Sand Angel

chapter Twelve


Night had fallen, but that didn’t slow the people of Glamis. Drew sat in a lounge chair nursing his third beer, while loud music and laughter joined the roar of vehicles darting in and out of the campsite. He found it mesmerizing to watch the mass of headlights climbing the mountains of sand and then disappearing into the darkness. It looked like lightning bugs dancing about.

For those who had settled around the campfire, liquor flowed freely. Josh appeared to be drinking more than usual as he popped a top on another cold one. His friend had been visibly shaken when he left Zoë’s toy hauler earlier. After two hours of riding, his mood hadn’t changed. In fact, he ignored the attentions of the redhead from last night who rubbed against him invitingly. Several times he had stolen away to check on Zoë. Even now his gaze was pinned on her trailer. It was around nine o’clock. She had slept the day away.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kari cooed, hanging a thumb from her low-riding jeans as she moved between him and Zoë’s trailer, blocking his view. Her windbreaker was gaping wide so the deep-cut shirt revealed the swells of her breasts. She gave him a seductive smile as she strolled closer. The scent of woman, soft and feminine, surrounded him as she placed a hand on his shoulder, and then moved to stand behind him.

He tensed. “Best keep your penny.” She probably didn’t want to hear that her presence was the last thing he needed or that his mind was on the strawberry-blonde woman who just stepped from her trailer.

Kari was quick. Her touch firmed, pushing him down into his chair as he started to rise. With deft fingers, she began to massage the knots tightening beneath her caress. He didn’t miss the frown on Zoë’s face as she suddenly turned away. Damned if Trent didn’t appear from out of nowhere and move to her side, ushering her toward his trailer. Josh stood in the distance looking at Drew as if he expected him to do something—anything.

Drew’s dilemma had every nerve in his body on fire. He sat down his beer and grabbed one of Kari’s hands to pull her away, but she took it as an invitation, landing in the middle of his lap. Within a heartbeat, her arms were snaked around his neck. Her lips pressed against his.

Caught off guard, he was momentarily paralyzed. When he opened his mouth to object, Kari deepened the kiss, thrusting her tongue deep inside. It took more strength than he cared to use on a woman to break her grip. Rising, he set her soundly on her feet and stepped away. His gaze darted toward Trent’s trailer only to find Zoë in the man’s arms, slow dancing. Her body was svelte, sexy as they moved as one. Several others joined them on the makeshift dance floor.

Red-hot anger crawled across his face, singeing his ears. His fingers curled into fists. Bodies and feet in rhythm, Drew could tell they had danced before. The familiarity of how Trent smoothed his hand down her back, nestling it close to the swell of her ass, revealed they had been more than dance partners.

“Looks like she has another man in mind tonight.” Kari leaned into him. She stroked her hand up his bare arm. “Why don’t you join Connor and me tonight?”

Drew snapped his gaze toward Kari. Holy shit! The woman was inviting him to a threesome. He was into kink, but multiple partners weren’t his thing. Perhaps he was too possessive, or was it selfishness? When he made love to a woman, he wanted her full attention on him and him alone. And that woman was Zoë.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Drew maneuvered himself out of Kari’s grasp.

The casual air around her froze as her palms shot to her hips. “She doesn’t f*ck the same man two nights in a row. You might as well accept it.” A snide grin stole across her face. “Besides don’t knock what you haven’t tried—” She narrowed her eyes on Zoë. “She’s into it.”

For a moment, Drew couldn’t speak. The thought of Zoë with another man was enough to make his stomach churn. To think of her with two men at once nearly sent the heat in his face to a raging fire.

Damn it. He had no right to tell her what she could and couldn’t do, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do everything in his power to try. Right now was as good a time as any. He walked away from Kari, heading toward the dancing pair. Before he reached them a strong hand folded around his biceps, stopping him in his tracks.

“She doesn’t need a scene tonight.” Josh looked drawn, tired. “Just back off. Give her a little room. Zoë knows how Kari is. They’ve played this game before. Kari wants what Zoë has. That means men too.” He released his hold on Drew. “Word of warning, don’t try to make Zoë jealous. It will turn on you badly.” He pressed something into Drew’s hand. “It’s her trailer key.”

Drew nodded his thanks as he slipped the key into his jeans pocket. Perhaps Josh was right. Although it went against his better judgment, maybe he was better off taking it slowly. He pinpointed his gaze on the dancing couple. “I don’t think I can stand by and let her sleep with him.” The mere thought of her wrapped in Trent’s arms made Drew break out in a cold sweat.

Josh slapped Drew on the back, drawing his attention. “Give her a little credit. She doesn’t want him.” He paused, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “All I ask is that you make her happy. She deserves that.”

Again, Drew nodded. If she gave him a chance, he’d work a lifetime at seeing to her happiness.

