“I need ammunition for both my Sig .45 and my .22 hunting rifle,” she heard Daniel say, even though he spoke in a hush. She shivered, hating the idea of loaded weapons around Pilar, even if she understood the need.
Daniel must have sensed her gaze, because he glanced up at her and narrowed an all-business look on her. “Can you shoot?”
Alec hadn’t bothered to ask when he’d shoved the automatic weapon in her hands as they fled the jungle. “I can pull a trigger, but I make no promises about what I’ll hit.”
Jake and Daniel exchanged a look before Daniel returned his attention to her. “I’ll teach you to handle a gun. I want you ready next time those cretins show up.”
“Next time?” Her grip tightened around her spoon. “I thought the point of hiding out here was so there was no next time.”
Daniel shrugged and ducked his head to study his notes. “We have to be prepared for anything. No hideout is foolproof.”
Learning to shoot. Hiding from assassins. Dodging bullets. When had her life become so...hazardous?
Daniel hitched his head toward her phone, which she’d left on the end of the table. “And another thing...no cell phone. A signal can be traced. If you have to use a phone, my cell is encrypted.”
“Oh.” Guilt nibbled at her. “So...I guess I should tell you that I called my father this morning.”
Daniel sent her a tell-me-you-didn’t look, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. We’ll deal with it.”
“There’s more.”
Jake and Daniel both raised worried gazes to her.
Nicole glance quickly to Pilar, who stared bleakly at her oatmeal. “Her father heard about the kidnapping attempt somehow. He’s gone into hiding. Ramon Diaz, my contact at the Colombian embassy, called my father’s house to tell me that, and my father let Diaz know we’d moved Pilar to a safe house. Diaz is upset, presumably because he wasn’t informed.”
“No one can know we’re here,” Daniel interjected, anticipating her next argument.
She studied Daniel’s unshaven jaw and dark, serious eyes, and a ripple of uneasiness shimmied through her. Her guardian could well be the most dangerous element in this equation. Dangerous to her sanity, her heart, if she didn’t figure out how to rein in her wild obsession with him.
Knowing he was sleeping in the next room, Nicole had spent hours staring at the ceiling last night, wishing she could curl up next to his muscular body. Imagining a young Daniel growing up within these walls and becoming the mysterious man he was today had teased her brain in the late hours. The idea of living under the same roof with Daniel for who knows how many days made her skin feel too tight and her blood hot.
She shifted her gaze to Jake, a rugged, incredible-looking man in his own right, yet the powerfully built, sandy-haired pilot didn’t stir Nicole’s deepest passion the way Daniel did—and always had.
Pilar poked at her oatmeal and sent Nicole a sad look.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it, mija.” The gray-beige goop reminded her, too, of the gruel they’d eaten in the jungle. Nicole shoved her bowl away and pushed her chair from the table.
The sights and sounds of the attack at her father’s house flickered in her memory, and Nicole shuddered. If she hadn’t gone to check on Pilar when she had yesterday, would the men have succeeded in kidnapping her? And why had she left the girl alone in the first place?
She’d assumed her father’s house was safe. Why wouldn’t it be? How could she have known such terrible men were already on their trail?
The questions pounded at her temples. What she and Pilar needed was an activity to keep them busy, something to distract them from thoughts of the men who’d attacked them. Cleaning the safe house topped that list.
Nicole raked her hair back from her face and remembered the picture of Mario Castillo she’d received just before the attack yesterday. The photo was still folded in the pocket of her pants. “Wait here,” she told Pilar. “Espérate aquí.”
She hurried to the bedroom to retrieve the crumpled picture, then smoothing the paper against her chest as she returned, she sat next to Pilar and laid the photo on the table. “Do you know this man?” she asked. “Conoces a este hombre?”
Pilar leaned forward to examine the photo, and her eyes widened, lighting with happiness. “Papi!”
Daniel and Jake glanced over from their huddle.
A thrill raced through Nicole, not only hearing Pilar speak at last, but seeing the pure joy and longing on the girl’s face. She smiled and nodded, pulling Pilar into a hug. “Good. That’s so wonderful.”
