by Cindy Dees
“I would like to see how fast you are, sometime,” the leader speculated.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Drago replied grimly. “I only draw my weapon to kill. And you don’t want to be on the receiving end of my shooting. I never miss.”
The rebel glanced around the clearing reluctantly. “So I see. I must admit, we’d have been in trouble without your gun. You dropped almost half those soldiers by yourself.”
Elise glanced up at Drago, startled. He’d killed half the bandits on his own? And he was demanding to know who she was? Who was he?
A man jogged up to the apparent leader. “All the soldiers are dead and we stripped the useful gear. But someone is calling them on the radio We should leave soon before backup arrives.”
The report galvanized the party. They all took off running down the hill toward their vehicles.
“Let’s go. Raoul will be most interested to hear about this little ambush.”
“Were the attackers Colombian Army?” Drago asked tersely.
“Aye.”
“Their intel is good if they knew I was coming to see you.”
The rebel leader threw him a look of sharp speculation. Yet again, Elise was impressed by Drago’s savvy. By implying that the ambush had been about him, he’d just exponentially raised his status and importance in the eyes of the rebels.
Elise followed Drago down the hill thoughtfully. He seemed content to let the rebels herd them into the backseat of their Jeep. Casually, he tossed the keys to one of their captors.
As the vehicle bumped down the road, she’d have given anything to snuggle up against his big, warm body. Shock from the earlier attack was setting in, and she felt terrible. She’d killed two men. Did they have wives? Kids? What were their names?
“Don’t think about it,” Drago muttered to her in English.
She threw him an anguished look.
His hand crept surreptitiously across the space between them and captured her fingers in his. It was a small comfort, but she was immensely grateful for it. It had been a long time since anyone had offered a shoulder to lean on. Not since Father Ambrose had climbed on that bridge with her and shown her how much she had to offer her fellow man. How, in spite of all she’d lost, she still had so much to live for.
Ever since, she’d always been the one lending others the strength she’d found within herself that cold night. In fact, she’d been nearly manic about it. As if she couldn’t ever pay back her debt to society. Or the debt to her parents. The thought was a hot blade of agony slicing through her gut. She shied away violently from that train of thought. And now she had two more deaths to add to her conscience.
Drago’s fingers tightened on hers as though he sensed her disquiet. Perceptive man. Too perceptive. How on earth was she going to answer his questions when they finally got a moment to themselves to talk? She wanted worse than anything to tell him she wasn’t a nun. But did she dare trust him with that secret? Her life and the lives of the children she was here to save might very well ride on it. No matter how badly she wanted to kiss him again, to see where it took the two of them, she dared not tell. At the end of the day, she couldn’t trust a man like him.
But as sure as she was sitting here, he was going to kiss her again. She’d been lucky this time that they’d been interrupted. If being kidnapped by armed insurgents and ambushed and nearly killed by the Army could be termed luck.
How on earth was she going to resist him next time?
Chapter 6
When they got to wherever they were going, he would corner Elise and do whatever it took to get the truth out of her. She was no more a nun than he was an actual arms dealer. She was, however, a hell of a woman. She hadn’t balked when he’d put a gun in her hands, hadn’t hesitated to kill when she had to, hadn’t gotten all hysterical about it after the fact. Levelheaded, she was. Cool under pressure. The kind of person he could trust with his life.
Except for the fact that she was lying her ass off about the whole nun thing.
If she really was here to rescue some kids, he supposed he could see the logic of the ruse. This wasn’t exactly a safe corner of the world for a woman alone. But why was she here at all? Why hadn’t a mercenary been sent to retrieve the kids? Or at least someone better suited to the dangers of this place? Someone like him.
Whoa. Strike that. He wasn’t about to get into the business of hauling children out of the middle of a brush war. He had a job to do, and that was his first—and only—priority. He swore mentally. Then why was he holding hands with the not-nun and sitting here frantically trying to figure out a plausible explanation for her presence that the senior leadership of the Army of Freedom would buy?
The Jeep pulled into a village as dawn started to lighten the sky. He climbed out of the vehicle and went around to help Elise out. She took his hand for the long step down, and he didn’t release it when she was standing beside him. Rather, he tucked it under his arm, wrapping her fingers around his elbow.
Hopefully, she understood he was signaling to the rebels that she was under his protection. Thankfully, she didn’t balk. In fact, she leaned in close to him as if she drew strength from him. All the better. If only she meant it for real.
They were led into a cantina that looked like just about every other bar in this part of the world. It was dark and the sprinkling of men inside were hard and mean. He and Elise were led to a cramped room in the back and deposited at the table with an admonition to wait for Raoul, the Army of Freedom’s leader, to arrive. The other men stepped back out into the main bar and yelled for breakfast.
He leaned over to murmur in English, “We need to talk.”
She made a noncommittal sound.
“Just follow my lead with these guys, okay?”
She countered, “Are we prisoners?”
“Not exactly. They desperately want to do business with me, but they don’t trust anyone, including me. Helping them out in that fight last night went a long way toward proving myself, but you’ve thrown them for a loop.”
