by Connie Mann
“Thank you for helping us, Brooks. When I asked God for help, you weren’t what I expected,” she said ruefully.
Beside her, Brooks stiffened. “I’m here because my mother asked me to be. End of story.”
No, there was a lot more. With a sigh, Regina realized she was no closer to understanding her travel companion than she had been when they met. Did his parents’ faith mean nothing to him?
She stroked Eduardo’s head. One minute Brooks scared her to death, the next he brushed her hair with more tenderness than she’d ever received in her life. Then her temper flared as she remembered their kiss. He was just like all the others. As soon as she let her defenses down, he went after her.
But he stopped, a little voice in her head argued.
Sure, after she bit him.
If he really wanted sex, do you think that would have stopped him?
Regina shuddered as old memories flickered to life.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
Amazing how the man could see her in this inky blackness. He must have eyes like a cat. No, not a cat. His were more like a wolf. Cold and predatory.
“No.”
“Is the kid okay?”
“Eduardo is fine.” She put extra emphasis on his name.
“Sweet dreams, Reggie,” he rasped softly and rolled away from her.
Regina lay still, watching his back until his breathing grew slow and even. The man kept her emotions constantly off balance. Just as she’d decide she could trust him, he’d do something to scare her. Then she’d be scared, and he’d do something unexpected and gentle. She couldn’t decide what he wanted, and that scared her most of all.
She and Eduardo would be better off on their own, Regina decided. She kissed the top of Eduardo’s head, said a prayer for wisdom, and made her plans.
As a tracker, she’d be useless. The woman made more noise than a gaggle of teenage girls. He’d been awake since she started to slither out of the sleeping bag, inching the kid out with her. Trying to make a break for it, was she? He wondered how she planned to get the keys out of his jeans pocket.
Through slitted eyes, Brooks watched her place the baby in the back seat of the car, then creep toward him. Inch by inch, her hand crept closer to where his pants lay beside the sleeping bag. He let her slide her palm in and close around the keys before he grabbed her wrist.
“Going somewhere, Reggie?”
Surprise showed clearly in her eyes. “I-I need something for Eduardo from the trunk.”
He took the keys from her, then leisurely rose and stepped into his jeans. “You’re a lousy liar, Reg, you know that?”
He walked over to the car and took note of the way she’d tucked everything in. “Weren’t planning on leaving me a thing, were you?” he remarked casually as he opened the trunk.
In the predawn light, she had the grace to blush.
“So what did you want from in here?” he asked, bending down to her duffle bag.
Too late, he saw her swing something at his head. Just before everything went dark, he heard her whisper, “I’m sorry, Senhor.”
He opened his eyes sometime later and waited for the trees to stop galloping like some crazed merry-go-round. The sky wasn’t much lighter, so he couldn’t have been out for long. He heard an engine and raised his head, only to drop it back down. Big mistake.
Gingerly, he raised himself to a sitting position and looked around. She’d taken everything. She hadn’t left so much as a can of soda to quench his thirst. He probed the back of his head and felt a lump the size of a golf ball. No blood, though, so she hadn’t used the sharp end of the camping hatchet he’d bought.
He felt a chill and looked around. She had spread his jacket over a nearby bush. Generous little thing, wasn’t she?
Brooks shook his head and cursed his own foolishness. He’d known from the first she was skittish about men, but he’d never expected this kind of reaction. He lurched to his feet and moved slowly over to the jacket. He slipped it on, then fired off a fresh round of curses as he realized she still had his passport. And she’d taken his wallet and cell phone.
Fine. She was on her own, then. He’d walk to the nearest town, call his friend Jax, and have a new passport, visa, credit cards, and cash delivered within twelve hours. He may not officially belong to Uncle Sam any more, but he still had connections. Getting the kid safely out of the country was no longer his concern.
