  Hell, they'd always been a part of his life, and he wouldn't have it any other way.  Max was the older Lamoreaux, and he'd hung out with his brother, Jean-Luc, while he'd spent most of his time with Remy. 

At a noise from the hall, he looked up to see Sarah leaning against the doorjamb, two bottles of water in her hands.  She extended one toward him and he took it.  Her face was pale, with little lines of tension playing out around her eyes.  He couldn't imagine the kind of stress she and her family had endured.  If one of his brothers or his baby sister went missing…

"My friend's checking the missing person's report.  He'll call me once he's had a chance to look it over and talk to the officer who took the report." 

"I could have saved you the trouble.  It's all in the envelope I gave you."  He'd stuck the envelope in the back pocket of his jeans before they'd left the bar, planning on looking over the information when he got home.  Seeing things in black-and-white worked well most of the time, and he'd definitely go over all the info, but he'd rather hear it firsthand.  Sometimes people were easier to read than scribbled facts on a page. 

"Tell me more about your sister."  He patted the spot beside him on the bed, and she hesitated for a heartbeat before leaving the doorway and easing down beside him on the corner of the mattress, her body held rigidly upright. The scent of her skin with its light citrusy fragrance shot straight to his groin, and he took a deep breath.

Get your head out of your ass, idiot.  Focus on the facts.  Wolf needs you to work her case, not get in her pants.

"Anna is like a breath of fresh air.  Natural and free-spirited.  She's never met a stranger.  People open up when she's around, feel like they can tell her anything.  I've never seen anything like it.  Complete strangers, people who've never met her, within minutes are telling her their life stories."

Ranger knew the kind of person she described.  He'd lived with somebody exactly like that—his baby sister, Gabi.  His gut clenched at the thought of his sister in Anna's place and was swamped with feelings of hopelessness and helplessness. 

"Did you talk to her after she arrived in New Orleans?"

Sarah nodded while her fingers peeled at the label on the water bottle.  "She called Saturday afternoon, once they'd made it.  All the girls were excited.  Once they checked into their room, they'd planned on hitting Jackson Square and seeing some of the local artists, because one of the girls is an art major." 

He liked the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her sister.  The love she felt shone through with every word, every action.  He understood.  Though they'd never been all touchy-feely, he'd never felt unloved around his family.  Hell, his father still pulled them all together every time the boys were in New Orleans.  Though it happened less and less since they'd all joined the military.  Even Gabi wasn't around much anymore, away attending college.  If they were lucky, she'd make it home for a long weekend.  He made a mental reminder to give his sister a call and check on her in the morning. 

"Did Anna mention anything untoward happening?  Maybe notice somebody paying them a little too much attention?" 

Sarah sighed, her hands clasped around the water bottle until it made a crumpling sound.  "Not at first.  She was having fun, exploring the city and partying with her friends.  Although she's not legally old enough to drink, I'm sure they figured out how to get around the whole underage drinking thing.  Not that she's a big drinker or anything, but an occasional beer or glass of wine, sure."  She set the water bottle on the floor before standing, and paced a few steps away, toying with the end of her ponytail.  He remembered her doing that in the bar.  Probably a nervous habit, but he thought it was cute. 

"You said not at first.  What changed?" 

Before she could answer, his phone rang.  He picked it up from where he'd laid it beside him on the mattress and glanced at the caller ID.  "Gotta take this, it's Wolf."  His finger slid across the answer call button.  "Hey, man, what's up?"

"Did Sarah get there?" 

Ranger heard the whomp, whomp, whomp sound, the hollow noise instantly recognizable.  Helicopter rotors spinning.  The familiar backdrop of boots scrambling along concrete told him Wolf was at the base, though he wasn't sure if he was in Coronado or Virginia. 

"Yeah, she made it."  He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry at the sounds, so familiar, yet they dredged up a slew of memories and instincts that had his stomach cramping. 

Gunfire. 

Screams.

Blood.

He gave his head a rough shake, focusing instead on Wolf's voice. 

"Hear her out, buddy.  She needs help and I'm not going to be around to give it to her.  Got called up on an emergency evac; otherwise, I'd be there myself, watching her six." 

Ranger rubbed a hand against his forehead, shut his eyes and tried to block out everything except the sound of Wolf's voice.  The sounds in the background faded into white noise as he fought to bury the memories trying to trigger things he didn't want to think about.  Hell, he could almost feel the intense heat on the back of his neck as the burning sun blistered his skin.  Smell the fetid stench of the shelled-out hovel where his teammates lay in bloody heaps on the dirt floor.  Hear the flies buzzing around their motionless bodies. 

"Ranger, you still with me?"  Wolf's voice was raised, like he'd been shouting.  Damn, he'd zoned out—again. 

"I'm here." 

"I know you'll watch over Sarah.  She needs you, bro.  Not sure how long I'll be incommunicado, but the minute I'm back, I'll head for New Orleans." 

Ranger took a deep breath, and pushed past the memory trying to steal his focus.  "Don't worry, Wolf.  I've got it covered.  I'll keep your gal safe." 

Wolf laughed.  "She's not my gal.  She's a friend of Caroline's, and trust me, my wife will bust your balls if anything happens to Sarah." 

"Ah.  Got it."  He hadn't figured Wolf the type to cheat on his woman, but then again he didn't know the man that well.  Glad to know his instincts were still good, at least about the SEAL. 

"I've gotta run, we're outta here.  You need anything, call Tex.  I mean it, don't hesitate to call Tex.  He can track anything with those computers of his, and he's a good man to have watching your six."

"Will do."

The phone went dead and Ranger turned to look at Sarah, who stood beside the dresser.  "Finish your story." 

She huffed out a small breath.  "Right.  Anna mentioned a guy.  At first she thought he was part of the group of people celebrating Spring Break.  But it seemed like every place they went, she'd spot him.  She was flattered at first, but then it started to creep her out, so she tried to take his picture with her phone."

Ranger straightened at her words.  "She got a picture of the guy?" 

Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she pulled out her cellphone.  "It won't do you much good.  He's too far back and she only got part of his face and his shoulder."  She scrolled through several pictures before she handed him the phone. 

"Damn, you're right, there's not much to go on here."  He could make out dark sandy brown hair and a blue and green striped polo-type shirt, but the guy's features were indistinguishable.  He stood amidst a group of other men in front of a bar in the French Quarter. 

"Wolf sent the picture to Tex, but so far he hasn't been able to get much from it." 

"I know somebody who might be able to help with that."  Ranger knew Tex had some mad computer skills.  Among the SEAL elite, he was practically legendary.  Plus, he'd been instrumental in his team's extraction from Afghanistan.  But he personally knew Stefan Carlisle, one of the best computer guys in the free world.  Carlisle worked for Carpenter Security Services, and they'd recently relocated their corporate offices to New Orleans.  Fondly called geek boy by the company's inner circle, there wasn't anything Stefan Carlisle couldn't do with a computer, and he had tentacles throughout the dark web only a fellow hacker would understand.  He'd written the code for a facial recognition program the government was chomping at the bit to license, yet Carlisle refused to turn his baby over to the FBI or the CIA. 

Carpenter Security had recently utilized his facial recognition program to help capture a big time arms distributor and self-professed drug lord with only one photo, because Carlisle identified the building and location where the photo was taken with no other information.  Well, okay, maybe Ms. Willie helped a bit, but that was a whole other story. 

He'd check with Carlisle, e-mail him this pic from Sarah's phone, and put him in touch with Tex.  Let them coordinate, and together they might come up with an ID on Anna's mystery stalker.  Two computer geniuses should have no problem finding one girl in a city the size of New Orleans.  Piece of cake. 

His finger swept across the screen, looking at photos of different girls, all college-aged, pretty in that All-American schoolgirl way.  The phone was filled with smiling silly selfies, as they grinned for the camera.  But his hand froze when the last photo popped onto the screen.  His breath caught in his chest, his eyes locked on the grinning dark-haired girl filling the screen.  Laughing at the friend beside her, she smiled, her green eyes filled with joy and life.  His hand trembled slightly as it tightened on the phone until the plastic case creaked. 

Because he recognized her.  He'd never met her, at least not face-to-face, but he knew her.  Night after night for the past week, she'd haunted his dreams. 

Turning the phone outward, he showed the picture to Sarah.  "Is this your sister?"  The words were strangled, and he barely got them past his suddenly parched throat. 

"Yes, that's Anna." 

His gut tightened into knots and he felt bile rising in the back of his throat. 

Why couldn't I be wrong, just this once? 

Savannah Sloane, Sarah's missing sister, was the girl who haunted his dreams.  Abstract and disjointed, the dreams didn't make any sense, but the images in them stayed burned into his brain like a searing brand. 

How could he tell Sarah?  He'd learned years ago not to tell people about his dreams or visions, because they either didn't believe him or looked at him like he'd lost his mind.  The thought of seeing that look on her face wasn't something he ever wanted to see. 

But if he didn't tell her, when the truth came out… 

Hell, he didn't want to think about what might happen.  Looking at Sarah, seeing the fragile hope in her eyes, he didn't want to break her heart.

How could he tell her, in every single dream, every nightmarish scene that played like some weird-ass avant garde kaleidoscope of black and white imagery—her sister was dead. 

CHAPTER FOUR

"You know something." 

Sarah's accusatory words landed like a physical blow.  Truth be told, he didn't know anything—not with any certainty.  Dreams weren't reality.  He didn't have a single shred of evidence anything had happened to Anna.  And he was lying to himself, because his dreams were never wrong.

They had started when he was a kid, though they didn't happen often.  Knowing when somebody was coming to visit, because he'd dreamt it the night before.  Seeing the face of a new kid, then meeting them a few days later when they moved into the area. 

He hadn't paid much attention to them, not until he dreamed his grandmother's death.  Waking from the nightmare, with tears streaking down his face, he'd run and told his mother, shaking her from a sound sleep.  He still remembered how pale she'd been when he'd recounted the dream that upset him.  How her arms tightened around him, squeezing hard enough he'd cried out.

When the phone rang minutes later, he knew.  The look on her face, her shoulders slumping like she'd taken a bullwhip strike against her spine, were more eloquent than words.  Her eyes met his, shiny with unshed tears, and she nodded once before pulling him against her hip and rubbing his back while he'd sobbed.   

She'd made him promise never to tell anybody about the dreams.  And he hadn't.  Even as a kid, he knew people would call him a freak.  So, he kept his mouth shut.  Still did.  Nobody outside the family knew about his prophetic dreams, and he'd even stopped telling them a long time ago.  For all he knew, the rest of the family thought he'd quit having them. 

When he'd reached his teen years, they disappeared and he'd felt both relieved and bereft.  When he'd returned from Afghanistan they'd started again.  Now the dreams were interspersed with nightmares of his time spent in that bombed out hellhole with members of his team fallen and bloody in the dirt.  Separating the fantasy from reality got a little twitchy at times, but he was handling it. 

Except for my dreams of Anna.

"I said, you know something, don't you?"  The accusation in Sarah's words shook him out of his thoughts. 

"I don't know a damn thing."

"That's a lie.  You reacted to her picture like you'd seen a ghost.  Dammit, what's going on?"  She slammed her hands on her hips, and stood staring at him, and he couldn't help thinking how cute she looked, all defiant and ready to take him on like a mama bear protecting her cub. 

"She looked familiar for a second, maybe because of her resemblance to you."  Damn, he hoped his lie would throw her off the scent, because no way in hell was he talking about his dreams.  She was essentially a stranger. 

"You got a place to stay?"  A change of subject was in order, and would give him a chance for his still reeling thoughts to settle.

"Yes."  She rattled off the name of a nice, moderately priced place not too far away from his apartment.  Close enough for them to coordinate their search, but far enough they'd not be on top of each other when they needed a little breathing space.

That stray thought had his mind racing in a new direction.  Him on top of her, their bodies lost in ecstasy as passion flared between them.  Nope, he shook his head.  Not gonna go there. 

"That's a good place.  How about this?  You head back there and get settled."  He raised his hand when she started to interrupt.  "I'll pick you up, and we'll grab an early dinner, then head into The Quarter and start asking around.  See if anybody remembers seeing your sister.  By then I might have heard back from Remy, and it'll give me time to read through this."  He picked up the envelope she'd given him earlier and tapped it against his palm. 

Her body seemed to deflate and she shrugged.  "What time do you want to meet?" 

"Meet you in the lobby at seven.  Things don't really get hopping in the French Quarter until well after dark."  He took a step toward her, and clasped her hand between his.  "We're going to find her.  Hold onto that, Sarah.  I won't give up—not until she's back with you again." 

And he wouldn't.  He'd find a way to return Anna to her family, even if it meant the worst case scenario—bringing her remains home.  He wouldn't leave them without answers. 

"I believe you." 

"Let me get you a cab."  Now that the initial overtures had been played out, and he'd talked to Wolf, he was anxious to look at all the information she'd given him, see if it tied in any way to the things he'd been dreaming.  But he wanted privacy for that—and he doubted she'd be content to sit quietly in the living room while he went over the reports alone.

"It's fine.  It's just a couple of blocks from here, right?  I could use the fresh air." 

"You sure?"  The neighborhood where his apartment building was faced onto a fairly quiet street in one of the nicer areas of the city, so she should be safe walking the few blocks to the hotel, yet he was torn—needing her to leave and wanting her to stay.

She smiled and started down the hall, with him trailing behind.  "Are you sure?  Let me walk you to the…"

Her hand touched his forearm and he stopped talking, focusing on the feel of her skin against his.

"Really, Ranger, I'll be fine.  I'll see you tonight."  She pulled the door open and quickly stepped out into the hall, and strode toward the elevator.  Damn, she was gorgeous both coming and going.  He couldn't have stopped watching her walk away if his life had depended on it.  That absolute firm conviction he'd felt at the bar reasserted itself as the elevator doors slid closed, blocking her from sight. 

She was his.  He knew it with a gut-deep certainty, and somehow it felt right.  Good.  But he also knew damn good and well, he couldn't do a thing about it—not until they found Anna.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ranger's hand rested on the small of Sarah's back as he guided her through the crowded entrance of their third bar of the night.  He'd met her at the hotel hours earlier and they'd eaten and strategized on their next step.

He hadn't heard from Remy yet, but he wasn't too concerned.  Cops were always busy—he'd get back to him as soon as he had something to report.  They'd decided instead on trying to check out a couple of places Anna and her friends had visited. 

Retracing her sister's footsteps after so much time had passed proved to be as effective as finding the Holy Grail.  Nobody remembered seeing Anna or her friends.  Not surprising.  New Orleans was a tourist mecca, and the French Quarter with its shops, restaurants, bars and clubs on any given night meant wall-to-wall bodies, partying and having a good time.  Throw Spring Break into the mix and you had uncontrolled chaos.  He was only thankful Spring Break and Mardi Gras hadn't fallen on the same week, or there'd have been no chance of finding anybody. 

He sidestepped a couple of girls gyrating in his path, bumping and grinding to the pounding rhythm of Nine Inch Nails pouring through the speakers.  The music was loud enough that the thumping bass caused the cement floor to vibrate beneath his feet.  Taking a good look at the dancers, he shrugged.  Damn, they looked like they were barely fifteen or sixteen.  Definitely jailbait and not old enough to be in this crowd of tourists and hangers-on.  He couldn't help wondering how they'd made it past the front door. 

Sarah's hand slid into his when he stepped around them headed toward the bar.

Two muscular, stony-faced bartenders manned the overcrowded space, doling out drinks in rapid fire succession.  It was a Saturday night, and it looked like everybody decided to head to the French Quarter and get their party on.  Personally, he'd rather be just about anyplace else.  He didn't like crowds. 

Stalking forward, he wedged his body into a spot at the overcrowded bar and shifted over enough to give Sarah a bit of space.  Her hip brushed against his when the person beside her got a little too close, jostling her in an attempt to get the server's attention.  When the bartender spotted him, Ranger motioned him over. 

"What'll it be?" 

"Information."  Ranger pulled up Anna's picture on his phone, the one he'd e-mailed to himself, and showed it to the guy, watching him closely.  Bingo.  The bartender's eyes widened slightly, his pupils dilating.  Yep, he recognized her.  

"What about her?"  There was a wary tone in the bartender's voice.  Ranger got it.  He wasn't a cop, so the guy had no reason to give him any information.  Hell, for all he knew, Ranger was a stalker or an angry ex looking for a little payback. 

Ranger nodded toward Sarah, talking louder to be heard over the music.  "This is the girl's sister.  She's missing and the family is worried.  We're trying to retrace her steps, see if anybody remembers her or might have seen her around." 

The bartender leaned over, resting his elbows on the bar top, the muscles in his forearms bulging, and gestured for the phone.  Ranger handed it over and watched the guy study it closely, saw the downturn of the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah.  She was here with some girls.  Probably a week ago maybe?"  He rubbed his finger along the side of his nose.  "I forget her name—Amy or Abby or…"

"Anna," Sarah added and the guy nodded.

"Right, Anna.  Cute little thing.  Pretty, happy, and smiling.  She and her friends seemed to be having a great time."  He nodded toward the dance floor.  "Spent about an hour out there."

"So she didn't act like anything was wrong?" 

"They weren't drinking—not here anyway.  Tried to pass fake IDs, but no way they were twenty-one.  Strictly bottled water and sodas for that crowd.  Hang on a second."  He turned and yelled over the pounding music, "Hey, Danny, come here a sec."

"Be right there, man." 

After finishing his order, the other bartender ambled down to where they stood.  Danny towered over them, standing at least six foot four and was built like a mountain of muscles on steroids.  A shock of red hair was pulled back into a long ponytail at the base of his skull, and full sleeve Japanese-style tattoos ran up both forearms to disappear beneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt.

The first bartender turned the phone toward Danny.  "You remember her?" 

Danny looked at the phone, cocking his head.  "Hmm, about a week ago?  Spring breakers.  Cute little thing." 

"She's missing and we're trying to find her."  Ranger carefully studied Danny, gauging his reaction to his statement. 

"Aw, damn.  She seemed like a sweet kid.  Real friendly."  Danny shook his head and handed the phone back, and started to turn away. 

Sarah reached forward and touched his hand.  Danny stopped, raising his brows.  "That's Anna.  She's my sister.  I have to find her.  Do you remember anything that happened when she was here?  Anybody bother her or her friends?  Nobody's seen or heard from her since she was here, and…"

"Hey, dude, you gonna take our order or what," a voice yelled from further down the bar. 

"Hold your horses, I'll be right there." 

"I got it," the other bartender said and walked away to handle the impatient customers while Danny looked at Anna's picture on the cellphone again, concentrating hard. 

"You gotta know, it was pretty much wall-to-wall people here that entire week.  The only reason I remember her," he wiggled the phone, "is because she was nice, polite.  Kinda out of the ordinary, you know?  Most people come in here for a good time.  Dancing.  Drinking.  It's a nice place, the owners run a clean joint."

"But you remember Anna?"  The hopeful note in Sarah's voice tugged at Ranger.  He wasn't holding out much hope—not with the dreams he'd had.   

"Yeah.  Look, I could be wrong, but I remember a guy watching her—them—all the girls in her group.  But mostly her.  Then, again, who wouldn't watch pretty girls dancing and having fun?  Happens all the time."

"Did you recognize him?  Can you describe him?"

Danny handed the phone back to Ranger with a shrug.  "Never saw him in here before.  I don't know, maybe twenty-five or so.  Could've been younger, since I didn't see him up close.  Dark hair.  Five-ten or five-eleven.  Nothing to make him stand out—except he kept watching her like she was special."  Danny shrugged again.  "Sorry I can't be more help." 

