Secret Guardian (3 page)

“Tell the men to look harder. They can bring in anyone they need. I’ll double the price to whoever brings her to me tonight.”

The man’s eyes got large and he sprinted off, no doubt to relay the message to the other men he was paying.

Now all he had to do was go back to his hotel room and wait for her to be brought to him. Then he could finally get his hands on the beautiful Ann, before he turned her over and got his reward.

Ann was feeling light headed. Not only had she lost the disk that had caused all this mess, now Mark was dead and Joe—she realized she didn’t know what had happened to Joe. Nathan had been pulling her along for over an hour in the crowd and she was sure he must be lost. After all, the man was a flake.

The loud music and the cheers from the crowd did little to clear the pounding in her head. The bottom of her feet hurt due to the lack of shoes. When she looked down, she realized her feet were completely black, and the nail polish on her toes had chipped off. The stupid headdress he’d plopped on her head for some reason weighed a ton and she wanted to yank it off. Her body was hurting, her muscles were sore, and she had dried blood all over her. She was complaining in her mind, but she made a point to keep her mouth shut and not do it out
loud. After all, Mark was dead.

Finally, what seemed like hours later, Nathan pulled her into a small building out of the crowd. The tears had stopped and she was starting to shake as the cooler air hit her. Since her clothes were all gone, she felt the night chill on her exposed skin. The cuts and bruises just added to her discomfort.

They walked down a long, dark hallway and when they reached the end, he knocked on the door and stood back. His feet were braced wide apart and he looked like he was preparing himself for a fight.

It took a minute before she heard someone on the other side of the door, possibly someone looking through the small hole at them. Then the door flew open and a large black fist reached out and hit Nathan square in the face. Nathan did nothing to block or dodge the giant fist. Ann couldn’t help it, she squealed and tried to pull Nathan away from the next blow, which landed on his jaw again, causing his head to snap back.

“Javan, I gave you the first two, but after that, I may just have to hit you back,” Nathan growled out.

Ann looked and saw the man attached to the fist. He was almost as impressive as Nathan. His shoulders and arms were as thick, but he was almost a foot shorter and looked about ten years older.

“Damn boy, I told you if I ever saw your ugly face again, that would happen,” Javan said in a thick Jamaican accent. Then the men shocked Ann by grabbing each other in a man-hug as blood trickled down from Nathan’s nose.

Half an hour later, Ann sat in an oversized chair with the god-awful head dress sitting next to her on the floor. She drank hot tea with a blanket wrapped tightly around her, as she listened to Nathan and Javan talking. She was totally confused as to why the man was calling him Ethan instead of Nathan. Her head hurt and her vision was starting to go gray. Before she realized it, she was being shaken awake, and Nathan was looking down at her. She was lying on the soft couch and she’d been covered by a blanket. Then she realized that Nathan was fully dressed in clean clothes and it looked like he’d just showered.

She sat up and shook her head clear. “Where is Javan?”

“He took off. He’s going to let us stay until tonight. We have some things we need to take care of before we leave. I hope it’s okay, but I left some stuff in the bathroom, through there,” he said, pointing to a door at the end of a small hallway. “I need you to take care of everything, shower, change into the clothes I left you. I’ll make us some breakfast. Then once everything is ready and Javan reports back, we can leave.”

She looked towards the small window near the back of the room and realized the sun was already up. When she moved to stand, her head spun a little. Nathan’s hand rushed out to steady her as he pulled her closer. She smelled the soap on his skin and felt his body heat through the beads she was still wearing. Then she remembered that that was pretty much all she was wearing and pushed his arms away.

“Why did that man call you Ethan?”

He smiled at her and said, “Because it’s my name. Take a shower, Princess, then I’ll explain everything.” He turned and walked into the small kitchenette without another word.

She watched his back and missed seeing the naked muscles that she’d followed for most of the night. She’d gotten used to seeing them and had even, at one point on their long trek last night, wished she could reach up and feel them, wondering how they would feel under her hands.

Walking down the hall, she stepped into the small bathroom and leaned against the door. How could she be thinking of him like that? He’d been a thorn in her side for weeks. She was going to get him fired when she made it back to Austin.

Shaking her head, she noticed a small box on the countertop sitting next to a bag of clothing. Grabbing it up, she marched back into the other room.

“Is this some kind of joke?” She shook the box in front of his face. He held a spatula in one hand and a pan of sizzling eggs in another.

