by Connie Mann
Brooks wanted to run and hide, lose himself in the sweet oblivion of alcohol where he wasn’t responsible, didn’t have to be accountable. But his eyes were drawn to Regina’s face, obscured by her wildly curling hair. Once he’d thought it an unruly mess; now he knew the beautiful face she hid behind it. He glanced down at her ratty cardigan, the one she was almost never without. He’d bought her another one, but she insisted on wearing this one. It was torn and dirty, one sleeve torn at the shoulder, testimony of the struggle she’d waged against her captor.
Rage pounded through him. Only the barest thread of control kept him from rushing forward to straighten her limbs from their uncomfortable position. He ached to check her pulse, just to be sure, to put a pillow under her head, stop the bleeding.
The blood. Dear God in Heaven. Brooks blinked as the scene swam before his eyes and images from the past superimposed on the present. For one suspended moment, he couldn’t tell reality from memory.
Then, like a lightning bolt, past and present split in two. His vision cleared until all he saw was Regina, broken and bloody. His wanted to howl and smash everything in his path. His heart screamed for retribution, for relief from the excruciating pain. Acid churned like bitter poison, bringing up the truth. He was too late. Again. Someone made the fatal mistake of trusting him. And once again it cost her her life.
Regina, who trusted no man, had finally come to trust him. His thanks for that priceless gift was to get her killed. It was over. He was done. He would never let something like this happen again.
Brooks raised his gun, prepared to kill the shooter, prepared to die himself. It was the only way he’d ever find relief.
He tensed, his finger on the trigger, bracing for the impact of return fire. He allowed himself one final glance at Regina’s still face and regret swamped him. He’d never told her what he felt for her, never dared to put his complicated feelings into words. Never even allowed himself to name them.
Now he’d never have a chance. Her death was his fault. He had arrived too late.
Again.
As he stood there, poised at the brink, Brooks’s training slapped him, hard. What if Regina wasn’t dead? Never give up, because it’s not over till it’s truly over.
Like a dunk in an icy stream, his head cleared. Brooks the man let Brooks the soldier take control. He swept grief and retribution from his mind. No time for that now. Seconds could mean the difference between life and death. He heard his instructors bark commands in his ear. Focus on your mission. Don’t get distracted. Evaluate the threat. See about the victim.
Brooks looked up and found himself eye to eye with their pursuer. Shocked recognition slammed him. Raul Carvalho and Regina’s boyfriend Jair, the man he’d met at the orphanage, were one and the same. How could he have been so stupid, so blind?
“Let me check on her,” he demanded.
Raul gave a negative shake of his head and sighed. “She’s dead, though I hated to kill her. I rather hoped she and I could come to some agreement, but . . . well, you know how she feels about men touching her.” His eyes narrowed. “Or did she respond differently with you?”
Brooks gritted his teeth. “Regina da Silva is a lady. She came with me to take care of Eduardo.” He scanned the clearing with his peripheral vision, but the encroaching darkness hid everything outside the small area in which they stood. “Where’s the baby?”
“He’s not far from here.”
Brooks pierced him with a hard look. “Is he alive?”
“For the moment.”
Brooks inched closer to Regina, his stance deliberately relaxed. He couldn’t see any blood from this vantage point.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked conversationally, every nerve cell on high alert. He employed an old tactic: get the perp to talk while your backup gets into place. Regina and the boy were still alive. They had to be. He pushed any other possibly firmly out of his mind.
“Do you read the Bible much, Senhor Brooks?” Raul asked, as though they were seated at a dinner table, sharing casual conversation.
“Not much,” he admitted, though it had been different during his youth. He looked closer at Regina. No visible gunshot wound that he could see, no telltale pool of blood beneath her.
“But you are familiar with some of its tenets, no?”
Brooks nodded, taking a step the other way so he could see her other side. That mane of hers completely covered her face.
“Are you acquainted with the passage in Exodus 21 that talks about ‘an eye for an eye’?”
