Page 48 of Saving Summer
Plus, they hadn’t discussed the price of her room and board. And from what she could tell, they hadn’t deducted anything for her new phone either. Jay had taken her old one with the cracked screen on the first day and transferred her limited contact info to the secure one he’d provided.
Protocol, he’d explained. Necessary due to the nature of their business. Yeah, she wasn’t drinking the orange Kool-Aid. These guys weren’t a private security company. They were more than security specialists or bodyguards. What exactly? She still didn’t know. But one thing for sure, she trusted them.
She’d never felt safer anywhere.
No one accosted her in the hallways or made any sexual innuendos whatsoever. She didn’t have to lock her door at night or look over her shoulder if she left her room. And while they kept their business matters private, in all other respects, they treated her as an equal. Even deferring to her when it came to making decisions about Halia.
Yeah, she’d won the freaking jackpot when she’d answered Jay’s help-wanted ad.
Destination reached, she nuzzled the warm bundle in her arms, and breathing in the little girl’s scent, she pressed a couple of soft kisses over her cheeks before laying her down in the bassinet.
Halia didn’t protest, and feeling like she could use a nap herself, she crossed over to her bed. Well, more like Jamie’s bed. She’d have to ask where she’d be moving to since he’d be back in a few days.
With a yawn wide enough to make her eyes water, she dropped her juice on the side table and got comfy under a throw blanket. Man, she’d miss this big bed. Stupid really.
Nanny rule number one—don’t get attached to anyone or anything. Too late. Summer had fallen hard for every single person in the house, including the dog. Nanny rule number two—sleep when the baby sleeps.
Already a rule breaker, she reached for her book on the bedside table. One chapter. She’d read one chapter, then she’d guzzle her juice and settle in for a nap too.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Not even noonand the ninety-two-degree temperature on the ground in Managua sucked the patience out of Jay. Even hotter in the back of the van, sweat beaded along his hairline and ran down the side of his face.
A face all too recognizable thanks to his rank as the number one enemy of the United States. One of Johnson’s finer moves. Set up as the fall guy for the murder of the colonel and wanted for the supposed murder of Tak, his picture had been blasted over every major, and not-so-major, international media outlet.
His motive? The two-point-five billion he’d stolen from an international arms trafficking ring under investigation by the task team. Yeah, he had a hefty price on his head. The reward for his capture? Half a million. Plenty of people could retire with that kind of cash.
It meant he had to keep a lower profile than the rest of the JTT. It was also why he’d been left behind in the van, sweating his balls off, when he’d rather be upstairs beating Jamie’s location out of an uncooperative Pedro.
“This is taking too long,” he complained through his open comms link. After two days of trying to spot the elusive hacker, they followed him home from the computer superstore after Jay fried his hard drive. “Stab him in the leg.”
From the front driver’s seat, Chase looked over his shoulder and lifted a brow.
Hot. Tired. And ready to get this over with, he shrugged in response.
“We can’t stab him in the fucking leg,” Cody replied as Grant pulled out a pocket knife. “Okay…scratch that. Leg stabbing imminent.”
“Suck my cock,” Pedro said in Spanish.
“Sorry, my friend, dick is not on the menu today,” Grant replied, flicking the blade open with a snap of his wrist. “Last chance, Pedro.”
Through the video feed, Jay saw the brief glimmer of fear on the man’s face before it disappeared, and overconfident he had the situation under control, he made the wrong choice. “Go fuck your grandmo—” Pedro’s defiance turned into a painfilled scream at the knife embedded to the hilt in the muscle of his left thigh. “Alright! Alright!” Hands duct-taped behind his chair, he jerked against his bindings. “You stabbed me in the leg, cabron!”
“Yep,” Grant nodded. “And if you don’t get with the program real quick, I’m gonna stab you in the other one next.”
“Jesus,” Pedro cried, his focus on the knife handle sticking straight up from the center of a growing bullseye of blood.
“He’s not gonna help you,” Cody replied, holding up the picture of Jamie again. “It’s simple. Tell us what you know about this guy, and we’ll get out of your hair, pronto.”
“I don’t know his name. Pinche puta!” he yelped as Grant pulled the blade free. “Wait!” Convinced the threat to his right thigh was real, he gave up his client’s info fast. “He goes by Nix and lives in an apartment above the farmacia in Barrio Riguero. The building is painted purple. The only one on twenty-three calle sureste. You can’t miss it.”
“Good job, buddy.” Cody folded the sheet of paper and put it in the breast pocket of his flamingo shirt before reaching for the roll of duct tape on the computer desk. “We’ll be taking off now.” He pulled a tacky strip loose and cut it free with his teeth. “This is just a precaution.” He pressed the tape across Pedro’s mouth. “We’ll call the authorities to come by when we have what we came for.
Alarm widened the injured man’s eyes to the size of dinner plates, and he shook his head.
“No policía?” Grant asked, wiping his blade with the hem of the victim’s shirt. The vigorous head shaking continued. “Fine. You got someone coming home soon?” The shaking turned into nodding as Cody applied first aid by way of wrapping a couple layers of tape around the knife wound to stem the bleeding. “One hour? No? Two? Three? Yeah? Three? Okay.” Grant nodded in agreement. “Hang tight. Breathe through your nose. Nice and slow…there you go. No more phishing scams on the elderly. Got it, Pedro?”
His head bobbed up and down.