As the night waned, the crowd got louder, more riders turning in their quads for a beer. Drew was glad to see that Zoë wasn’t drinking. She refused the fourth drink offered her tonight, but not the attention of nearly every man in camp who wanted to dance with her. Of course, that only drove Kari to make a couple more attempts at seducing him. He fought her off admirably, but it was wasted energy if he expected Zoë to notice his efforts.

Not once did Zoë look his way. Even where she stood, she kept her head turned. Trent rose, trying to pull her into an embrace. With a sidestep she dodged his grasp. Drew couldn’t make out their words, but he knew exactly what Trent was up to as he glanced toward his trailer, trying to pull her in its direction. She shook her head, jerked loose and walked away. When he began to follow her, Drew fought the urge to intercept him. Instead, he took a breath, not releasing it until she was safely in her trailer, alone.

“Hey, man, how about some help here,” Josh called out to Drew. He and several others were rounding up the quads, putting them nose to nose, before stringing chain through their handlebars to lock them up for the night. Drew slid a quad into neutral and rolled it over to where Josh was working. “I told you so,” Josh muttered, placing a lock around the chain and securing the ends. “She still loves you.”

If only that were true, Drew thought. “How do you know?”

Josh looked up at him with sincerity in his expression and voice. “If she didn’t, she’d be in Trent’s arms right now.” He brushed the sand off his hands. “Now how about another beer?”

Parties at Glamis always rolled into the wee hours of the morning. It was one o’clock before the lights in Zoë’s trailer blinked out. Another hour before Drew got up the nerve to use the key in his pocket.

The floor moaned beneath each of his steps as he entered. He didn’t want to frighten her so he whispered her name. When there was no response, he slipped farther inside. Her soft, powdery musk filled his senses as he moved toward her bedroom. A slit in the curtains bathed her in moonlight. She slept hugged tightly to a pillow. Her features were tight, rigid.

Slowly he backed away. She needed to sleep. But he couldn’t leave. Toeing one shoe off and then the other, he stretched out on her couch, his feet hanging over the side. Just being near her was enough for him. There would be other nights to show her how much he loved her.





A cry in the night startled Zoë awake. She jerked into a sitting position. Outside the trailer she could hear the last of the diehards stirring. The music was silent, but laughter still rang. The alarm clock on the dresser announced three o’clock in neon red. She was tired and sore. The effects of the pain pill she took earlier clouded the edges of awareness. As she slid back upon her side, another mournful cry stopped her cold. Her pulse jumped as quickly as her imagination. Someone was in her trailer?

No. It wasn’t possible. She had locked her doors before turning in for the night.

“Zoë.” Her name was just a whimper, but she’d know that voice anywhere. Drew. The damn man had somehow broken into her home.

With enough anger to light a fuse, she tore off the sheet covering her and swung her legs over the side of the bed, every sore muscle announcing its presence. Her feet beat out her fury as she stormed down the several steps leading to the living room, stopping dead in her tracks when Drew groaned as if he were in pain.

Her first thought was that he had hurt himself riding. Concerned, she didn’t wait a second to flip the switch and bathe the room in light. Drew was curled up on her couch fast asleep, but it wasn’t a peaceful slumber. His forehead was moist with perspiration. He tossed and turned, nearly falling off as he muttered, “Travis dead. Where’s Norm? Gone?” Tears leaked from his closed eyes. He threw his arms around his head as if protecting himself, while he drew into a tighter ball.

Zoë pressed a palm to her mouth. What had he gone through in Iraq? She had stayed away from listening to the news, knowing that any information about the war would bring memories of Drew to the surface. It had been selfish, but it had been the only coping mechanism she had.

“Oh God,” he moaned as if the tortured cry was ripped from his soul. “I’ve been shot. Zoë!” This time he screamed her name.

“Shot,” Zoë whispered in disbelief as she dropped to her knees before him. She could have lost him, was her immediate thought. He jerked, the motion almost tossing him off the couch as she caught him, braced him from falling. “Drew,” she choked out.

“I need you,” he sobbed, each word filled with so much anguish they were a vise around her heart, squeezing, slowly ripping her apart. The agony on his face nearly broke her heart. “God, I need you so much,” he said breathlessly.

Had he needed her? Uninvited tears blossomed and fell down her cheeks. She batted at them, trying to chase away the guilt that rose. She hadn’t read any of his letters—couldn’t. When the first one had arrived she’d instructed her mother to return it unopened. Each time her mother had tried to talk to her about Drew, Zoë refused to listen. Instead, she ran away. Keeping distance between her and her family was distance between her memories of Drew.

He groaned low and deep, and the mournful sound made Zoë reach for his hands. They were cold to the touch. She held them tightly, hoping the heat of her body would warm him. “Drew. Honey, wake up.” She leaned in and kissed his brow.

