by Connie Mann
They crouched in a dim corner and she tried sticking her finger in Eduardo’s mouth. In the brief seconds of quiet that followed, they heard the lower door creak open.
He’d found them. Regina looked at Brooks, but he was scanning, always scanning, looking for other options, other ways out. But she could see that he didn’t have much hope as he eased the knife from its sheath and prepared to defend them.
She looked down at Eduardo, who was scrunching up his adorable little face in preparation for another scream. She had to keep him quiet.
In that split-second, she remembered a war movie she’d watched in college. She couldn’t remember anything except one horrible scene where the enemy was about to discover a busload of refugees. A baby about Eduardo’s age had reacted just as he was—crying pitifully. The full busload of passengers had focused on the mother, begging her with their eyes to somehow quiet him and save their lives. In desperation, the poor mother covered her child’s mouth to keep him quiet and ultimately, with silent tears pouring down her cheeks, smothered her own son to protect everyone on the bus.
Right then, Regina knew that same mixture of desperation and love. It strangled her, froze her limbs. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. There had to be another way.
Eyes pleading, begging for another alternative, she met Brooks’ gaze. He’d removed his shades, his expression carefully blank, but he looked pointedly at her chest, then back up to her face.
She instantly understood his meaning, but now a new fear gripped her heart. She was afraid, so afraid to make herself vulnerable to any man. Yet with one glance at Eduardo’s sweet face, love conquered fear. For him, she would do whatever she had to. But she wasn’t taking unnecessary chances.
Regina deliberately turned her back to Brooks and then unbuttoned her blouse and pushed her bra aside with hands that shook and fumbled badly in her haste. She guided Eduardo’s mouth to her breast, and he instantly latched on. His tense little features relaxed as he suckled greedily, one plump fist pushing against the curve of her breast. How long before he realized there was no milk and started screaming all over again?
The seconds ticked by as he sucked contentedly. Regina slowly released her pent-up breath and smoothed the damp curls back from his forehead, trying to hold back the mix of emotions rioting through her. His rhythmic suckling sent a shaft of pure agony straight to her empty womb, where no child would ever grow. Her fear of their pursuer faded away as tears slid down her cheeks and she pretended, just for this brief slice of time, that she was his mother. She hugged Eduardo closer, tracing the shell of his ear, stroking his tiny fingers.
When her tears blinded her, Regina forced her thoughts back to the present, to the precarious situation they were in. There was a madman closing in. She strained to hear any sounds from below, trying to stay calm for the baby’s sake. For several minutes, she heard nothing. Then, she heard the door creak again and close. Had the shooter left, or was this a trick? Half-afraid to hope, she looked over her shoulder at Brooks and froze.
He hadn’t turned toward the sound below as she’d expected. He stared at her, an arrested expression on his chiseled face. Sensing her gaze, his gray eyes met hers, but amazingly, in them she didn’t see lust, she saw something that looked like awe. Right now those gray eyes weren’t stormy at all, but as deep and quiet as a lake at dawn.
She sucked in a breath and an embarrassed flush crept up her neck. Flustered, she tucked her chin down, pulled her blouse together, and moved farther away, but Brooks’s hand shot out and gently stopped her. Trembling with an emotion she could not name, she waited, rooted to the spot, as he turned her back toward him slowly, making sure her oversized blouse was completely closed. He then carefully brushed his finger across Eduardo’s cheek.
Slowly, so as not to jostle a now-drowsy Eduardo, he leaned forward and brushed her tears away with his thumb before pressing his lips to her forehead. Never had anyone touched her like this, treated her as if she were made of spun glass and something to be treasured. But in just two days, this man had done it twice. Her heart pounded with something akin to envy and her eyes filled again. What would it be like to be loved by a man capable of such deep emotion, to suckle their child at her breast?
She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain of impossible dreams and willed herself to focus on their situation. But it was hard.
Moments later, Brooks leaned toward her again. “Stay here. I’ll go make sure he’s gone.” His warm breath tickled her ear, then he slipped away.
13
BY THE TIME BROOKS RETURNED WHAT SEEMED LIKE HOURS LATER, Eduardo, thank the Lord, was sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion. Regina’s shoulders ached with tension, and she envied the baby his easy escape.
When she’d first heard that ominous creak of the door, panic clawed at her belly, but she forced herself to remain calm. All she needed was for her tension to transmit itself to Eduardo and for him to start wailing again. Although she really couldn’t blame him for it; she felt like howling, too.
Breath held so she could hear beyond the pounding of her heart, she waited, switchblade ready. Her breath came out in a rush as Brooks slid into view. For one absurd moment, she had to fight the urge to fling herself into his arms and curl up against his hard chest with the same abandon Eduardo embraced her. Which made no sense, given she’d almost killed him earlier that day.
She straightened Eduardo’s clothes and avoided Brooks’s gaze. She had no idea how to react after what had happened earlier. Whatever connection, for want of a better word, had sprung up between them in those few moments was wrong. It didn’t belong there. She didn’t need or want a man in her life. All the ones she’d known had brought her grief. And pain. So much pain.