Regina headed to Passo Fundo with one eye on the road ahead and the other glued to her rearview mirror. Her erstwhile companion would not be a happy man when he woke up. At least she hoped he’d wake up. He’d been so still, so quiet, that for a minute she thought she’d killed him. A quick check of his pulse had confirmed he was alive.
Mercy, but his skin had been hot to the touch. And the stubble on his cheeks had been rough against her palm when she allowed herself one quick swipe down his face. In repose, he didn’t seem threatening at all. It was when he was awake and trying to control everything and everyone that she couldn’t deal with him.
Okay, so maybe, just maybe, bashing him over the head with the hatchet handle had been a little extreme. But desperate times, so the saying went, called for desperate measures. That kiss had rattled her badly. She was just starting to believe that maybe he wasn’t like other men. Maybe he wouldn’t just take what he wanted. But he had.
But he’d stopped, too.
And she wasn’t entirely sure if that was good or bad. She shoved the uncomfortable thought away and concentrated on driving. She needed to stock up on formula and gas. In the back seat, Eduardo stirred. He needed more diapers, too. They’d get what they needed in Passo Fundo, then keep going.
Pulling the cell phone out of her sweater, she quickly dialed the number of the farm outside Porto Alegre where she’d sent the children.
Jorge answered on the first ring. “Oi?”
“Jorge, it’s Regina. How is everyone?”
“Oh, Senhorita, we have been so worried about you. Where are you?”
Regina remembered something she’d read about cell phones being traceable, so she said simply, “We’re fine. Is everything okay there?”
“Sim. No problems. The children are all okay after their little adventure. And I called one of the neighbors; they say the fire was kept to the shed. No other damage.”
Regina let out a relieved sigh. “I’m so glad. How is the guard?”
“He is recovering nicely, enjoying all the attention.”
Regina gripped the phone as a sudden thought occurred to her. “What did he tell Senhor Lopez about the shooting?”
“I convinced him of the wisdom of keeping the incident quiet,” Jorge said, then added, “for his job’s sake, you understand.”
Regina smiled at his resourcefulness. “Good thinking. I’ll check back with you in a few days. Give my love to Olga and the children.” She flipped the phone closed and tucked it back in her pocket as Passo Fundo came into view. She checked her rearview mirror again and her heart skipped a beat. Was it her imagination, or was that car gaining on her?
Plotting all manner of retribution, Brooks set off toward the highway. With any luck, some passing farmer would give him a lift into Passo Fundo, and he could corner his elusive quarry. She had some explaining to do. And if anyone were leaving anybody, it would be him. She wasn’t going to knock him out cold and then leave him without so much as a toothpick. Not bloody likely.
He stood just inside the cover of trees when he heard a car approaching. He’d taken one step toward the road when some sixth sense warned him, and he ducked behind a tree. Far enough back to stay hidden, but close enough to see the road.
His irritation kicked over into fear when the dented brown Fiat came into view. He crouched down so he could get a look at the driver as the car sped past. He didn’t have long; the guy was clearly in a hurry, but he saw enough to determine that he was Brazilian, probably in his fifties. Dark hair, average build, determined chin, but the brim on his ball cap shadow
ed the rest of his features.
Brooks’ heartbeat kicked up several notches. Regina and Eduardo weren’t far ahead of him. He reached back and congratulated her for having the foresight to take his knife with her, along with her own. She was gonna need both. He reached down, glad to discover she’d missed his boot sheath and the knife there.
Hearing another vehicle, he jumped from the trees and stood in the middle of the road waving his arms. The old farm truck shuddered to a halt, and Brooks jogged around to the driver’s side. “Oi, tudo bem? A Passo Fundo?”
The driver didn’t respond to either his polite greeting or his question, merely gestured to the back of the truck with his thumb. Brooks smiled his thanks and climbed in, adding another transgression to Regina’s list of sins. The crates of chickens were stacked three high. The birds were loud, smelly, and clearly unhappy. Whenever the truck took a curve in the road, the whole load shifted and the nearest birds tried to peck a strip off his hide.