With that he walked away, headed back to deal with other customers.  Sarah blew out a weary breath and her hand cupped around his, still holding his phone with Anna's picture displayed.

"At least we know she was here."

"That, and somebody was watching her.  Wish we had more of a description to go on than dark hair and five foot ten.  That's probably half the guys in New Orleans."  He ran his finger down the side of the phone.  Anna's bright smile tugged at his conscience.  He hadn't told Sarah about the dreams.  Especially how they ended.  For once, he wanted the outcome to be different.  To be able to change them, bend them to his will, and force a different conclusion.  Because if these dreams were prophetic…

"Hey, I know her!"  Ranger spun around toward the bubbly voice coming from beside him at the bar.  A pretty auburn-haired woman, probably early twenties with vivid green eyes crowded in next to him, pointing at the phone.

"Anna, right?  She was a real sweetheart."  The girl waved her empty glass at Danny and raised one finger. 

"You saw her?  Talked to her?" Sarah leaned around him, staring at the girl.

"Yep."  The stranger pulled a maraschino cherry out of her empty cup by the stem and popped it into her mouth, pulling the stem free.  "My friends and I hooked up with her group and went clubbing after we left here." 

Sarah's eyes met his and he read her growing excitement.  "Have you seen her since then?" 

"Nope." 

"Where did you head after you left here?"  Ranger heard the demand in his voice and winced when he noted her stiffen.  Damn, he didn't want to lose the little redhead, not until she told them everything she knew.  The slim lead from Danny would be almost impossible to follow. 

She looked at him, a tiny frown line between her brows.  "What's it to you?" 

"Sorry.  I'm Ranger Boudreau and this is Sarah, Anna's sister.  We're trying to find her, because her family hasn't heard from her."  He smiled, trying to inject a little warmth into his tone.  Scaring her was the last thing he wanted.  She might be the last person to have seen Anna, and he didn't want to blow it.

"Aw, I'm sorry.  I'm Felicia Dumont.  Lemme see.  We headed over to The Panic Room for about an hour.  Then we got hungry, so we went to Franco's to grab something.  Probably stayed there a couple of hours.  After that, half of us headed to Zoner's and the rest headed for Bimini Jack's." 

Ranger recognized the names of all the places she mentioned, a couple of clubs that catered to the younger college-aged crowd and tourists only wanting to drink and party, not looking for authentic French Quarter fun. 

"Which group did Anna go with?"  He asked the question cautiously, keeping his tone light and friendly.  The more info they got from Felicia, the easier to track Anna's movements.  Tex was working things from an electronic angle, following Anna's cellphone GPS footprint, but it took time, especially since they weren't going through official channels.  He and Sarah were beating the bushes the old-fashioned way, but it was slow going. 

"She went with me.  Over to Bimini Jack's."  She stopped for a second.  "We danced and goofed around a couple more hours before we dropped her off at her hotel.  I guess it was around four-ish."  She shrugged.  "I'm not sure of the exact time, 'cos I had a righteous buzz going." 

"You didn't see her again after that?"  Sarah asked, leaning over his shoulder. 

"I gave her my number and we were gonna hook up again the next day, but she never called.  I tried hers a couple of times, but it went straight to voicemail.  I figured she just blew me off, so I stopped calling." 

"Did you notice anybody watching her?  Maybe hanging out near your group, or trying to talk to her?" 

Felicia tilted her head, obviously thinking about his question, before she shook her head.  "Sorry, I can't say I did.  Like I told you, I was pretty buzzed that night.  Wish I could help, but…"

Ranger pulled a business card out of his back pocket and looked on the bar for something to write with.  Sarah tapped his shoulder and handed him a pen, and he jotted his number on the back of the card.

"If you think of anything else, give me a call.  My cell's on the back.  The number on the front is Remy Lamoreaux.  He's a detective with the New Orleans Police Department and he's helping us look for Anna.  If you can't reach me, call him.  He'll know how to get hold of me." 

She looked down at the card before sliding it into her bra with a wink.  "I'll call you."  Picking up her drink, she sauntered away. 

"So we're no closer than we were." 

"Not true," he said, turning to face her.  "We know Anna and her friends definitely partied here on Saturday night.  We also know somebody was watching her.  Thirdly, she left here and spent most of the rest of that night with Felicia Dumont and her friends, and she got to her room safely.  It's more than we started with." 

"True." 

He looked at the clock over the bar, noting they'd been out asking questions for hours.  It was past time for them to take a break, grab a bite, and regroup.  Maybe check in with Tex and see where things stood with the GPS tracking and cellphone search. 

"I'm starving.  How about we grab a snack and decide on our next step?  Sound good?" 

With a final glance around the club, Sarah nodded.  "Right, food."

"I know a great little out of the way place that serves authentic New Orleans cuisine.  And the best desserts you've ever tasted.  If you don't mind a short walk, that is."

"Walking's fine.  I could use the break."

He held out his hand in silent invitation, and she slid hers into his.  A zing of sensation awakened deep in his gut, the same one he'd felt at Lucky's bar, and again at his apartment.  The same one that urged him to claim her in every way a woman can be claimed.  Yet he fought the urge, because he didn't need that kind of complication in his life, not now and maybe not ever.  Between the PTSD and the psychic dream crap, he wasn't exactly the catch of the season. 

No, he decided that when the search for Anna was over, one way or another, he'd wish Sarah well and send her on her way—alone.  She deserved better than a burned out husk of a man, racked with guilt.  She deserved somebody who could offer her the moon and stars and give it to her.

He'd wish her well, and pray she found somebody who could give her everything he couldn't, because he had nothing left to give.  And she deserved to be loved.  Too bad he wasn't that man, because no matter how much his body ached to make her his, his head said to walk away before somebody got hurt.  And he had a feeling that somebody would be him.   

CHAPTER SIX

"I haven't been able to get anything on Anna's cellphone."  Tex sounded tired.  Ranger felt guilty for having pulled him into helping look for Sarah's sister, but Wolf assured him Tex had the greatest chance of finding any electronic fingerprint that might lead them to Anna.  But he knew the man was also working twenty-four/seven on whatever mission Wolf and the other SEALs were handling, so the additional burden of having him help with Anna's case weighed heavy. 

"Damn.  Think it's turned off?"

"No.  I tried turning it on remotely, but got nothing.  Honestly, I think it's trashed." 

Ranger ran a hand through his hair, pushing the long strands out of his face.  He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. 

"That's what I was afraid of," he confirmed.  He'd figured tracking the cell was a longshot at best.

"How's Sarah holding up?" 

"As well as you'd expect, hanging onto hope, but the longer her sister's missing, the less likely we're going to find her.  Did Carlisle get in touch with you yet?"  Ranger figured two experts were better than one when looking for a missing person and he'd passed the info on to Stefan Carlisle, the tech expert for Carpenter Security Services.  Carpenter had brought Ranger into the fold, allowing him to work part time for Carpenter Security the last few months, though he'd been offered a full time gig if he wanted it.  Maybe—after he found Anna. 

If he didn't find something soon, he'd call in Carpenter and the rest of the team to aid in the search.  His security company contained state-of-the-art computer systems, just for Carlisle to play with.  As an added bonus, Samuel Carpenter had inherited like a gazillion dollars from his family and had more resources and connections than the White House. 

Tex chuckled.  "Yeah.  The amount of stuff Carlisle knows is freaky scary.  Have you seen his facial recognition software?" 

Ranger stopped himself—barely—from rolling his eyes.  "Computers aren't my thing.  I know enough to turn mine on and load software that's already been written and has step-by-step instructions.  Don't you remember how much help you had to give me just loading that encryption program for my e-mail?  Games I can handle.  My brother, Jean-Luc, says he's never seen anybody who can finesse cyberspace like Carlisle." 

"Lemme tell you, this program he wrote is freakin' awesome.  My facial rec program is damned good, but this?  No wonder the feds are breathing down his neck.  It's head and shoulders above anything they've currently got."

"Were you able to get anything from the picture Wolf sent, the guy who was watching Anna?  I know the quality sucked, and there wasn't much of his face showing." 

"We're still running it.  Carlisle and I are tweaking the program as we go, since there's really not a lot of his face showing in the photo, just the side of his head and his right ear.  We might still get an identification from the ear alone, though it’s a longshot." 

Ranger looked around his apartment, wondering again why he bothered to keep a place in the city.  In the swamps, he wasn't confined, with the walls closing in on him.  There he felt free.  Here it felt like he was trapped with no way out.  His breath hitched in his chest and one hand tightened on the arm of the chair, clenching and unclenching.  

Breathe through it.  Do the exercises the shrinks droned on and on about.  One breath in, hold it, slowly blow it out.  Do it again. 

"Ranger, you there?"  There was a note of concern in Tex's voice.  Crap, he'd zoned out on the guy and gotten him worried. 

"Yeah.  Keep me posted if you find anything.  I'm heading out to pick up Sarah and check on a lead.  Talk to you later."  He hung up before Tex could say anything else.  Tossing the phone on the end table beside his chair, he vaulted from his seat and raced toward the sliding glass doors leading to the tiny postage stamp-sized balcony. 

He took a deep breath as soon as the door opened, inhaling deeply and pushing the demons back, burying them out of sight.  He'd have to deal with them sometime, but not today.  Today he'd help Sarah. 

Another long indrawn breath, and he relaxed against the railing, his shoulders losing the rigidity from moments earlier.  This attack hadn't been a bad one, once the breathing techniques kicked in.  Maybe the therapist had been right, and he'd learn to deal with those moments that assaulted him from nowhere, tossing him back across time and space until he was surrounded by death and destruction and blood and gore. 

"Focus."  That was another thing they'd taught him.  Find something pleasant to ground himself, a person or place that took him away from the dark place his memories threatened to drag him into. 

It was her face. Sarah's beautiful face, with vivid blue eyes so crystal clear and bright, lit from within like sunlight on a serene pool.  They reminded him of calm waters with barely a ripple, and he wanted to dive into their depths and never come up. 

Long dark lashes surrounded them, framing their exquisite azure color.  Tiny lines at the corners of her eyes radiated out, what his mama used to call laugh lines.

And her smile.  It flirted across her lips, a barely there lift of the corners, but enough he knew she smiled often.  He wanted to see that smile grow and blossom.  Needed to see her happy, the same way he needed his next breath. 

Her hand lifted, reaching toward him in invitation, beckoning him toward her, welcoming him until he felt like he'd come home. 

He opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed with the sudden realization he'd finally figured out what it was about Sarah that drew him so inexplicably.  When he was with her, near her—he felt like he'd come home. 

# # # # #

No matter how she looked at it, a prison was still a prison.  Even though the walls surrounding her didn't have bars, it didn't change the fact she couldn't leave. 

Anna paced across the thick carpet again, following the same path she'd walked for days.  Back and forth.  From the bed to the bathroom doorway and back again, retracing her steps.  The bottoms of her feet finally didn't hurt from the cuts she'd gotten being dragged across the parking lot.  She gave a bittersweet laugh at the thought she'd probably wear a groove in the carpet, and she didn't give a damn. 

She'd lost count of how many days she'd spent waiting to find out her fate, but deep in her gut she knew.  It was time to stop hiding from the truth.

Death awaited her.

Maybe not today, but any time now the grim reaper would knock on her door, and she'd be gone.  She'd vanish without a trace.  Never have the chance to leave her mark on the world, except with her own family.  Will they ever know what happened to me? 

Her hands fisted at her sides and she fought back the tears threatening to fall.  She'd cried enough to fill an ocean.  Useless tears, they'd accomplished nothing, and didn't make her feel any better.  She missed her family more than she'd thought possible.  The lure and excitement of going away for college had tempted her to spread her wings and fly.  That meant moving halfway across the country, leaving California behind and starting a whole new life at Louisiana State University. 

Now she'd give anything to be back in San Diego, with her mother stuffing her with homemade peanut butter cookies, and her dad fussing about her forgetting to close the garage door again.  And she missed her big sister.  She idolized Sarah, and wanted to be just like her.  Had she ever told Sarah how proud she was of her, that she'd followed her dream of being a writer? 

Now, because she'd trusted the wrong person, made one stupid mistake, chances were good she'd never see any of them again.  She wrapped her arms around her chest, beating back the thought.  Hell, no.  I'm not dead yet. 

A soft knock sounded on the door right before it swung open, freezing her in her tracks.  She'd stopped hiding, it never did any good.  He'd wait until she eventually came out into the open.  If there was one thing she'd discovered, he was patient.  It wasn't like she hadn't tried.  The first few times, she'd hidden in the closet or locked herself in the bathroom.  At first, he'd searched.  After that, he just waited quietly, biding his time until she caved. 

And she was tired of it all. Tired of staring at four walls, or out the huge glass window at the view of the city, with all the people milling around, free to go about their lives, while she was denied the simplest luxury—the freedom of choice.  Even the small television was useless. 

"Babe, how are you today?" 

"Don't call me that, you—you butt." 

She watched the smile disappear from his face, replaced by the look of resignation she'd come to expect.  Why had she trusted him?  He'd seemed so nice when they'd first met.  Sweet and friendly, and somehow vaguely familiar.  She remembered spotting him at Bimini Jack's, leaning against the grass cloth-covered wall looking at her.  When they'd made eye contact, he'd waved but hadn't left his spot. 

The next time she glanced his way, he was still there, watching her.  She'd secretly been a little flattered, and when he'd motioned her over, she'd whispered to Celia she'd be back, and joined him. 

"Biggest mistake of my life."

"What mistake, sweetheart?"  He stepped closer and reached for her hand.  She snatched it out of reach behind her back before he could touch her.  The last thing she wanted was his hands on her.  Just the thought made her want to vomit.

"Meeting you.  Letting you talk me into going out with you.  Worst.  Mistake.  Ever." 

His mouth tightened and he reached forward, gripping her chin in a merciless hold.  "You need to change your attitude, little girl.  I'm the only thing standing between you and a world of hurt."  His fingers squeezed tighter before he turned her loose with a sigh. 

"Would it do any good to promise I'll keep my mouth shut?"  She knew it wouldn't, but asked anyway.  She'd promise him just about anything he wanted, if it meant she'd be free and able to go home. 

He shook his head.  "He wouldn't believe you.  I've asked over and over.  Gimme a little more time, babe.  He's distracted now, but I'll wear him down, convince him to let you—us—go." 

She flung her arms out.  "He's never going to let me out of here alive.  You know it.  I know it.  There are only two ways I'm ever leaving this room—you help me escape and I never stop running—or in a body bag."

"Dammit, babe, I won't let that happen.  We're meant to be together, you know that.  I'll make him see things my way.  I just need a little more time." 

He reached for her again, and this time she went into his arms, though her skin wanted to climb off her bones when he touched her.  He hadn't done anything sexual yet, but every time he came by her room, he got a little more forward, a little more aggressive.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to know he wouldn't take no for an answer much longer.  Maybe if she could convince him to trust her, that she was beginning to fall for his line of baloney, he'd make a mistake and she could make a run for it.

"I just want to go home."  The words, barely above a whisper, seemed to echo like a cannon shot.  His arms tightened around her in a vicelike grip, and it was difficult to draw a breath. 

"No.  We're going to be together.  Always." 

And just like that his crazy personality was back.  His rapid shifts between mostly lucid and calm could segue in a heartbeat into a possessive abusive monster.  This persona scared her to death.  Her upper arms still carried the bruises from when she'd tried to walk away on that horrible night, before everything turned into a hellish nightmare.  She'd quickly figured out whenever this guy showed up, the best thing to do was agree with everything he said—until he went away. 

"I didn't say I was leaving you.  I'd never do that.  But I miss my parents and my sister.  Maybe we can invite them to visit?"  She spoke the lie without feeling bad about it.  Anything was better than taking another beating.  She could still feel his backhanded slap across her face.  The bruises reflected in the mirror every morning were a vivid reminder of how dangerous he could be, even when the monster was buried deep. 

"After the wedding.  We'll stop and see them on the way back from our honeymoon.  Would you like that, love?" 

She fought the tears threatening to overflow.  There had to be a way out—there had to.  She wasn't about to let this son of a bitch and his father win. 

Unbidden, a man's face popped into her head.  One she'd seen before, in her dreams.  Though she hadn't slept much since being trapped in this limbo between heaven and hell, this god-forsaken prison, but when she slept, she'd dreamt of a stranger.  Tall and muscular with long dark hair and haunted eyes.  He came to her in her dreams like an angel, with a promise of peace and safety.  They'd never spoken, though she somehow knew he'd been searching for her. 

"I'm tired.  It's time for you to go." 

"But I want you, my love.  Surely…"

"You promised.  Remember?  We'll wait until our wedding night, so I can come to you untouched and pure.  It's what we both want." 

He sighed and took a step back, looking at her with such longing, but behind his eyes she saw the monster peeking out.  She was playing a dangerous game, and prayed it didn't come back to bite her in the butt.  But the thought of his hands on her, or worse—she really would rather take her chances with the swamp creatures he'd threatened to toss her to. 

"Of course, sweetheart.  The waiting is hard, because I want you so much."  He pressed a kiss against her forehead.  "I'll be back to see you tomorrow." 

"I can't wait."  Sarcasm laced her words, but he seemed oblivious to anything but his own thoughts.  She'd gotten a reprieve this time, but it wouldn't last forever.  Because the next time she might not be able to stall him, and once he touched her, took what she was unwilling to give, she was a dead woman.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ranger grabbed the phone, looked at the caller ID, and answered on the second ring.  "Whatcha got?"

"Identified the guy from Anna's photo."  There was an element of accomplishment in Tex's voice.  Ranger knew Wolf and his team were still deployed out on a top secret mission, and Tex provided their technical support behind-the-scenes and whatever else needed doing, usually off the books.  The man was a master with the computer, and didn't have a problem going through unofficial channels.  It's what got things done. 

"Excellent work, my friend.  Got a name?"

"Peyton Elliott.  Senior at Texas A&M.  Apparently he spent Spring Break with some friends in New Orleans.  He's back at College Station attending classes." 

"Texas.  Not a local, probably why nobody recognized him.  Okay, text me his info and I'll have one of Carpenter's Texas team check him out."

"Don't bother," Tex replied.  "I already had one of my pals who lives in Austin follow up.  He's squeaky clean.  Mr. Elliott remembers seeing your gal dancing, thought she was cute, but he was there with his girlfriend and they left together.  He's alibied for the entire time he was in New Orleans.  Sorry, Ranger, but he's not your guy." 

"Dammit."  Ranger squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand over his face, feeling the day's worth of scruff.  Disappointment rolled through him.  He'd hoped the picture would lead them to a viable suspect, help them find Anna.  Instead, it was another dead end. 

"I wanted him to be the one. I hate having to tell Sarah we've hit another dead end." 

"Nobody else popping on your radar?"

Ranger paused, thinking about all the people they'd talked to, the improbable leads they'd followed, all with no results.  He'd missed something, some link.  It was probably staring him in the face, yet he couldn't grasp it. 

"Tell you what, Ranger, send me everything you've got.  List the names of everybody you've talked to, no matter how insignificant and let me run it through a couple of programs.  See if anything shakes loose.  Maybe a new set of eyes might make a difference."

"Yeah, it can't hurt.  Gimme about an hour to get it all down and I'll shoot you an e-mail.  Thanks, man."

"No problem.  I want to help you find Anna.  I know what it feels like to search for somebody.  This hits a little too close to home, you know?" 

Ranger didn't know all the details, though he'd heard Tex had to search for the woman he loved, Melody.  He'd gotten his happy ending, and Ranger really wanted Anna's story to have one too. 

