Page 63 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

The cop rolled his eyes and waved them through the roadblock. As the flashing lights retreated behind them, Elise let out a loud breath.

“Who’d have guessed a nun knew such foul language?” he commented in amusement.

She flashed him a brief grin as she turned a corner to head uphill.

The road crested a rise, and she stopped the vehicle, asking, “Do you see a bell tower anywhere?”

“Over there.” He pointed off to the north.

“Got it.” The Jeep rolled forward and she turned to head for the church. Her sense of direction was unerring. Or maybe it was just her mama-bear gene coming to the fore. He estimated they were maybe a half-dozen blocks from the church when another police roadblock came into sight.

“Am I a cheating drunk again?” he asked wryly.

“No, I think we’d better try another tactic. These guys may be in radio contact with the other roadblocks.”

Good thinking on her part. But he was at a loss to come up with another tactic. He watched, bemused, as she fished in the pocket of her sweater and came up with her wimple. Aah. Clever.

“Can you take off that gear by yourself?” she asked quickly.

Oh, hell. But it wasn’t as if he had any choice. Wincing, he managed to shrug out of the Kevlar vest and utility belt and stow them behind his seat. He awkwardly tossed the blanket over the pile as she tucked the wimple behind her ears.

She glanced over at him and frowned. “That black shirt will have to do. You’re a priest. Got it?”

A priest? He blinked, startled. “Uh, okay.”

She drove up to the barricade and stopped. “Good evening, Officer. Some trouble afoot tonight?”

“Yes, Sister. There’s been a fight at the Devil’s Den.”

She smiled gently. “I’d appreciate the irony of that if I didn’t suspect that people got hurt tonight. All of the police are all right, I hope?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Thank God.” She muttered a little something in Latin that Ted didn’t recognize, but the policeman crossed himself.

Then the cop asked, “Where are you headed at this hour?”

“Father André—he’s just arrived in town—and I are headed over to the church to make sure everything’s all right. We heard gunshots.”

“There’s a curfew.”

“I understand. We’ll stay at the church for the rest of the night, then. It works out well for us, anyway. Father André can say matins on time. Perhaps you’ll come for the service?”

“Uh, I’m not off duty then,” the cop mumbled.

Elise tsked a little. “We haven’t seen you for a while at Mass, have we?”

“This Sunday. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Elise replied sternly.

The policeman waved them through the roadblock.

“Remind me to take you with me on all my missions where subterfuge is called for,” Ted muttered.

“Missions? What kind of missions?” she asked.

He wasn’t so out of it that he would spill classified information. He silently reminded himself to watch his tongue. Thankfully, they pulled up in front of a decent-size church and he was saved from having to answer Elise’s inconvenient questions.

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