Tracker’s Sin (14 page)

was as insubstantial as dandelion fluff? How could she tel a man she barely knew that she needed to see his eyes, because when he looked at her she

believed she was something more than nothing? Something more than crazy? She couldn’t.

“You trying to tel me you’re feeling a bit lost right now?”

Lost didn’t begin to cover it. She had nothing.
Nothing.
“A little.”

Tracker held up his hands. They were darkened by the sun, with scars slashing the backs in a random pattern, but they were strong

hands. Tendon flexed over bone as he motioned her toward him, and she slid off the horse into them, her feet dangling in the air.

There was no panic when his hands closed around her waist, just a sense of rightness. Ari closed her eyes, absorbing that feeling.

Instead of setting her away, Tracker held her against him. More strength and, God help her, comfort. The wal she’d built around her emotions cracked. A

tear leaked down her cheek.

Don’t hold me. Don’t be nice to me. Don’t. Don’t.

“What can I do?”

Nothing. There was nothing he or anyone could do.

The wal cracked further. Of their own volition, her arms slid around his neck and her legs curled around his, anchoring her to him. “Don’t

lie to me.”

His deep drawl rumbled in her ear. “It’s not a habit I planned on picking up.”

She leaned her head against his chest. His heart beat in a slow, steady rhythm against her cheek. He smel ed of leather, sweat and

horse. She should be repulsed. She just wanted to get closer. To crawl inside his skin and dare the memories to come. When Tracker held her, fear

disappeared. “Thank you.”

She flattened her palms against the cool leather of his shirt. Beneath, she could feel the hardness of muscle. He was such a solid man.

“How do I know?” she added.

“What?”

“How do I know you’ve never lied to me?”

He let her slide down his body, easing her away only when the buttons on her shirt caught on his belt buckle. He stepped back. She

immediately felt bereft. She caught the bottom corner of his vest, halting his retreat. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Don’t walk away.

She shook her head and let him go, giving him a smal smile. “Nothing.”

He studied her, and then, almost as if expecting her to run, he reached out. Why would he expect her to run from him? The back of his

fingers touched her cheek. She closed her eyes and let the familiar sensation flow through her. When she opened her eyes, he was waiting. His gaze held

hers with the same surety with which he’d held her body a few minutes before. “I won’t leave you. And I won’t lie to you.”

“Promise?” She so needed a promise.

“I promise.”

“And it is said that the Hel ’s Eight never break a promise.”

“No, and neither do I.”

He wanted her to see him as more than a Ranger doing his job, she suddenly understood. He wanted her to see him as a man.

He’d never been anything else to her.

She forced a smile that she hoped didn’t look as wobbly as it felt. “That’s even better.”

His fingers slid across her neck. A shiver went down her spine and his big palm cradled her head. His thumb wiped the tear from her

cheek. “What’s wrong, sweets?”

“You’re going to take me home.”

His thumb wiped away another tear. “That should make you happy.”

“I have no idea what to expect.”

“A very warm welcome.”

“How wil I even know when I’ve arrived?”

“You’l know it when you see it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’l have to trust me, Ari.”

She preferred “sweets” to “Ari.” Ari sounded formal, distant even, on his lips. Everyone cal ed her that. Only Tracker cal ed her “sweets.”

“I guess so.”

Tracker dropped his hand from her cheek and settled his hat on his head. The brim was a bit bent where she’d grabbed it. She liked the

idea that she’d left her mark on him, but hated the way the brim shaded his eyes, hiding his thoughts from her. Touching her cheek where he had, she

realized he was right. She had no choice but to trust him.

The same way you had no choice but to trust the Moraleses.

She pushed the knowledge aside. Tracker was as different from them as night was from day.

“I’ve got breakfast ready,” Shadow cal ed from where he crouched in front of Miguel. He had a knotted red bandanna in his hand. Miguel

was watching it with wide-eyed fascination. Whatever else he was, Shadow was good with her son.

Tracker waved her forward. “You’l feel better once you have something in your stomach.”

“I don’t think so.”