“May I see that?” Daniel asked, holding a hand out.
Nicole passed him the crumpled sheet. “That’s the judge who’s in hiding. Mario Castillo. That picture had just been faxed to my father’s home office yesterday when the men attacked. So we have our confirmation of who she is. Whose she is.”
Daniel studied the photo a moment, then passed it to Jake. “Will you see if—”
“I’m on it.” Jake shot Daniel a smug grin as he interrupted. “Do you want me to bring him here when I find him or meet you somewhere?”
Nicole cleared her throat. “Um, gentlemen. May I remind you that I already have the Colombian and U.S. embassies working on this? They’re the ones who faxed me the photo and got in touch with Castillo yesterday.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair and angled his stubbled chin as he regarded her. He lifted one eyebrow. “And may I remind you that your contacts are likely the ones responsible for leaking Pilar’s location to the men who tried to kill you? Until we know what and who we are dealing with, Jake will be doing our legwork in Colombia, looking for Castillo.”
His gaze hardened to a scowl as he glanced at his injured knee, and Nicole didn’t need to ask how he felt about relying on his teammate to do his fieldwork while he babysat them and nursed his bum leg. Sympathy she was sure he wanted no part of tugged at her. He’d already sacrificed so much for her and Pilar, but losing his mobility—and therefore his position on his black ops team—had to be the hardest for him to accept.
The men finished their discussion, and Jake headed out to buy supplies. Daniel patched the raccoon hole in Pilar’s bedroom, leaving the attic repair for when Jake could help him, then moved to the living room where he began cleaning his guns.
Nicole cleared away their untouched breakfast and turned to the girl who now clutched the faxed photo of her father close to her chest. “Well, we might as well start our cleaning in the kitchen.” She found a rag and turned on the faucet at the sink. The water that sputtered out was a rusty shade of brown and smelled like eggs. Nicole wrinkled her nose and glanced at Pilar. “Yuck.”
Pilar scrunched her nose, too.
After running the water for a few minutes, the accumulated dirt and smell in the pipes cleared enough that Nicole felt comfortable using the water with some liquid soap she found in a cabinet to wash the dishes and wipe the counters, table and chairs. As they worked, Nicole continued the quasi game she’d played with Pilar in their cage in Colombia. Moving through the kitchen, she pointed to objects and told Pilar the English name for each item. Though Pilar never repeated the words, her bright eyes reflected intelligence, and Nicole felt sure the child was soaking the information in.
They’d nearly finished wiping down the kitchen and all the pans when Oreo sauntered in, tail twitching and something furry in his mouth. Nicole jumped back with a screech.
Startled, Oreo dropped his prize. The white fuzzy thing didn’t move.
Daniel scrambled from the living room into the kitchen, his gun at the ready. “What happened?”
“Oreo had something in his mouth….” Nicole nudged the wooly thing with her toe, realizing it was a toy. “At first, I thought it was alive. Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
Pilar picked up the toy, a small stuffed lamb that looked like it came from a child’s fast food meal, and held it out for Oreo to sniff.
“Hey, where’d he get
that?” Daniel asked. “Lamby was mine when I was a kid.”
“Lamby?” Nicole’s cheek twitched with a grin.
“Cut me some slack. I was five.” Daniel stepped closer to reach for the lamb, but Oreo swatted at the small stuffed animal and snagged it with his claw. “Hey, minou, gimme—”
Pilar giggled as Oreo batted Lamby across the floor, and she chased down the hall after the cat.
Nicole covered a laugh. “If Lamby is an heirloom you want protected, I’ll get it back from Oreo….”
“Pfft.” Daniel waved a hand and sighed. “It’s a cat toy now.”
Nicole cocked her head and tried to read Daniel’s expression. “But if it’s important to you...”
Daniel hitched his head toward the hall where Pilar played with Oreo, giggling. “Listen to her. That’s more important than some old dusty toy.”
Nicole’s heart swelled, and smiling warmly, she caught Daniel’s gaze with her own, held it. “That’s the Daniel I remember.”