Brooks nodded. “So it’s revenge you’re after. I can understand that.” He pointed his chin toward Regina, taking a gamble. He worried if he paid her too much attention, Raul would shoot again. “But she has nothing to do with this.”
“I hadn’t planned to kill her. I even tried to get her to leave it alone, but she wouldn’t. As I’m sure a man of your background knows, sometimes in war, the innocent die.”
“Some would say all of us here are innocent. It’s Noah you want.” Brooks avoided the temptation to scan the surrounding trees again, searching for Jax. Frustration gnawed at his gut. Regina could bleed out while he stood here making small talk.
“Ah, so someone has told you the whole story. Was it Noah, I wonder?”
“Carol told me.” What was Jax waiting for?
Raul smiled. “Your mother. Such a lovely woman. Tell me, is she still trying to get her husband to notice her?”
The too-accurate description of his parent’s relationship stung like salt in an open wound. “I’m not discussing my family with you.” He glanced from his gun to Raul’s and asked, “So what happens now? We seem to be at an impasse.” C’mon, scum, give me a chance to take you out.
“Oh, not really,” Raul said. Keeping his gun carefully pointed at Regina’s heart, he casually reached down, picked up a small rock, and tossed it into the trees. Eduardo’s indignant cry erupted.
Brooks breathed a prayer of thanks, trying to pinpoint the boy’s exact location.
Suddenly, Regina moaned, whispering Eduardo’s name. Brooks snapped his head around and relief flooded him. That had to be the sweetest sound he had ever heard.
He turned to his opponent, eyes narrowed, trying to anticipate the man’s next move.
“I thought it would be much more effective if you watched me kill them both,” Raul announced.
Not good. Sweat poured down Brooks’s back in an icy stream, but his gaze never wavered. “Let them go. It’s me you want.”
“Actually, it’s your father I really want. But I understand he may die.” He made that tsk-tsking sound again. “This way, he can spend his last days thinking about all he’s lost.”
Brooks shrugged nonchalantly even as he saw Regina move ever so slightly. His insides turned to ice and panic rushed through his veins as he realized what she had planned. But he kept his voice calm, encouraging confidences.
“I’m no great loss to him, you know. We haven’t spoken in years,” he told Raul.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Regina’s hand inch carefully into the pocket of her skirt, where she kept that blasted switchblade.
“Yes, I know,” Raul admitted. “Did you like your eighteenth birthday present, by the way?” he asked, his eyes wide, curious.
Everything inside Brooks went still, but he forced his voice to sound only mildly curious. “You sent that?”
Fourteen years ago, Raul had sent him the photo—the one of Noah and Teresa—that had forever changed the course of his life. And now, unless Brooks acted quickly, Regina was going to get herself killed. He had to stop her.
Brooks chanced a quick glance at Regina, gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Don’t do it. Just. Don’t. Do. It.
Regina’s muscles screamed with the effort of holding perfectly still. Sweat poured from every inch of her skin, making her grip on the knife slippery. A breeze rustled in the treetops, raising gooseflesh along her arms. Tonight would be cold, and her sweater no defens
e. She waited patiently for the right moment, just as she had as a child, waiting for stronger scavengers to finish plundering her favorite dumpster. It all came down to timing. Confront them head on, and you might not live to eat again. But wait awhile and they’d wander off, their attention on other things. Then you could sneak in and make your move.
She sensed Brooks’s anger. His tension rolled over her in waves, raising the tempo of her own heartbeat. He had no way of knowing her skills with a knife. She wanted to tell him, to reassure him that she had this under control. She met his gaze, putting all the confidence she could muster into it. He gave a firm, negative shake of his head. She barely refrained from tossing her head. Such a masculine approach, he had. Do it my way, or else.
Of course, he was a trained soldier and now that she looked a bit closer, she saw his blank warrior face. Tension coiled as tightly in him as in her. He waited for his chance, too.
