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sister and a niece to love her. A family waiting to claim her. All Tracker had to do was get her there.
Looking into her terrified eyes, he remembered that silent scream that couldn t find a voice, imprisoning her in a memory from which he
couldn t save her. Tracker wanted to promise her that he d hunt down the men who d done this to her, and make them pay. But Caine had already made
that promise and Hell s Eight had already fulfilled it. That left her with a stranger s word on something she likely wouldn t believe. Not that Tracker didn t
think she wouldn t appreciate knowing it someday. Just not today.
Ma am. Where the hell was Vincente and his wife? I don t have the knife anymore. And my gun belt is clear over there by your feet.
She blinked. For a heartbeat Tracker thought he saw sanity in Ari s eyes. She licked her lips. Her gaze locked with his and then went to
the gun belt.
He read her intent before she dived, but he wasn t fast enough to catch her before she got her hands around the pistol. If his reflexes had
been a hair slower, he wouldn t have gotten there in time to stop her from blowing his brains out. He caught her hand, gun belt and all, letting their
momentum roll them over, taking as much of the force of the fall on his shoulder as he could.
Let go. Those guns have a hair trigger.
She sank her teeth into the back of his hand. He swore and held on. One wrong move and she d kill them both.
Dammit! Let go! What she lacked in muscle she made up for in wiggle. It was all he could do to keep her finger off the trigger. He
pressed her down into the dirt, using more and more of his weight until she went limp beneath him.
Ma am?
Ari didn t respond. Tracker carefully removed the pistol and gun belt from her grip. She didn t fight. He stood. She continued to lie in the
dirt at his feet.
He d thought it odd that she didn t have scars from her ordeal. She did. He d only been able to see what was uncovered. And all it had
taken to bring them out was one fool, half-naked Indian reaching for his knife. Hell.
You re ugly enough to scare a bad woman decent.
Once again his father had been proved right. The older Tracker got, the more he began to accept that the insults his dad had tossed out
in Tracker s youth were actually truths he d been too stubborn to accept. The proof lay prostrate on the ground at his feet.
It wasn t right that Ari lay in the dirt like trash thrown aside. Looking at her there, her skirt hiked around her thighs, her beautiful blond hair
a tangle around her shoulders, he grimaced. It was easier than it should be to imagine her time with the Comancheros, to envision the hell she d been
through. They d probably walked away from her, leaving her just like that when their lust was spent. Left her to rot in the devastation of her soul, this woman
who had been created to be cherished.
Tracker wasn t any different from the Comancheros. Faced with Ari s reaction, faced with his own demons, he wanted to walk away, too.
Instead, he found himself kneeling, slid ing his hand beneath her head, lifting her to his chest.
It s going to be all right, Ari. I promise.
Her hair smelled like sweet flowers and heaven, her skin like vanilla and spice. Innocence and passion, a hint of who she might have
been if she hadn t been stolen, raped, sold. Looking toward the house, making sure no one watched, Tracker rested his forehead against hers.
A lot of people have been looking for you a long time, little one.
No one harder than him, for reasons he didn t understand, except that he was driven. He took a napkin from where it had fallen and wiped
at the smudge of dirt on her cheek. It felt right to be the one caring for her. Goddammit, he was losing his mind. This was dangerous. She was dangerous.
It had to stop. Now.
Goddammit, Vincente, I know you can hear me. Get out here.
In Tracker s experience, women in a swoon didn t stay out long, and he didn t want to trigger another bout of hysteria when she woke in
his arms, en route to the house. So he sat there and held her, and pretended that he could make it all right, while he gave her a minute or two to come
back to herself. After all she d been through, she deserved that minute. And it was the only thing he could give her.
The screen door slammed. Vincente and a plump woman hurried out of the house. As soon as they reached Tracker s side, Vincente
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