“No, Princess. It’s not. Now go on and get ready.”

“I am NOT coloring my hair…” she looked at the box and then shook it again, “…black!”

“Sorry, that’s the only color Javan had. He says he uses it to hide his gray.” Nathan laughed and turned his back on her again as he placed a few slices of ham in another pan. The smell was wonderful and Ann felt her stomach growling.

She felt like throwing the box at the back of his head. Then she noticed a large gash and a fresh line of blood coming from the base of his skull.

She dropped the box and reached for his head. “You’re bleeding, you fool. Didn’t you take care of this?” She stepped closer and saw a large chunk of wood sticking out of his skin. “You have a chunk of wood in there.” She took his head and tried to turn it towards the light. He didn’t move.

“I’m fine, Princess. Just go get ready.”

“No, I’m not moving until I clean out this wound.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. He was a fool. Didn’t he know that injuries like that could become infected?

“If I let you clean it up, will you color your hair and get cleaned up?”

She thought about it, “Why do I have to color my hair?”

“Because this blond,” he reached out and ran a lock of her hair between his fingers, “sticks out in a crowd and we need to blend in. Plus, whoever is after us, is looking for a blond woman. This might throw them off our trail until we can get out of Rio.”

She tilted her head and thought about it. He did have a point.

“Yes, fine. Now come into the light so I can get the wood out.” She pulled out a chair at the small table near the window and motioned for him to sit.

He took his time removing the pans from the heat, then wiped his hands. He walked over with a towel and a bottle of alcohol, then sat with his back to her. She was reminded of following him last night and the gentleness in which he’d talked to her as they made their way through the crowd. His hand had always clasped hers tightly, almost as if he was very concerned he’d lose her.

As she started to pull the wood from his skin, she asked, “Do you think Joe made it out of the hotel?”

He was quiet, too quiet. She stopped what she was doing and walked around to look him in the eyes. “Nathan? Did Joe make it out?” She saw the answer in his eyes. “What—how—?”

“Before I found you, I walked into our room and he was there. I think they’d gotten to him first before shooting up the van and Mark. They must have left a bomb in the room with him. Maybe they hoped to get us with it.” She closed her eyes and thought of Joe’s two daughters. He had a seventeen- and a fifteen-year-old. Mark had been single, but that didn’t stop her from mourning them both equally.

“I was stupid,” she said, keeping her eyes closed on a wave of new tears.

She didn’t realize that he’d stood up until she felt his arms on her shoulders.

“Ann—” She opened her eyes and looked at him. She could tell he was struggling with the right words to say, and she knew that he thought she was to blame, as well. Using the back of her hand, she dashed away the tears and walked back behind the chair.

“Sit. I want a shower and clothes.” He sat and she got back to work getting the splinter out of his skull.

Then she went into the bathroom and used the box of color on her blond hair. She’d had her hair many colors in the past, all variations of blond. This had been the lightest she’d gone and to be honest, it had been nothing but a pain since she’d bleached it. She’d thought it would make her look better on camera, but it had only ended up washing out her skin tone. Plus, the upkeep was more than she wanted, not to mention how impossible it was to make it look shiny for the cameras. She had multiple bottles of oils she had to use just to keep her ends from breaking.

After twenty minutes with the dark color in her hair, she jumped in the shower and used the bottle of shampoo to wash all the dirt and blood from her body. Her feet took longer to clean since she had dirt and dust in between her toes. Her pedicure was a complete loss. She hunted through the cupboards in the bathroom, but didn’t find anything that resembled nail polish remover.

Finally, she looked at the bag of clothes and was happily surprised when she found a pair of khaki’s, a white tank top, and a light tan button up shirt, not to mention a new bra and panties that were just her size. She started thinking about how he happened to have a change of clothes that fit her.

She assessed her reflection and was almost pleased at the image that stared back at her. Her long hair was a nice, rich shade of black which highlighted the lightness of her eyes somehow. The shirt and pants were a nice fit, accentuating her curves.

She was taller than most women at five nine, and her legs always looked extra long and skinny. The downside to the height was her larger shoe size. She looked down at her still-bare feet and wondered what she was going to do. There hadn’t been any shoes in the bag.

Walking from the room she saw Nathan sitting at the table with a small phone, frowning. She walked over and sat next to him.

