Читать книгу Code of Honor - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 11

Brice made it to the solarium door when he heard dainty little footsteps on the tiled floor behind him.

But the command wasn’t so dainty. “Wait up.”

Halting at the French doors leading out to the flagstone terrace, he braced himself, his gaze taking in the coming dusk and the soft yellow lights of the gas lamps that burned along the garden paths all around his estate.

That request meant trouble. Selena was going to read him the riot act for forcing her to stay here.

“Don’t shoot me in the back,” he said, hands going up in surrender.

“Don’t tempt me,” she replied as she came up behind him and slapped at one of his upheld hand. “Relax. I could have murdered you years ago, but for some strange reason I didn’t.”

“That’s because you do care about me, in spite of me being me, right?”

“I suppose so. Although, for the life of me, I can’t understand it.”

He slanted a look at her, thinking he understood a lot more than she did, obviously. “Are you still mad, then?”

Her shrug brought shimmering strands of curling hair fall around her face and neck. “No madder than I already was, but then I’ve been angry at you for one thing or another since the day we met.”

Brice sure knew that to be a factual statement. Selena and he had actually gotten into an argument without even knowing each other’s names that first day at the University of Georgia. He didn’t really remember what the argument had been about, but he sure did remember the fiery young girl working him over with her idealist political views.

She’d been magnificent then and she was even better now. “Do you keep a list? Against me, I mean?”

“No. I’d have run out of paper long ago on that.” When he guided her through the doors opening from the glass-enclosed solarium, she stopped, a soft sigh slinking out of her body as the now cool spring air hit them. Biting at her full lip, she said, “I have to admit, this has scared me more than I’m letting on.”

Brice escorted her down the terrace steps, then turned to give her a tight frown, the pool’s azure water glistening behind them. “Now you’re beginning to see things my way.”

“I didn’t say that,” she retorted, holding her arms close to herself to ward off the chill. “I’m still not happy about this. I know I’m at risk, but it seems silly for me to stay here since we can’t be sure what actually happened with my car until we get the police report back.”

Brice took in the spring evening, the freshness of the gloaming contrasting with the coldness that had come over him when he’d watched Selena’s car blow up. “Having you here while your parents are in Chicago is the only way I’ll get any sleep. I can watch out for you while I research this situation myself. We can’t always trust the police on these things, and CHAIM has a lot of resources for dealing with people like this.”

She went back into her adversary mode. “So you’re officially on the case then, not just playing bodyguard to me?”

“That’s the plan, and frankly, you can either be mad or you can be glad, but I’m not budging on this. We got you safely away from Día Belo, but our work isn’t done. We can’t allow innocent Christians to be slaughtered by criminals, nor will we allow innocent villagers to be caught in the crossfire. We’re supposed to be there to make a difference, but it’s always a hassle with these militant groups and the local government both involved and constantly trying to upstage each other all around us. If it becomes too dangerous, we won’t be able to send other missionaries back down there.”

He watched her face in the dusk, saw the flutter of scattered emotions moving over her features with a swift clarity just like the remaining random rain clouds in the early evening sky. She shivered and he quickly took off his lightweight coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” she said, her hands gripping the labels of his jacket. “I can’t talk about it anymore, not tonight. It’s so nice and peaceful here.” They walked through the budding azaleas and the tall oaks and magnolia trees toward the large narrow gardening shed at the back side of the expansive yard. Selena took in a deep breath as they neared a cascading dogwood ripe with white blossoms. “The gardens are beautiful, Brice. Especially after this afternoon’s rain.”

“You can thank Charles and Betty for that. Since they’ve been here to supervise the yard crew, this garden has really taken off. Or as Roderick would say, ‘It pops!’”

She actually laughed, the delicate giggle like the sound of tiny bells. “It was kind—what you did for him. You could have sent him to jail for a very long time.”

“That’s not usually the CHAIM way, unless of course someone deserves to go to jail. Then we turn them and the evidence over to the proper authorities.”

She stopped near a large stone fountain sculptured in the shape of two smiling, robed women holding one clay pot while they stood by several other colorful pots, trailing wisteria vines twirling behind them. Adele called this her Ruth and Naomi fountain. Listening to the gurgling water as it spilled over the multitiered centerpiece where purple wisteria blossoms danced in the splash, she asked, “And these people who killed Diego—the ones who appear to be after me now, what do they deserve?”

