evidence over to the proper authorities.”
She stopped near a large stone fountain sculptured in the shape of two smiling, robed women holding one clay pot while they stood by several other colorful pots, trailing wisteria vines twirling behind them. Adele called this her Ruth and Naomi fountain. Listening to the gurgling water as it spilled over the multitiered centerpiece where purple wisteria blossoms danced in the splash, she asked, “And these people who killed Diego—the ones who appear to be after me now, what do they deserve?”
He heard the danger underneath her soft-spoken words. She wanted retribution. Brice wondered just how close she’d been to the young doctor who’d been murdered in a shoot-out that had also killed several villagers, wondered what she hadn’t told him during her frantic phone call to him late on that terrible night. And as he’d flown down to the tiny village of Día Belo, his imagination reeling with what might happen to her before he could reach her, he also wondered why the smugglers had targeted La Casa de Dios. True it was located in a place of poverty and despair near the border with Brazil, where the villagers had very little money and even less hope, and they did keep a cache of prescription drugs at the on-site pharmacy and dispensary there. But for the most part, Selena’s team of devoted missionaries and villagers didn’t cause trouble and they didn’t bring on any trouble. They were simply part of a humanitarian effort trying to help.
If Selena hadn’t been on the other side of the camp, checking on a sick baby when the ambush had taken place, she might have been right in the middle of the slaughter, too. She’d heard the shots as she was walking back toward the clinic and had managed to hide in the jungle growth just as the culprits finished the job and left. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about what she had witnessed. And now he needed her to talk, to remember, so he could find information on how to protect her. Brice couldn’t think beyond that, beyond the scent of jasmine and wisteria and the way her hair lifted in the damp night wind.
“Brice, did you hear me? How are you planning on handling this?”
Nothing about this brutal act made sense to him and he intended to dig a little deeper to get some answers. But he tried to answer her question in the only way he knew how. “I want justice, of course.”
“CHAIM justice?” she asked, her hand trailing along a damp honeysuckle vine. “Or the real kind where they actually serve jail time for the rest of their days?”
He stopped her, taking her hands in his as he looked down at her. “You know how we handle things. We work with the proper authorities to bring any criminal to justice. But in this case, that will take a lot of evidence and a lot of cooperation with the authorities in Argentina—if we can even get them to cooperate. But first we have to gather information and find these people, and Selena, these are the kind of people who make it their business not to be found.”
She yanked her hands away, held them up like a shield. “Well, it seems they didn’t have any trouble finding me.” Then she halted again, her eyes full of liquid fire as she stared up at him. “Why would they kill Diego, Brice? And why would they follow me here to Atlanta?”
“Well, that’s what we have to figure out. And we will. I’m going to get busy again tracking down any information or leads I can find to see what’s going on and what exactly these people were trying to keep undercover besides the obvious—we know they’re smugglers but why did they suddenly attack the clinic? You don’t keep the kind of drugs they deal in there, so why would they bother?”
She looked away, out toward where the sloping yard met the Chattahoochee River. “Diego must have stumbled onto something.”
Brice’s antenna went up on that comment since this was the first time she’d alluded to that possibility. “Did he ever talk to you about anything out of the ordinary, anything that could have caused this?”
She shook her head, then looked down. “We spent most of our time fighting red tape and trying to help patients. We didn’t have time to worry about some rogue gang of militants and smugglers. Saving lives didn’t leave room for anything else.”
And since she’d been home, she hadn’t allowed for any talk about Diego or his death or what exactly that gang had taken. All Brice had managed to piece together was that a renegade group had passed through the village and wreaked havoc on everything before murdering Diego and some of the villagers. What they’d taken or what they’d left behind was still being investigated. But nothing had been forthcoming from the local authorities. And Selena didn’t seem to want to talk about it.
Brice wanted to believe she’d told him everything she could, but he’d seen the subtle shift of darkness in her expression just now. She was worried, no doubt. But she also looked unsure and—he hated to think it—guilty. He didn’t press her, but he would have to keep at her until she told him everything. Maybe she was just suffering survivor’s guilt and nothing more.
She hitched a breath. “He didn’t deserve this. He was a good man. Such a good and noble man.”
Brice couldn’t respond to that. He saw her love for Diego there in her eyes and a flare of white-hot jealousy hit him square in his guts. He wanted her to look that way whenever she thought of him.
But for now, he’d have to be content with just protecting her and trying to help her bring these people to justice. And he’d have to watch as she mourned another man and waited for retribution for that man. He prayed she didn’t try to take matters into her own hands. Maybe she at least understood after what had happened today that she was in serious danger.
Please, Lord, keep her safe. And help me to do my job to the best of my abilities.
He reached up a hand to push at the hair falling around her temple, then moved his fingers to touch her wound. “Are you in pain?”
She let out a little laugh. “Right now, yes, more than I can bear. I’m bruised from falling and my head is sore. But it’s not my head or my bruises that hurts. It’s my heart. I think it’s broken. I need to turn to my Bible and my prayers—that will give me strength.”
She stepped toward Brice and wrapped her arms around his waist, then laid her head against his shoulder. “At least I have my best friend here to help me through this. Even if I am still mad at you.” She squeezed him tight, her hands brushing against his back. “But you’re right. I can’t stay mad at you forever.”
Brice brought her close, his arms taking in her tiny frame as he drank in the sweet jasmine scent of her fragrance. He wanted to hold her this way forever, to make her forget her broken heart and the man she’d found dead along with all of her other coworkers in the pouring rain down in the jungles of Argentina.
He wanted to make her forget everything that had ever hurt her. But first, he had to keep her safe.
And right now, all he could do was offer her his arms for comfort, his shoulder to lean on, his friendship and protection, just to be near her.
“We’ll figure things out, cara. It’s going to be right as rain for you—soon I hope.”
She didn’t say anything. Instead she just held him tight and kept her head snuggled close to his shirt. They stood that way for a few precious minutes.
Until a strange wail followed by a shout and the sound of a crash coming from the garden shed brought them apart and sent them both running.
Brice shoved Selena behind him. “Don’t lose sight of me,” he said, tugging her along as they hurried toward the back of the property. “Charles?” he