“I’m sorry.” But then she smiled a little. “Although, if I’m messing up your arms deal, I’m not actually sorry about that.”
He replied tightly, “There’s more going on here than meets the eye. I need you to trust me and not fight me.”
He winced as she sat back and studied him speculatively. Why did she have to be so darned quick on the uptake? She was bound to read all kinds of things into that cryptic comment. But he couldn’t tell her any more. Hell, he shouldn’t have told her that much. However, she was just cussed enough to interfere in his arms deal if she thought she was doing the right thing.
“I need to get out of here,” she said quietly. “Time’s a-wasting.”
“Be patient. These guys don’t respond well to being pushed. I’ll do my best to cut us loose as soon as possible.”
Us? Why had that word slipped out of his mouth? Now that he’d made contact with the Army of Freedom’s top brass, albeit sooner than he’d planned, he couldn’t very well leave them to go fetch a pair of orphans. But he hated the idea of letting her proceed on her own. Far too many things could go wrong for her. He swore at himself; he had no choice. Duty came first.
“Just get me out of here and we’ll call it good.” Hearing her voice his exact thought aloud ticked him off for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on.
“I’m not abandoning you among these people,” he snapped. “Let alone the danger from these guys, you saw those soldiers who jumped them last night. This area is beyond risky. What on earth possessed you to come down here, anyway?”
“I gave my word.”
And therein lay the rub. He could understand that, even grudgingly respect it. His word was his bond, as well. “Next time, think more carefully before you promise to do something for someone, eh?”
She smiled sadly at him. “I had no illusions about what I was getting myself into. I knew how dangerous this trip would be.”
And she’d still come? “Are you suicidal?” he blurte
d. Surely, yet another pair of kids without parents weren’t worth dying over. And yet…whether he liked it or not, he felt the same protective tug she did when he thought of innocent children stranded in the middle of the violence all around him.
“I’m not suicidal anymore. I’m doing this because I owed Father Ambrose a favor.”
Not anymore? Now what did that mean? Quick alarm flooded him. The idea of her taking herself out of this world appalled him. She was too vibrant, too alive to end her life prematurely. “What you’re doing goes way beyond a simple favor. It’s…” He didn’t know what. But no debt could be so big that she should throw away her life to repay it.
She laid a light hand on his arm and he about jumped out of his skin. His entire body went hypersensitive from just that simple touch. She said, “It’s my choice. My responsibility. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But really. This is my problem. Not yours.”
He leaned forward and hissed, “I choose to make it my problem, so get over it.” As the words left his mouth, he knew them to be incontrovertibly true. But why? He knew better. Elise and those kids were emphatically not his job. But she needed his help, and he was apparently pathologically incapable of turning away from her need.
Maybe he was losing the handle. It was a known phenomenon in his line of work. Sometimes operators like him hit an emotional wall and just couldn’t go on with their profession anymore. It wasn’t that they wimped out. It was as if they just ran out of gas. Their souls were empty and they had no more left to give. Was that happening to him?
He looked up and caught her scowling at him, but then confusion entered her gaze. Curiosity.
“Don’t ask,” he warned her with a cautionary glance toward the main room. He looked back at her, irritated, and his gaze drifted down to her mouth.
“I won’t ask if you won’t,” she retorted tartly.
Huh. If she thought she was getting out of explaining that smoking-hot kiss to him, she had another think coming. As soon as they were alone, she would tell him exactly who she was. Right before she kissed him like that again.
“I think you should tell these men why you’re here,” he said thoughtfully.
She lurched in her seat. “Not a chance!” she exclaimed under her breath.
“Why not? They’ll respect your desire to save innocent children. Protecting the young is a universal value. With very few exceptions, people look out for them.”
She gritted out so low he barely heard her, “They’re not innocents.”
“Come again?”
“Well, they are. But their family is not.”
Ah ha. So he’d been right after all. They weren’t just some random kids who’d come to the attention of some random priest. He asked once more, “Who are they?”
She shook her head. “Can’t tell you.”
He thought back to his in-briefings before he’d headed down here. Who could they be? What high profile individuals had died in this area recently— His brain screeched to an appalled halt.
“They’re not the Gar—”
“Hush.” She cut him off sharply, looking panicked.
Sweet Mother of God. “You have got to be kidding. Are you insane?” he demanded.
“Keep your voice down,” she ordered.
“You are insane. Do you have any idea—”
“I know exactly who they are. Who he was.”
“No, you don’t. He—”
“—murdered my parents.”
Ted fell back in his chair, stunned. Valdiron Garza had murdered her parents, and she was still here to rescue his kids? Hell. Maybe she was a nun, after all. What other explanation was there for her madness if she thought she could rescue that man’s children all by herself?
“This isn’t about vengeance, is it?”
Her eyes widened in genuine horror. Nope. Not a revenge thing, then. He was relieved to know that, at least. But it brought him back to his original question. Why in the world would she attempt to rescue the children of the man who’d killed her parents? And knowing Garza, the man who’d probably tortured her parents first?
