Out Rider

Dev rolled her eyes. “That was the worst part. The woman’s daughter went ballistic. She was shrieking and screaming, completely losing it.”

“People never know what they’ll do until they’re faced with a crisis,” Sloan mused. “Could you talk the daughter down?”

“No,” Dev said, blowing out a big sigh. “I told Becky to deal with her while I stayed with the unconscious woman until the ambulance arrived. A third ranger, Randy, quietly moved all the tourists out of the center and stood guard at the door, giving us some privacy and space.”

“Sounds like you handled it the best you could.”

“Yes, but it really shook me up,” Dev admitted, picking up a cracker.

“It would anyone,” Sloan told her gently. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Dev.” There was something in her eyes, deep in the recesses of them, that Sloan couldn’t define. That same terror he’d seen weeks ago was lurking in their depths. Dev’s brow creased as she frowned and she took a deep drink of the wine. He could see a slight tremble in her fingers around the glass stem as she set it down.

“Well,” Dev muttered, giving him a worried look, “there’s more to this, but you probably realize that.”

Sloan sat back, stretching out his long legs beneath the table. “I can see you’re upset, Dev. What did this event trigger for you?” He might as well try to get her to talk about it. Even though they hadn’t had a lot of time together, it was obvious he and Dev shared something good between them. Would she trust him and let her guard down with him? Sloan didn’t know. He could see her struggle with his question. She pushed her fingers through her hair and he was beginning to understand that with Dev, it was a gesture of nervousness, of not being sure about something.

So, he waited. Sloan had learned a long time ago when dealing with fractious horses that hated being shod, that just standing quietly and patiently, letting the animal get it out of their system, was the best course of action. And he thought Dev needed that same kind of response from him if she was going to share whatever it was that had triggered the terror in her eyes again.

“Well,” she mumbled, wrapping both hands around the wet stem of the wineglass, “you’re right. It hit me a lot harder than I expected...the noise...the screams...the ambulance...”

Sloan met and held her eyes, seeing the trepidation in them. Dev compressed her lips. “You were in the Marine Corps,” he offered quietly. “And from what you’ve told me, with that IED going off close to you and Bella, plus getting wounded, you probably have a little PTSD from the event. It would be expected, Dev.”

Her mouth thinned further, one corner pulling inward as she gave him a swift look and then returned her gaze to the wineglass in front of her. “I do have PTSD. It wasn’t half as bad as it is now, though...”

Frowning, Sloan remained relaxed, although his instincts told him that Dev needed to be held. Her fingers opened and closed constantly around the stem of the wineglass. He could feel the tension in her because his sixth sense was finely honed from years working in Afghanistan, where every minute he and Mouse could have died if they weren’t careful. His hyperawareness wasn’t something Sloan wanted many people to know about because it usually made them uncomfortable in his midst. Some accused him of having X-ray vision. Or being a mind reader. But it was neither. He just had very well honed instincts at an animal level he’d used to sense out situations that might have been lethal to him and Mouse. Even after leaving the Army, that skill remained online to this day.

The feelings he sensed around Dev were devastating to Sloan. Strong emotions, intense and shattering. What the hell had happened to her? He keyed in on her statement that her PTSD was worse now than before. What did that mean? Had there been another incident in the Marine Corps that had deepened it? Made it worse? He knew there were so many dark emotions that came with their military work in an enemy-rich environment.

Sloan had to stop himself from reaching out and enclosing his hand around Dev’s nervous fingers, now wet from the beads of moisture sliding downward off the wineglass. Even more telling was that Bella had come over and sat down, feeling Dev’s stress. Dogs picked up in a heartbeat on how their human handlers were feeling. Even the Lab looked worried as she studied her mistress.

Dev reached over, giving Bella a pat on the head.

Sloan watched Dev gird herself, straightening her spine, and then she gave him an apologetic glance.

“I guess this incident triggered something that happened to me six months ago.”

Sloan nodded, saying nothing, not wanting to stop her from speaking.

“I was...well... There was this red-haired ranger named Bart Gordon at the HQ where I worked out of in Smoky Mountains National Park.” Dev lowered her voice. “He was always smiling at everyone. He worked with me at the visitor’s center sometimes. It was the only place I ever saw him. Bart had a way with women. If a little girl was crying, he’d come around the counter, crouch down and speak to her and she’d stop crying. He had a kind of magic with women, no matter what their age.”

The terror rushed forward in Dev’s eyes as she spoke, her voice as strained as her expression. Bella moved closer to Dev, placing her head in her lap. Dev automatically stroked her worried dog.

“I was usually out doing tracking with Bella, but I’d heard from my boss that Bart was really a great PR person for the Forest Service because he had a way with words and people.”

Dev gulped and swallowed, her eyes trained on the glass. Something had happened and Sloan’s mind instantly leaped to a place he was reluctant to explore. “What happened between you?”

Dev snapped her head in his direction, her eyes widening. “Am I that obvious?”