"I'm heading out to meet Sarah.  Got a couple of ideas to check out.  I'll shoot you the info before I leave.  Tell Wolf…dammit, I don't know what to tell him.  Feel like I'm failing him."

"Nah, you're doing the best you can.  He wouldn't ask for anything else.  I'll be in touch if anything shakes loose."

"Thanks." 

Ranger stood and yanked his T-shirt over his head, and tossed it onto the corner of the bed.  He'd grab a shower and a shave, then pick up Sarah.  Maybe they'd have better luck today. 

Maybe.

# # # # #

"Come on, baby.  I promise you'll have fun." 

Anna stared up and up, because he was so much taller than her, his brown eyes cheerful and happy, with a twinkle that matched his grin.  She still couldn't believe somebody so gorgeous wanted to be with her.  Especially with all the other girls in the group—he could have picked any of them.  Each one prettier.  Taller.  Curvier.  Yet he'd focused his undivided attention on her.  For the first time since she'd gotten to New Orleans, she felt special.  For the first time since she'd left home, she felt wanted—and she soaked it up like a starving plant would an unexpected spring rain. 

"I don't know.  What about my friends?"

"We're not gonna be gone that long.  Plus, you'll have your phone, and can call them.  It's only an hour or so, and I promise you're gonna love this place.  Trust me, it's exclusive and by invitation only.  You'll never get another chance like this." 

"It doesn't feel right, sneaking out like this.  Maybe I should leave a note or tell somebody where we're going?" 

He shook his head, disappointment evident on his face.  "I thought you were up for a little adventure, but if you're scared, I can find somebody else…"

"No, wait!  I want to go."  She latched onto his forearm, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her fingertips.  Watched his lips curve back into that smile she loved seeing.  She could do this, be the girl he thought she was—adventurous and free-spirited—instead of the scaredy-cat she felt like. 

"We have to leave now."

She gave one last look over her shoulder at her friends, sitting at a table across the crowded bar.  Bimini Jack's was wall-to-wall people and they'd been lucky to snag the table.  They were all laughing and drinking and having fun.  Nobody would miss her if she went with him, and she'd be back before anybody realized she'd left.  Besides, she'd promised herself before coming on this trip she'd do something exciting—something daring—and so far all they'd done was go from club to club dancing.  She wanted to LIVE! 

Looping her arm through his, she grinned up at him.  "Let's go." 

Anna's eyes sprang open as the dream began fading.  Damn, she'd been a fool.  Naïve didn't begin to describe how stupid she felt, trusting somebody she'd just met.  Biggest mistake of my life.

Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, she stood and walked into the bathroom, used the facilities, and dug out the toothbrush he'd given her and brushed her teeth and hair.  Such an ordinary and monotonous thing, but somehow this familiar ritual, performing a task she did every morning before she'd been locked away, grounded her with some semblance of normalcy. 

Her fingertips probed at the fading black-and-blue marks around her right eye.  The swelling looked less this morning, though the bruises on her upper arms still stood out in vivid purples and reddish hues against her pale skin.

Slipping on the panties and bra she'd washed out the night before in the sink and hung over the shower rail to dry, she grimaced.  She'd been wearing the same clothes for days, because nobody gave her anything else to wear.  There wasn't much she could do about cleaning the dress, unless she wanted to wander around naked.  That wasn't going to happen, since she never knew when either of her captors was going to show up. 

"I want to go home."  She whispered the words, the same ones she repeated every morning.  Maybe today would be the day she'd figure a way out of this gilded cage. 

The room itself was beautiful.  A gorgeous bedroom with striped white-and-gold wallpaper, it held a classical appeal for its elegant simplicity.  Not really her style, but she knew it was expensive and probably considered tasteful by some hoity-toity professional interior designer.  Thick blue carpet her toes sank into with every step covered the bedroom floor.  A huge king-sized bed dominated the majority of the space, with its elaborate scrollwork headboard of dark cherry wood.  It was a bed fit for a queen, yet she felt like the lowliest peasant, especially since she'd give everything she owned to get out of here and never see that bed again. 

One large window with tempered shatterproof glass took up almost one whole wall, from floor to ceiling, the view stunning.  She knew it was shatterproof, since she'd slammed a chair into it.  The only thing hurt was her arms from the shock of the blow—and her pride. 

High above New Orleans, she was afforded a panoramic cityscape view which spread out before her, taunting her with the outside world, yet she knew the glass didn't permit anybody to see inside. 

It was still a prison, even if the surroundings weren't a metal cot and stainless steel toilet.  A hostage to fate, bad luck, and lousy timing.  And for trusting somebody who didn't deserve it. 

Seeing her face reflected in the glass, she wished her mystery man could see her—find her.  She only saw him in her dreams.  At first, the contact lasted mere seconds, and she hadn't seen his face.  But each time she slept, their contact got longer. 

If he was real, he'd find her.  Search the ends of the earth for her.  He wasn't meant to be her lover—she never got that kind of vibe from him.  No, he was a protector, a warrior who'd fight her demons and rescue her.  He wasn't Prince Charming, and she sure as hell wasn't Cinderella.  But she'd fight with every ounce of breath in her body if he'd only show up. 

She didn't bother turning on the television.  What was the use?  It wasn't connected to an antenna or cable, just to a DVD player, so the only thing she could do was watch movies, and that grew old really fast.  She rarely watched television anyway, too busy with her studies and classes.  Besides, how much TV could she possibly watch before she went stir crazy?  She'd reached that point a couple of days ago. 

At the brief rap on the door, she spun around, her hand at her throat.  Which one would it be?  Of her two choices, she'd take the crazy one every time.  At least he was nice to her—though she knew he wanted more and it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be put off, wouldn't take no for an answer.   The other one, though?  He scared her.  On a bone deep level he terrified her, because not only was he sane—he was powerful. 

The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man, one she'd only seen twice, and wished she'd never laid eyes on.  Just her luck, it would be the one man she didn't want to deal with, because he didn't do things on a whim.  He was methodical, which made him dangerous and deadly. 

Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked exactly how she'd remembered him from the other time, the only difference being the color.  His dark brown hair was shot through with reddish highlights and a spattering of gray at the temples.  He looked like the perfect, sophisticated gentleman—except she knew better.

Her hands balled into fists as she stared at him mutely.  It was useless to say anything—he never answered her questions.

"Good morning, my dear.  I trust your accommodations are still satisfactory."  He didn't enter the room more than a couple of steps, as if breathing the same air as her would somehow contaminate him. 

What an a-hole. 

She didn't respond, simply glaring at him.  He shook his head.  "This really is your own fault.  If you'd minded your own business…"

"My fault?  You son of a bitch, how is this my fault?  All I did was agree to go out with somebody I met at a club.  Was I supposed to know, when he invited me to come back to his place, I'd meet his psycho father?  I'm not the one who shoved an icepick in that guy's eye and killed him.  You did that!" 

He didn't move a muscle.  The only evidence he'd heard her was the frown spreading across his lips.  "This is precisely why you're here.  You can't be trusted to keep your mouth shut." 

"I've told you, repeatedly, I won't say anything.  I'm not an idiot.  My life won't be worth two cents if I tell anybody what I saw.  Wait a sec, I didn't see anything.  I was never here.  I've never seen you before—isn't that how the story goes?  Look, I just want to go home and forget I ever set foot in Louisiana—which will never happen again if I ever get out of this state." 

He paused and studied her face, and she stood frozen, though inside her whole body quivered, waiting to see if he'd believe her—and let her go.  Instead, he gave her a pitying look, turned on his heel and walked away, the lock clicking loudly in the now-closed door. 

Anna crumpled to the floor in a heap, tears flowing, fists pressed against her mouth to muffle her screams.  He'd just cemented her fate and she knew with fatalistic certainty she'd never leave this room again—at least not alive. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sarah opened the hotel room door at Ranger's knock.  She'd been up for hours, after tossing and turning most of the night.  How could she sleep, when she didn't know where Anna was? 

"You okay?"  Ranger's voice was laced with concern.  His hand reached up and brushed against her cheek, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into that comfort, and let go of everything.  To take one minute to do nothing but feel something other than hopelessness or fear.  But she didn't, instead taking a step back and ushering him into the room. 

"I'm fine.  Just didn't sleep well.  Hotel beds are never the same as sleeping at home."

"I heard back from Tex.  The picture is a dead end." 

Dang it, she'd been counting on finding out the guy in the photo knew where Anna was or at least remembered seeing her with somebody.  "He identified the man in the photo?"

"Student from Texas A&M named Peyton Elliott.  He remembers seeing your sister dancing, but he never talked to her.  Spent the entire Spring Break with his girlfriend and his friends."

"So, where to now?  I'm not giving up." 

"Never thought you would.  I keep going over the timeline you wrote out.  Anna's friends said they went around to different clubs each night, right?" 

She nodded.  "That's right." 

"I was thinking, Felicia said that half the girls went to Zoner's and the other half went to Bimini Jack's, and that was the group Anna was with.  What if they went back to Bimini Jack's again?  For some of them it would have been their first time there, but Anna had already been there before.  Let's try there again, see if an earlier crowd might remember her." 

Sarah weighed Ranger's words.  It made sense that the girls might not remember Anna going to Bimini Jack's when the group had split up the one night.  They were grasping at straws, but she allowed the slightest bit of hope to build, though she wasn't going to get too excited, not yet. 

"It's too early, they're not open yet." 

Ranger grinned and she felt a quiver shoot up her spine.  The smile changed his face, made him seem lighter, more carefree.  He was a gorgeous man, notwithstanding the scar that bisected his cheek.  It didn't detract from his appeal.  Just the opposite, it made him appear dark and dangerous—the bad boy your momma warned you about. 

And she'd always had a thing for bad boys.  The books she wrote were filled with them.

"I told Remy we'd meet up with him.  Guy's brilliant and he's got those cop credentials so people might talk to him where they won't talk to us." 

"Good idea."  She slid her phone into her purse, wanting to leave, get out on the streets.  Do something.  Anything was better than standing still and thinking about what Anna might be going through, what she was dealing with.  Her imagination took her to some really dark places.  Being a romance writer, she desperately fought against thinking worst case scenarios.  That was fine for fiction—but not for her baby sister.  No, Anna would have a happy ending and come home, where no matter what happened, they'd love her and help her through it—no questions, no recriminations.  As long as she was safe.

"We're meeting Remy at Café Du Monde in about twenty minutes.  From there, we'll make plans on our next move."  He held out his hand and she looked at it for a long second before sliding hers into it.  He squeezed her fingers gently, and quietly led her from the hotel room. 

Within minutes, they'd stepped out of the lobby and onto the street, with people milling around, going about their daily business, and she wanted to scream to the heavens about the unfairness of life.  Anna was sweet and kind and caring.  She didn't deserve to go missing, with nobody knowing whether she was alive or…

"Stop it.  We're not out of options yet.  We will find Anna."  Ranger squeezed her hand again, and she felt warmth creep into her face.  This was so wrong.  She felt like a schoolgirl going out for a soda with her first boyfriend, while her sister was heaven knew where or what kind of danger she might be in.  So why did it feel so right to have Ranger by her side? 

"It's not too far if you'd like to walk, or we can catch a cab." 

"Walking's good."  Maybe a brisk stroll into Vieux Carré or The French Quarter would clear her mind and wash away the stench of her ugly thoughts.  The hotel she'd chosen wasn't in the official Quarter itself, but outside, and catered to the tourists that flocked the city streets.  It was in a nice enough neighborhood that she felt safe, especially with Ranger by her side. 

As they walked, she took in the beauty of the surrounding city.  She'd barely stopped for breath in her whirlwind course of finding her missing sister, not even to take in the sights and sounds and scents of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. 

"She's magnificent, my French beauty."  Ranger pointed toward a long wrought-iron fence, covered with bougainvillea blossoms, their brilliant reddish-pink color striking against the metal's aged patina.  Brand new shops stood alongside decades' old businesses, proclaiming the once proud city was rebounding from the devastating losses Hurricane Katrina left in her wake.  Yet the people and the places survived and thrived, never once giving up on their heritage.  And it showed in the colorful awnings, the brightly painted doorways, and window boxes along the streets. 

With a hand on her elbow, Ranger led her down one side street after another, pointing out places and things she might have otherwise missed.  He really did know the city and its people.  A few stopped and chatted, asking about his father, or just waved and said hello.  He was unendingly polite to each person, showing them a level of courtesy and respect few people managed in this day and age. 

It made her look at him through a different lens.  With her writer's eye, she could picture him as a knight of old, riding forth to battle to defend hearth and home, or at the demand of his king.  She saw him as a sailor, commanding a brigantine across the stormy waves, a bulwark his men would follow to the icy depths of the sea at his orders, yet he never failed to bring his ship in safely.  He was truly a man of mystery.  One she wouldn't mind exploring to its fullest, if they got the chance—after her sister was found and brought home safely. 

All too soon they'd reached Café Du Monde, with its landmark green and white striped awning, proclaiming itself proudly to its patrons.  Ranger led them to a table just inside the door, one already occupied by a dark-haired man with smiling whiskey-colored eyes.

"Ranger, good to see you.  Ms. Sloane, it's nice to meet you." 

They'd barely been seated before a cheery waitress came and took their orders.  Sarah decided on café au lait and beignets.  She liked her coffee not quite as strong as they served it here in the south with that bite of chicory, and having the hot milk added seemed like a smart move. 

"Find anything?"  Ranger stared at Remy, and Sarah watched the silent exchange between the two men, one of those where they communicated without saying a word.  She couldn't help wondering what kind of relationship they had.  Ranger had mentioned they were friends, but this seemed to be a deeper connection than simple friendship.  This feels like family.

Remy pulled out a sheath of papers and laid them on the table.  "Here's everything we've got.  Wish it was more.  Savannah Sloane was reported missing on Sunday morning by the women she'd accompanied for Spring Break.  According to the officer who took their statements, the last place they saw her was at Bimini Jack's." 

Ranger exchanged a look with her.  Maybe their hunch this morning was correct.  All roads seemed to lead them straight back to Bimini Jack's.

Ranger leafed through the pages, handing them to her once he'd finished.  She couldn’t help giving him an I-should-have-seen-these-first glare.  He simply quirked his brow, as if daring her to say something, before turning back to Remy. 

"Who checked out Bimini Jack's?" 

Remy set his coffee cup onto the table before answering.  "Perkins.  He's good.  Has worked a lot of missing person cases, and knows the right questions to ask, and he's good at reading between the lines."  He paused a second before asking, "Have you asked Gator to put out feelers?" 

"Gonna talk to him this afternoon.  He went with Abe on a two-nighter, so he's been out of pocket."  He knew if anybody could get people to open up and talk, it was his dad.  Nobody kept secrets from Gator Boudreau—nobody. 

"Who's Gator?"  She'd been watching the interchange between the two, her eyes darting back and forth between one man and the other.  Remy Lamoreaux was a good looking man, with dark hair and sexy bedroom eyes, but somehow he didn't make her heart skip a beat or send shivers down her spine the way Ranger did. 

"He's my dad."  Ranger gave her a wink when he answered.

Remy chuckled.  "Gator Boudreau is a legend around these parts, chere.  If a fly sneezes in Orleans Parish, Gator knows about it.  Ain't nothing happens without word getting back to him." 

Sarah contemplated Remy's words.  If Ranger's dad had his finger on the pulse of everything that happened in New Orleans, maybe he'd have heard something about Anna. 

"What are we waiting for?  Let's go and find him."  She started to rise, and Ranger laid a hand on her thigh, shaking his head.  Flinging herself back into her seat, she crossed her arms, knowing she was acting like a petulant child, but this sitting and doing nothing drove her crazy.

"Calm down, sugar.  He won't be back for hours yet.  I tried calling earlier, but knowing him he's got his phone turned off—if he even bothered taking it with him.  My dad takes his fishing very seriously." 

"This waiting is driving me nuts.  We have to do something!" 

"You are doing something."  Remy's deep voice replied.  "You're following the clues, checking out leads.  This is exactly what I do every single day.  It's tedious and boring as hell, but you've got to stay focused.  If you race off half-cocked, you're going to screw something up and lose valuable time.  I know it's hard, chere, but have a little patience." 

She huffed out a breath.  "Fine." 

Ranger laughed and she joined in, lightening the mood.  Sarah glanced his way before turning to Remy, the gleam in her eye warning she was up to something.

"You've known Ranger a long time, right?" 

"Most of my life, yeah." 

"So, how'd he get the name Ranger?  Is it one of those military nicknames, or did he have it before that?" 

Ah, hell. 

Ranger scowled at Remy, who grinned back.  Just like that, she knew he'd tell her, and there wasn't a damn thing Ranger could do about it.  Unless he told her first—

"He's had the nickname since we were kids."  Remy reached over and slapped him on the back.  "Ole Gaston here, well he kinda hated his name, but that's the name his momma chose, and that's what she called him."

"Traitor."  Ranger murmured the word under his breath, though he knew she heard him. 

"Come on, bro, it's a cute story." 

"Wait, if it's going to embarrass him, I don't need to know." 

"Go ahead, blabbermouth," Ranger motioned to Remy with his hand, making the talkie-talkie motion. 

"I guess we were about what, nine or ten?  While the rest of us were outside fishing or pretending to be swashbuckling pirates, Gaston was inside watching every episode he could find of The Lone Ranger.  You know, the old black and white show from the fifties with Clayton Moore.  He spent so much time watching that show and reading all the comics, we started calling him the Lone Ranger.  Pretty soon it got shortened to Ranger, and it kinda stuck." 

Sarah turned to face Ranger.  "I loved that show.  Still do.  Anna and I used to watch it on Saturday mornings."  She studied his face intently, before continuing.  "I guess it makes sense, you becoming a Navy SEAL.  They uphold the same core values that the Lone Ranger did.  I admire that—and you." 

She watched pink tint his cheeks at the compliment.  It didn't matter, because she'd meant every word, though she hadn't intended to embarrass him.  She admired him. 

"When he went in the Navy, it's the handle they gave him."  Remy leaned in conspiratorially toward Sarah.  "Don't tell him I said this, but I admire the hell outta him too." 

"Shut it, jerk."  Ranger reached across the table, aiming a fake blow toward Remy's head, which he dodged. 

"Hey!" 

She loved the playfulness between the two men, so at ease with each other.  They reminded her of the way Anna would tease her, and blinked back tears. 

# # # # # #

Ranger caught the smile on Sarah's face, and felt a warmth in his chest.  Her whole face lit up when she laughed. 

The text tone on his phone beeped, and he pulled it out, swiping across the screen. 

It was from his dad.

Got back an hour ago.  In town now asking around.  Head out to the house when you can.  Will let you know what I found out.

Which meant his daddy already uncovered something he'd missed.  He shook his head.  Nothing the man did surprised him anymore.  Sometimes he wondered exactly what his father did at the end of the Vietnam War.  There were a few years Gator refused to talk about—not even to his family. 

"Looks like Gator's back.  Wants us to meet him at his place."  He held out his hand to Sarah.  "You ready to go?" 

"Absolutely."  She placed her hand in his, turning toward Remy.  "It was very nice meeting you, Remy.  Thank you for helping look for Anna." 

Remy stood.  "I'll let you know if I hear anything, and I'll stay on top of the guys to keep their eyes peeled.  Ranger, let me know if Gator hears anything."

"Will do." 

Stepping out into the bright sunshine, Ranger pulled out a pair of mirrored sunglasses and slid them on.  He wasn't surprised when Sarah did the same. 

"Fastest way to the house is by water.  You mind riding in a boat?" 

