Page 17 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

“Well, you didn’t abandon me here in this village, after all. We know where—” she broke off and glanced around quickly “—my church business can be concluded. And I’ve got a good feeling about our chances of success.”

Their chances? As in the two of them together? He shouldn’t like the sound of that, but darned if he didn’t anyway. Right. Like a nun belonged in the middle of a dangerous and sensitive arms deal. He’d gone completely certifiable. Apparently, sexy nuns caused all his brains to fall out his left ear and explode.

Berating himself a hundred different ways for being an idiot, he followed her upstairs and collected her satchel of personal possessions and medical supplies. He placed her bag in the back of his Jeep and held the passenger door for her with a gallant wave of the hand. “Your chariot awaits you, Sister.”

She smiled shyly and glided past him, peeking sidelong out of the corner of her eye at him. His pulse jumped and his body reacted eagerly in other ways that he didn’t even want to think about. He slid behind the wheel and guided the vehicle west out of town.

“So. How long have you been a nun?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the uneven, two-lane asphalt road that passed for a highway in this part of the world.

“Not long. How long have you been an arms dealer?”

“Longer than I care to think about.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “It’s a job. But it takes you to crappy corners of the world like this and forces you to work with some pretty unsavory characters.”

She laughed. “Yup. That’s me. Unsavory.”

“Where are you from, anyway?”

“New York City.”

“And your family? You’re not white-bread Caucasian.”

“I’m a little of everything. My mother is from the Phillipines. My father’s father was black, his mother white. There’s some Polynesian in there, too, but I’m not quite sure where in the family tree.”

“Well, the result is lovely.” He glanced over in time to catch the skeptical look she threw him. “What?” he demanded.

“I was just thinking that I’d hate to see who constitutes an unsavory character to an illegal arms dealer like you.”

His gut tightened. He didn’t blame her for having no respect for him, given what she thought his profession to be. But the negative judgment from her didn’t sit well with him. If only she knew the truth—

Frustrated, he changed the subject. “How did you find about these orphans you’re hunting?”

“Father Ambrose—he’s at Our Lady of Sacred Hope in Brooklyn—heard about them and asked me to come down here and get them.”

“Who are they?” He couldn’t imagine two random kids in the wilds of southern Colombia generating interest thousands of miles from their home.

Elise threw him an apologetic look. “The less you know, the better.”

So. They were special in some way. He took a different tack with her. “Is it true that anything people say to you is privileged information you can’t be forced to reveal?”

“Not only can people of the cloth not be forced to reveal confessions, they’re obligated not to reveal anything.”

Odd how she referred to priests and nuns as other people. She didn’t include herself as one of them. “How long, exactly, have you been a nun?”

“I told you. Not long.”

He smelled a rat. Why was she being so evasive with him? He could press her harder, but suspected she’d go all stubborn on him if he did. She might be a little thing, but she was a force of nature, that woman.

He drove for a while in silence. Then, he asked in spite of his resolution not to care, “How are you planning to get the kids out of Colombia?”

“The church has certain…understandings…with most governments. We are allowed to vouch for people and accompany them across international borders occasionally, and customs officials will ask no questions. Particularly in South America, which is so heavily Catholic, the Pope holds a fair bit of unofficial political clout.”

Now there was an understatement. He had no doubt that the Pope could single-handedly topple a government down here if he really put his mind to it. Not that the Holy Father would, of course, without extreme provocation. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he was relieved the Catholic Church was involved with her orphans. The kids stood at least a chance of getting clear of this country’s violence with that powerful organization behind them.

“Why did the church take an interest in these two children?” he tried.

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