“I swear, woman. The first moment we are truly alone, you’ve got a whole lot of explaining to do.”
Right. Like she was sticking around to face that little interrogation. Like it or not, she had to ditch Drago. And fast. Before he got a chance to corner her and force answers out of her. As desperately as she’d love to stay with him and to let him help her and the kids get out of Colombia alive, she dared not. He was getting far too close to truths she simply wasn’t ready to talk about. Not with anyone.
It turned out to be ridiculously easy to escape. The rebels took Drago somewhere more private to talk to the big kahuna, that Raoul guy. Once everyone had cleared out of the cantina, she asked the bartender for a restroom and was shown to an unspeakably bad-smelling little closet with an ancient, high-tank toilet. Thankfully, it had a window, and even more thankfully, it was open.
She slipped out through the opening and dropped to the ground in a fetid alley. Slipping off her wimple and stuffing it in the pocket of her sweater, she walked away from the bar. The village wasn’t large, and her options were limited. She had no money, no identification, no transportation, and no idea where she was.
The first order of business, though, was to put some distance between herself and the rebels, not to mention Drago. Sticking to the back of the low buildings, she made her way to the other end of town where a gas station defined the edge of the settlement.
A bus came along before long and, donning her wimple, she wheedled a grudging ride to Acuna from the driver as an act of Christian charity. The bus ride took nearly three grueling hours. The urine smell of the conveyance was on the verge of overcoming her when the driver announced her destination sourly. She made her way past a dozen tired-looking laborers and various old women, runny-nosed children, chickens, suitcases and shopping bags of produce to the exit. The gaudily painted bus pulled away in a cloud of dust, and she looked around at Acuna. If the last village had been small, this one was minuscule.
A half-dozen houses crouched around a single business that looked to be part grocery, part gas station, part post office, part who-knew-what-else. Warily, she headed for it. A dull-eyed man greeted her when she ducked into the low-ceilinged room.
“Do you have a telephone I could use?” she asked.
“You pay for the call.”
“I will when I get off the phone.” She hoped. If she was lucky, Father Ambrose would figure out a way to wire her money and maybe a replacement credit card in this godforsaken bit of nowhere.
“No way. Pay first.”
Drat. Change of tactics. She asked, “Can you tell me where Ms. Ferrosa lives?”
The man laughed. “Grandma Ferrosa lives in the last house on the right, that way.”
“Perfect. I don’t need to use your phone, then.” She stepped outside into a morning that was rapidly heating up toward a miserably hot afternoon.
The Ferrosa house wasn’t much to look at on the outside. But the inside was neat and surprisingly roomy, with one large, central room taking up most of the space. An incredibly wrinkled woman answered the door. The top of her head came up maybe to Elise’s chin.
No sign of two small children in the house. She took a deep breath and plunged in, hoping against hope she was at the right place. “Hello. I am Sister Mary Elise. I’m here to take the children to safety.”
“The Lord has answered my prayers and sent His messenger!” the elderly woman exclaimed.
Elise winced. She was a lot of things, but God’s messenger was not one of them. But in short order, she was hustled inside, parked at a rough wooden table, and a heaping plate of black beans and rice plunked down before her.
“Are the children here?” she asked around a mouthful of the delicious concoction that turned out to be laced with spicy sausage and cooked into a smoky stew.
“Visiting my niece and her children today. They will be back for supper.”
Elise asked, “You don’t happen to have a telephone, do you?”
“I do.” The woman reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a shockingly high-tech cell phone, which she passed to Elise.
Gratefully, she dialed the United States country code followed by Father Ambrose’s phone number. She nearly sobbed in relief at the sound of his voice saying hello.
“It’s me, Elise. I think I’ve found the kids. But I’m in a bit of trouble and need your help.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Acuna.”
“Are the children all right?”
“I haven’t seen them yet, but I’m told they’re fine. That’s not the problem. I’ve lost all my money and documentation.”
“How did you manage that, child?”
“Long story short: we were ambushed by rebels, who were attacked by soldiers. In fleeing the scene, my pouch with all my personal things and medical supplies got left behind.”
“We?”
“An even longer story.” And one she didn’t plan to tell just now. “I need you to wire me a little expense money and see about replacing my passport or getting me some sort of paperwork so I can get on a plane for the States.”
Travel waivers for the Garza children had already been arranged through the Apostolic Nunciature of the Holy See in Bogota, which was a fancy title for the Vatican Embassy to Colombia. But she was out of luck. Worst case, she could put the kids on a plane by themselves and follow them home later. But they were awfully small to travel alone. A motherly instinct she didn’t even know she had reared up in protest at the idea. Where had that come from?
Father Ambrose interrupted her unpleasant train of thought. “I’ll see what I can do. It may take me a day or two. Will you be all right until then?”
“I think so. But hurry.” The last thing she needed was for Drago to come after her and find her still in Acuna. As attractive as he might be, she and the children were better off not in the company of a violent criminal being hunted by the government, as surely he would be after last night’s shoot-out.