“I guess I better call Austin.” She looked at her hands on the table and wanted more than anything not to have to tell her boss that she’d killed Joe and Mark.

“I’ve already reported in,” he said and scooped her a big spoon full of eggs.

She looked up at him and frowned. “What?”

E
than watched her eyes blink several times.

“Austin knows what happened. It’s all over the news that we were killed in that explosion. I called them to set the record straight,” he said and then started eating.

“Did—did you tell them about my meeting with Heitor?” She twisted her hands in her lap, looking very nervous.

He shook his head no, and she relaxed a little in her seat. “I didn’t see any reason to tell them what happened, other than we were alive.

“What did Anthony say?” She leaned closer to his chair.

“I didn’t talk to Anthony. I talked to Dave.”

She gasped and starting choking. He quickly slapped her back lightly a few times until she could breathe smoothly again.

“Easy, Princess. There’s nothing to get worked up about.”

She glared at him, “Would you stop calling me that. Besides, there is plenty to get worked up about. You talked to Dave Myers, the head of the network.” She quickly stood up and started pacing the floor. He watched her for a few seconds, then decided to go back to eating as she thought.

When he was almost done with his meal, she sat down next to him and took a small bite.

“
What did Dave say?”

He rolled his eyes and set his fork down. “He said to get our butts back to Austin as soon as possible. Which I intend on doing as soon as you finish your eggs.”

She looked at him and he could tell he’d crossed the line. Her blue eyes showed signs of stress and lack of sleep. Not to mention the knot that was still on her forehead. Actually, it was the first real look he’d gotten of her since she’d come out of the restroom. He’d been too occupied with shoveling in the fuel he knew they’d need for the trek they were going to have to make later.

The dark hair suited her, suited her very well. Her blue eyes looked lighter and more noticeable. When she talked, the dimples at either side of her mouth showed. The pants and shirt were a perfect fit, and he saw with some humor that she was still shoeless.

“I guess I’d better call everyone myself…my father….” He could see her mind whirling to what her family must think.

“Dave said he’d call your father.” He looked back down at his empty plate, trying to hide his lie. It had taken almost fifteen minutes for him to assure her father, his employer, that she was okay.

He thought he knew how she’d feel if she knew the whole truth. He needed her to cooperate with him and if she knew the whole truth, she might decide to try and make it back home by herself.

He knew there was no way she’d make it out of Rio by herself, let alone all the way back to Austin out of Rio.

He’d sent Javan out on recon early this morning. He needed to know who was after them. Well, maybe not who, but at least how many men would be looking for them.

Javan had been his right hand over the last eight years. Ethan’s security business didn’t even have a name. He didn’t need one. Word of mouth was the only way he was hired. High-powered accounts and high powered clientele hunted him down to handle their risky security needs. The first year he’d gone into business, he’d had more jobs than he could handle alone. So a year after he’d retired from the government, he’d hunted down several of his closest buddies and hired them all Now he was thinking of hiring more of his old friends to help out.

This time around he had a plan, one he’d used several years back on another job. He knew it was most likely their best option for getting out of Brazil alive. Roughing it had always been in his blood. He’d spent countless summers as a child camping in the Pacific Northwest with his father. Then when he’d joined the forces, he’d spent even more time roughing it.

Looking over at Ann, he doubted she knew the true meaning of roughing it. Although he had to admit that after last night he had a little more respect for her. Not once had she complained about her situation. And she’d even walked the entire night barefooted and almost naked.

Sure, she’d questioned him, but he’d done nothing so far to earn her trust. So far all he’d shown her was that he was a self-absorbed, male chauvinist. He smiled thinking of how well he’d played his part.

Getting up from the table, he walked into the next room without a word. When he came back, he had a pair of tan boots hanging by the shoestrings and a large black bag draped over his shoulder.

Tossing the shoes down next to her feet, he carried the bag over to the stove and started filling it with items from Javan’s cupboards, making sure to only grab what they could use.

His bag was already full of other items from Javan’s back room, items meant to keep them alive in the following days.

“Listen, Prince—” He stopped when she glared at him. “Listen, Ann. We have quite the journey ahead of us. It would be better to work together than against one another. I know it’s hard thinking about Joe and Mark. I’m just as sorry to know that they’re both gone. But we have to think about ourselves for a while. Getting back to the States is top priority and in order to do that, we will need to stay low. No phones, no credit cards, no buses, no planes, nothing. We’re going to be roughing it for a while, and I need you to keep the complaining to a minimal. Is that acceptable?”