By the time the driver dropped him in the center of town his head throbbed—as much from the noise as from the bump on his head—and he stank to high heaven. He spotted a café and headed there before he realized the lovely Regina hadn’t left him one blessed real.
He scanned the busy street and walked purposefully toward the nearest gas station. His query as to the location of the nearest mercado made him smile. Two blocks wasn’t all that far. He thanked the man and hurried off, keeping his jacket collar turned up and avoiding eye contact.
Brooks approached the market from the opposite side of the street and stopped to evaluate the activity by looking in the shop window in front of him and watching the reflection in the glass. Pay dirt. Way in the back of the lot was the little Toyota, crammed between two other Toyotas of similar make and vintage. The woman might be vindictive, but she wasn’t stupid.
His relief was short-lived. Just as he turned toward the grocery store, he saw the reflection of the brown Fiat, slowly cruising down the street.
Regina clutched Eduardo in her left arm and pushed a small shopping cart with her right. She moved purposefully, but not so quickly as to draw attention to herself. An old woman came up behind her to chuck Eduardo under the chin and Regina almost screamed. She had to calm down.
She’d bashed Brooks over the head. She still couldn’t believe it, though this wasn’t the first time she’d used violence for self-preservation. Her heart thudded painfully as she realized that she’d well and truly pulled the tiger’s tail. If—when—she hastily corrected, he woke up, he was going to make a bear with a thorn in its paw look positively docile by comparison. She planned to be far, far away by then.
In retrospect, this probably wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. But she’d felt threatened, cornered, and she’d promised herself no man would ever make her feel that way again. She had to gather her wits about her and decide what to do next. She may not be a country girl, but she was a survivor.
She tossed diapers and a big box of moist towelettes into the cart. Then formula, some canned food and a can opener, crackers, several bottles of Guarana soda for herself, a pot, some instant rice, and boxed milk. She also added a supply of plastic plates, cups, and silverware.
At the end of every aisle, she hunched down and scanned the shoppers in either direction before making the turn. In one aisle, she discovered a display of souvenir ball caps, and grabbed one for herself and a small one for Eduardo.
She paid for her purchases and shoved her hair up under her cap before snugging Eduardo’s down on his head. She tried to put her change in her wallet with one hand and hold the wriggly child in the other, but he squirmed and slipped in her grasp like an eel.
Regina’s frustration edged up another notch as she left the store. Pushing the cart, holding Eduardo and scanning the parking lot for the terrifying brown Fiat all at once was no small feat, even for a woman who prided herself on her ability to do several things at once.
As she tossed the last bag of groceries into the trunk, a hand came around her neck and gripped it in an iron fist. “Don’t scream,” an all-too familiar voice growled in her ear.
Sweat popped out on her forehead and under her arms. Moisture made her grip on Eduardo even more precarious as he tossed his head to be rid of the hat.
“I’m going to let you go, and you and the kid are going to get in on the passenger side as though we’d planned this all along. Do you understand?”
She nodded mutely and willed her knees not to buckle. She stood frozen, rooted in place.
“Move,” he ground out, giving her a helpful little shove in the right direction.
Regina shook off her lethargy and got in the door he held open.
“Do not even think about making a run for it,” he warned.
It wasn’t until they were out of the parking lot that Regina risked a glance at his profile. Livid would be too mild a word for the anger raging in Brooks’s face. She shivered as she again sensed the raw power he ruthlessly held in check. She did not want to be around when he unleashed it.
Though perhaps she should have considered that before she tried to crack his skull open.
He wove his way up and down several streets, ever checking the mirrors. Every muscle in his body appeared rigid, though his grip on the wheel remained loose and competent. She didn’t need to hear his muffled curse to know their pursuer had found them again.