He cocked an eyebrow and smiled—a smile that made her want to stand on tiptoe and kiss him. His eyes narrowed. The right corner of

his lip quirked up a little, just enough to feed the longing inside her.

“What happened to trusting me?”

Her smile was confident, but inside, she felt tremulous. How did he do this to her? Draw her attention away from her troubles, to the

pleasure between them? The sensation of his hand on her cheek was fading. She wanted to replace it with something even better. “It was a passing fancy.

”

His gaze never left her mouth. “Uh-huh.”

She cut a glance at Shadow. He was watching her. So was Miguel. It would be scandalous to accept the invitation Tracker was extending.

But she wanted to. The best she could do was turn her back to their audience and blow him a quick kiss. And even that was shocking. Not only to her, but

to Tracker.

His eyes widened and then narrowed, the heavy-lidded expression so sexual that her knees went weak. He had beautiful, expressive

eyes. And right now they were nearly black with the memories she knew she had invoked.

“You’re awful y brave when we have an audience.”

She remembered their time in the barn, the searing pleasure that had obscured everything but the joy they’d felt. Cocking her head to the

side, keeping her voice low, she teased, “I don’t know. I think I was pretty bold the last time, in the barn.”

“That you were.”

The sensual softening of his lips emboldened her. She liked feeling that way. Liked who she was with him. Free. Natural. The self it felt

she should be, but couldn’t remember. “Maybe when you get me alone again, I can try for something bolder.”

“Damn, sweets, I’m not sure I could take it.”

“Me, neither.”

Behind her she could hear her son start the whining that preceded a wail. Her breasts swel ed and tingled. She didn’t have a change of

clothes if her milk let down. “I have to take care of Miguel.”

“Yup.”

She couldn’t make her feet move.

Tracker’s hands on her shoulders turned her around. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” But she couldn’t help feeling that there was something beyond her awareness looming like a thundercloud over this happiness,

just waiting to unleash its fury on this new beginning.

Shadow was unwrapping Miguel from the cradleboard. The curse word he uttered wasn’t pretty.

“Mr. Ochoa!” she snapped.

Shadow al but thrust Miguel at her. “Damn, what are you feeding that kid?”

With her next indrawn breath, she understood. Letting him dangle at arm’s length, she gasped, “What did
you
feed him?”

Shadow didn’t meet her gaze. “What makes you think I fed him anything?”

Tracker came up and stopped dead before taking a step back. “Good God!”

Shadow took two steps back and one to the right. “Al I did was give him some of my burrito. To keep him quiet while I was waiting for you

two to mosey on out.”

“You gave beans to a six-month-old baby?”

“He liked them.”

“Sure as shit doesn’t smel like they’re liking him back,” Tracker muttered, waving his hand in front of his nose.

Miguel’s face crumpled. His chin wobbled. A tear trickled down his cheek. To Ari’s shock, Tracker took him away, saying, “Give him to

me.”

“Do you know how to change a baby?”

He walked over to the saddlebags. “Can’t be as complicated as setting a charge of dynamite.” He rummaged through the bags until he

found a clean nappy, soap and a cloth. Miguel just stared at the big man who held him. As Tracker’s hair fel forward, he grabbed a handful and brought it

to his mouth.

“You’d think none of them had ever eaten a bean before,” Tracker said, rubbing the little boy’s back.

Miguel grunted, another tear spil ing from his eyes.

“Don’t you go believing them. Their shit stinks just like everyone else’s.”

Shadow burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God! Tracker!” Ari cried.

He gave her a hard look. “Do you want him to believe there’s something wrong with him?”

She didn’t. “No, but—”

He cut her off. “Then stop acting like the world’s come to an end because he had a bowel movement.”

He was actual y angry. On behalf of Miguel.

“He’s too young to know.”

“The hel he is.” With an efficiency that raised questions, he set about changing the dirty diaper. “As soon as you al started carrying on, he

started crying.”

Miguel, rid of the dirty diaper and with a fistful of Tracker’s hair in his mouth, cooed happily.

“I’m sure.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“I never thought there was.”