Something in his hard gaze shifted, softened, but before Daniel could reply, Jake burst through the back door, his arms loaded with bags. “Ho, ho, ho. Santa came early this year.” Jake set the bags on the kitchen table, then aimed a thumb at the door. “There’s more in the truck. A little help?”
“Pilar?” Nicole headed out the back door, crooking a hand to tell the girl to follow. When Nicole saw the pile of groceries and supplies mounded in the bed of Jake’s truck, she stopped to stare. “Geez Louise, Jake!”
Jake shrugged as he marched past her. “Tell me about it.”
Daniel swung next to her on his crutches and paused. “There a problem?”
She motioned to the huge pile of supplies. “Just how long do you think we’re staying?”
His returned gaze was hard and flat. “As long as it takes to make sure you’re safe.”
Chapter 8
Jake left for Colombia to search for Judge Castillo as soon as they’d unloaded the supplies from his truck. Jake was one of the best agents the black ops team had, and Daniel felt confident the native Texan could track down Pilar’s father within a week or two.
Over the next two days, Daniel watched Nicole buzz around his grandmother’s house, cleaning up a storm. Guilt nibbled at him every time she picked up a rag or broom, as if her housekeeping was an indictment against him and the safe house he’d provided. Or an unspoken commentary on the home of his youth.
At first, he tried to ignore her, but that exercise was futile. If Nicole was around, she had his full attention. When he tried to help, she shooed him away.
“Cleaning keeps me busy, and if I’m busy I’m less likely to dwell on things that are out of my control.” She rinsed her rag in the kitchen sink and headed back outside to wash the porch windows. “Besides, I had enough idle time while I was held captive to last me a lifetime.” She aimed a finger at the sofa. “You should sit. Rest your knee. You’ve earned it.”
Daniel raised his hands in surrender and settled on the couch, frustrated with his own idleness.
Pilar found a children’s book in a storage box of his childhood things and brought it out to the living room. She sat next to him and opened the cover. A fuzzy warmth filled Daniel’s chest. He wasn’t sure what to do with the tenderness he felt toward the little girl. He hadn’t spent a lot of time around kids, except when he was supposed to be in soldier mode and not focusing on things like how sweet a little girl’s smile could be or how a child’s laugh could lighten even the tensest mood. Living with Pilar over the past two days, watching her interact with Nicole, cast his protective duties in a whole new light. Pilar had an innocence and vulnerability that stuck under his ribs and crowded his heart.
The first day, as she’d clung to Nicole, Pilar had looked at him with a heartbreaking mix of wariness and hero worship. He was the brute with the guns and the loud voice and the gruff appearance who’d rescued her from even scarier men. He hated the idea that he frightened the girl, so by the second day, he shaved the black stubble that made him look like a thug. When she glanced his way, he made an effort to smile, and with no immediate threat warranting barked commands, he consciously lowered his volume and softened his tone.
Not only did his efforts seem to calm the little girl, but Nicole noticed the changes and sent him appreciative smiles that shot straight to his soul. Though he wanted more from Nicole than her gratitude, Daniel welcomed the points he scored with her because he’d built a good rapport with Pilar.
He didn’t know where things with Nicole might go. They had a lot of crap in their way—like her father. But his body ached for her, and his heart bled a little more every time he thought of the happiness he’d known with her for one magical night. If they could get past their differences, could they recapture that bliss, that passion? Or would he always be that guy from the bayou to her...a convenient chump from the wrong side of the tracks to use and discard when he’d served his purpose?
A niggle of irritation poked him for the umpteenth time. Nicole’s pride had been hurt when he’d walked out on her five years ago. She was determined to rehash the events of that morning, root out his reasons for leaving and exact her pound of flesh for his slight. But how could he relive the pain and humiliation of that morning? His pride and dignity had already suffered one nearly crippling blow thanks to her. He was no glutton for punishment.
The crinkle of yellowed pages drew his attention to Pilar and the book in her lap. The text was in Cajun-English dialect, and the girl stared at the pages, frowning.