"I'd love a boat ride.  I can't wait to see the real heart of Louisiana, from the water." 

"It's a short walk to the dock where my boat's tied off." 

He placed his hand on the small of her back, and they headed down Decatur Street.  Excitement zinged through his blood.  He wouldn't mind showing Sarah the real New Orleans, the city he loved and wanted to share with her—the sights, and sounds, and smells that made her the jewel of the Mississippi. 

But first, they had to make a trip to Gator's house, or as Ranger liked to call it—home.   

CHAPTER NINE

Gator Boudreau stood erect, like a sentry standing guard, at the end of the wooden dock.  Ranger steered his boat up alongside, and tossed the rope to his dad to tie it off.  He couldn't explain why he'd wanted Sarah to come out to the old family home to meet his father.  They could just as easily have met up in town, yet he'd wanted her to have this glimpse into his past.  See the land and the bayou the way he remembered it, and loved it to this day.  A lot of things had changed in his life, but the swamps and its denizens remained the same.

"You made good time, boy."  Gator stuck out a hand and helped Sarah clamor out of the boat.  His father raised a brow at her shirt as he glanced back at him.  Ranger grinned, ducking his head so his daddy couldn't see his eyes, knowing he recognized it as his.  It was one of his favorites that he wore a lot.

"Ms. Sloane, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

"Mr. Boudreau," Sarah stuck out her hand and Gator ignored it, instead pulling her forward into a brief hug.  Her hands slid around him for a brief moment, before his daddy let her go. 

That's weird.  Daddy ain't much into hugging strangers, especially women.  Wonder what brought that on?

"None of that Mr. Boudreau nonsense, honey.  You call me Gator.  Let's head on inside.  I made up some sweet tea."  Gator looped Sarah's hand through his arm, giving it a quick pat, and Ranger rolled his eyes, walking behind them.  He wasn't sure what his daddy was up to, but it had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.  While his father loved women, and treated them with respect, he'd never seen him react to anybody the way he was Sarah, treating her like she was royalty.

The house where he'd grown up was a sprawling ranch which faced the edge of the lake.  The yard overlooked the waterfront and was covered with an abundance of green grass and tall oaks.  Spanish moss decorated the branches, resembling melting candle wax dripping from their huge branches.  A large wraparound porch circled the entire front of the house, with a porch swing where he remembered his mama spending time curled up amongst the cushions, and staring out over the water.  Several white-painted rockers were scattered on either side of the front door. 

When he'd been a kid, he'd thought the place was huge, especially after seeing some of the houses his friends lived in.  Nowadays he saw it for what it was, two thousand square feet of brick, concrete, and wood, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms.  A little tired and worn around the edges, yet even though he no longer lived there, it was and probably always would be—home.   

Settling into the kitchen, Gator poured iced tea into glasses and passed them around.  A tray of cookies sat beside the tea pitcher.  Ranger recognized them immediately.  They were his daddy's special visitors-are-coming-over cookies, the ones that had to be ordered from the local bakery ahead of time.

He narrowed his eyes at his daddy, shooting him a glare, which Gator ignored, focusing all his attention and charm on Sarah.  One day he'd figure out how his daddy always knew when folks were coming.  Today, he'd just enjoy the cookies and conversation.  Because Gator wouldn't tell them a damned thing until he was good and ready. 

"Mr. Boudreau—Gator," Sarah hastily corrected when he frowned, "I don't mean to sound abrupt, but have you heard anything—about my sister?" 

Gator leaned back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest in a comfortable posture and sighed, shaking his head.  "There's rumbling on the streets.  Ain't got nothing concrete, but I'll tell you what I'm hearing."

"Please, anything you can tell me—us—will help." 

Ranger reached across and wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing softly.  He didn't give a damn at the look his daddy shot him, what he did care about was the anxious tone in Sarah's voice.  The way her hand trembled slightly beneath his.  He smiled when she reversed its position and she twined her fingers with his.  That was more like it. 

Gator started to chuckle, but quickly masked it with a cough.  Ranger wasn't fooled by his father's antics.  He knew exactly what the old goat was up to.  He was playing matchmaker.  A couple of years back, he'd gotten it into his head that he wasn't getting any younger, and it was time to see some grandbabies running around his place, and he'd been trying to match up all his sons ever since.  At the time, he'd been deployed and out of Gator's range.  Now that he was back in New Orleans, apparently his daddy thought he was fair game. 

Not that he could complain too much—since his thoughts were running along the same lines.  When everything was said and done, and the smoke had cleared, he intended to make Sarah his in every way possible, including legally.  She just didn't know it yet.  PTSD notwithstanding, or the fact he wasn't good enough for her—nobody was going to keep them apart—not even me. 

"Mind letting me see the picture of Anna?" 

Ranger pulled out his phone and pulled up the photo, feeling that spark he felt when he saw her face.  He'd dreamed about her again.  The good news was in this dream she was alive, though she wasn't in great shape.  Her face and arms were covered with bruises, and she'd had a bloodied lip.  He drew in a deep breath, and handed over the phone. 

Gator studied the picture closely, silent for several seconds.  Finally, he handed it back.  "She resembles the gal I heard about.  You remember Walter?"  He directed the question to Ranger.  With his nod, he continued, "Walter's been hanging out down in The Quarter most evenings lately.  Panhandling, figured the tourists would be soft touches.  Been sleeping in a bolt-hole behind a couple of clubs." 

"Dad, get to the point.  Sarah would rather hear the unvarnished truth.  You don't have to pretty things up." 

Gator frowned at him, his eyes narrowed.  "Don't you be telling me how to tell my story, boy.  Gonna do things my way."  His frown turned into a smile when he looked at Sarah.  "I can tell you're a strong woman, sugar, and more than able to handle the truth.  But, I'm gonna tell it like Walter told me, regardless of what my hardheaded son wants." 

Sarah chuckled.  "You tell it any way you want, Gator.  We'll listen and not interrupt again."  She shot Ranger a glare, but he read the humor in her eyes.  He played along and threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated movement. 

"Fine." 

Gator snorted.  "Anyway, Walter said he saw a couple coming out the back of Bimini Jack's.  Thinks it was a Friday or Saturday night, but he isn't positive.  Only reason he remembers is 'cos most folks don't leave through the back door.  It's one of them employees-only kind."

Gator paused to take a sip of his iced tea, and Ranger wanted to reach across and throttle him.  His daddy had a way of telling a story, and he wouldn't be rushed.  He ought to be used to it by now, but he'd rather just get the facts so they could head back into town and keep looking for Anna.  Because he knew deep in his gut time was running out.  He'd allowed himself to hope after the last dream that she really was still alive, and waiting for them to find her. 

"Walter said the girl was kinda unsteady on her feet, like maybe she'd had too much to drink.  Only the guy, a big hulking fella he said, grabbed her arm and started hustling her along, and she tried to yank her arm away from the guy.  They tussled a bit, but not so much he felt like he should interfere.  The way Walter figured, they were having a lover's quarrel, and he wasn't about to get in the middle of that.  The little gal stumbled and lost her shoes.  Said she mumbled under her breath, but didn't stop to pick 'em up.  Went along with the big fellow willingly after that.  Just walked around the corner barefoot, and he didn't see them again after that."

Gator reached onto the chair beside him and lifted a brown paper sack Ranger hadn't noticed.  Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of women's shoes.  Dainty and pretty, they had about three inch heels and were covered with multicolored sparkles that glittered in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window.

Sarah's gasp said it all.  He didn't need to see the color leach from her cheeks, to know she recognized them.  Those pretty heels belonged to her sister. 

"Those are Anna's."  Her hand shook as it reached for one shoe, her fingertip stroking along its glittering surface.  "We each picked up a pair of cheap heels on the clearance rack at the store, and stopped at the craft store and bought the sparkles and glitter.  We thought it would be a great idea to make matching sets, the shoes and these little clutch purses.  It was a project we worked on together, for our parent's anniversary party."  Her voice hitched on the last word.  "I didn't know she'd taken them with her when she left for school." 

Gator reached across and gently patted her hand.  "You gotta understand, hon, there's only so much credence you can pay Walter's story.  He's a good man, but living on the streets, he tends to be drunk more than sober most of the time, or high when he can score the money for a fix.  He picked up the shoes to sell 'em, except I got to him before he had a chance." 

Ranger looked at his dad, who was watching him closely, before turning to her.  "We're gonna find her, Sarah." 

"I know," she whispered.  Wiping away the tears, she stared at him.  "This proves somebody knows where she is.  She didn't leave or wander off.  Walter can tell the police what he saw…"

"Walter ain't gonna talk to the cops.  He don't trust 'em.  They approach him, he's gonna disappear." 

"Think he'd talk to Remy?  I think he's dealt with Walter before.  I know I can get Remy to meet him outside the police station." 

Gator considered his words for a long moment, the silence stretching out.  Ranger could hear the pulse beating inside his head, one beat, two, before Gator finally nodded. 

"He might be okay if he sees you too.  Though he's liable to be a bit skittish, so go easy on him."  He turned toward Sarah, explaining, "Walter's a vet, served in the Gulf War, and he's got PTSD pretty bad.  Not a whole lotta folks he trusts."

She nodded.  "We won't pressure him, just ask a couple of questions.  I promise we won't upset him.  But he might have seen something that could give a clue about who took my sister.  If we ask the right questions, it might jog his memory." 

Gator stood and walked around the table, and pulled Sarah from her chair.  "Come here, darlin'."  He wrapped his arms around her, much to Ranger's shock.  His daddy was just full of surprises today.  Never much of the touchy-feely type, he sure had taken a shine to Sarah.  Though he'd much rather she was in his arms, with him offering her comfort and support.  He listened to Gator speaking softly, telling Sarah not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. 

When she smiled at his father, it was like a glimpse of heaven right in the center of the old family kitchen, and he felt his gut clench.  The look on her face, the joy—he wanted to see that expression there all the time.  Didn't want any sadness touching her life, and made a promise to do everything within his ability to make sure she stayed happy. 

Sarah stepped back out of his father's arms, and turned to him.  "Why don't you call Remy and see if he can meet us and we'll go talk to Walter?" 

"Good idea, son.  While you're doing that, I'm gonna take Sarah outside and show her around a bit." 

Gator gave him a wink, before opening the back door, leading to the outside deck.  The old coot, flirting with his girl.  He did smile, glad his daddy liked Sarah.  Not that it mattered, but he wanted his approval, since he planned on keeping her, once he convinced her that he'd be a good catch. 

Which meant dealing with his own damned PTSD issues before he could offer her anything resembling a real life together.  He'd been avoiding going back in to see the therapist.  The shrinks tried to teach him some coping techniques for when things got bad, and he'd used a couple of them, but truthfully hadn't paid all that much attention, just wanting to get back to the bayous and away from the crowds and noise, which drove him crazy. 

But for Sarah, he'd do whatever it took.

He made the call, setting up a time with Remy to head over to Bimini Jack's and meet Walter.  While he almost wished he could leave Sarah here, he knew that wasn't gonna happen.  She'd fight him if he even suggested it.  Plus, Walter might open up to Sarah, once he knew that the girl he'd seen leaving the bar was her missing sister.

The sound of laughter drifted through the open kitchen window, and he spied his daddy leaning against the railing of the porch.  Their eyes met through the screen, and he gave a single short nod, letting him know it was time to go. 

He knew Gator wouldn't stop asking questions, especially now that he'd met Sarah.  The man was like his namesake, once he sank his teeth into something, he never turned it loose.  And he'd definitely latched onto his girl.

His girl.  He liked the sound of that.

Stepping out onto the porch, he inhaled the briny tang of the lake water.  The house wasn't far from where the lake gave way to the beginning of the swamp.  The small camp where he spent most of his time was a couple of miles further into the bayou, hidden in one of the recesses where most folks didn't go.  Part of him wanted to head there, taking Sarah with him, yet he felt strong enough to resist the urge. 

"Time to go, sweetheart.  Remy's going to meet us in a couple of hours in front of Bimini Jack's, and we'll start looking for Walter.  Hopefully, he'll be there, but we might not find him until later—after dark."  He didn't add that if Walter disappeared into the recesses of the city, they wouldn't find him unless he wanted to be found. 

He held out his hand, and Sarah took it with a smile, which sent a spark of lust straight through him.  Not the time or the place, dummy.  Concentrate on keeping your cool.  I can make my move soon enough. 

"Thanks, Dad."

"Gimme a call after you talk to Walter, and lemme know what y'all find out."  Gator made a shooing motion, and they headed out the front door.  Climbing aboard his boat, he unwrapped the bow line and headed back toward the city. 

They were getting closer—he could feel it.  But that infernal internal clock kept ticking away, and every second counted down the danger Anna faced.  Because his gut told him things were about to come to a head, and he prayed they wouldn't be too late to save Anna.

CHAPTER TEN

Sarah headed for the bathroom, skimming off her top and turning the water on blasting hot, though the way her thoughts kept drifting back to Ranger, she'd probably be better off with ice cold water.   She wondered if he was awake or still sleeping, but had been too much of a coward to peek into the living room. 

When they'd gotten back to her hotel room after leaving Gator's place, they'd found the room trashed.  Everything she'd brought with her was tossed around the space, scattered across the bed and floor.  Her suitcase had been emptied onto the bed, her possessions rifled through with wanton disregard.  She'd felt violated, but more—she'd felt scared. 

Ranger insisted she stay with him, even though she'd suggested getting another room in a different hotel.  Though it had only been a halfhearted offer, because the thought of staying with him made her feel safe.  There were also other feelings stirred up, but she pushed them down, refusing to acknowledge that she wanted to be around him for reasons other than searching for her sister. 

Once they'd packed her stuff and headed back to his apartment, she'd still felt dirty, and asked if she could take a shower.  He'd agreed, saying he'd catch some quick shut-eye before they left to meet Remy, to talk with Walter. 

              A quick test of the temperature showed it was perfect, and she stepped under the spray, letting the pounding water wake her.  Tilting her head back, she felt the warm water caress her skin.  Though the bathroom wasn't high end with all the bells and whistles, it held a shower tub combo that was big enough she could imagine Ranger pushing aside the shower curtain and stepping in, pressing up against her.  Could almost feel his hands—

              A sound outside the shower caused her head to whip around, and she yanked back the edge of the shower curtain, searching for its source.  She let out a surprised squeak at the sight of a half-awake Ranger standing in the open doorway, wearing only a pair of jeans, the top button undone and looking like sex walking.  His eyes raked over her, and though he didn't move any closer, there was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that couldn't be ignored.  Not with his eyes devouring every inch of her exposed skin. 

Instinctively, she cupped her hands over her exposed pink bits though they were hidden behind the curtain.  At his amused grin, she spun around and continued washing, rubbing the soapy cloth over her shoulders and down her arms, coating her skin with bubbles.  A muffled curse sounded from the other side of the shower curtain.  She figured ignoring him was her best course of action.  Maybe if she didn't respond, he'd go away. 

              "You're certainly a pretty sight to wake up to."  His husky voice slid over her, eliciting an involuntary shiver despite the heat of the pounding water bombarding her.  Peeking around the opening in the curtain, she spotted him propped against the door frame, his shoulder pressed against the wood, with his ankles crossed, as if he had all the time in the world.  Yet the fire burning in the depths of his eyes belied the casualness of his pose. 

              "Hi.  You didn't sleep long." 

              "Um hmm.  We have a lot of places to go today."  He sounded closer, and when she glanced through the opening again, he'd stepped further into the bathroom and stood inches from the curtain's opening. 

Gulp.

              "Yes."  Speaking that single word took effort because all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared.  It was impossible to ignore the way the man was built, standing there practically naked.  A dusting of chest hair led a trail down to the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans.  She wondered if he normally slept unencumbered by clothes, and that errant thought made her shiver. 

              His dark brown hair was mussed and made him seem more approachable, like a little boy who'd just woken up, yet there was nothing childlike about him.  He exuded strength and power, and her insides quivered thinking about all that raw sexual prowess contained in one gorgeous package, and what it would feel like directed and focused solely on her. 

              She turned away from him and struggled to catch her breath.  The man exuded an appeal she couldn't deny, even this early in the morning, when she wasn't at her sharpest.  She needed all her faculties honed and sharp to deal with Ranger.  She wasn't functioning on all cylinders yet—heck, she hadn't even had her first cup of coffee. 

              A warm hard body pressed against her spine, and a hand reached past her for the washcloth she held.  Oh, hell, he's in the shower with me? 

              "Allow me." 

              Her death grip on the white terrycloth loosened, and he dampened it under the warm spray, adding more soap.  The soft glide of his hand smoothed against her shoulders, along the back of her neck, and down her arm.  Her head fell backward against his chest, and she let his fingers work their magic, while her mind rejoiced at his touch. 

This is Ranger.  Ranger touching me.  Ranger leaning against me in the shower.  My every wish, every fantasy come to life.  Maybe I'm still asleep and this is all a dream.

His hands smoothed the cloth lower still, caressing along each knot of her spine, one by one, and she braced her arm out to the side, clutching at the shower wall.  When he took a step back, she missed the delicious heat exuding from his body and shivered.  Still his hands traveled ever-so-slowly downward on their merciless trek, the washcloth skimming across her butt and down the outside of her thighs.  Once he reached her ankles, he straightened from his crouch and spun her around.

She kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, afraid of what she'd see if she opened them.  Afraid he'd be disappointed.  She'd long ago accepted she wasn't built like most women.  Her body was shaped along plumper lines, though she'd dropped a few pounds since beginning the search for her sister.  She'd missed meals and her appetite had been sorely lacking recently.  Plus, she'd always been overly endowed in the upper works.  Her breasts tended toward the ample side.  She avoided going without a bra, because men tended to stare, which made her uncomfortable.  Her belly and hips were plush too.  That's what she called them, because she despised the F word—fat. 

Snapping her eyes open, she glared at him, but he wasn't looking at her face.  He was looking at her body, his gaze riveted to her breasts.  The hand holding the cloth opened and it dropped to the floor.

The other reached past her for the soap, until suddenly it was back, gliding across her upper shoulders and across her clavicles.  He followed an invisible trail from one side to the other, light, barely- there caresses with his fingertips. 

He rubbed both hands together, sharing the soapy bubbles between them before cupping her breasts.   She gasped the second his bare skin touched hers so intimately.  The roughened calluses on his fingers were erotically abrasive against her nipples and she couldn't hide the moan that escaped her lips. 

"Ranger."  His name was a raspy whisper and the heat in his eyes flared at the sound.  Without a word, his mouth took hers in a ravaging kiss.  His lips demanded a response and she gave it willingly, desire coursing through her when his lips moved over hers.  Opening to him, he surged into her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers in a mating frenzy.  He took her lips, possessing every inch of her mouth. 

His arms held her up as her knees trembled, and he rumbled out a strained laugh.  When his erection slid against her belly, she moaned.  This was what she wanted—what she needed.  Slapping a palm against the shower wall, she braced herself, not wanting this kiss to end.  Finally, she pulled back, gasping for air.  She smiled when she noted he wasn't unaffected.  Hard breaths soughed in and out of his lungs, and a quick glance downward showed blatant evidence he'd enjoyed their kiss.  She did a double-take.  Yep, he'd really enjoyed it, since he'd grown bigger and harder. 

Her fingertips traced the corded muscles of his forearms, noting the tiny scars along the outside.   Hard muscle met her hands.  Water beaded against his skin, and she followed the trail across his chest, tweaking one of his nipples and she chuckled when he groaned. 