“Brooks, I—” she began, though she had no idea what to say next. “Sorry I bonked you on the head” didn’t seem adequate. And in truth, she wasn’t all that sorry. He kept pushing her. So she’d pushed back.
She risked another glance in his direction. The lump just behind his ear had swollen up enough that she could see it from here. Oh, dear, maybe she’d been a bit too energetic with that hatchet. She’d wanted to slow him down while they got away, not do him any real damage.
“Don’t. Say. One. Word.” Each syllable sounded like he’d hurled it with his knife.
She started guiltily as she realized she had that same knife securely tucked in her purse. She twisted around in her seat and glimpsed the Fiat screeching around the corner behind them. If Brooks was going to the trouble of trying to get them away from this madman, the least she could do was make sure he was armed.
Slowly, she pulled his wicked-looking knife from her purse and handed it to him, handle first. He shot her one unreadable glance, then tucked it quickly into its sheath.
Brooks whipped around the next corner on two wheels. He’d jerked the wheel so hard to the left that she and Eduardo slammed into the door. Eduardo began shrieking, but Regina wasn’t sure if it were from fright, or if he’d hurt himself.
She planted her feet firmly on the floorboards, braced one hand on the dash and began singing loud enough to be heard above his screams while she checked him over. He seemed to be fine. When Eduardo stopped long enough to draw breath, she lowered her volume, coaxing him to quiet down so he could hear her. But keeping the song going was hard, with Brooks trying to give them whiplash, the Fiat gaining, and Eduardo screaming.
As they wove through the narrow streets, Brooks suddenly uttered an exceptionally harsh word and slammed a hand on the steering wheel. Hard.
“Why didn’t you get gas first!” he demanded.
Her gaze shot to the gas gauge. Empty. “I-I planned to, as soon as I got the groceries,” she stammered. The fact that he was right only made her more defensive. “How could I know that madman would be this close?”
His expression said more clearly than words what he thought of her. He didn’t slow their pace one kilometer, but now he hunched over the steering wheel, scanning the buildings.
Spotting a car repair shop with several dozen cars sitting behind it in various stages of decrepitude, he checked the rearview mirror, whipped around the block, and darted through the high chain link fence from the opposite direction.
With scant inches to spare, he wedged the car between two rusting hulks and scrambled out the open window. No way could they get the
door open in the narrow space.
“Hand me the kid.”
She handed him a still-screaming Eduardo and climbed over the console and out the window after them. Brooks was already striding out the gate, and she ran to catch up.
He was in full military mode. Eyes scanning constantly, expression intent behind the mirrored shades, body poised for the unexpected. She reached them just as he flattened himself against the building and took a quick peek up and down the street. Eduardo reached out for her, and she quickly clutched him securely against her chest.
“Let’s go. Whatever happens, keep up and follow my lead.”
If he said anything else, Eduardo’s energetic howling drowned it out. Without giving her a chance to reply, Brooks jogged to the alley, looked both ways, and darted down it.
They crossed one street, then another. Regina’s arms were aching from gripping the child, and her ears rang from his screams. Given the stress level they were under, it was no wonder he sensed it, but that still didn’t make the howling easier to bear.
“You’ve got to shut the kid up,” Brooks growled as they crouched down and sped across another side street.
As though his screams were directly her fault. “Yeah, well, it’s not like there’s not a little tension here for him to pick up on,” she retorted.
They heard a car, and Brooks grabbed her wrist and hauled her into a dimly recessed doorway. He pushed on the door and it moaned and swung inward, revealing a rickety set of stairs.
“Up,” he commanded, pushing her ahead of him.
He swung the door shut behind them, then took the stairs two at a time to catch up. At the top, they found themselves in a warehouse stacked with packing crates. Empty packing crates.
Several of the high windows had been broken and small patches of sunlight highlighted dancing dust motes. Eduardo’s screams echoed shrilly in the cavernous room. Regina stepped up her jiggling and crooning as Brooks propelled her between high walls of crates.