“He’s a good baby, and raised right, he’l be a good man.” Tracker was looking at her like this was something she didn’t know.

“I ful y intend to raise him right,” she retorted.

Tracker nodded. “Good. Because he’s going to be Hel ’s Eight.”

What Miguel was going to be was her decision. Ari folded her hands across her ful breasts and winced. She needed to nurse her son.

“That’s not a given.”

Shadow spoke from behind her. “Do not be so quick to deny him a place at Hel ’s Eight. For a boy like him, who is neither white nor

anything else, being one of the Eight wil count.”

How had they gone from discussing Miguel’s diaper to his future? “For what?”

“As a place in which to put his pride when the world would take it away.”

A chil raced over her skin. She rubbed her arms. “He’s just a baby.”

She knew Miguel would face prejudice later in life. She’d seen a bit of it when they’d had visitors at the ranch. But he was stil an infant,

and the time when he’d have to face the world as an adult was many years away.

“Who wil one day be a man,” Tracker said quietly. “To grow up straight, he’l need a place where he’s accepted.”

“A place where no one wil spit on him for being a boy like any other,” Shadow added.

“Yes.” Tracker lifted Miguel up. The boy flashed his toothless grin and kicked his feet. Tracker didn’t smile back. Miguel stopped kicking

and his expression grew solemn as he stared at the man holding him. “But no one wil spit on you and live, little one. This I promise you.”

Shadow nodded while Miguel stared intently at Tracker, as if seeing him for the first time.

Looking from one brother to the next, Ari knew the feeling. It hit her that they weren’t speculating. They’d faced hatred. They’d been spat

on as boys. They’d had their pride taken away. They knew the pain her son could face. She couldn’t picture either Tracker or Shadow as vulnerable boys.

They were too strong, too confident, but she could see Miguel as one. And she could see how easy it would be for someone to break his smiling, happy

nature with senseless cruelty. Al because his skin wasn’t the right color. She tightened her grip on her arms. She’d kil the first person who tried.

Looking over at Tracker she asked, “What makes you so sure he’l find acceptance at Hel ’s Eight?”

As Tracker handed Miguel to her, the wind blew his hair back from his face, leaving nothing to soften the determination in his expression.

“Because I’m there.”

Yes, that would do it. Tracker was a fair man with a strong sense of right and wrong. Because of his own heritage, he could offer Miguel

understanding and direction. And maybe love? She didn’t know if Tracker could love her son, but if he did, there would be no shirking or holding back.

He’d be a father in al ways.

It was something to consider. And in the meantime, he’d made Miguel a promise that was as solid as the man himself. Shadow was right.

She shouldn’t be so quick to deny Miguel a place at Hel ’s Eight.

“Thank you.”

Miguel fussed, turning his face into her shoulder. He was hungry.

“You’re welcome.” Tracker motioned with his hand. “Why don’t you feed him while I clean this up?”

In a minute, she wasn’t going to have much choice. She sat on the rock and unbuttoned her blouse. Both men turned aside, giving her

privacy.

“Where’d you learn to change a diaper?” Ari asked Tracker.

“Worried I’ve got a passel of kids somewhere?”

What was the point in denying the truth? “Yes.”

There was a pause, as if her honesty surprised him. Shadow snorted, whether in laughter or annoyance, she couldn’t tel . The seconds

seemed to drag painful y before Tracker said, “I don’t.”

“Have a passel, or any?” Some things a woman had to know, whether it was any of her business or not.

“I don’t have any.”

It was her turn to smile. Leaning down, she kissed the top of Miguel’s head. “Good.”

“Miguel al settled?” Tracker asked, glancing to where the boy played on the blanket she’d laid out.

“For now.”

“Good, then it’s our turn to eat.” Grabbing a tortil a from the stack, he fil ed it with beans and cheese, then handed it to her. “Hol er when

you’re ready for another.”

A glance at the plate revealed there wasn’t that much food to go around. Especial y when two of the people eating were men. Ari smiled.

“One wil be enough for me.”

Tracker paused in fil ing his own tortil a. “If I can’t lie to you, you can’t lie to me.”