Sloan gave her a warm look meant to ratchet down her tension. Instantly, her shoulders dropped. “No. Just my farrier sensing,” he drawled. Dev nodded, tearing her gaze from his.

“I keep forgetting that. I know farriers have almost a telepathic link to the animals they’re working with.”

“Yeah,” he said, a slight hitch in one corner of his mouth, “it’s all about safety.”

“You’re right. It always is.” Dev gave Sloan a searching look and admitted, “Gordon started stalking me. I had only stood duty at the visitor’s center with him a couple of times, but he became fixated on me.”

“Did you want his attention?”

“God, no... Even Bella didn’t like him. And she likes everyone,” Dev said, giving her Lab a loving look, nervously stroking her head and neck. “I tried to stay away from him as much as I could, Sloan. But damn, it was like he was psychic. Bart could pick up on when I was going to be coming back to HQ. He’d always be around at those times and it started triggering my PTSD because he felt like an enemy stalking me. Wanting something from me...”

“Did you inform your supervisor?” Sloan asked. He saw her give a jerky nod.

“I went to him and he laughed it all off. Told me it was my imagination.” Dev glared at the wall in front of her for a moment, seemingly wrestling with escaping emotions. “I filled out a report on it, anyway. He deep-sixed it. After three months of no action, and Gordon following me around like a lost puppy, I put in for a lateral move to come out here.”

“Men protecting men?” Sloan wondered, watching her expression carefully because he could feel how upset Dev really was. Just talking about it was making her edgy and tense. How badly he wanted to get up, move around to her chair, pull it out and draw Dev into his arms. But that wouldn’t be wise because now he knew another man had done something bad to her. And for him to try to hold her could backfire. Dev might see him as a would-be stalker, too.

She grimaced and took a jerky sip of wine, wrestling with barely held rage. “Always,” she gritted out. “I did nothing wrong. I’m not a flirt. I wasn’t in a relationship. But that doesn’t mean I’m out trying to get a man, either.”

“Did your supervisor have a friendship with Gordon?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dev whispered, shaking her head. “One thing you learn real fast about Bart is that he knows how to lure you and then hook you with his smile. With the way he maneuvers you. God, he gets inside your head.” She touched her brow, her voice incredulous. Turning, she met Sloan’s hooded stare. “When I was in Afghanistan, I met plenty of CIA operatives. One thing I found out in a hurry was the way they ingratiate themselves with you in order to gain your trust. Get inside your head.”

Raising his brows, Sloan nodded. “It’s a basic CIA tactic to gain someone’s trust. Find out what they like, what interests them, and then they adopt the same likes and dislikes you have, so you’ll trust them. After all—” and his mouth hooked upward a bit “—it’s a human frailty to fall in with someone who is like-minded. Right?”

Dev saw the gleam of understanding in Sloan’s thoughtful stare. “Yes. That’s exactly what they did. I hated it. I saw it and I’d call them on it. And then—” she rolled her eyes “—I meet Gordon and he was exactly like that. He asks you a bunch of questions, feeling you out, and then he suddenly feels the same way you do on everything.”

“Was he possibly a CIA agent?” Sloan asked.

“I don’t know,” Dev uttered wearily. She sipped her wine. “All I know is that he ingratiated himself with anyone that he thought had power. I watched him do it. I recognized what he was doing.”

“But he was stalking you?”

“Yes... God, I hated it. I knew he had our supervisor in his back pocket. I knew if I went to my boss, he’d bury my protest and not protect me.”

Sloan slowly unwound from the chair, walked to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of wine. Coming back, he refilled her glass. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he urged her, catching her glum, dark-looking eyes. He wanted to do a helluva lot more than pour Dev some wine. She gave him a grateful look and sipped it. Then she picked up a piece of cheese with a small cracker, beginning to nibble disinterestedly on it.

Sloan felt good about the fact that he could affect Dev positively. But his mind spun with so many questions. Was she this trusting with everyone? Was that why Gordon had stalked her? Because she was gullible? As Sloan walked to his chair and sat down, he felt terror and sadness surrounding Dev. She had gone pale as she’d confided in him. There was a lot more to this, he realized. Dev was fragile. Despite her outward appearance of confidence, Sloan felt the wound she’d received, and it had done major damage to her as a person. Perhaps as a woman? He really didn’t want to think Gordon had raped her. Just the thought turned his stomach and tightened it into a painful knot. His fist flexed and Sloan forced himself to remain relaxed. After all, Dev was a dog handler, which spoke about her sensitivity, her all-terrain awareness. She wouldn’t have survived those deployments if she didn’t have that outer awareness every soldier, every dog handler, developed.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Dev. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

When she turned, her green eyes had a sheen of tears in them. It tore at his heart. Sloan could feel a huge storm of emotions bubbling barely beneath her control. Her lower lip trembled.