His deep voice whispered, "You're gorgeous."  He pulled her against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest, and she could feel every inch of him along her skin, hard and firm.  She wiggled against him, and the wiry hairs on his chest tickled across her nipples, drawing them into pointed peaks of aching desire.  Every nerve in her body demanded he take her. 

Chest was honed from years in the military, she'd bet her last dollar he still worked out every day, even though he didn't have to.  Muscles flexed beneath her fingers when he moved.  Hands grasped her hips, pulling her roughly against his straining erection.  His palms were warm as they slid upwards, weighing her breasts, molding them.  His thumbs teased her nipples, and she felt a pooling of heat deep in her core.  More.  I need more. 

A laugh rumbled deep in his throat.  "The perfect size, sweetheart.  Not too much, just enough."  Bending forward, his mouth encased her breast and she felt the gentle sucking and nearly screamed.  Her nipples were sensitive and the feel of his tongue against the nub of flesh had her ready to explode.

"Ohhh…that feels so…"  Her voice broke off with a stuttered groan.

Warm water continued to pour over her heated skin.  Callused hands moved to cup her ass, squeezing, and she bucked against him.  Her back arched and she gasped.  Sensation after sensation roiled through her.  Balancing on her toes, she shifted until her hand could slide between their bodies and she grasped him. 

This time it was his breath that hitched, and with the sound of his indrawn breath, it made her feel—powerful.  His mouth moved swiftly to her other breast, sucking and teasing the nipple, and her own sigh caught in the back of her throat.  Her head was spinning from the bombardment of sensations, every nerve in her body tingling in response to his touch.

"I want you."  Her voice growled the demand, and it echoed loudly in the enclosed space. 

"Shh, sweetheart.  We'll get there.  Just feel." 

When his hand slid between her thighs, electricity zapped straight to her core, and she moaned again.  Heat spiraled upward through her, like nothing she'd ever experienced.  She opened her eyes and stared into a pair of brown ones filled with a hunger that matched her own. 

Merciless fingers played her like a concerto, and her body soared.  Air tickled the wetness at her spread thighs, and she felt her insides coiling, her body responding to every movement of his lips and tongue and hands.  Pure pleasure and need raced through her.

"Ohhh!  Ranger, please."

Her hips strained toward him, aching for his touch.  Her body ached, demanding more, needing to be filled by him.  With an arm around her waist, he held her up.  His other hand continued to play between her thighs, his fingers working their magic.  Kisses and licks and nips caressed along her jawline and neck, and she tilted her head to the side, giving him freer access.

She shuddered as her body tried to make sense of the sensations bombarding it.  He bit the muscle at the top of her shoulder and that one movement seemed to set off a chain reaction through her body.  Explosions of light flared behind her closed eyelids and her body quaked.  She panted when one finger was eased into her entrance, pushed in and awakened nerve endings she'd long ago forgotten. 

She shook uncontrollably, unrecognizable whimpering sounds coming from her lips.   His fingers set up a rhythm, and her body arched as pleasure spiraled through her.  It felt as if every nerve, every cell in her body, converged in one place, right at her throbbing core.  She tightened around his finger, her nails digging into his forearm when a second finger joined the first.  Everything coiled tighter, higher, until nothing could stop the oncoming storm.  She teetered on the edge of excruciating ecstasy—and shattered. 

Pleasure rocketed through her body in vibrating wave after wave of release.  Even as she gasped for breath, Ranger's lips circled her breast, tonguing her nipple, repeating the caress on the other side as well. 

Her body clenched, the feel of Ranger's touch rocketing through her as pounding waves assailed her and her legs gave out.  Only his firm arms kept her from collapsing into a heap at his feet.

Sarah leaned against him, silently telling her legs to work.  The water had begun to cool in the shower and she drew her body up straight. 

"That was—I'm not sure I have words for what it was."  She gave him a tentative smile. 

He grinned in response.  "I'd say it was the best wake up I've had in a long time." 

              She glanced down and noted he was still hard.  "What about you?  Do you want me to…" 

He cupped her cheek.  "We're not done.  Not by a long shot."  Taking her hand, he helped her over the lip of the tub, yanking a towel off the rack.  Beginning at her throat, he rubbed the cloth along her skin, drying her with exquisite thoroughness while she trembled.  Though she'd just had a mind-blowing orgasm, her body responded to his touch, and she felt the familiar coiling deep in her core as he roused those feelings a second time.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."  His words were whispered against her stomach, and though she didn't really believe them, they sent a thrill through her that'd he'd even say it. 

"Thank you."  Reaching forward, she threaded her hands through his damp hair, which was easy to do since he knelt at her feet, sliding the towel against her thighs, his hands dangerously close to her vagina. 

"You don't believe me?"  He lifted his head, and she saw the truth shining in his gaze.  He truly believed she was beautiful.  What could she say to that?

Before she could open her mouth, the sound of a phone ringing broke the spell.  Ranger stood, wrapping a towel low around his hips. 

"I need to get that, it might be about Anna." 

"Go."  She grabbed another towel, and wrapped it around her body.  "I'll be right out."  He jogged down the hall, and she collapsed against the sink, her body still feeling the tiny aftershocks from her release moments earlier. 

"What have I done?"  She whispered the words and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.  How had she let him get so close?  But she knew—she'd wanted him from the second their eyes met that afternoon in Lucky's.  Why couldn't this have happened when she wasn't dealing with a crisis?  If they'd met under normal circumstances?  Hell, she didn't try to fool herself.  She'd probably have fallen into his bed even faster. 

She quickly went into the bedroom and placed her suitcase on the messy bed.  Obviously had a restless night, spent tossing and turning.  She'd spent the previous night awake in her hotel room, thinking about him.  Now that she'd had a taste of what she'd been fantasizing about?  She waved a hand in front of her cheeks as they heated with her blush.  Whoa, momma!  The man was a package of TNT, and she was ready to light that fuse all over again.

Flipping up the lid on the suitcase, she frowned at the wrinkled mess of clothes.  She'd tossed everything into the bag haphazardly after they'd returned to find her hotel room in shambles.  Now, looking at her unwearable clothing, that might not have been the smartest move. 

She pulled out a pair of jeans and tossed them onto the mattress.  Hopefully when she put them on, her hips and thighs would smooth out the worst of the offending wrinkles.  Her tops though?  Hopeless.  If she tried wearing one of them, she'd look like a bag lady or worse.  Maybe Ranger had indoor laundry, and she could toss one of the shirts into the dryer.

She quickly put on underwear and a bra, and tugged the jeans on.  Walking into the hallway, she heard Ranger's voice speaking quietly.  Thinking he was still on the phone, she headed toward the living room.

He looked up when she walked into the living room, and a smile spread across his lips.  Holding up one hand, he continued speaking.  Within a few seconds, he ended the call and stood, strolling over to her and running a finger along the top of her breasts, exposed above the lacy cups of the bra. 

"I like this."  His tanned skin was a stark contrast with the creamy paleness of hers.  "Of course, I liked them even better a few minutes ago."

She felt the scalding heat rush into her cheeks at his compliment.  Awkwardly, she held up the shirt in her hand.

"Do you have a dryer?  I need to try and get the wrinkles out." 

"Laundry's in the basement.  Come with me."  Grabbing her hand, he headed back toward the bedroom.  Opening the closet, he started skimming through the hanging clothes, until he stopped on one.

"Try this."  He handed her a T-shirt with the NAVY logo across the front.  Taking it, she pulled it over her head and stuck her arms through the holes.  It was big, but fit well enough she could go out in public. 

"Thank you." 

"My pleasure, sweetheart.  I like the thought of you wearing something of mine against your skin." 

She grinned.  "Changing the subject, or we'll never get out of here this morning, was that call about Anna?" 

She listened to him, or at least she tried, but all she really heard was blah, blah, blah, because the edge of the towel around his hips slid lower.  Her eyes followed the line of muscles from his chest to his abdomen, which stood out like a Michelangelo statue, defined and seemed to be carved out of stone.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, and she knew she'd been caught.  "Hey, you can't blame me," she shot back, enjoying teasing him.  "I mean, look at all that.  How could I not appreciate all that hotness?"

It was Ranger's turn to blush, and she watched the flush spread across his cheeks.  Acting on instinct, she leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss against his lips, drawing back when he would have deepened it. 

Her hand snaked down to the knotted area of the towel, low on his hips.   

"Get dressed, big guy, and let's go."  With a flick of her wrist, she snatched the towel and strolled out of the bedroom, listening to his bark of laughter. 

She had a good feeling about today. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Remy, we're going to have to walk on eggshells here.  Walter's got a bad case of PTSD, and stays drunk or high half the time, whenever he's flush with cash." 

Remy gave him a don't-screw-with-me-I'm-a-cop look.  "I know how to interrogate a homeless guy, jackass."  He winked at Sarah.  "Excuse my language, ma chere."

Together they walked around the corner of Bimini Jack's, looking for the bolt-hole where Gator said Walter hid out, when he wasn't panhandling.  Tucked away toward the back of the lot, almost obscured between the fence and an old oak, was a half-rotten piece of plywood, leaning cattycornered, with a blue plastic tarp across the top.  A rusted out metal drum partially blocked the entry.  This had to be it. 

When they'd moved a bit closer, Ranger could see one sneaker-covered foot sticking out near the plywood.  Looked like they were in luck—Walter was home. 

"Let me go over first, he's met me before."  He took the cardboard holder out of Sarah's hands.  They'd stopped along the way and picked up some hot coffee and a couple of burgers.  Briberies sometimes worked.  Besides, who knew how long it had been since the guy had seen a decent meal?

He covered the distance slowly, giving Walter plenty of time to hear him approach.  Startling a vet with PTSD was never a good idea.  Throw in the fact he was homeless, he'd probably be more skittish, terrified somebody was after his crib. 

"Walter?  Hey, it's Ranger—Gator's son." 

A face peered out from beneath the blue tarp.  A dirty gray straggled beard and long hair framed a wrinkled face.  He'd lived a hard life and it showed.  The years hadn't been kind to Walter, and it ate at him, seeing somebody who'd served his country reduced to scrounging for his next meal.  As much as he wished it wasn't true, it happened a lot more than most people realized. 

"Which one are you?" 

Ranger knew what he was asking.  "Navy, sir.  SEAL." 

"Thought so.  You got that look about you.  Don't just stand there, help me up."  A bony hand extended through the opening, and Ranger reached forward, wincing at the thinness.  Dammit, he hated what addiction reduced good, solid men to, and Walter had fallen hard. 

"Brought some grub.  Figured we could share," He indicated the bag, and Walter reached for it, an eager expression on his face.  The hand stopped inches away, and he yanked it back, stepping back into the shadows provided by his makeshift tent. 

"Who're they?" 

"Well, the dark-haired guy with the ugly mug, that's Remy Lamoreaux.  I think you've seen him around."  He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't hold it against him that he's a cop, I swear he's one of the good ones.  He's not here to arrest you, I promise."

Walter gave Remy the stink eye, but didn't say anything. 

"The pretty lady, her name is Sarah.  She's lost her sister, and Remy and I are trying to help her search.  Gator said you might've seen something.  Another pretty gal with sparkly shoes.  Remember her?" 

He held the bag closer to Walter, who, with another look toward Remy and Sarah, grabbed it out of his hands faster than a rattlesnake strike.  With a smile, he handed him one of the coffee cups, and held onto the other.

Walter unwrapped a burger and shoved half of it into his mouth, barely chewing.  Once he'd swallowed, he took a sip of the coffee, and screwed his lips tightly together.  It looked like he was either thinking really hard, or had to go to the bathroom.  Ranger hoped it was the former. 

"Mebbe I remember somebody." 

"Hello, Mr. Walter.  I'm Sarah.  May I show you a picture, see if it's the girl you saw?"  When had Sarah snuck up on him?  Remy stood just a step behind her. 

Walter smiled at Sarah, showing a gap-toothed smile with a few of his teeth missing or blackened.  "I'd be happy to look at the picture for you, ma'am."  He drew himself up to his full height, standing straighter, taller.  Ranger felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips, and bit his cheek to keep from chuckling.  Looks like the old coot isn't immune to the charms of a beautiful woman either. 

"This is Anna, my sister."  Sarah handed the phone to Walter.  "Was she the woman you saw that night?"  Damn, there was that hopeful note in her voice again. 

"Could be.  I didn't get a good look at her face.  Was she about yea tall?"  Walter held his hand up where it was a couple of inches shorter than Sarah's height. 

"Yes, that's about right." 

"The gal I saw had hair kinda like yours, only longer and a little lighter.  Had it up in one of them ponytails." 

"What else do you remember about that night, Walter?  Any idea what time it was when you saw her leave?"

"I know it was the weekend, 'cos everybody and their brother was down on Bourbon Street.  Don't like the crowds, so I left.  Came back here.  Might've been Friday, too.  All the days kinda run together." 

"Was it dark outside?"  Remy asked the question, and Walter took a step back.  He held out his hands open at his sides and Walter relaxed. 

"Yeah, it was already dark.  I'd made some money earlier, so I got a bottle and holed up for the night."  Which meant he'd been drunk or pretty darn close by the time he'd seen Anna. 

"Do you remember if she was alone when she came outside?"  Good question, Sarah, though I was leading up to it.  Guess I wasn't getting there fast enough. 

"She was with a man.  Big dude, over six feet by a couple of inches.  Big shoulders.  I noted him because he was a lot bigger than her, that's for sure."

"Did she seem to know him?  Were they together?"  This from Remy.

"She seemed to.  Laughed at something he said.  Then she seemed to sway, and he grabbed her.  She jerked her arm back, like she was trying to get loose, then he whispered something.  Her eyes got real big, and she started going with him.  Kinda stumbled—that's when she lost her shoes.  Never even looked back for 'em, just followed along behind him.  He did have a pretty good grip on her arm, right here."  He pointed to his upper arm, around the biceps area. 

"How well did you see him, Walter?"  Remy eased a step forward, asking the question in a low voice.  "Can you give me a description?  Hair or eye color?  Tattoos or distinguishing marks?  I'd like to find him, so we can see if he knows where Anna might be."  Though he didn't come right out and say it, Ranger was pretty sure Walter could read between the lines of what was said, and figure out something bad had happened. 

"Didn't get close enough to see anything like that.  It's dark back here at night.  Only light's right there by the doorway.  Once you walk away from it, it's pretty black."

"Which way did they head?" 

Walter pointed.  "Round that corner.  Last I saw of 'em." 

"Thank you, Walter."  Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to him, and despite the fact he probably hadn't bathed in heaven knew how long, she hugged him.  Ranger exchanged a look with his friend and shrugged.  "You've been a big help.  Use this later to get a good meal." 

He knew that wasn't going to happen.  Chances were better it would buy Walter's next fix or a couple of bottles to keep him warm at night. 

"Wish I could be more help, ma'am." 

Ranger reached out and clasped him on the shoulder.  He knew he'd be coming back around in a day or so and checking on the guy.  Make sure that Gator checked on him too, though he knew his daddy would already have that handled. 

Sliding his hand onto the small of Sarah's back, they turned and started for the front.  They hadn't made it more than a couple of steps before Walter's voice called out from behind them. 

"Wait.  I remember something—the dude—he had red hair.  I remember because when they started going around the corner, the back door opened and the light shined on it.  Really red, tied back in a tail.  Does that help?"

Ranger looked at Sarah, knowing she recognized that description.  They'd both met a big man with long red hair.  Somebody who'd also met Anna—and remembered her. 

The bartender—Danny. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

Anna stared out the window overlooking the city, watching the sky turn from light to dusky twilight in the blink of an eye.  The buildings' lights shone against the blackness, cheerful and beautiful in the way only a cityscape can be.  Instinctively, she knew deep inside something big was about to happen. 

She'd had another dream last night.  The tall stranger with the haunted eyes was back, only this time he wasn't alone.  Sarah stood by his side.  Thinking about her sister made her want to smile and cry simultaneously. 

The dark-haired stranger always reminded her of a warrior, a defender of the weak and innocent.  A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another.  What she wouldn't give for a warrior right now. 

She scrubbed at them, fighting back the overwhelming need to collapse into a blubbering heap on the carpet, but she refused.  She was battered and bruised, but she'd be damned if she'd let them break her. 

She didn't recognize the woman staring back at her, reflected in the shiny glass window.  One eye was swollen completely closed, ringed with bruises.  The other sported a reddened welt beneath it, and her lip was swollen and bloody from the fist that smashed it.

He'd lost his temper and lashed out, and she'd been too slow to get away.  The ache in her ribs made it hard to breathe.  She couldn't help but wonder if they were broken, since he'd slammed into her hard enough to knock her off her feet. 

It had taken longer to get past the monster this time.  Each time he visited now, he slid into the darkness easier, and it lasted longer. 

And she hurt—so much.  She'd been in a car wreck once, and been bruised and battered, but this felt ten times worse. 

It had to end—because she didn't think she could take much more.  He'd come so very close to raping her this time, only stopping at the last minute when she'd cried out in pain at his weight atop her injured ribs.   For a brief moment, sanity had returned and he'd rolled away, pleading remorsefully, telling her how sorry he was, but it was her fault.  He just wanted to love her. 

Sorry didn't excuse the facts.  She was a captive to his desires, and he could snap her like a twig at his whim.  He truly terrified her.

But as much as he scared her, she feared the other one more.  After what she'd witnessed—and the way he'd talked—he could destroy her with a flick of his wrist.  The only thing standing between her and certain death was a monster.

Some choice. 

Turning, she walked away from the window and curled up on the bed, and did the one thing she'd been doing since she'd been locked into her palatial prison.

She prayed. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Darkness surrounded him.  He reached out, fingers touching a wall of some kind.  With each step forward, his fingertips skimmed its hard surface.  He knew it was a dream, though he didn't know how he knew—the knowledge was simply there. 

Before him in the distance a faint light outlined a door.  Every instinct screamed for him to open that door.  The answers he sought waited behind its closed portal.

He took another step forward, and then another.  It felt like he was slogging his way through knee-deep sand, yet he soldiered on.  The closer he got, the brighter the light shone around the door, a halo of golden light. 

After what felt like hours, though he knew it was mere seconds, he'd gone far enough to stand before the white panels.  His heartbeat raced, thumping so hard in his chest he thought it would explode outward—whether in anticipation or fear he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter.  Getting through the door became his priority. 

"She's in there, you know."  Sarah.  Where had she come from?  She hadn't been there moments before.

"I've been with you the whole time, you just didn't notice me." 

"You think Anna's behind that door?"  He gestured toward the still-closed passage. 

"Don't you?" 

His gut agreed with her.  Anna's essence beckoned him from behind the door.  A sense of rightness spilled through him.  This was it.  The moment he'd been both waiting for and dreading, merging into this one final outcome.  The dreams had changed and morphed over the last few days—from those at the beginning where Anna was dead.  Brutally murdered, her body battered and bruised almost beyond recognition, with her haunting eyes gazing sightlessly.  The last dreams showed her still alive—and waiting for him to rescue her. 

"Let's go save her." 

His hand turned the doorknob and he pushed the door inward.  Light spilled across the jamb, and he glanced toward Sarah, noting the look of pure joy on her face.  Taking a step forward, his feet sank into thick blue carpet, it's rich color a stark contrast against his combat boots. 

"Anna?"  Sarah called out, her voice filled with hope.  "Where are you?" 

Silence.  No answering cry of welcome.  No racing into her sister's embrace.  Had he been wrong? 

A soft whimper, so faint he almost missed it, came from across the room.  Sprinting forward, he shot past the bed toward another open doorway that led to a bathroom. 

