Page 29 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Oh, God. They had the look of their father about them. There was no question in Elise’s mind which two were Mia and Emanuel. They had the same aristocratic features and dark-lashed, golden-hazel eyes as their father. She’d stared at Valdiron’s picture for so long, she even noticed the nuance of his ears in the children, the way his throat turned into small shoulders shaped like his. Oh, yes. They were Garzas, through and through.

The eldest, six-year-old Mia, was shy and hung on to Grandma’s skirts when they were introduced. When bright-eyed Emanuel would have bounded over her to say hello, his older sister grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. Cautious child, she was. Elise noted with a pang that the little girl’s eyes looked far too old for her years.

She’d worked in enough emergency rooms to recognize a traumatized child and to know not to rush her. She merely smiled pleasantly at the little girl and included her in the chatter of the other children over supper, but made no special effort to approach Mia.

After the meal, the children ran outside to play in the backyard, and Elise kept an eye on the children through the kitchen window as she washed and dried the dishes. Mia promised to grow into a great beauty—but then, Valdiron had always had a penchant for fashion models and had been a handsome man himself. The face of an angel, the soul of a demon.

Elise watched carefully for any signs of violence or aggression in the children’s play, and beyond Emanuel snatching a truck out of two-year-old Guillermo’s hands, she saw nothing to indicate the children had inherited their father’s psychopathic tendencies. Emanuel reminded her of a rambunctious puppy. He ran and tumbled and tussled nonstop with the other children and collapsed, exhausted, when bedtime came. Whatever darkness had touched Mia’s life appeared not to have touched him at all.

When Grandma had tucked in all the children and the house grew quiet once more, Elise poured hot water into a pair of white china cups she found on a shelf and made tea for herself and the older woman.

Grandma fell into a chair heavily. “It is hard keeping up with so many bambinos. I am too old for it.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job with them. They’re happy and healthy.” They were a lot luckier than many children in this war-torn region. “Tell me. Do you know what has put that haunted look in Mia’s eyes?”

“Aah, you are as wise as that priest on the phone said you are.”

Wise? He’d called her wise? Hah! Liar.

“Mia was with her father when he died. From what little she’s told me, I gather he was shot many times. But he did not die right away. She has nightmares of trying to stop the bleeding.”

Elise’s heart twisted. She realized with a start that, at some subconscious level, she’d wished for Garza’s offspring to suffer. But not like this. Not a little girl lost among strangers and trying so hard to be grown up and brave. To look out for her baby brother.

And then it hit her. This was why Father Ambrose had sent her down here on this particular mission. He’d wanted her to see the human side of her quest for vengeance. This little girl’s suffering was the direct result of her efforts to bring Garza to justice.

She’d been one of the foremost investigators of his activities and had been pivotal in exposing his criminal activities to the world press. She’d set the Colombian Truth Commission upon these children’s father, and they’d been the ones to gun him down. At the end of the day, she was responsible for the haunted look in that child’s eyes.

A sob escaped her.

Grandma was beside her immediately, taking her ice cold hands in warm, paper-dry ones. “Do not be sad, Sister. You will take them to a new life. A happy place where they can grow up safe and free. They will never know suffering or fear again. You will see to it.”

And so she would. She owed it to Mia and Emanuel Garza. Heck, she owed them her life if it came to it.

Damn Father Ambrose to hell and back. He’d known exactly what he was doing to her when he sent her down here. He couldn’t have thought up a more diabolical penance for her transgressions if he’d tried. He’d said all along that revenge only hurt the person seeking it. And oh, how right he was.

While Grandma patted her hand, offering consolation she didn’t deserve, Elise broke down and cried for the second time in as many days. She cried for her own dead parents, for all the years she’d wasted in anger and hate, for all the pain she’d caused these innocent children. She cursed their father for putting them in harm’s way by bringing them into the world at all, but then she recanted the curse. She couldn’t fault even a monster for wanting to create something good and pure.

And now their care and protection had fallen to her. No power on earth was going to harm those two children while she lived and breathed. That she vowed solemnly before God.

No doubt Father Ambrose had known full well she’d do that, too, once she looked Mia and Emanuel in the eyes. He’d trapped her as neatly as a rabbit in a snare.

Chapter Seven

He was going to kill Elise. Flat out. When he found her—and he would—he was going to wring her neck.

Ted fumed as the bartender mumbled through a bunch of lame excuses about how the nun must have slipped out through the bathroom window and disappeared. The only saving grace was he knew exactly where she was headed. To Acuna. To get those kids. Reluctant admiration for her sheer cussedness passed through him. They were two lucky children to have her on their side.

Now all he had to do was break away from Raoul and his top lieutenants for long enough to go find Elise and drag her happy self back here where he could keep an eye on her and protect her from her own naiveté. Assuming she didn’t get herself killed, or worse, before he could get to her.

His attention snapped back sharply to Raoul, though, when the man commented a shade too casually, “You do not look like I expected.”

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. This was what they’d all feared at H.O.T. Watch Ops. That Ted would bump into someone who’d actually met the real Drago Cantori and would identify him as an imposter. He counted fast. Nine men, all armed, all alert and with hands near their weapons. He couldn’t drop them all. But if he could take out Raoul and those two guys over by the door, he might just make it out of here alive—

Even he knew when he was hopelessly outnumbered. He had to talk his way out of this pickle, if for no other reason than because Elise needed him. With desperate calm, he said to Raoul, “A man in my line of work has to be careful. I make a point of people thinking I look differently than I do.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I hire actors to impersonate me from time to time. It helps spread confusion about what I really look like.”

Raoul nodded thoughtfully. “A clever idea.”

“It’s expensive, but I’ve found it to be worth the cost over the years.” He took a sip of his coffee and added casually, “I even had my sister impersonate me once.”

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