She shot to her feet and marched toward the stairs. In two long strides he had her arm and swung her around, though mindful of the sleeping child she carried.
When Regina looked up into his face, the warrior looked back and their earlier encounter might never have occurred. “Stay behind me. We’ve got to move fast.”
If she’d had a better plan, she’d have argued with him. Since she didn’t, she simply nodded, but his constant bossing was wearing thin. True, Irene had been bossy, too, and the self-appointed leader of their little group. But she and Irene had been a team. They’d worked together. Irene always said she supplied the brawn while Regina supplied the brains. But Brooks’s dictatorial attitude made her feel about as congenial as a cat petted backward. She wanted to yowl in protest. Eduardo made a sleepy mewling sound and reminded her to pick her battles—and battlefields—carefully.
Brooks could hear Regina’s labored breathing behind him and regretted pushing her so hard, but it couldn’t be helped. They’d been given a very small window of opportunity, and he intended to make the best of it. Their shooter had left the warehouse, but Brooks knew he wasn’t far away. In the other man’s shoes, he’d resume driving a grid pattern, hoping to get lucky. Brooks intended to see the man’s luck turn south.
Towing Regina behind him, he wove in and out of alleys and doorways and wended his way back to their vehicle. When Regina prepared to climb in the window again, he stopped her and did a thorough check of the vehicle first, inside and out, to be sure the man hadn’t left them any nasty surprises.
He guided Regina behind a rusting pickup and then scrambled under the car, checking for a telltale tripwire. He didn’t think this was the shooter’s MO, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The extra time proved worth the risk, because sure enough, he discovered a thin little wire attached to the gas pedal.
“I win this round, pal,” he mumbled. He took his time defusing it, making sure the bomb really was as simple as it looked. The guy was obviously an amateur, but Brooks wanted to know his identity. Time to end this hide-and-seek game with an invisible shadow. Somebody wanted this kid dead, and he wanted it badly. Brooks wanted to know why.
When he was satisfied the car was safe, he motioned Regina over and held the kid while she climbed in.
He still couldn’t make himself refer to the child by name or acknowledge him as his own flesh and blood, but he couldn’t seem to turn his back on him and walk away, either.
As for the unpredictable Miss da Silva, he didn’t like the feelings she inspired in him any better. He generally knew exactly where he stood and what he felt. But Regina was part mother, part vixen, and kept him agitated as a penned bull.
As soon as they were settled, he hightailed it out of town on the main highway, stopping at an out-of-the-way gas station. Within minutes they were back on the road, hoping to put enough distance between them and the brown Fiat to figure out what was going on.
The man gripped the steering wheel and squinted against the glare. Where were they? He’d thought he heard something in that old warehouse, but his careful search had revealed nothing. He edged closer to the repair shop, but not so close that they’d see him. If they were anywhere close by, they would have run back to the car by now.
He pulled up next to the curb between two delivery trucks and prepared to enjoy the show. From his vantage point, he wouldn’t be able to see it, but he figured the flames would be high enough for him to bask in their glow.
He twisted his hands together in his lap and pulled the picture of Teresa out of his pocket. He didn’t want to leave it out on the dashboard where anyone could get a glimpse of it.
“I’m sorry, Teresa. I didn’t want to hurt Regina, but she wouldn’t leave the baby alone. If she’d only heeded my warnings . . .” His jaw hardened. “She didn’t want me either. If she had, I could have spared her all this. But now that she’s thrown her lot in with Anderson, she’ll have to die.” He cocked his head as though listening. “I have to do this; you know that. An eye for an eye. Noah must pay for his sins. And since she won’t leave, she’ll have to pay, too.”
Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Still, he heard nothing but the sounds of men working, traffic rumbling several streets away, and a radio blaring somewhere in the distance.
“Come on, come on.” The time had come to end this. As soon as he’d taken Teresa’s revenge, it would be over. He’d be free to put the past behind him and start his own life. He wanted to drive his own car, live in his comfortable apartment. He rubbed the crick in his neck. He was too old to sleep in cars.
After thirty minutes, he couldn’t take it any longer. He slipped out of the car, tiptoeing close enough so he could see the Toyota.
It was gone.
He stiffened in shock and stepped closer. How had he missed the explosion? Several quick steps brought him nose-to-nose with the high fence.
And the empty spot where the car had been.
He pressed his nose against the fence in disbelief and studied the ground. Instead of smoking hunks of metal, he saw the trip wire lying there, tied up in a neat little bow, mocking him.
He gripped the fence so hard he drew blood, but he didn’t notice. His entire being was focused on the fact that they’d eluded him again.
“Noooo!”
His agonized howl brought one of the mechanics out of the bowels of the shop, his face concerned.
He held up both hands and assured the mechanic that he was all right.
“You are sure?” the man asked, wiping greasy hands on an even greasier rag. “You’re bleeding.”
He looked down in surprise, and then waved the man’s concern away, carefully hiding his rage behind a bland smile. He did not want this imbecile later to say that he’d met a crazy man who screamed in the middle of the street for no reason.
Back in his car, he wrapped a bandana around his palm and studied Teresa’s picture some more. “Which way did they go, Teresa? I need to know.”