CHAPTER SIX

WHY DID SHE suddenly want to burst into tears? Dev blinked a couple of times, forcing back her reaction. Was it the compassionate expression on Sloan’s rugged face? The burning look of care in his narrowed blue eyes? The sensation of Sloan invisibly wrapping her within his strong, safe arms even though he was sitting several feet away from her, sprawled out, relaxed, but focused on her? The sensation was so real Dev closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers tightening around the slender stem of the wineglass. She hadn’t had that much to drink. But maybe her stomach was empty, so she was more susceptible to alcohol.

But the real truth, whether Dev wanted to admit it or not, was that she thoroughly enjoyed Sloan’s easygoing, comfortable company. He was the direct opposite of Bart Gordon, who reminded her of a wild animal on the prowl, hunting for his mate, willing to do anything to make her his. Her gut clenched and she kept her eyes closed, trying to will away the terror that never seemed to leave her. It would steal upon her at odd times. Unexpected ones. Like right now. She should be happy to be with Sloan because he always lifted her spirits. He was kind. Unselfish. Interested in her, but allowing her, from what she could sense, to pace whatever it was between them. He didn’t push her like Gordon had. He didn’t close in on her, making her feel claustrophobic, which she was. Maybe it was because on bad days when her father wanted to drink heavily, he’d push her into the clothes closet in her bedroom and lock the door.

To sit in that darkness...the dankness...the lack of fresh air. Dev lost count of how many times she’d cried softly so she wouldn’t be heard. Because if her father did hear her, he’d come and rip the door open, bellowing down at her, telling her to stop crying. Big girls didn’t cry, he’d scream at her. Suck it up. Wipe those tears away. And he promised to come back in a little while—which was hours later—and let her out.

Dev felt herself begin to unravel, lose control, and she couldn’t do that. Sloan really didn’t know that much about her. And he’d probably lose respect for her. In the Marine Corps, Dev had tried so hard to keep it together. But her commanding officer was an alcoholic, too, and it was as if she’d stepped back into being a seven-year-old shoved into a small, dark, smelly closet. The only light leaking in was beneath the door and she’d stare at that light, willing herself to watch it, because it meant hope. Hope that her drunk father would eventually come and let her out of the closet. And God help her if she peed her pants because she couldn’t hold it any longer. Or if she got so thirsty she couldn’t cry any more tears. Those years were horrifying for Dev, and being in the military, she’d sought freedom from them.

Only she’d traded them for an alcoholic CO, Major Terrence Paddington, who had scared the hell out of her. He didn’t like or trust the women in his company. He didn’t care she was a highly trained dog handler who was good at what she did. He didn’t like women in combat, pure and simple. And he tried to keep her safe so that his blemished record wouldn’t look worse than it already did. No one wanted a woman to die in combat. That was a huge no-no. A black mark on her CO’s personnel jacket. And Dev had felt like she had been in that terrifying closet once again: trapped. Only with Major Paddington, he wanted to keep her imprisoned in that invisible closet for her entire deployment.

Dev began to see an overall pattern in her life: one of being crammed and hidden away by men. By the time Gordon had come along, she’d simply wanted to be out in nature, enjoying fresh air, the sun on her face, and doing her job tracking. But Gordon... Oh no, she could not cry! Dev’s fingers curved inward into her palm as she sat there, head tilted forward, her mouth compressed to stop the memories.

The memories came, anyway. But she could feel that invisible blanket sliding across her shoulder, warming her, protecting her, and she knew it came from Sloan. He sat there quietly and she felt no urgency to speak. Her throat tightened. A desperation surged through her like a clenched fist ramming up from her wildly beating heart, into her throat, past the forming lump, and leaping into her mouth. And then...

“I hated Gordon always watching me,” she began in a desperate tone. Dev kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see what lay in Sloan’s eyes. Just the sensation of that immaterial embrace of his, that sense of utter safety surrounding her, allowed the words to tear out of her, never heard by another human being until now. “I could... I felt...his eyes... His eyes were always on me. I swear to God, I could feel this hot, burning sensation on my back when he came in and found me. I felt his eyes following me and the feeling that came with it...” Dev shuddered, the words jamming up in her aching throat.

“I—I could feel him wanting me. It was dirty. It was...awful. It was sexual, and he scared me. I tried to deal with it. I told myself it was in my head, that I was imagining things, that is was me, not him. I tried to convince myself that it was me.” Her voice broke.

Dev felt the beaded coolness of the condensation on the outside of the wineglass beneath her fingertips. She focused on it because the emotions writhing within her threatened to overwhelm the dissolving control she had over them. “But it wasn’t me,” she said. She hung her head, chin against her chest, fingers tightening around the stem. “Three months went by and he would quietly come into a room where I was and come up behind me... God,” Dev whispered unsteadily, wiping her eyes and opening them, staring sightlessly and straight ahead. “He never announced himself. He would always find me when I was alone, in a back room, when no other people were around. He was stalking me. Waiting. I didn’t know why, except I felt so damned scared my brain would freeze.”

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