“Zoë?” His eyelids rose, then snapped shut when they met the light.

“Yes.” She sniffled, fighting back the need to take him in her arms. “It’s me.”

“Sonofabitch,” he growled. “I’m sorry.” His weary tone was filled with regret. He squinted, looking up at her through misty eyes.

“Sorry?” Her response was a mixture of tears and laughter. “What for?”

“I woke you up.” He released her hands and rubbed his palms over his face. He looked as exhausted as she felt.

“You cried out in your sleep.” She quickly got to her feet, wiping her eyes, hoping he didn’t notice her tears. Nervously, she pulled at the hem of the silky blue teddy she wore. She should have grabbed a robe. A single strap slid off her shoulder and she nudged it back up.

“I—” He sighed, briefly closing his eyes again as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.” Slowly, he moved into a sitting position.

Zoë sat down at the far end of the couch, leaving distance between them, afraid if he touched her she would fall apart. “You were shot?” He jerked his puzzled gaze to meet hers. She forced a smile. “You talk in your sleep.”

Dismay weighed heavy in his watery eyes. He shook his head and looked away. “Damn dreams.” He roughly combed his fingers through his dark hair.

Silence lingered until she said, “Well?”

“Yeah.” His response was short. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to know.

Zoë inched a little closer. “Dammit, Drew. What happened?”

He clenched his jaws. For a moment she thought he would ignore her, then he said, “I accompanied Motor-T, transportation, to a camp north of Baghdad. They were short of fuel, food and medical supplies. We were about three clicks from our destination—”

“Clicks?” she interrupted.

“Three thousand yards. That’s when we were ambushed.”

Zoë felt her blood thicken. She had never let herself believe Drew was in any danger. Hell, she hadn’t let herself think at all. If she was focused on the next race, the next jump, she didn’t have to worry about anything but the finish line or landing.

“The first RPG exploded in front of our truck.” He must have realized she had no idea what an RPG was because he added, “Rocket propelled grenade. Shrapnel from the blast blew out our windshield.” His gaze suddenly became perplexed. His expression grew distant, almost as if he were a million miles away from her. “We were locked in the field of fire. Bullets ricocheted as they struck the truck, others burying into it, including into our driver.” Again, he grew silent. He clutched his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. His voice shook as he began to speak again. “The truck swerved. I grabbed the wheel.” He rapidly shook his head. His stare pinned on the floor. “We were surrounded—no way out. Screams.” He paused. She wanted to reach out to him, but he blurted, “Cries for help. God, I was never so glad to hear the whirling blades of the Apache ’copter overhead. The gunship opened up a spray of bullets. There was crossfire. I felt a searing slice of metal burn into my chest. I couldn’t breathe. The next thing I knew I was in the hospital.”

The tendons and muscles in his neck bulged, tightened. She could see he fought for control. He swallowed hard before meeting her gaze. “Thoughts of you were the only thing that pulled me through the months lying in that bed. I had memorized your touch, the soft, musky scent of your skin, and your kiss. But each time I woke in the darkness you weren’t there.”

No, the silent word rang in her head. She fought to restrain the emotion begging to be released. She wouldn’t feel guilty. He had been the one to walk away. Still, she couldn’t stop the pang to her heart. They had both been alone. She drew her legs beneath her, folded her arms around her to stop from reaching for him.

“I wrote,” he said as if that explained everything. His leaving—rejection.

“I know,” she replied dryly.

“Why, Zoë?” He laid a hand on her thigh. She felt the warmth of his touch as though it were a flame heating her blood. “Why didn’t you read them?”

It was her turn to let regret surface in her strangled voice. “I couldn’t.” She prayed for strength, prayed that this moment would come quickly to an end. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, leaving old wounds gaping wide.

The harrumph he released sent a chill through her. “I wish you had. I wanted to come home, baby. Marry you. When I received no response I didn’t think there was anything to come home to. I sure as hell got the message that you had moved on.”

A knot of emptiness formed in Zoë’s throat. She couldn’t breathe—couldn’t speak. What had she done? No, wait. How could she trust him? He had abandoned her, chosen a job over her—left her.

He brushed his fingers through his hair again. “After I was released from the hospital, returned to the States, I thought maybe…”

“Maybe we could pick up where we left off?” Zoë pulled her legs from beneath her, setting her feet on the floor. He drew his hand back into his lap. She steeled her shoulders. If he ran once before, what would stop him from doing it again? “I’m not the same person you left behind.” She couldn’t contain her bitterness as she rose. “I’m sure you’ve changed in these past three years too. Fact is, you might not like the person I’ve become.” Who could blame him? Her innocence was gone. Instead she stood before him a cynical woman, one who would rather be alone than set herself up for another failed relationship.

“Couldn’t we try? Start anew?” he asked.