Regina looked up at Raul, at the hideous black gun he had pointed squarely at her heart. His eyes gleamed with some unholy light, and he kept muttering to himself. He had been running his hands through his hair until it stood up in disorganized tufts. How odd to see him this way, so rumpled and out of control, so very different from the man who’d devoted months to his courtly romance.
Self-recrimination swamped her. How easily he’d fooled her, how willing she’d been to see only what he wanted her to see. Now that he’d removed his mask, she saw the madness he’d kept so carefully hidden. While the drug had worn off, she’d listened to his explanation for all this. He wanted revenge, but his desire for it had marked him, twisting his soul into something ugly and fearful.
She didn’t want to die. She’d heard Eduardo cry out and that, together with Brooks’s voice had brought her back to consciousness and reignited her dogged determination to live. It wouldn’t end like this. She wouldn’t let it. She and Brooks had unfinished business, and she had a promise to Irene to fulfill. Eduardo was still a long way from safety.
So whether Brooks liked it or not, she planned to help him. She let go of the knife just long enough to wipe her hand on the inside of her skirt pocket. Then she moaned loudly and used the sound to cover the little snick the knife made as the blade extended to its full length.
Brooks wasn’t fooled, though. He must have heard the sound for his eyes cut to hers and he redoubled his message: No, no, no. Let me handle this.
Regina considered doing just that, then changed her mind. This was all her fault. If she’d heeded what Brooks had told her, she’d never have let Raul into the orphanage. Then none of this would be happening. Help me, Father.
Carefully, lest she draw Raul’s attention, Regina tested her limbs to make sure she hadn’t broken any bones. Her head ached—probably from whatever drug he’d given her—and there were abrasions on her palms. Her hip ached, but nothing else. She had to be sure everything worked before she leaped up. She’d have mere microseconds before Raul shot her.
She firmly shoved that thought away. She would not fail. She would get them out of this; she had to. Irene trusted her to keep her son safe. Since Brooks had done all he could to keep her out of this mess, it fell to her to end it. She listened to the conversation between the two men and her blood turned to ice.
“I thought it would be much more effective if you watched me kill them both,” Raul announced to Brooks.
Rather than terrify her, that statement sparked her anger like a match to gasoline. No way would she allow Brooks to deal with that. She wasn’t sure exactly what had made him withdraw from life, but she’d learned enough to realize it had to do with a mission gone wrong. Not only did she have no plans to die, but she refused to let her death and Eduardo’s wind up on his conscience.
It was almost full dark now. Time had run out. If she planned to do something, she’d better get to it. With Eduardo’s plaintive wail giving her purpose, she breathed another quick prayer for help and accuracy.
Knife clenched in her fist, Regina reared up from the ground, launching herself at Raul, knife aimed at his heart. She kept low and lunged, her gaze on him, watching his eyes to see what he’d do next.
He twisted right and made a grab for her arm. She feinted left and buried the knife in his midsection, recoiling instinctively at the howl that emanated from his throat. His feral roar sounded like a wounded animal, and every instinct screamed at her to retreat.
But she didn’t. She grunted, struggling to stay with him as he jerked and tried to throw her off. Blood flowed from the wound, over their grasping hands. It smelled coppery, warm, and made her want to retch. But she didn’t let go. She had to do this, had to keep the men she loved safe.
She loved them; loved them both.
The thought so shocked her that her attention wavered for the barest instant; then she forced everything from her mind.
Brooks had every cell focused on the writhing figures in front of him, locked in a macabre dance. Together they moved, one step forward, another back, but Regina still had her back to him. His gun hand shook as he followed their every move, the newly healed muscles in his forearm shrieking. He barely noticed, every muscle focused on finding his chance—just one—to get off a clear shot.
Come on, come on. He wanted to shout at Regina to duck, but feared his voice would distract her.
He inched to his left, trying to get between Raul and Eduardo, and at the same time, find an opening for a clear shot. Raul immediately noticed and swung Regina around to put her between them again.