He heard the danger underneath her soft-spoken words. She wanted retribution. Brice wondered just how close she’d been to the young doctor who’d been murdered in a shoot-out that had also killed several villagers, wondered what she hadn’t told him during her frantic phone call to him late on that terrible night. And as he’d flown down to the tiny village of Día Belo, his imagination reeling with what might happen to her before he could reach her, he also wondered why the smugglers had targeted La Casa de Dios. True it was located in a place of poverty and despair near the border with Brazil, where the villagers had very little money and even less hope, and they did keep a cache of prescription drugs at the on-site pharmacy and dispensary there. But for the most part, Selena’s team of devoted missionaries and villagers didn’t cause trouble and they didn’t bring on any trouble. They were simply part of a humanitarian effort trying to help.

If Selena hadn’t been on the other side of the camp, checking on a sick baby when the ambush had taken place, she might have been right in the middle of the slaughter, too. She’d heard the shots as she was walking back toward the clinic and had managed to hide in the jungle growth just as the culprits finished the job and left. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about what she had witnessed. And now he needed her to talk, to remember, so he could find information on how to protect her. Brice couldn’t think beyond that, beyond the scent of jasmine and wisteria and the way her hair lifted in the damp night wind.

“Brice, did you hear me? How are you planning on handling this?”

Nothing about this brutal act made sense to him and he intended to dig a little deeper to get some answers. But he tried to answer her question in the only way he knew how. “I want justice, of course.”

“CHAIM justice?” she asked, her hand trailing along a damp honeysuckle vine. “Or the real kind where they actually serve jail time for the rest of their days?”

He stopped her, taking her hands in his as he looked down at her. “You know how we handle things. We work with the proper authorities to bring any criminal to justice. But in this case, that will take a lot of evidence and a lot of cooperation with the authorities in Argentina—if we can even get them to cooperate. But first we have to gather information and find these people, and Selena, these are the kind of people who make it their business not to be found.”

She yanked her hands away, held them up like a shield. “Well, it seems they didn’t have any trouble finding me.” Then she halted again, her eyes full of liquid fire as she stared up at him. “Why would they kill Diego, Brice? And why would they follow me here to Atlanta?”

“Well, that’s what we have to figure out. And we will. I’m going to get busy again tracking down any information or leads I can find to see what’s going on and what exactly these people were trying to keep undercover besides the obvious—we know they’re smugglers but why did they suddenly attack the clinic? You don’t keep the kind of drugs they deal in there, so why would they bother?”

She looked away, out toward where the sloping yard met the Chattahoochee River. “Diego must have stumbled onto something.”

Brice’s antenna went up on that comment since this was the first time she’d alluded to that possibility. “Did he ever talk to you about anything out of the ordinary, anything that could have caused this?”

She shook her head, then looked down. “We spent most of our time fighting red tape and trying to help patients. We didn’t have time to worry about some rogue gang of militants and smugglers. Saving lives didn’t leave room for anything else.”

And since she’d been home, she hadn’t allowed for any talk about Diego or his death or what exactly that gang had taken. All Brice had managed to piece together was that a renegade group had passed through the village and wreaked havoc on everything before murdering Diego and some of the villagers. What they’d taken or what they’d left behind was still being investigated. But nothing had been forthcoming from the local authorities. And Selena didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Brice wanted to believe she’d told him everything she could, but he’d seen the subtle shift of darkness in her expression just now. She was worried, no doubt. But she also looked unsure and—he hated to think it—guilty. He didn’t press her, but he would have to keep at her until she told him everything. Maybe she was just suffering survivor’s guilt and nothing more.

She hitched a breath. “He didn’t deserve this. He was a good man. Such a good and noble man.”

Brice couldn’t respond to that. He saw her love for Diego there in her eyes and a flare of white-hot jealousy hit him square in his guts. He wanted her to look that way whenever she thought of him.

But for now, he’d have to be content with just protecting her and trying to help her bring these people to justice. And he’d have to watch as she mourned another man and waited for retribution for that man. He prayed she didn’t try to take matters into her own hands. Maybe she at least understood after what had happened today that she was in serious danger.

Please, Lord, keep her safe. And help me to do my job to the best of my abilities.

He reached up a hand to push at the hair falling around her temple, then moved his fingers to touch her wound. “Are you in pain?”

She let out a little laugh. “Right now, yes, more than I can bear. I’m bruised from falling and my head is sore. But it’s not my head or my bruises that hurts. It’s my heart. I think it’s broken. I need to turn to my Bible and my prayers—that will give me strength.”

She stepped toward Brice and wrapped her arms around his waist, then laid her head against his shoulder. “At least I have my best friend here to help me through this. Even if I am still mad at you.” She squeezed him tight, her hands brushing against his back. “But you’re right. I can’t stay mad at you forever.”

