Page 65 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Elise lost count of how many times Mia and Emanuel made her swear that Drago was all right on the long flight back to Miami.

The Catholic Church not only took care of the local curfew and permission to pass the roadblocks, but it had a private jet waiting for them when they arrived at the airport in the nearby city of Pasto. The priest had driven the black SUV right up to the plane and he and the pilots had carried Drago, who was still unconscious, aboard.

His shoulder wasn’t bleeding and he wasn’t showing signs of shock. She suspected he was merely exhausted and overcome by pain and had passed out. She had no idea how he’d even stayed vertical, let alone moving around for so long the way he had been.

“He’ll be fine, Emanuel. I swear. He’s just sleeping. Superheroes need their rest, too, you know.”

“Yes, Mia. His shoulder will be fine. When we get to America, the finest doctor available will fix it.” Although Elise wasn’t so sure about that one. She was careful not to make any promises about that.

Grandma and the children finally fell asleep as the night’s terror caught up with them. But Elise couldn’t do the same. She sat beside Drago where he lay on the floor, holding his hand and praying for him, her lips moving hesitantly through long-forgotten prayers.

Some time later, a faint squeeze of her fingers made her eyes fly open in surprise. Drago was awake. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed.

“Am I going to kick the bucket?” he asked wryly.

“You’d better not,” she retorted.

“What happened?”

“You passed out. Apparently, even macho men like you have your limits.”

He nodded slowly. “I guess we do.” His eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, infinite sadness swam in them. It was one of the most distressing things she’d ever seen. His emotional withdrawal from her was a tangible thing. It felt as if her heart was being ripped out of her chest as she stared down at him.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier, Elise. You know. About loving you. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I understand. I’d just saved your life and it came out in the heat of the moment. I didn’t take it seriously. It’s all good—” Her voice broke on the last word and the stream of babbling falling from her mouth stopped.

Oh, God. Her eyes were filling with hot, painful tears. Please, please, please let her not cry. Not in front of him.

“No,” he breathed. And then more strongly, “No!”

She looked up from her clenched fists in surprise.

“I was telling the truth, Elise. I do love you. But you never asked for me to chase you all over Colombia like I did. And you darned well didn’t ask me to drag you into a firefight with the Army of Freedom and nearly get you and the kids killed.”

Shock rendered her nearly speechless. He loved her? She only managed to mumble a shocked, “Oh.”

“I was stupid and selfish. I was so focused on my mission that I endangered you and Grandma and the children. I’ll never forgive myself for that. I know there’s no way to make it up to you. I only hope you’ll forgive me someday. If you’ll pass me my phone, I’ll talk to my boss and make sure the U.S. government does everything in its power to see the children safely settled in America and that they’ll never be in danger again.”

“And who exactly is your boss?” she sputtered.

He stared up at her blankly for a moment. And then, of all things, he blushed. “Uh, Elise. As you may have guessed, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“You think?” she exclaimed with all the sarcasm she could pack into the words. “I know you’re not just some arms dealer. I guessed you might be a soldier or a spy. And after all we’ve been through, you could tell me your real name, or something close to it.”

His gaze slid away from hers, but then returned resolutely. “My name’s Theodore Fisher. I’m a captain in the United States Army. I was sent to Colombia to impersonate a dead arms dealer named Drago Cantori. My mission was to find out who he was doing business with and what the customers planned to do with the weapons he was supposed to sell them.”

“And the customer was the Army of Freedom?”

He nodded.

“Theodore. Like Alvin and the Chipmunks?”

“I like to think in terms of the dead president, myself,” he replied dryly. “My friends call me Ted, if you like that better.”

She tapped a front tooth with a fingernail. “I don’t know. That’s an awfully cuddly name for a macho guy like you. It’ll take some getting used to.”

He stopped in the act of saying whatever he’d been about to say and stared. “Does that mean…” He trailed off.

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