He could see her tiring, but so was Raul. Brooks refused to think about how he’d gotten her into this predicament. He’d have plenty of time to deal with his guilt later. For now, he had to end this.
On soundless feet, he inched to the left again, and took careful aim.
Regina wondered how much longer this could go on, when suddenly, everything changed. While Raul fought her for the knife with one hand, he raised his gun with the other and she realized her mistake. She should have aimed for his gun hand, disarmed him. Too late.
She hung on and looked into Raul’s eyes, resigned, waiting for the blast. At least she’d given Brooks time to get away and save Eduardo. Brooks would take care of the baby, she knew.
I’m sorry, Irene.
Brooks saw Raul’s gun come up. Regina must have seen it too, for she tensed and moved just the slightest bit to the left. Perfect. Finally, the chance he’d been waiting for. That’s my girl, a little more. That’s it.
His finger slowly squeezed the trigger, eyes locked with Raul’s. Brooks had one split second to wonder about the smug look on the other man’s face before a shriek rent the night air above his head.
Brooks instinctively flicked his eyes upward. One glance told him the screech came from a huge tropical bird, diving right at his head.
In that instant, he knew he’d failed. Fire flashed from the muzzle of Raul’s gun as he squeezed off his own shot.
The world went black.
Regina heard the shot, then another, and braced for the pain. Instead, she heard the sound of movement behind her and the thud of someone hitting the ground.
“NO!” she screamed, the sound echoing eerily through the trees. He’d shot Brooks. Dear Father, he’d shot Brooks.
Eduardo set up a terrified wail from somewhere behind her and propelled her into action. She couldn’t check on Brooks, couldn’t go to Eduardo, until she disarmed Raul. She’d been given another chance, and she wouldn’t blow it.
Overconfident, Raul took his time raising the gun to her temple. Regina saw her chance and grabbed it. Using a maneuver Irene had taught her years ago, she brought her knee up into his groin with all the power she could muster. As he doubled over in instinctive reaction, she yanked the knife from his belly and brought it down into his right forearm. He screamed and dropped the gun.
When he collapsed on the ground, moaning in agony, Regina kicked the gun out of his reach and fell to her knees beside Brooks. Don’t let him be dead, she prayed. Please, Father, don’t let him be
dead. Hope died within her as she took in his still features, the frozen cast to his face. Tears poured down her cheeks, momentarily blurring her vision.
She reached a shaking hand toward Brooks’s neck to check for a pulse then yanked it back and scrubbed it down the front of her skirt. Her hand came away covered in blood. She looked down at herself and swayed dizzily. Blood smeared the front of her body. Raul’s blood.
She had to calm down. Regina shot a glance over her shoulder to be sure the man hadn’t moved, then touched Brooks’s neck, searching for a pulse. She jumped at the feel of his skin. His body felt cold; too cold. No, oh, no. She couldn’t find a pulse.
Frantic, she swiped at her tears with one hand, and pressed down on the side of his neck a bit harder with the other. She shook so hard it was no wonder she couldn’t tell a thing.
Regina waited, heart pounding. Please, please, please, she pleaded. He had to be alive, he had to be. She leaned closer, but still couldn’t find the telltale rhythm.
Memories of the night in her childhood when she’d found a drunk dead in her favorite dumpster raised gooseflesh on her skin. He’d been this cold and still, too.
Fierce denials poured from her lips as she groped both sides of his neck with shaking fingers, hoping, praying for some sign of life. But she found none.
She put her cheek by his mouth, desperate to feel his breath, but when she couldn’t find that either, she started CPR, pumping his hard chest with everything she had. “Come on, come on,” she muttered. She kept up the chest compressions until her arms gave out, but when she checked his vitals again, there was still nothing.
He was gone. Because of her stupidity, she’d cost this wonderful man his life. She should never have let Raul in, never have reached for her knife.
Sobbing, she fell across Brooks’s prone form, hugging his broad chest, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”