He cocked his head as though listening. “North?” He kissed the picture before tucking it carefully back in his pocket. North it was.
The Fiat peeled out from the curb. He never noticed the mechanic reach back into the shop and pick up the telephone.
14
THE KILOMETERS CLICKED BY AT A SPEED THAT BLURRED THE SCENERY OUT-side the window. Regina settled the still-sleeping baby in the back seat with her rolled-up sleeping bag wedged around him like a giant bolster. She rubbed a weary hand over the back of her neck and rolled her shoulders. For a little guy, he sure got heavy after a while.
Brooks whipped into the opposite lane to pass another slow-moving truck crawling up the hill, and Regina closed her eyes. Brazilians’ belief in fate made them entirely too careless with their lives, in her opinion. Brooks was an American, but he seemed to view each hill as a personal challenge to be met. And conquered.
“Hand me the cell phone.” He held his hand out.
She bristled at his tone. “How about, please?”
“If you think I’m going to be nice after you stole my phone, lady, think again.”
So, they were back to lady. Though she supposed he did have a point, if you wanted to get technical about it.
She fished the phone out of her voluminous handbag and placed it in his palm, careful not to let any of her skin come into contact with any of his.
He scooted back into their lane and checked the mirrors again. Satisfied, he flipped the phone open. “It is time to find out exactly what is going on here.” He thrust the phone at her. “Who hired the bodyguard?”
“Francisco Lopez.”
His eyes widened. “The same Francisco Lopez who wants to be the next presidente of Brazil?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “He came to Irene’s funeral and said he was a friend of Noah’s and had been sent to help and keep an eye on Eduardo.”
“You didn’t find it odd that such a powerful man got himself involved in this?”
“He came to the funeral incognito. Only two bodyguards, and afterward, when he asked to speak to me alone, I discovered he’d been wearing a wig and fake mustache.” She shrugged. “I know Noah has influential friends, and I appreciated him coming and trying to help.”
“That’s when he offered the guard.”
“Yes.”
“Call him. He knows more than he’s saying.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know his number.”
“So get it. How hard can it be to find one of the most important men in the whole blasted country?”
His impatience flicked over her like fingernails on a blackboard, but she shoved her irritation aside and dialed. It galled her that he was right again. Within minutes, she was connected to Colonel Lopez’s aide.
“I’m sorry, Senhorita, but the Colonel is not in his office this week. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Por favor, where did he go?”
It was a risk. Logic said if the man was worth the salary they paid him, he wouldn’t tell her a blessed thing.
“I am sorry, Senhorita, but I am not at liberty to say,” the voice replied stiffly. “Would you like to leave a message?”
“Um momento.” She covered the mouthpiece. “He’s away this week. Should I give his aide this number?”
In response to Brooks’s nod, she said, “Yes, please, tell him that Regina da Silva needs to speak with him immediately about an urgent matter.”
Was it her imagination, or did the man suddenly perk right up. “Senhorita da Silva, of Casa de Anjos Orphanage?”
“Yes,” she replied uncertainly, watching Brooks, “this is she.”
“Is everything all right? The Colonel said to contact him immediately if you were to call.”
“Please just have him call me, por favor,” Regina responded and repeated the number as Brooks dictated it to her.
“You will hear from him right away, Senhorita,” the man assured her.
Regina flipped the phone closed and turned a bit in her seat so she faced Brooks. “He says the Colonel will call me right away. Don’t you find this sudden urgency a bit odd?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either the man is genuinely worried about you, or he’s somehow connected to this.”
Regina shuddered and rubbed her arms against a sudd
en chill, despite the balmy temperature. When he said nothing further, she leaned back in her seat and gazed out at the passing scenery. The farther north they drove, the more mountainous it became. She looked at the peaceful farms and tried to relax. Brooks still checked the rearview mirror regularly and passed slower traffic like a native, but based on his body language, he hadn’t seen anyone behind them.
She dozed in the pleasant state between sleep and wakefulness when the cell phone rang. Brooks flipped it open and handed it to her. “Oi.”
“Senhor Brooks, por favor.”
She handed it back. “For you.”
“Brooks. Sim. Nao. How long ago? Obrigado.”
He pressed the disconnect button and dialed again. “Jax. Brooks. I’m in Brazil.” He waited through the other person’s response and shot her a rueful grimace. “Yes, still. My errand is taking a bit longer than I thought. Listen, I need you to run a plate and get me whatever you can on the driver—and I need it yesterday.” He rattled off the Fiat’s license plate number and a detailed description of the driver, then paused to listen. “If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
Regina waited for him to tell her who had called. Thirty seconds went by, and when still no information came her way, she burst out, “Who was that?”
“Friend of mine. If anyone can get me a handle on who’s after us, it’s him.”
She huffed out a breath. “That much I got. I meant before that.”
“Guy who works at the repair shop. I asked him to let me know if anyone in a brown Fiat came by.”
“So he’s still back there.”
He hesitated. “Probably.”
He tried to act casual, but Regina wasn’t fooled. He was back to full warrior alert.
Sometime later he turned off the highway onto a narrow little road that seemed to head straight into the mountains.