Page 10 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

He sighed. “If the Army of Freedom doesn’t get the guns from me, they’ll get them from someone else.”

“You’re actually pulling out the ‘it’s not the gun, it’s the person using it’ argument?”

He scowled. “Yes, I am. The gun isn’t the thing. It’s merely a tool. The person pulling the trigger makes the decision to commit violence.”

“Without the tool, he couldn’t make the decision at all,” she shot back.

“If a person’s determined enough, they’ll use their fists. Or a rock. Or a stick.”

“Aah, but a gun is ever so much more efficient, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “How about we agree to disagree on this one, Sister?”

She fell silent and busied herself checking on her patient. But twin spots of red stained her cheeks. Didn’t like letting go of the argument, apparently. Must be a flaming idealist at heart. Which was no surprise, given her profession. But he was a pragmatist. He’d love for the world to be chock-full of peace-loving souls like her. However, until that day came, the world would continue to need people like him to protect people like her.

The dirt road had dried out a little overnight, and the trip back to Santa Lucia went relatively quickly, if still tooth-jarringly bumpy. He pulled up in front of the one-story building that was more regional clinic than hospital and jumped out of the Jeep. He fetched the doctor and lone nurse from inside, and with Elise’s help, the four of them horsed the wounded man to a bed inside. In short order, an IV drip was set up and antibiotics started pumping into the man’s arm.

Elise—why did he have so much trouble thinking of her as Sister Elise?—fussed over her patient until she was satisfied the doctor would take adequate care of the guy. Ted leaned against a wall, arms crossed, and waited her out. Finally, she fell silent.

“You done telling the doctor how to do his job?” he asked in English.

She scowled and made a distinctly un-nunlike face at him. “Let me just replenish my supply of penicillin and suture thread, and then you can take me back to camp.”

Over his dead body.

He waited until she was seated beside him in the Jeep to spell out the score to her. “Okay. Once and for all, you’re not going back to that Army of Freedom camp. You will die. I will take you anywhere else you want to go—” he amended quickly, given who he was talking to “—I’ll take you anywhere else safe you want to go. But I can’t in good conscience let a nun die.”

“Oh, so you have a conscience now?” she snapped.

Not a line of questioning he was eager to pursue. Instead, he pressed the automatic door locks to emphasize the fact that she was at his mercy and asked implacably, “Where can I take you?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t blow her stack. Instead, she studied him intently, the way she had before, as if she was taking his measure as a man. He cringed to think about what she would see in him. Did the violence that had been part of his life for so long show on his face?

“Who are you, really?” she asked quietly.

Cripes! What did she see when she looked at him? “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, Sister. Where can I take you? You’re not getting out of this vehicle until I’ve deposited you somewhere reasonably safe for a nun.”

“Is anywhere in this godforsaken country truly safe?” she asked with enough bitterness to send his eyebrows sailing upward.

“Probably not. But you know what I mean.”

She fell silent and he waited her out. In his experience, very few women could stand silence for long. But as the tension stretched out between them, apparently this woman was the exception to the rule.

He was ready to squirm himself by the time she finally said cautiously, “Can I trust you with a secret?”

Something about her wimple compelled him to answer her truthfully. “Depends on the secret, I suppose.”

A frown creased her forehead. “You’re not making this easy.”

He wasn’t known for being an easy man. Never had been. Never would be. He half turned in his seat to face her more fully. “What’s going on, Elise?”

The use of her first name minus the title seemed to shock her into stillness. But then she nodded slowly to herself as if she’d arrived at a decision.

“I’m in Colombia to rescue two children who’ve been orphaned recently. I have reason to believe the family who is hiding them has a member in that Army of Freedom encampment you so effectively yanked me out of this morning. I’ve got to go back there. Find the contact. Discover where the children are.”

“No.”

She stomped her foot on the floor in utter frustration. “Don’t you understand? I promised. Whether you like it or not, I’m doing this. You can drive me all the way to Texas if you like, but I’ll turn around and come right back here.”

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