Brice brought her close, his arms taking in her tiny frame as he drank in the sweet jasmine scent of her fragrance. He wanted to hold her this way forever, to make her forget her broken heart and the man she’d found dead along with all of her other coworkers in the pouring rain down in the jungles of Argentina.

He wanted to make her forget everything that had ever hurt her. But first, he had to keep her safe.

And right now, all he could do was offer her his arms for comfort, his shoulder to lean on, his friendship and protection, just to be near her.

“We’ll figure things out, cara. It’s going to be right as rain for you—soon I hope.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just held him tight and kept her head snuggled close to his shirt. They stood that way for a few precious minutes.

Until a strange wail followed by a shout and the sound of a crash coming from the garden shed brought them apart and sent them both running.

Brice shoved Selena behind him. “Don’t lose sight of me,” he said, tugging her along as they hurried toward the back of the property. “Charles?” he called at the open door to the garden shed.

They heard a grunt. “In here.”

Brice rushed into the long, narrow, glass-encased building where a single dim light burned. “Charles, where are you?”

“Down here, on the floor.”

Brushing past bedding plants and exotic house plants, Brice ran toward the big table shoved in a corner. When he and Selena reached Charles, the older man was lying on the floor, surrounded by broken pots and a pool of dirty water.

“What happened?” Brice asked, glancing around the big shed. It was hard to see in the waning light.

“Something spooked me,” Charles said, trying to sit up. “A noise. I think it might have been a big bird—maybe an owl or something. It was just such a strange noise—almost like a wail or a growl.”

“Aye, we heard it.” Brice’s eyes locked with Selena’s while she automatically began checking Charles’s vital signs and examining him for broken bones. After Selena made sure Charles was breathing properly, Brice asked him, “Did you see anything—anyone?”

“No, nothing,” the white-haired man answered while Selena helped him to sit up. “I was turning off lights and closing up shop. I came back here to put up the watering jug and I just heard this awful sound—like a bird’s call or some sort of animal crying out—sounded like it was coming from beyond the wire fence, maybe down on the river. I jumped about a foot, hit a pot there on the floor and lost my balance and toppled right over, bringing these other pots down with me. Think I twisted my ankle.” He lifted his bushy eyebrows. “I’m sorry about the mess, Brice.”

“Don’t worry about that. We need to get you to the house.”

Selena reexamined him, asking him to speak again. She studied his face, then touched her fingers to his head, asking him questions as she analyzed him. “No symptoms of a stroke—that’s good news. Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

“I’d like to make sure of that,” Selena said, her voice shaky. “Your pulse is racing, Mr. Sager. Did you get dizzy before you fell? Did you hit your head?”

Charles mumbled, “No, I wasn’t dizzy at all, just startled. I caught myself on my arm and leg on the right side.”

Brice helped lift him, then together he and Selena steadied Charles. “Is the golf cart nearby?” Brice asked.

Charles nodded, favoring his right leg. “Yep. I was gonna drive it back up to the house.”

“I’ll get it,” Brice said. “Lean on the table and let Selena check you over a bit more until I bring it around.”

Charles bobbed his head. Selena offered kind words as she helped him back against the support of the heavy wooden table. “Maybe we should call 911, Brice. Or I could call your family doctor.”

“No, no,” Charles replied, waving a hand in the air. “I just stumbled is all. I’ll be okay. I’ll take some pain pills and be good as new.”

Brice shouted at Selena as he made his way to the other side of the building. “If you think he’s okay to move, we’ll get him up to the house and decide then.”

Selena turned back to Charles. “I don’t have my equipment but we can still make sure you’re all right.”

Charles gave her a dim smile. “My equipment ain’t so good either, but I’m okay. Don’t make a fuss.”

Outside, Brice quickly checked for anything out of the ordinary around the perimeters of the shed. After finding the golf cart that Charles used to cover the large acreage, he drove it toward the back of the shed, then squinted into the muted light to see if he could find any footprints. The bushes and vines were wet and thick but nothing looked broken or marred. If anyone had tried to get to the estate from the river, alarms would have gone off immediately, unless someone had managed to disarm them. But this estate was airtight. Cameras everywhere, laser beams along the remote fence lines, and so many alarm and security details that even Brice had to sometimes go back over the whole layout.

Maybe Charles had been startled by a night creature such as a raccoon or a possum or, as he’d suspected, an owl shrieking somewhere off in the dense woods leading to the river.

Or maybe the old man had heard something else.

Something meant not only to scare the gardener, but also to send out a warning into the night to anyone on this property who might happen to be nearby and listening.

A warning that could turn out to be a war signal.