He waited as her eyes flashed with anger.

“I don’t complain. Besides, why can’t we just hop on the next plane?”

He sat back down and felt his patience wearing thin. “Did you forget the meeting with Heitor yesterday? The men he used to work for have people in high places. High enough that the second we step foot in a public place and try to get out of Dodge…well, you can figure out the rest.”

She quietly thought about it while eating the toast and eggs.  “Is there any other way?” When he shook his head no, she asked, “What are your plans?”

He could tell she didn’t trust him.

“We hike. We’ll be out of Rio by sunset and in the hills by nightfall. We travel as far as we can each day until we reach São Paulo.”

“São Paulo? Isn’t that south of here?” He nodded, and she continued, “How will going south get us back to the States?”

“Because, Princess, they will be thinking we are heading north, and I have connections in São Paulo that will take us to Peru. From Peru we will head to the US. But until we get to São Paulo, we are going to be traveling light. So if there is anything you need, you’d better get it now. Javan has a fully stocked room in the back.” He pointed towards the supply room. “Grab whatever you want and put it in the brown backpack on the floor. But pack light, you’ll be carrying it all yourself.” She got up and started walking towards the door. “Oh, and Princess?” He waited until she turned and glared at him before finishing. “Make sure you pack a blanket, rain poncho, and more socks. We’ll be going through the jungle.”

He watched her walk down the hall and disappear into the room, then he picked up his phone and dialed Javan’s cell.

“How’s it looking out there?”

“Not so good. Your girl did a fine job of getting a lot of people pissed at her. The word is she’s quite the hot commodity.”

“Yeah, I figured that. What do the paths look like?”

“Not so good. I think you’ll be safe taking the route you have in mind. I can make sure to spread the word that I saw you heading north. Not too sure if the path will be completely cleared.”

“Thanks, Javan. We should be out of your place before you get back.”

“No problems, man. Hey, Ethan?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I hit you the second time. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

He smiled. “Sure, I did.” Then he hung up and went to see what Ann was packing in her bag.

Ann walked into the dark room and felt around for a light switch. When the room flooded with light, she gasped. It was full of tall shelves stocked with everything from flashlights to rubber hoses. She almost tripped over her backpack as she started walking the aisles. Why would Javan have all this stuff? Who was he? How did Nathan know him?

Taking the bag, she started walking the aisles, grabbing a flashlight,. Putting in a flashlight, grabbing a handful of batteries, a box of matches, and other basic items. When she reached the back, her bag was heavy with stuff she thought she’d need. She’d spent four years in the Brownies growing up and knew what it took to go camping.

She spotted a small silver box on the top shelf and took it down. Inside was a silver .45. She reached in and felt its weight, knowing she had to make room in her bag. She grabbed a box of bullets and before placing the gun in the small side pocket of the bag, she made sure it was unloaded. Her father had forced her to take gun classes a few years back, so she knew how to handle a weapon, especially a .45. It was one of her favorites.

Her mind flashed to an image of Mark’s body. She closed her eyes on a wave of despair and guilt. How could she have been so stupid? She shouldn’t have taken the chance she had. She should have thought about what the consequences could be. She’d known ahead of time what she was going into with that interview. She was thinking of going against the drug lords and the politicians, high-powered people who had run Brazil for years. Not only did they have power, but an unlimited supply of money.

She didn’t think about her coworkers safety, she hadn’t even thought about hers. She’d only been focused on the prize. The Pulitzer. The recognition. The fame.

She could kick herself now for her pride and stupidity. It was her fault, all her fault, and there was nothing she could think of to make it right. The despair was almost overwhelming. Looking around the room, she could just imagine herself sinking down and crumbling with hopelessness.

How would she ever recover from something like this? The guilt of her coworkers’ lost lives would always weigh on her conscience
. She wanted to bang her head against the wall. She wished she’d never survived the explosion. It would have been easier on everyone.

Then she shook her head and cleared it from the dark thoughts. This wasn’t her. She’d never once thought anything like that before. She blinked a few times and her mind whirled. Survivor’s guilt. She’d heard the term several times in the past. She had interviewed plenty of vets that had been diagnosed with PTSD. She knew that Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder could hit anyone, but never in her life did she think it could hit her. Or that it would be so debilitating.