Anna lay curled into a ball, huddled against the vanity, her face obscured by a fall of dark hair, her forehead against the rim of the tub.  Blood spread in a spiderweb pattern across the marble tile floor, though her shoulders rose and fell in shallow breaths. 

"Anna?" 

Her body stilled at the sound of his voice, and he waited, afraid to step closer.  A soft sigh escaped her lips when she finally raised her head off the edge of the bathtub.  Very slowly, she turned to look at him—though he wondered how she could see him at all. 

Both eyes were nearly swollen shut, ringed with bruises.  A cut a couple of inches long spanned her forehead, crusted with drying blood.  A knot the size of a goose egg decorated the side of her jaw, and there was a cut on her lip which dribbled a trail of red.

"I know you." 

His eyes widened and he took a step forward, getting closer, though moving very gingerly, trying not to spook her.  She looked in bad shape, almost as bad as his dreams at the beginning. 

"I knew you'd come.  I waited for you, my warrior."  She tried to smile but raised a hand to her lip, because it opened the cut and started bleeding again. 

"My name is Ranger."

She got a faraway look in her eyes.  "I dreamed about you, you know.  Knew you'd come for me, knew you'd find me." 

A gasp sounded behind him, and he heard hasty footsteps on the marble.  "Anna, sweetheart…"

"Hi, Sarah.  I like your friend."  As if she'd exhausted her last ounce of strength, she slumped back against the vanity, her head lolling to the side.  Ranger barely reached her in time to keep it from smacking against the porcelain tub. 

"We have to get her out of here!"  Sarah's voice echoed throughout the bathroom.  Ranger wholeheartedly agreed with her, sliding his hands beneath Anna's body.  He stood, cradling her against his chest, shocked at how frail and delicate she appeared. 

"Can't go."  Her words were slurred.  "Monster will find us." 

"The monster won't get you, honey."  Ranger made the solemn promise, meaning every word.  Anybody tried to touch her, and he'd send them to the fiery pits of hell personally. 

Anna reached up and cupped his jaw, and he noted two fingers were twisted and probably broken.  Damn, but she'd taken a lot of abuse, and he felt guilt sweep through him.  He should have found her sooner.  Searched harder. 

Her small hand patted his cheek.  "Don't feel sad, Ranger.  There's still time, but you have to hurry.  This hasn't happened yet.  Hurry," she repeated, "because the monster is coming back—soon." 

He ignored Sarah's gasp as he strode past her, Anna in his arms.  An impending sense of doom shot through him, instead of the elation he should feel at the knowledge that Anna wasn't dead. 

The slamming of a door stopped him in his tracks, Sarah right beside him.  The room had darkened to almost black, the daylight that had shone moments earlier through the big windows giving way to dusk, though there was still enough light to see the figure silhouetted against the door—huge and menacing—and blocking the only exit from the room. 

"It's too late," Anna whispered, her body trembling within his arms, "the monster is here." 

# # # # #

Ranger bolted upright, his breath burning in his chest, as he gasped for air.  What in the hell was that?  He'd never had a dream like that before.  He swung his legs over the side of the sofa, sitting upright, and scrubbed his hands over his face.  Felt the sweat soaking his skin. 

After they'd talked with Walter, Remy made them head back home, refusing to let them go and question the bartender.  Said that was his job, he was a professional, and knew how to check out Danny's story better than two amateur wannabe detectives. 

They'd waited around for hours, but he hadn't called them yet, so obviously he was still checking into Danny's alibi for the timeframe in question.  While he sat on his hands, doing nothing—feeling useless. 

"Ranger?" 

Damn, he must have made a noise and woke her.  Sarah stood silhouetted against the dim light from the hall.  He was still shaky from the aftereffects of the dream, and not ready to face her.  It was too fresh—too real. 

"Sorry if I woke you." 

"You didn't, I was awake."  She walked into the living room and sat on the edge of the coffee table, directly across from him.  "Sounded like a bad dream."

"You could say that." 

"Want to talk about it?" 

He stared at her, and felt something shift inside.  There wouldn't be any more holding the truth back from her.  Let her think he was a freak, if he didn't open up, he'd shatter into a million pieces. 

"Yeah, but we're gonna need coffee first."  He stood, his knee bumping against hers.  With a graceful move, she took his hand and rose, walking with him to the kitchen.  He held onto her hand for one heartbeat, then two, before pressing a soft kiss against her palm and releasing it, motioning for her to sit at the peninsula.

Moving around the kitchen, he popped a coffee pod into the machine, before opening a cabinet door and yanking down two mugs.  Sliding one into the machine, he hit the button and waited, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"What time is it?" 

He glanced at the clock on the microwave.  "Five thirty."  They hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, since they'd only gotten back to his place after two a.m. 

She rested her elbow on the countertop, her cheek in her hand, and yawned. 

"Why don't you go back to bed, sugar.  Get a little more sleep." 

"No, tell me about your dream." 

He shrugged, trying to downplay it, though he wished he could forget it that easily.  That damned timeclock was counting down in the back of his head, like a ticking time bomb. 

"I don't know where to start."  He passed her the mug, and got out the milk and sugar, passing them as well, knowing she liked her coffee really sweet and creamy, then started the machine for his own cup. 

"Start wherever you feel comfortable."  She took a sip and closed her eyes, her expression blissful. 

"The beginning goes back a long time, to when I was a kid.  I'd have dreams about stuff that would come true." 

"That must have been nice." 

He shrugged.  "Sometimes.  But then they started taking a darker turn.  I'd dream about something bad happening and it did."  He waited a beat to see if she'd say anything, but she simply took another sip of coffee, looking at him, curiosity written on her face. 

"I didn't talk about them much, because people tended to look at me funny.  The ones who didn't understand called me a freak."

"That's awful.  Nobody should talk about a child like that.  Dreams are a gift."

"Maybe for most people—mine are more like a curse."  He took a big hit of his coffee, putting the mug on the countertop when he noticed his hand trembling.  Aftereffects of the dream or the rage he felt bottled up inside? 

"I stopped telling anybody about the dreams, and after a while they stopped.  Until I got back from Afghanistan.  Then they started again.  The therapist the V.A. sent me to said it was PTSD, but that was a load of…" 

"I didn't know you were in Afghanistan."  There wasn't any judgment in her gaze, no sympathy, just simple understanding. 

"Yeah.  That's where I met Wolf and his team."  He threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling the long strands off his forehead.  "Anyway, the dreams started up again right after that.  My mom used to call them prophetic dreams.  Stuff that was going to happen or meant to happen.  I see it, as vivid and real as a movie playing out on the screen." 

"And you had one just now?"

"Before that.  I should have told you from the beginning.  Dammit, I just didn't know how."

He saw the moment she understood his words, with the slight stiffening of her posture, the precise way she set the mug onto the counter. 

"You dreamed about Anna."  It wasn't a question.

He blew out a deep breath.  "Before I ever met you, I'd been having dreams about a dark-haired girl I'd never seen before.  Strange dreams, not like the ones I normally have.  These weren't crystal clear, more like abstract and distorted, but yeah, I dreamed about Anna."  

"What did you see?"  There was no hesitation, only a simple demand for the truth.

"Sarah…"

"What.  Did.  You.  See." 

"Death."

Her indrawn gasp of breath spoke louder than any words.  Even if she'd been expecting it, he shouldn't have blurted it out like that. 

"Anna was dead?" 

"Let me finish.  In the beginning, yeah, she was dead.  But," he raised a hand to stop her interruption, "the last couple of dreams have been different.  In them, she's still alive." 

"But you said your dreams always came true." 

He raked a hand through his hair again, a tic pulling at the scar in his cheek.  How could he explain what he didn't even understand himself?

"When I dream about something, it's always the same.  It doesn't vary or change in any way.  Until I started dreaming about Anna."

"What's different?"  Her body was drawn tight as a bowstring, but at least she still listened.  That was good.

"They're changing—the dreams.  They went from Anna being dead," he watched her wince but plowed forward, "to still alive.  Hurt, but there.  The dream tonight, I won't explain it, but let's just say if we don't find her soon, time is running out." 

"But she was still alive—in this dream?" 

"Yes."  Damn it, he might as well tell her.  "You were there too, in the dream."

"Me?" 

"When I found her, you were there, right by my side."

He watched her closely, could practically read every thought.  Knew even before she spoke what she'd ask for.  And what his response would be.

"Tell me the dream." 

"No."  Simple yet firm.

"You have to." 

"Sweetheart, I don't have to do a damned thing." 

She recoiled as if he'd struck her, and he cursed beneath his breath.  He hadn't meant to be so abrupt, but she didn't need to visualize what he'd dreamt.  It would hurt her too much.

"I see." 

He doubted it, she was too pissed to understand.  "Sarah, I…"

"Don't.  I'll get my things and go back to the hotel."

"Like hell you will.  Somebody already ransacked your room once.  I won't let you walk back into a dangerous situation.  They might come back, and you'll—"

"What?  Be helpless?  I've got news for you, Mr. Boudreau.  With or without your help, I am going to find my sister.  You want to withhold valuable information?  Fine.  I won't ask again."  She tugged at the bottom of the T-shirt she'd slept in, and his gaze was immediately drawn to her long legs beneath the hem, and the way it outlined her breasts. 

"I'm not trying to withhold anything.  The dreams are—personal.  Sharing them with somebody else…" 

"Ranger, I'm not trying to probe into your deepest, darkest secrets.  I thought, foolishly I guess, that if you talked about the dream, the details, maybe we'd find something we've missed in our investigation.  If you saw her, did you notice her surroundings?  Was she in a room or outdoors, something that might lead us in a new direction."

Why hadn't he thought of that, instead of being such a damned fool?  She was right—again. 

"I'm sorry." 

She grinned up at him, and just that easily the tension between them vanished like a puff of smoke.  "Mind repeating that?" 

"Shall I elucidate, madam?  I'm so sorry.  I was wrong, oh brilliant one.  I humbly beseech your forgiveness, woman of great wisdom." 

"And don't you forget it, buster." 

He held out his hand and without hesitating, she wrapped her fingers around his and he knew he was forgiven.  Daring to go a bit further, he tugged her into his arms, wrapping them around her.  After the dream, he needed this little bit of comfort, of celebrating that they were alive and whole.

She surprised him when her arms slid around his waist and she rested her cheek against his chest, her soft skin cool to the touch.  Acting on impulse, he brushed a kiss against the top of her head. 

"You're right.  I didn't stop to think about analyzing the dream." 

She leaned back, still wrapped in his arms, and didn't seem in any all fire hurry to leave them, which was fine with him.  He liked the way she felt against his body. 

"What do you remember?  I'm not talking about Anna, from your reaction I probably don't want to know what shape she was in.  Think about your surroundings.  Close your eyes—tell me what you see." 

"If we're gonna do this, let's sit."  He steered her to the sofa and sat, pulling her snug against his side, with his arm wrapped around her.  Good thing she didn't protest, because he liked the way she felt beside him. 

"First thing I noticed was a door.  It was dark, and the light from behind the door made it kinda glow."  He closed his eyes, struggling to remember the details. 

"You showed up beside me right as I went to turn the knob."  He squeezed her closer, needing that bit of touch to anchor him to the present.  He didn’t want to get dragged back into the dream—remembering the details was too important. 

"So there were lights on behind the door?"

"No, I don't think so.  It was sunlight, coming in through a huge window.  High up, like in the city."

"That's good.  Is it like an apartment or condo?"

He shook his head.  "No, it's a bedroom.  Thick carpet.  Expensive.  Blue."  Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to relive it, looking for anything, any clue to where it might be. 

"You're doing good, Ranger.  We're in the room.  What else do you see?"

"Not see—hear.  I heard a noise.  I ran past the bed into a bathroom.  That's where Anna is." 

He knew she had a million questions about her sister, but he was grateful she stayed focused instead on the details. 

"Okay, a bathroom.  Anything special about it?" 

"I don't know.  Vanity, shower, tub.  Nothing stands out."  Except the blood, but he'd be damned if he'd mention that—not to Sarah. 

"Is there a window in the bathroom?  Or anything else that you see?"

"No window.  Marble floors."

"So we've got thick carpet in the bedroom and marble floors.  We're talking higher end stuff, so not a dump or cheap motel scenario.  Good.  Back in the bedroom, did you notice anything?  You said there was a huge window—what about that?"

He forced himself to focus, though the dream was a bit fuzzier, not crystal sharp like before.  "Huge bed.  Heavy wooden headboard.  Ugly wallpaper—stripes."

She chuffed out a laugh.  "Some people like striped wallpaper."

"Some people aren't me, sugar.  It's frou-frou, like something out of a magazine."  He straightened when he remembered the end of the dream.  The monster in the doorway.

"Right before I woke up, there was somebody else in the room.  A man."

Sarah scooted out from beneath his arm, sitting on the edge of the couch, swiveling to face him.  "A man?  Did you see his face?" 

"I…no.  The light faded, and it was getting dark.  Dusk.  He's standing in the shadows.  But he's big, taller than me, broader through the shoulders.  Something about him is familiar, but I can't put my finger on it."  He remembered what Anna called him, and he must have somehow given her a clue, because she demanded to know what he was thinking.  He'd gone this far, might as well finish it.

"I remember what Anna called him.  The monster.  She said the monster is here." 

"Do you think Danny is the monster?"  He seemed so nice." 

"Crazy doesn't always have an ugly face, sweetheart.  Look at Ted Bundy." 

"I feel so helpless," her quiet voice was filled with despair.  "Like I should be doing something."

"We are doing something, but you won't be any good to Anna if you throw yourself straight into the path of a madman.  Let Remy do his job.  He can find out if Danny's our guy.  But I agree, we don't need to be sitting here twiddling our thumbs."  He looked around the living room.  "Where's my phone?" 

She pointed to the end table, and he grabbed it, hitting the speed dial for Tex.  He knew it was early, but they didn't have time to waste.  The monster is here.  He couldn't get Anna's words out of his head. 

"What?"  Tex sounded grumpy.  He heard a muffled "who is it" in the background.  Must be Melody. 

"Got a lead.  Bartender at one of the clubs where Anna was seen.  He matches the description of the last person she might have been seen with."

"Details, brother.  Gimme details."

"First name Danny.  Don't have a last name."  He rattled off all the information he had, including a physical description.

"I'm on it.  Call you back when I have something."  He hung up without another word, and Ranger knew Tex would dive head first into an online search.  Remy had to follow the letter of the law when checking out Danny.  But he had a gut feeling, that instinct that had saved him in more than one firefight, something in Danny's background would pop.  If he wasn't their guy, he'd lead them straight to whoever still had Anna. 

"Nothing else to do now but wait." 

"I'm sick and tired of waiting."  She crossed her arms over her chest, and had the cutest pout on her lips.  He couldn't resist.  With a quick tug, she was off the couch and onto his lap.  The squeak she let out was sweet, and cut off by his mouth. 

The kiss started soft.  Tender.  Worshipful.  Just the slightest brush of lips against lips, but it wasn't enough.  Hunger rolled through him like a blazing fire, and judging by her response, it wasn't all one-sided. 

"Sometimes waiting is good."  He leaned forward and brushed his lips along her cheek, nuzzling her jawline, trailing small kisses in his wake. 

"Anticipation adds a certain spice."  He angled her head between his hands, sliding one around to cup the nape of her neck, holding her right where he wanted her.  He licked across the seam of her lips, drinking in her gasp. 

"Expecting one thing to happen," he whispered, brushing soft kisses across her eyelids, and feeling her body relax against his, "and getting something else entirely." 

His hand cupped her breast through the flimsy cotton of her T-shirt, and he watched the nipple peak beneath his thumb.  He hummed as she snuggled closer. 

"You got something in mind?"

"I thought a little distraction might be in order." 

He felt her purr against his throat.  It ran through his body like wildfire.  Instead of his hands obeying and putting a little distance between them, they had a mind of their own, encouraging her to arch against him.  He was sinking to an all-time low, taking advantage of her, yet he didn't want to stop.

'Distraction?"  Her voice savored the word.

When her hands slid across his chest, he had second and third thoughts about his actions.  Taking advantage of her didn't sit well with him, but Sarah seemed to like his attempt at distracting her just fine. 

"Maybe distraction isn't the right word," he whispered against the skin of her throat.

"What word would you use?"  The tip of her tongue rimmed his ear, and he felt it all the way to his toes. 

"Seduction."

She leaned back and smiled, a sinful smile that had the blood surging through his veins.  "I like that word." 

He stroked her hair, feeling the silken texture against his fingers.  Loved the dark tresses falling about her shoulders in reckless abandon.  That just rolled out of bed after a night filled with lovemaking look. 

His breath hissed between his teeth when her tongue continued its journey along the column of his throat.  All his good intentions flew out the window with her next words. 

"Maybe I should do the seducing." 

She kissed and licked her way along his bare chest, then lifted up and swung her leg across his lap to straddle him.  Those same hands that wouldn't listen to his urging earlier, still refused to obey, reaching for the bottom of her T-shirt and lifting it upward, until her breasts were bared to his gaze.  And his lips.  And tongue. 

She raised her arms, letting him pull it all the way off, leaving her clad only in a pair of panties.  When he reached for her breasts, she shook her head, and he flattened them on the sofa by his legs.  She slid back further on his lap, resting on his knees, and ran her fingertips across his chest.  Traced the flat copper-colored nipples, lightly pinching them.  He sucked in a breath when she leaned forward and swiped her tongue across the tip. 

"Damn, baby, that feels good." 

The look she sent him was sizzling, her blue eyes burning with a hunger she couldn't deny.  "You like that?" 

"Yeah.  Do it again." 

She laughed, the sound sultry and innocent at the same time.  She ran two fingers down the center of his chest before tracing the outline of a scar on his right ribcage. 

"What's this from?" 

"Fell out of a treehouse when I was ten." 

"Poor baby."  Leaning forward, her hair spread around her like a velvety blanket hiding her face, she kissed the scar.  She stroked his skin again, a feather-light caress that had him gritting his teeth against the pleasure. 

"Do that again," he demanded.

He shuddered as fire shot straight through him like a conflagration.  Sheer pleasure swept along his spine, as she reached down and cupped him through the fabric of his jeans. 

The smile she gave him left him with no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing to him.  Her fingers squeezed and released.

"You liked that too."

"Yeah." 

The reward for his honesty was another squeeze of her hand.  He had to struggle to find his voice, and when he did, the words came out in a growl. 

"You're torturing me." 

"No, I'm seducing you."  She whispered the words against his lips.  This time she used her tongue, sweeping it in and around his mouth.  When she pulled back, her eyes were heavy lidded.  She ran her tongue over her lips, as if savoring his taste.  

She was going to kill him—that was a given fact. 

"I like seducing you, Ranger."

"And I like being seduced by you, sweetheart.  Come here." 

His hand moved to cup the back of her neck, pulling her forward into his kiss.  There was no gentleness this time, only a driving hunger he couldn't contain.  He needed her more than he'd ever needed or wanted anyone before.  When he pulled back from the kiss, he looked at her, gauging her response.  She was a gorgeous sight, hair flowing over her shoulders, lips swollen from his kisses.

He was a selfish bastard, because he wanted more.  Hell, he wanted everything she had to give and then some.  He closed his eyes against the need to toss her onto the cushions and sink within her. 

"I want you, Ranger.  Right here.  Now."

Her words lit the fuse and there was no more holding back. 

"Tell me what you need." 

"You.  Just you."

Her lips landed against his, and he felt her hands fumbling with the button at the waistband of his jeans.  Not breaking the kiss, he brushed them away, sliding down the zipper, though it wasn't easy.  There was no way he'd get them off with her sitting on his lap, but with her grinding against his thighs, he wouldn't have moved her for anything. 

