Page 62 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Shaken to the core of his being, he slung the nylon strap of the gun over his good shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll be back when I find them.”

“Oh, no you don’t! You don’t get to say something like that and then just walk out on me.”

“Look. Time is against us. We can talk later, but right now we have to find the children.”

“I get that, you big lug. But I’m going with you. I doubt you’ll make it down to the parking lot by yourself.”

“I’ll make it,” he retorted. But as he took a few steps toward the door, his head felt as if it was floating a foot or two above his body.

“And I’m driving,” she declared.

As much as it went against his grain, he couldn’t argue with the logic of that. He let her help him downstairs and to the back of the Jeep. He opened the big duffel bag of gear there and pulled out a black turtleneck sweater. He nearly passed out before Elise managed to slip the thing over his head as gently as she could. She was right. He was in no shape to be running around. But he wasn’t kidding. He’d die if he had to in order to find the children and get them and Elise to safety.

Elise lifted his spare Kevlar vest out of the bag of gear. “Please wear this. I’m out of supplies to patch you up with if you get shot again.”

He smiled wryly. “I hope that’s not the only reason you don’t want to see me shot.”

“Later,” she replied shortly.

He swore under his breath. He might be out of it, but not so much that he’d failed to notice she didn’t respond in kind to his declaration of love. What a fool he was.

As she eased the vest up over his arms, it felt as though someone was tearing his arm off. He sucked in air between his clenched teeth as he shrugged the thing into place.

She strapped his utility belt around his waist and hung a pair of earphones around his neck at his direction. He would have preferred using the tiny microphone sewn into his shirt, but Elise had pretty well shredded that when she made a bandage out of his clothing. Not that he was complaining. Being alive was a good thing. Only her quick thinking and trauma-nursing experience had saved him.

He let her help him into the passenger’s seat and then she slid behind the wheel. “Where to?” she asked him.

He frowned. “We can’t head back to the Army of Freedom headquarters to pick up Grandma’s trail. Half the police in Colombia will be there. Is there somewhere we can go to get access to a phone book to look for relatives of hers? Her last name is Ferrosa, right?”

Elise stared ahead, frowning. Then suddenly, her face lit up. “I’ve got it!”

“Huh?”

“A church. She’ll head for a church. It’s what she did before. When her house was attacked, she kept talking about how God looks out for His lambs and to have faith in His protection. And she took us to a church the night her village was attacked.”

“Makes sense. Any idea where the nearest church is?”

“No. But if we head for a high hill, we should be able to spot it.”

She pulled out of the parking lot eagerly.

They’d driven about halfway across Mercado when she turned a corner and slammed on the brakes. Ted groaned aloud as his shoulder screamed in protest. His groan might also have something to do with the police roadblock directly in front of them. It was too late to back up, turn around, and go another way. The police had spotted them, and one was walking forward purposefully toward the Jeep.

“Act drunk,” Elise whispered as she threw a blanket at him in the few seconds before the cop gestured for her to roll down the window. He tucked the blanket over his military gear and prayed they didn’t get searched. He’d never be able to explain his high-tech military equipment away.

Lolling a little to one side and acting woozy wasn’t much of a stretch for him at the moment. Elise asked the policeman irritably, “What’s the problem, Officer?”

“We’re checking all vehicles for gunmen who might be trying to flee Mercado.”

“Only man in this car is my cheating drunk of a husband. Any chance you could shoot him for me?” she snapped. “Three o’clock in the morning and I get a phone call from my girlfriend that she’s spotted my husband with some floozy in a bar. And ohmigod, it has to be my friend who’s the biggest gossip in Colombia. I’m going to kill him. You might as well arrest me now, Officer—”

The policeman threw up his hands to stop her tirade. Ted tried to act guilty, but it was hard to keep a smile off his face. He settled for slurring, “Come on, baby. I didn’t do nuthin’ with her. I looove you, dollface.”

“Don’t you dollface me. I’m divorcing you and taking you for every peso you’re worth, you low-life bastard!” She devolved into a furious fit of cussing that would embarrass a sailor.

The policeman interrupted. “There’s a curfew in effect. I need you to go directly home and get inside. You understand me?” The man made eye contact with Ted through the window. “Get her home, and you sleep on the couch until she cools off.”

Ted nodded fuzzily. “Home. Couch. Got it.”

---