He’d heard Nicole chanting English words to Pilar many times in the kitchen or bedroom when they were alone, and he wondered if the English lessons were helping the girl’s comprehension at all. Scooting closer to Pilar and readjusting his injured leg, he pointed to the book in her hands, Cajun Night Before Christmas. “May I?”
When Pilar handed him the book, looking chastened, he reassured her with a wink and a warm smile. The shadows in the girl’s eyes dissipated, and she flashed him a shy grin. Flipping to the first page, Daniel studied the pictures, nostalgia stirring an ache in his chest.
“My grandmére used to read this to me when I was little,” he told her quietly, knowing she wouldn’t understand. “Even when it wasn’t Christmas.” He pointed to the bearded man in his sleigh. “There’s Santa Claus...’cept around here, we call him Père Noël, Father Christmas.” He glanced down, looking for any signs of recognition in her face. “Oh, yeah. Y’all celebrate with El Niño Jesús, right?”
Now Pilar’s face lit with a smile.
Daniel had an idea and pushed off the sofa to hobble to a cabinet across the room. He dug in a pile of dusty books until he found the photo album his grandmother had kept of him and his parents. Planting himself next to Pilar again, he turned the pages of aged photos until he found one of himself at about age three. “See, that’s me.” He pointed to the picture, then to himself. “Daniel.”
Pilar examined the picture with a small furrow in her brow, then glanced up at him, a wide smile brightening her face. He turned the page and found another picture of himself with Mémère. “That’s my grandmére.” He motioned around them. “This was her house.”
As Pilar looked around then back at the photo, Daniel sent a glance to the front window where Nicole was scrubbing madly. As if feeling his gaze, she paused in her work and met his stare. When she spotted Pilar beside him, the book spread between them, she smiled. Warmth expanded in his chest until he could barely breathe. Damn, Nicole was beautiful.
Pilar tugged on his sleeve and pointed to another picture of him as a young boy, wearing wet cut-off jeans and a sappy grin while he showed off the catfish he’d caught. “Oui, that’s me, too.”
On the next page, he tapped a picture of himself at about five years old, pouting. “Look-a dat bahbin!” he said with a thick Cajun accent, remembering what Mémère used to say about that photo. “Quoi faire tu braille?”
Pilar laughed and imitated his exaggerated pout.
“Oh, just
what we need in this house,” Nicole said as she walked back into the living room from the porch, her tone wry, “a third language.” She sent him a teasing grin and headed back into the kitchen to rinse her rag again.
“De rien,” he called after her.
As she returned from the kitchen with the rinsed rag, Nicole spotted the picture album he held, and her teasing grin faltered. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.” He gave her a dismissive shrug. “Just some old pictures of my grandmother’s.”
“Can I see?” Nicole joined him on the sofa, her thigh brushing his as she settled close enough to see the photos, the lemon scent of dish soap clinging to her.
“Go ahead,” he said, trying to sound casual, even though his heart thrashed as hard as that catfish in the picture had flailed when he’d pulled it from the water. He loosened his grip on the album so Nicole could angle it toward her.
Daniel’s gut tightened, suddenly all too conscious of how Nicole might react to the Cajun lifestyle depicted in the photos—isolated, poor, living off the bayou. His grandmother had never received a formal education, never embraced modern conveniences and technology. Daniel had been the one to update the house with modern amenities in recent years.
But as out of date as this house had been, the Gatreau family’s tiny shack on stilts, deep in the bayou, where his grandmother had been raised, was even more primitive. He’d pointed Alec and Erin to that bayou shack when they’d needed a hideout last winter.
Pilar carried Cajun Night Before Christmas to a chair across the room and settled in to study the pictures, while Nicole perused the photos.
A sunny smile lit Nicole’s face, and she pointed to the proud boy with his catch. “Is this you?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded tight. Willing his muscles to relax, he forced the air from his lungs. “Yours truly.”
Nicole’s blue eyes brightened, and she laughed—a happy sound of discovery, not derision.
The Reunion Mission: The Reunion MissionTall Dark Defender Page 10