His hands threaded through her hair.  Her creamy breasts rose before him like a feast, and he buried his face in that sweet valley, and she clutched at his shoulders.  Swirling his tongue around a nipple, she moaned.  

"These have to come off."  He tucked a finger into the waistband of her panties, tugging on the elastic, before sliding his hand inside to cup her.  Warm heat and a willing female, two of his favorite things.  He growled in pleasure at the moisture he found.  Though he wanted to taste her, he needed to sink into her more. 

Restraint and finesse went out the window when she screamed his name, as one finger sank deep within her.  He loved the little gasp that caught in the back of her throat when he pulled it out and added a second, but it wasn't enough. 

In a rush, he helped her stand, and then peeled his jeans and boxers off, tossing them aside, where they landed in a heap, not far from her T-shirt.  He stripped her panties off, and laid her on the sofa. 

She was gorgeous.  Long dark hair spilled across her shoulders, framing breasts he could make love to for hours.  A tapered waist leading to luscious hips, with enough padding he could hold onto. 

He reached between her thighs, spreading them wide, and ran a finger through her wet folds, rubbing along the side of her clit.  Hips arched upward, and she squirmed against his touch, wanting more.  Needing him. 

He eased atop her, drawing her head up, caught her lips in an all-consuming kiss.  A hand tweaked at her nipples, and he lowered himself, urging one leg around his waist.  She wrapped both around his waist loosely, and he positioned himself at the entrance of her sex.  He hesitated for a brief second, staring into her eyes before sliding forward, barely entering her before stopping.  It was killing him, but he'd take it slow—oh yeah, slow and easy.  He wasn't a ravening beast; he was a man with control and he knew once he made love to Sarah, it would be a life-changing moment.

He'd be claiming her, body and soul.  What had started out as a flirtation, a little harmless petting, morphed into a moment he'd remember for the rest of his life. 

He pressed forward, sliding deeper.  Her muscles gripped him, forcing him to go slow, moving forward inch by agonizing inch, because it felt too good.  She was perfect.  Being with her, inside her, was perfect. 

It seemed like a pleasurable eternity before he was fully sheathed, and she quivered beneath him, around him.  Hands grasped his ass when he started to pull out, and he rotated his hips, driving deeper into her. 

Her grip changed, grabbing at his shoulders and she moaned, the sound sending shivers along his spine.  It felt good.  He could feel how much she wanted him with every movement, every touch of her hands.  She needed him—and he'd fulfill that need with everything he had to give. 

Despite his raging desire, he moved slowly, fighting the urge to thrust hard and fast, instead calling on every ounce of restraint he possessed.  His body glistened with sweat as he swept forward again, burying himself deep within her warmth. 

He reached between them, and he felt her muscles squeezing him in a vice grip.  She was close, he could tell from her breathing, panting cries escaping her.  Just a little more and she'd fly apart in his arms. 

His hand slid between their bodies, and he found her clit, stroking and teasing the swollen nubbin.  On the third stroke, she cried out, her climax pulsing around him, her muscles gripping him like an iron fist as she soared. 

He watched her face as she rode out her orgasm.  As her breathing slowed, and the convulsing flesh holding him began easing, he pulled almost all the way out of her body, before plunging back again.  Over and over he stroked, deeper until he tumbled into his own release, and felt a second spasm that had her falling into another climax.  He yelled her name as he fell into the pleasure, catching her lips in a mind-numbing kiss. 

He held his weight off her, and with one hand smoothed the tangles of hair off her sweat-streaked face.  Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers, drawing in deep breaths.  Intense didn't describe what their lovemaking had been.  Mind-blowing.  World-changing. 

Pulling free, he had the passing thought that he hadn't used a condom, too caught up in the moment to think straight.  He'd worry about that tomorrow, make sure she knew too.  Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the bed, tucking her beneath the sheets, and climbed in beside her. 

His last thought before drifting to sleep was that after tonight, he'd never be the same. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Your boy, Danny, has a sealed record." 

"Unseal it."  Ranger ran a towel over his chest, before using it to wipe the moisture off the mirror.  Squinting at his image, the first thing he saw—just like every time he looked—was the scar curving down the side of his cheek.  It stood out in stark relief against his deeply tanned skin. 

"It's not that easy.  I don't have any solid evidence against him, and the district attorney can't get the records open without something other than me asking him to.  He needs evidence—which we ain't got." 

"So, we go through other channels."  Like Tex.  He was waiting for the man to call him back, but it had only been a couple of hours.  But he'd damn sure call Tex as soon as he got off the phone with Remy and let him know about the sealed records.

"You do what you've gotta do, my man, but don't tell me about it.  I'd hate to have to toss your butt in a cell.  At least until after we find Anna." 

"Can you tell me if the records were juvenile or as an adult?  Give me something to work with." 

Remy sighed.  "You didn't hear it from me, but he's got both, juvie and adult.  The adult stuff isn't sealed, though some of it was expunged.  Nothing ever really goes away though, because folks around the courthouse have long memories, and tongues can be loosened with a little subtle persuasion—and my Jinx's pralines as an incentive." 

"Tell your fiancée thanks for me.  And to save me some the next time she makes a batch.  I've almost forgotten how good they taste." 

"Looks like you might have found your own girl.  How's Sarah holding up, now that we've got a lead?" 

"About as well as you'd expect.  I practically had to hogtie her to keep her from tracking down Danny this morning.  I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be able to keep her from going off half-cocked.  She's getting desperate, and desperation makes people do crazy stuff." 

"Well, keep a lid on her.  I've got a couple of off- duties watching the bartender's place.  They owed me a favor, so they'll keep things strictly on the QT."

And just like that, Ranger remembered why he and Remy had been friends for so long.  The other man might have a wicked sense of humor, and give as good as he got, but when the chips were down and you needed help, he had your back.  No questions asked—he was simply there. 

"Thanks, bro." 

"No problem.  You call me the second you hear something from your friend."  He heard the subtle emphasis on the last word, and knew he meant Tex.  Remy might be a straight shooter, but he wasn't above bending a rule or two, if it meant protecting the innocent, or rescuing someone in need—like Anna. 

"You'll be my first call." 

"I'd better be.  Don't do anything stupid."  With that, he hung up.  Before he could set the phone down on the counter, it rang. 

"Tex?  I was just fixin' to call you.  Found out that Danny has a sealed record.  My police friend said the D.A. won't open it." 

"Not surprised.  But I already found that record.  Gotta tell you, it's not pretty.  This Danny character is one twisted freak."

"Aw, damn."  Ranger looked up to make sure the bathroom door was shut.  This was a conversation he didn't want Sarah overhearing.  The last thing he needed was to chase after her, because she'd damn well head like a speeding bullet straight to Danny and maybe get herself hurt—or worse—in the process. 

"Took a peek at his juvie record.  He beat his girlfriend and put her in the hospital when he was sixteen.  Family wanted to press charges, but it looks like money changed hands.  Hospital bills got paid.  Danny received probation and community service, and once he did his time, the record was sealed.  The girl's family eventually moved away and relocated in the northeast.  It doesn't stop there."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.  Of course it didn't stop there.  That would be too easy. 

"What else?" 

"At seventeen, another girl accused him of kidnapping and rape."

"How the hell is he not in jail?"

"Same deal.  Family backed off.  Girl withdrew her allegations, said it was all a misunderstanding, that she was just getting back at him by accusing him of rape.  Without a witness and no evidence, cops had to let him go.  You need to know, his daddy's got some deep pockets, and isn't above throwing money at a problem to make it go away." 

"Who's his father?"  He leaned back against the wall, bracing one arm against its damp surface.  If this bastard had Sarah's sister, things were much worse than he'd anticipated.  And things were pretty damned bad already. 

"Stavros Aristides.  Ever heard of him?" 

"Yes.  The guy is bad news in New Orleans.  Allegedly runs everything from bookmaking to prostitution.  Has a whole crew of leg-breakers that do the dirty work.  The local cops have been trying to put him away for years, but he's slick.  Charges don't stick, and he's got an army of high-priced lawyers on retainer.  Danny's got a different last name, wonder what's up with that?" 

He could hear keys clicking, and knew Tex was working his magic on the computer.  "Near as I can figure, Aristides never married the mother, though he financially supported both the mother and son.  Acknowledges the kid as his son.  I guess the rotten apple didn't fall far from the tree." 

"So, Aristides bails his son out of trouble, and Danny thinks he's untouchable.  Probably makes him think he can get away with snatching up a pretty girl like Anna.  Even if he had a bad reputation in town, she wasn't local, so she'd be ripe pickings for the S.O.B." 

"I hate to be the bearer of even worse news, but your boy also has an extensive psychiatric record.  Hospitalized half a dozen times.  I only skimmed the surface, but it looks like he's got some serious psychological problems." 

"Hell, this just keeps getting better and better.  Okay, thanks.  Appreciate the info.  Now I have to figure out how to break it to Sarah that her sister really is in the hands of a monster." 

"Good luck.  I'll keep digging, see if I can come up with a location where he might have her stashed."

Tex's words caused him to think about the dream.  "Look for someplace fancy.  Elegant.  High up, like a penthouse apartment or condo." 

"Will do.  Call you later." 

He slid his finger across the screen and ended the call.  The best course of action was to call Remy and let him know about the Aristides connection, but he'd probably already made the same connection when checking Danny out. 

Stavros Aristides had two things going for him.  He was rich and he was powerful.  Made it easy to get away with stuff other people went to jail for.  If Aristides knew about his son having Anna, he wouldn't be the type to sit back and do nothing.  No, he was the kind of man who'd make the problem, meaning Anna, go away. 

They needed to look at the father instead of the son, because he had the brains and the financial wherewithal to make his son's problems disappear.  If Anna became a problem, chances were good Aristides would make her disappear—permanently. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"He's disappeared." 

Those were the first words out of Remy's mouth when Ranger opened his front door.  He strode past him, heading straight for the kitchen. 

"Who's disappeared?"

"Danny Cooper.  My guy tailed him from his apartment through a bunch of shortcuts downtown, but lost him.  Cooper's cell's been turned off or destroyed, because it's not pinging any cell towers, and he didn't show up for work."

Sarah had followed Remy into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out two beers and a soda, handing the beers to them.  "He can't just vanish into thin air." 

"I've got cops looking all over the city for him, and nobody's seen hide nor hair of him.  I think he knows we're on to him." 

Ranger cut his eyes at Remy before he set his beer on the counter and slid his arms around Sarah, pulling her against him.  "I hate to say it, but if he got spooked, his father might've whisked him out of the country to protect him." 

He felt her involuntary tremor.  Wished he could make all the pain go away.  Be the hero she deserved, but he was nobody's hero.  Could chalk this up to another failure in a long list of them. 

"What about Anna?" 

"Tex is looking into Aristides' holdings.  Seeing if he can find anything to match what I saw."  While he spoke, he looked over Sarah's shoulder at Remy, watched his eyes widen.  He was one of the few people who knew about his gift—or curse. 

"Dream?"  Remy mouthed the word, and he nodded.  "Damn." 

"So we can waste time beating the bushes, or wait until…"

Remy cut him off.  "Aristides has a penthouse downtown.  Swanky place.  Three floors of decadence, though you ask me it looked tacky as hell.  Served a search warrant there once.  Can you describe what you saw—in the dream?"  Remy's words were a command, his whole bearing at attention. 

Ranger exchanged a knowing glance with him.  "Rich, classy.  White interior doors.  Thick blue carpeting.  Fancy striped wallpaper.  A huge wall of windows, tinted I think."

"Was it a bedroom, with an ornate scrolled headboard?  Separate bathroom on the right, walk-in closet on the left?" Before he'd finished speaking, Remy stood from his barstool, never breaking eye contact.  

At Ranger's nod, Remy smiled.  The sight of it chilled him to his bones.  "I know exactly where that is, my man."

Sarah's body slumped against him.  "Really?"  She spun around in his arms.  "Do you think Danny's father has Anna?" 

"Only one way to find out." 

Remy raised a hand.  "I can't get a search warrant.  There's no evidence Aristides is involved." 

"Don't care.  You can tag along and arrest me, right after we get Anna back." 

Remy grinned.  "Now that, my brother, sounds like a plan." 

'Let's go."   She tried to step out of his embrace, and he pulled her back against him.

"Whoa, hold your horses.  We can't go in there without a plan.  A man like Aristides is going to have people around.  Bodyguards, security." 

"But…"

"No buts, sweetheart.  We'll only have one shot, and we can't afford to screw it up."

A knock on the door startled him.  He glanced at Remy, who shrugged.  "Stay here," he ordered Sarah, who rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion, and he grinned as he opened the door.

"Wolf!"  He'd never been so happy to see anybody.  "Everything handled?" 

"Yes.  The rest of the team's headed back to San Diego to debrief, and I flew straight here."  He walked into the apartment when he spotted Sarah, and she raced across the space separating them, flinging herself into his arms.  "Hey, little one.  You holding up okay?" 

"I'm so glad you're here." 

Ranger felt a stab of jealousy at the easy way Sarah had flung herself into the other man's arms.  Though he knew there wasn't anything going on between them—Wolf assured him of that right at the beginning—it ate at his gut to see the woman he loved in the arms of another man.

The woman I love?  The feeling had snuck up on him.  He'd felt possessive from the start, knowing that she was meant to be his—but love?  That elusive emotion that he'd unconsciously been searching for all his life—and finally found with her.  And it felt right.  Like the other half of him had clicked into place, and he'd never be alone again.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Tex gave me your address.  Any news on Anna?"  Wolf stared across the room at Remy, and Ranger quickly made introductions and brought him up to speed.

"So what's the plan, go in with guns blazing?"  He chuckled at his pun, because he knew about Ranger's handle with the SEALs and the whole Lone Ranger connection behind it. 

"I can't go in officially," Remy told Wolf.  "As I told Ranger, I can't get a warrant; there's nothing concrete to back it up.  Aristides' lawyers would have it quashed before we breeched the foyer." 

"Is there any way to get a look into this Aristides place, see if she's actually there?" 

"It's the penthouse suite, he owns the upper three levels, and the windows are all tinted."  Remy answered. 

"What about the roof?" 

All three men turned toward Sarah when she asked the question. 

"What?  If he has the penthouse, maybe we could somehow get to the roof and see if we could make our way down without going through the front door."  She squinted at him.  "Don't give me that look.  I don't give a damn if it's against the law, I'm willing to let Remy throw the book at me, hell, he can toss me into the darkest jail cell he's got, as long as we get Anna out of the hands of that monster." 

"You know, she's got a good idea."  Wolf grinned at her, and again, Ranger felt jealousy's sting, but fought past it.  There were more important things to deal with right now.

"I've got an idea.  Hang on."  Ranger pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Carlisle?  Got an emergency situation here, and need your help.  Can you get me blueprints for this address?"  He looked toward Remy, who quickly supplied it.  "Plus see if there's any kind of rooftop access.  Get back to me ASAP.  Yeah, it's about the case you're working on with Tex." 

He turned back to the others.  "Carlisle will have the info to me in about five minutes." 

"Sounds like he's almost as good as Tex."  Ranger smiled, remembering Tex's comments about Carlisle and his abilities. 

"Okay.  As soon as we have the blueprints, we'll…

He stopped talking when Remy's phone beeped, concerned at the look on Remy's face as he read the text. 

"What?"

"Danny Cooper was just spotted going into the building where his father lives." 

Sarah spun around and grabbed his arm.  "Ranger, we have to get her out of there.  Time's up—I can feel it.  We can't wait." 

"Dammit!"  Over the top of Sarah's head, he looked at Remy.  "We can't wait, we've gotta go now."

"So, what are we waiting for," he shot back.

"Remy, you can't be there—you'll lose your job." 

"If they fire me over helping rescue a woman being held against her will, I can always find another job.  Hell, Carpenter's been after me to join his company anyway." 

"Carpenter?  Do you mean Samuel Carpenter?"  Wolf looked at Remy with renewed interest. 

"Yes.  He owns Carpenter Security Services." 

Wolf chuckled.  "I've met him.  He assisted on one of our missions.  He's a good man." 

Sarah stepped forward and hugged Remy.  "Thank you." 

"Darlin', you don't have to thank me.  Let's go get your sister." 

Heading downstairs, they all piled into Ranger's Jeep, and headed for Aristides' penthouse.  He sped through two red lights, not slowing down.  He knew Sarah was right, Anna didn't have much time, and they needed to get there ASAP. 

"As soon as we hit Aristides' building, I'll call the station and have some black-and-whites routed to the scene.  Tell 'em I got a reliable tip about a kidnapping.  That'll buy you guys a few minutes to get upstairs and save Anna." 

Ranger screeched to a stop across the street from the building.  It looked tall and majestic against the skyline, all sleek glass and screaming wealth and prosperity.  Not the kind of place you'd expect a known criminal to use as his home base. 

Located in one of the up-and-coming sections of downtown, it was the perfect location for somebody like Aristides to broadcast his legitimacy while being close enough to the seedier element to ply his trade. 

Wolf, Ranger, and Sarah sped through the revolving glass front doors, past the front desk.  A security guard chased behind them, yelling for them to stop, but Ranger wasn't about to get caught.  Instead, Wolf peeled off, blocking the guard's pursuit, leaving him free to get upstairs.

There wasn't any way to get past the front door.  Carlisle had texted him the blueprints, but they were useless now.  A frontal assault would have to do. 

The elevator didn't go to the penthouse, so they went as far as they could, and took the stairs the rest of the way.  He stopped right by the exit door, and stared at the woman by his side.  She was winded from the long sprint up the stairs, but hell, so was he. 

"I don't suppose I can talk you into waiting here?"

The look she shot him spoke louder than any words.  She would not be left behind. 

"Okay.  Whoever opens the front door, I'm going to shove out of the way.  There might be punches thrown, so be prepared.  Don't stop—once you're inside, look for Anna.  Got it?" 

"I understand."  She reached up and cupped his face in both hands, surprising him by pressing a kiss against his lips.  Finally breaking the kiss, she pulled back.  "Don't get killed.  I've got plans for you later."

"I look forward to it, sweetheart.  Let's go." 

Exiting the stairwell, he surveyed the hallway.  Empty.  Maybe Wolf managed to keep security from notifying Aristides or Danny they were coming.  The element of surprise on their side would definitely help get them in the door. 

He raised a fist and pounded on the front door to the penthouse.  It wasn't long before it swung inward, and he followed its momentum, not giving the person time to react.  He barreled forward, shoving past the startled butler, Sarah on his heels.  The sprawling view of the open living space showed no one. 

"Sir, you can't…"

"Where's Aristides or Danny Cooper?"   He barked out the question over his shoulder, sprinting toward the staircase on the right side of the enormous complex.  It was in character with the rest of the place, ostentatious and over-the-top gaudy.  He sprinted for the stairs, as if drawn by some invisible cord. 

"Sir, madam, you cannot go up there."

"Try and stop me," Sarah yelled. 

"But, but…"

"You want me out—call the cops." 

Good thinking, princess. 

At the top of the stairs was a long corridor lined with hardwoods, a deep rich brown, which unfortunately did nothing to muffle his steps.  Not that he cared.  The butler was probably contacting Aristides right then. 

"Anna!"  Sarah screamed her sister's name.  Ranger barely registered it, because at the end of the hallway was the door.  The one from his dream.   A perfect match.  The only difference was the lack of darkness.  In his dream everything had been pitch black, except the door. 

He had to get it open, because Anna was behind it.  The compulsion to keep going forward was one he didn't fight.  His hand almost shook when he wrapped it around the knob.  Taking a deep breath, he turned it.

Locked. 

He stepped back and kicked out with his right leg, his booted foot landing heavily against the wood.  It barely made a scratch.  He did it again.  And again. 

"We've gotta find a way to get this open.  Look around and see if you can find something to pry the hinges off." 

Sarah frantically began pawing through drawers of a console table against the wall, searching frantically, yet coming up emptyhanded. 

"There's nothing!" 

He slammed his other foot against the door.  "Go downstairs and get a knife or a screwdriver, something I can use on those hinges.  This door isn't budging."  A squeaking groan came from the wood, but it still didn't open. 

"I'm not leaving you!" 

Taking a deep breath, he reared back and hit the door with as much force as he could, and stumbled when it swung open under his assault.  Expensive, thick carpet spread throughout the room.  Blue.  Exactly like he'd seen.  But there was no sign of Anna. 

Without another thought, he raced toward the bathroom.  He stopped at the closed door, and turned the knob slowly, easing it open.  The sight that met his gaze brought tears to his eyes.

It was exactly like his dream.  Every sight, every sound, every detail.  Anna lay huddled against the vanity, her head resting against the rim of the tub.  The blood on the floor coated it in the exact pattern he remembered. 

"Anna."  He whispered her name softly, watching her shoulders rise and fall at his single word.  Watched her turn her face toward him, knowing what to expect, yet still shocked to his core.  Somehow in the dream world, it didn't seem so brutal.  This?  There weren't enough words to describe the pain she must have endured—still endured—at the hands of a monster. 

He knelt by her side, Sarah softly sobbing behind him.  Though he'd told her about the dream, he'd tried to spare her the worst of it.  Had that been a mistake? 

"I knew you'd come."  Anna's fingertips skimmed across his cheek, and he fought not to wince at the fingers he knew must be broken.  "My warrior." 

"We're gonna take you home, sugar."

"Anna…" 

"Sarah, is that you?"  Anna struggled to look past him, finally giving up and leaning against the vanity, her frail body covered with bruises.  He'd never wanted to kill somebody as much as he did Danny Cooper, for laying a finger on her. 

"Come on, sugar.  Let's get you out of here." 

"'Kay."

Trying to be gentle, he slid his arms beneath her, lifting her until she rested against his chest, and stood.  She curled against him, her face filled with trust before she laid her head against his shoulder. 

"I knew you'd come.  I dreamed about you." 

"I dreamed about you too, sugar.  But don't try to talk now.  We've got to get out of here, so you can go home."

"Home."  The word came out as a long, drawn-out sigh.  When he looked at Sarah, he saw tears streaking down her cheeks, her fist pressed against her mouth to hold back a sob. 

"He's coming." 

"The monster?" 

Anna raised her head off his chest, trying to focus her gaze on his face.  "That's what I call him—because I can see the monster hiding behind his eyes." 

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs at the injustice of what she'd endured.  Instead, he brushed a kiss against the top of her head, probably the only place she wasn't battered or bruised.

"He won't ever hurt you again.  I promise." 

They'd made it as far as the big imposing bed when he froze.  Apparently, enough time had passed while they'd been in the bathroom with Anna, the sky had begun darkening outside, beyond the tinted windows.  It was nearly dusk, and soon all the light would leach from the room, throwing them into darkness.  Exactly like in his dream. 

He took another step forward, and felt Anna's body begin shaking uncontrollably.  He didn't need to look toward the doorway, because he knew what he'd see there—or who. 

"The monster is here." 

He didn't hesitate.  "Get the hell out of my way, Cooper." 

"You can't have her.  She's mine!"  Danny's voice didn't sound right, so deep as to be almost unintelligible.  But Ranger recognized the glint in his eyes.  He'd seen it before, that fanatical zealous drive which overtook all reason, throwing him into madness. 

Turning his back on Danny, he stepped up to the bed and placed Anna gently onto the duvet.  He needed both hands free to deal with the monster. 

"You've hurt her for the last time, you sick son of a bitch." 

"Anna is mine!"  The words were roared, and Anna whimpered behind him, curling up in a protective ball.  "She's going to marry me—you can't have her!"

Ranger braced his feet, never taking his eyes off the other man.  He only had two choices—wait for Danny to make the first move and attack, or go on the offensive and take him down.

He never expected there to be a third option. 

Sarah. 

Almost faster than he could blink, she'd grabbed a lamp from the bedside table, yanked the plug out of the wall and raced toward Danny, yielding it like a baseball bat. 

"Sarah, no!" 

A ferocious yell escaped Danny when the lamp's base made contact with his shoulder, before he batted it away and grabbed her arm.

"Bitch.  What the hell did you do that for?" 

"Anna's my sister!  Look what you've done to her."  Sarah struggled against Danny's hold, but couldn't break free, and Ranger's gut tightened in dread.  One wrong move and he'd snap her neck like a twig.  He couldn't help wondering if the other man had some kind of steroid-induced rage, because the kind of muscles he sported didn't come from just working out.  Couple that with his psychiatric problems, and he was a ticking time bomb. 

"Let her go, Danny." 

He could feel his own rage rising, because the other man dared lay a hand on his woman. 

Keep it together, you can't afford to give in to the rage—not while he's got his hands on Sarah.  She needs you—don't let her down.

"Cooper, there are cops everywhere downstairs.  They'll be up here any minute.  Let's make things easier for everybody and let the women go." 

Ranger held both hands in front of him, palms facing outward to show Danny he was unarmed.  Not that he needed a weapon.  He'd been trained to disable or kill with his bare hands if he needed to.  He drew in a steadying breath, battling back the rage eating away at his control, urging him to give in and attack.  But he couldn't risk hurting Sarah, and the way Danny had her trapped against him, if he attacked she'd definitely be injured—or worse.  It wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

"Danny, if you let Sarah go, you can walk away.  I won't come after you.  It's your only chance." 

"I'm not going anywhere without Anna.  She's going to marry me.  She loves me." 

Sarah struggled, trying to break free of Danny's hold, and Ranger silently pleaded with her to stop struggling, it was just making him madder.  They needed him calm.  Needed to deescalate the situation.  Needed to keep the women safe at all cost. 

"I'm sure she does, Danny.  And I love the woman you're holding.  She means everything to me, and I can't let you hurt her."  Danny's grip on Sarah's arm was already leaving bruises, and he battled down the killer who wanted to spring across the few feet separating them and tear his throat out. 

Sarah gasped.  "You love me?" 

Ranger chuckled.  "Yeah, sweetheart, I love you.  I hadn't planned on telling you like this, but…"

"I love you too." 

For a moment his heart stopped, before it trip-hammered in his chest, adrenaline screaming through his veins, and he suddenly felt ten feet tall.  Sarah loved him! 

This standoff had to end—now.  He wanted Sarah in his arms, where she belonged.  And they needed to get Anna to a hospital, to get her the help, physically and emotionally, that she desperately needed. 

Where are the cops?  They should've been here by now. 

"Enough!"  Danny took another step into the room, dragging Sarah with him.  "I will snap her neck if you don't get out of my way.  Anna is mine!  You can't have her—I'll kill you!" 

He knew time had run out and he couldn't stall any longer.  Before he could take a single step, Danny's hand wrapped around Sarah's throat, lifting her with one hand until her toes barely touched the ground.  Her hands clawed at him as she choked, and Ranger could only watch, helpless as Danny pulled her in front of him as a human shield.

"Get out."  A trickle of spittle flew from his lips as Danny yelled. 

"I can't."  Ranger answered, a sense of calm flooding him, even though he'd never felt more helpless in his entire life.  All that stood between Danny getting to Anna was him.  She couldn't take any further damage from the bigger man.  But he couldn't allow Sarah to get hurt either.  He was caught between a rock and a hard place—and where the hell were the cops? 

"Get away from Anna or I'll kill her," Danny screamed, shaking Sarah hard enough her feet left the floor, a gurgling sound coming from her throat when her air was cut off. 

"Okay, Danny.  Look, I'm moving away from Anna."  He took a couple of steps to the side, leaving a clear path to the bed, where Anna lay curled in a fetal position. 

She raised her head slightly off the mattress, her eyes glued to Danny's hulking form approaching her.  "Danny, it's okay.  We can go away, just you and me.  But you've gotta let Sarah go.  She's my sister.  Please, Danny, you can't hurt my sister.  She loves me—just like you do." 

Ranger watched her scoot to the edge of the bed, saw the pained expression cross her face that she tried to hide.  It was obvious she could barely move, yet she was risking herself to save her sister. 

One more step.  A little closer and I've got you. 

A slight movement in his peripheral vision had him glancing toward the doorway, and he spotted Remy leaning around the doorjamb, his gun clasped steady in his hand.  He gave an almost imperceptible nod, letting him know that he'd spotted him. 

Sarah stood still, though her hands still clawed at Danny's unbreakable hold.  Her face was a mottled red, and Ranger wanted nothing more than to kill the son of a bitch. Danny was almost even with him, and he watched him take another step toward Anna, who'd now struggled to sit on the edge of the bed.  The duvet cover was now spotted with blood. 

"Danny, come on, baby, let Sarah go.  You and me—we can leave.  Just like we planned.  We'll go to Atlantic City and get married.  Then nobody can take me away from you.  But you need to let Sarah go with her friend." 

"I can't.  They won't leave us alone."

"They will, Danny.  Sarah, promise Danny that you'll let us go away.  Let us get married and be happy."  Ranger heard the desperation coloring Anna's words, knew she was trying to convince Sarah to play along. 

Sarah nodded her head, though it barely moved with Danny's hand still wrapped tight around her throat.  Danny's grip loosened and she pulled free, coughing and choking for breath. 

The instant she was free, a shot rang out, and Danny staggered forward, landing on his knees.  Ignoring him, he raced toward Sarah, grabbing her into his arms.

"Baby, are you okay?" 

She nodded, with her hand rubbing her throat.  "Help Anna."  Her words came out barely above a whisper. 

Remy stalked past him, standing over Danny, who lay face down on the blue carpet, a dark stain spreading beneath him.  He didn't move, and at Remy's deep sigh, Ranger knew he was dead. 

"Hey, darlin', you doing okay?"  Remy knelt on one knee beside Anna, now that the threat had been neutralized.  "My name is Remy, and I'm a police officer.  We're gonna get you to the hospital now." 

Anna nodded.  "Make Sarah come too.  She's hurt." 

"Don't worry, she's going too." 

He couldn't seem to let Sarah go, murmuring assurances and sweet words in her ear, all the way to the hospital.  Refused to wait outside while the doctors examined her.  He'd be damned if he let her out of his sight for the next fifty years, if he had his way. 

It was over.  The monster was dead.  He couldn't hurt anybody ever again. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Go home.  Be with your wife."  Ranger passed a bottle of water to Wolf, and twisted the cap off his.  "Caroline's got to be going crazy, you've been gone so long."

"She's a SEAL's wife.  It comes with the territory.  Besides, I talk to her a couple of times a day." 

"Everything's going to be fine.  The doctors say Anna will make a full recovery."  At least physically, but who knew how the emotional trauma would scar her?  Although they'd gotten there in time to save her life, when the hospital did the rape kit, it proved they'd been too late to save her from that horror. 

They were keeping her in the hospital for a couple more days, monitoring her.  They'd reset the broken fingers, and done scans to make sure she didn't have a concussion or any kind of severe head injury.  The bruises were beginning to fade. 

"Her parents haven't left her bedside since they got here."  Wolfe took a drink, twisting the lid back on.  "I've seen some pretty effed up stuff, but what he did to her…" 

"At least he'll never do it to any other woman."

"Remy deserves a medal for taking that shot."  Ranger knew he'd been put on administrative leave, pending an internal investigation.  Remy claimed it was all routine, standard procedure for an officer-related incident.  He'd be more than willing to testify that it was a righteous shot if the need arose.  Wolf would too. 

"What about Sarah?"  Wolf asked the question nonchalantly, though he knew there was nothing casual about the man's interest. 

"We haven't had a chance to talk much.  She's been in Anna's hospital room ever since she was admitted." 

"Let me be clearer.  What are your intentions?  Anybody with eyes can see you care about her…"

"I love her." 

Wolf grinned.  "That's all I need to know.  Caroline will be thrilled."  He ran his palms over his jean-clad thighs before standing.  "I'm heading out then.  Call me if you need anything."  He stopped and gave Ranger a solid stare.  "You're part of the team now.  We've got your back."

The squeezing in the center of his chest was an unfamiliar sensation, and it took a second to recognize it.  Comradery between brothers, not by blood, but by choice. 

"Be safe." 

Wolf turned and walked out of the hospital waiting room.  Ranger had been spending most of his days here, checking on Anna and spending a few precious moments with Sarah every chance he got.  They hadn't had a chance to talk about the feelings expressed during the crisis, but his hadn't changed.  He loved her and would until the day he left this earth. 

Did she feel the same?  He knew it was too soon, they hadn't known each other long, but he was sure.  Hell, he'd never been more sure of anything in his life.  If she cared about him, he'd wait until she was ready.  He'd court her, woo her with flowers and romantic dinners.  If she wanted, he'd even get the rest of his brothers together somehow and serenade her. 

"Hi."  There she was, standing in the doorway, looking tired and yet the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.  Sometimes her beauty would sneak up on him, and he'd wonder how she could get prettier, yet she still took his breath away.

"How's Anna?"

"Better.  The doctors said they'll probably let her leave tomorrow." 

"Isn't it too soon?"

She walked over and eased onto the seat beside him, those side-by-side uncomfortable plastic chairs with the curved seats and no armrests to speak of.  With a sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. 

"She wants to go home.  I can't blame her, wanting to get away from the memories and everything.  It's going to take a lot of time and love, but she's a lot stronger than I ever imagined."

He remained silent beside her, holding her closer, and breathing in her scent.  How was he going to be strong enough to let her go? 

"Have they found Aristides yet?" 

After they'd headed for the hospital with Anna, the police had put out an APB on Stavros Aristides for accessory to kidnapping and a multitude of other charges, but he'd vanished off the face of the earth.  Remy gave him updates when he could, but since he was on administrative leave, he was kind of out of the loop himself.  The scuttlebutt around the station was that Aristides had fled the country.  The bastard had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life without ever stepping foot on American soil again, and he hoped the man stayed long gone. 

"Nothing new, sweetheart.  If he's smart, he'll stay far away from New Orleans.  If he's spotted, he'll be arrested on sight, and there aren't enough high-powered attorneys who can keep him out of jail.  Especially with your sister's eyewitness testimony that he murdered Buddy Alvarado, his biggest competition in New Orleans." 

"It's really over then?"  She sounded hopeful—and tired.  He doubted she'd had much sleep in the last forty-eight hours, and she was practically drooping in her seat. 

"Yes, baby, it's over.  Are your folks with Anna?"

She nodded.  "I think they're afraid if they let her out of their sight, she'll disappear."  He understood that feeling, because he felt it every time Sarah walked away.  Even knowing she was just down the hall in her sister's room didn't alleviate the worry.

"How about we let them know you're going to go home and get a couple hours sleep?"  When she started to protest, he put a finger against her lips.  "You're practically asleep on your feet.  You're not doing anybody any good if you end up in the other bed in your sister's hospital room as a patient." 

Her shoulders slumped, and he knew he'd won the argument.  Within minutes, he had her in the back of a cab headed toward his apartment.  When they arrived, he hustled her through the door and straight to the bedroom. 

She stood, swaying with exhaustion, and he peeled off her clothes and tucked her into the bed, pulling the sheet up around her.  The dark shadows beneath her eyes stood out like bruises against her delicate skin, evidence of the long sleepless hours.

"Can you hold me?  Until I fall asleep?" 

He didn't hesitate, stripping down to his boxers and climbing in beside her.  Denying her would have been impossible, since all he wanted was to hold her in his arms.  Reassure himself that she was alive and whole. 

With a smile, she snuggled up against his side and soon her breathing indicated she was asleep.  He waited several minutes before easing onto his side, propped up on one arm.  With a fingertip, he traced the bruises around her throat, a vivid reminder of Cooper's stranglehold, and how close he'd come to losing her. 

"It doesn't hurt."  Her beautiful blue eyes met his.  With as much tenderness as he could muster, he brushed a kiss across each lid.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart.  I'll be here when you wake up." 

"I know you will."  Her fingers traced along his chest, tiny swirling patterns, not looking at him, and he wondered what was bothering her enough to keep her awake.  "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" 

"That you love me?" 

"Yes." 

"Say it again." 

He put a finger beneath her chin, tilting it up until she looked him in the eyes.  "I love you, Sarah Sloane.  I always swore that love at first sight was for suckers and fools—until I laid eyes on a sexy raven-haired beauty standing in the doorway of Lucky's bar.  From that moment on, my heart has belonged to you." 

"I'm glad, because I love you so much, Ranger."  Putting her head on his shoulder, she continued.  "I was attracted to you from the beginning, looking so masculine and dangerous sitting in Lucky's.  But I wasn't afraid of you.  Never.  Somewhere deep inside I felt a pull, like nothing I've ever felt before.  You might push a lot of people away, but you can't fool me, Mr. Tough Guy.  You made me fall in love with you."  He felt a gentle kiss against his chest.  "I'm not sure how we'll do it, but we're going to find a way to make this work.  Because we are meant to be together, and I'm not giving up without a fight." 

Ranger wanted to laugh aloud at the joy coursing through him.  She was right, it wasn't going to be easy, but they'd make it work.  This was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, and he might not be the smartest man around, but he was smart enough to hold onto a good thing when he found it. 

Closing his eyes, he drifted to sleep with the knowledge they'd figure it out, because he wasn't letting her go. 

EPILOGUE

Six months later

Wolf looked at the ivory-colored envelope sitting atop the stack of mail on the table.  It was good quality paper, and he knew before he picked it up what it contained.  Just as he knew Caroline had put it on top of the stack, so he'd spot it first thing. 

Slitting the top with the letter opener, he pulled out the card, noting the elegant calligraphy and embossed bells on the front.  Flipping it open, he read the announcement with a deep sense of satisfaction mixed with pride. 

Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Sloane request your presence at the wedding of their daughter, Sarah Isabella Sloane and Gaston Emmanuel Boudreau…

He didn't have to worry any more.  Ranger was in good hands with Sarah, and he knew the man would give his life to protect his woman. 

It felt good, having another fellow SEAL find his one and only.  Hoped they'd be as happy as he and Caroline.  They should go to the wedding.  If he wasn't called away for an emergency, taking Caroline to New Orleans for the wedding of her friend sounded like a fine idea.

He looked at the date and chuckled.  Yes, they'd definitely have to plan a trip.  Marriage and Mardi Gras in New Orleans—it sounded like the perfect plan. 

# # # # #

Dear Reader,

Thank you for spending time with me in Susan Stoker's Special Forces Kindle World. I had so much fun writing in this world and playing with Susan's characters, and I hope you did too.  If you've enjoyed my idea of romance and intrigue in the heart of New Orleans, then join me in The Big Easy with my New Orleans Connection Series, filled with alpha heroes oozing with Southern charm and the strong women they love. 

Now, sit back and hold on tight for a roller coaster ride of action, suspense, and romance with the New Orleans Connection Series.  And if you love contemporary romance with a comedic flair, check out my Loviin' Las Vegas series.  Curl up in your favorite chair, put your feet up, dive into the heart of the French Quarter, and join me for stories of mystery, intrigue and romance with a Cajun flair in the worlds I've created—where you'll always see a happily ever after!  Laissez les bons temps rouler!

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