probably meet me in Chicago next week—which was our original plan anyway. But until we both get back to town for sure I want you to do what Brice says. You’ll have plenty of company here with Brice’s mother and his well-qualified staff and your mama can come and visit all weekend long. I’ve already arranged to have some of your things sent over. And that’s that.”
Selena bristled beautifully. “I’m staying here? Just like that, I have to be under house arrest with him?” Her eyebrows lifted and her nostrils flared in distaste.
Brice made a clucking sound. An arrow through his heart couldn’t have had a more direct hit. “Ouch! The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“You better believe I do, Romeo!”
“Actually, that line is from Hamlet, but I get the point.”
“Do you? Do you really? You planned this, Brice. You know I’m still reeling from those murders in Día Belo and then being summoned back home and now this—forcing me to stay in this cold, drafty Tudor-style prison—”
Delton stepped forward and this time he didn’t sugarcoat his words. “Would you rather I send you to Ireland for some real peace and quiet, Selena? You do know that Brice has a home there that makes this one look like a doll house. Very isolated and remote—a perfect place to reflect and consider things, but also a very good place for twenty-four-hour protection, if need be. I think it even has a dungeon or two. But for your comfort, I’m sure he’d arrange the best suite in the place—the bedroom near the turret room. The view is something else, let me tell you.”
Brice grinned. “It’s…just a little family estate, really.”
“It’s a castle,” Selena retorted. “And we’re all well aware of how you torment CHAIM agents who’ve messed up when they’re sent there. You probably make them wear shirts made with fresh Whelan wool, all scratchy and itchy.”
“We don’t torment or torture anyone,” Brice countered. “And our wool is some of the softest on earth, thank you very much.”
She looked down at her own sweater. “I guess it is, but still, living around you could turn out to be torment.”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” he said, frowning and feeling jittery. “I just try to bring jaded, frustrated agents back around. The job causes a lot of burnout and other complications. We restore their energy and their motivation and give them a fresh perspective in a peaceful, secluded atmosphere where they can meet with counselors and where they can talk to anyone about anything. I guess that can be hard on a man at times, but we are kind to our guests. It really is more of a retreat.” It was a matter of pride, after all. “This job is very demanding at times.” He lifted a brow toward her to indicate this was one such time.
“Well, I can certainly see why. Having to sneak around and snoop in other people’s business must be tedious—”
“But necessary,” her father added. “We do our best to help Christians in trouble, Selena. And right now, that’s you. So there will be no arguing against my decision.”
She turned on Brice. “And I suppose this was all your idea, anyway, right?”
Brice didn’t know how to reach her. “I just want to know you’re safe,” he said, hoping she could see the sincerity in his heart. “And the only way I can know that is to see it with my own eyes.”
Selena looked down at the empty fireplace, then back up at him, her expression guarded and almost evasive. For a long time, their gazes held and locked, and Brice’s heart seemed to lock into place with a definite click as he threw away the key, knowing Selena had ruined him for any other woman.
The fire hissed and sputtered. She looked away first. “Oh, all right. Just for a week.”
“That’s all I’ll need,” he replied, stalling for time the only way he knew how. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this if I have to go back to Argentina myself and bring these people to justice.”
Her head shot up at that. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
She amazed him. She was willing to put herself in danger, but not him. That she cared touched his heart in all the right places, but the fact that she couldn’t see that she was a real target now left him cold to his bones. “Aye, it is too dangerous. And that’s why I’ll be guarding you for the next week, at least.”
“At least?”
He cringed, then turned to leave the room before she could question him any more. “I’ll just go and check on dinner. Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Brice, what does that mean—at least?”
He wanted to tell her it meant he’d protect her for eternity, but he couldn’t say that. For now, he’d settle for a few days.
Which meant he had very little time. And the clock had just started ticking. He’d have to pray his way through this one.
Adele looked up as Brice entered the big beamed kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready, darling. How’s Selena?”
Brice kissed his mother on the cheek, then grabbed an olive off the tray of munchies she’d fixed. Beside her in the kitchen, Betty Sager stirred the big pot of beef stew brewing on the industrial-size stove. Next to her on the long marble counter, freshly baked bread sat steaming.
Pinching at the bread, Brice said, “She’s not pleased, but then we expected that. I’m hoping she’ll come around once she sees this is for her own good.”
“Very independent, that one,” Adele said, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. But her next words changed the lighthearted look to one of worry and dread. “Too independent. It’s amazing she made it out of Argentina alive.”
Betty turned to wipe her aged hands on a towel. “Nothing amazing about it—Brice saved her. Just as he saved my son and Charles and me.”
Brice gave Betty a peck on her cheek. The slender, gray-haired woman was fast becoming like a second mother to him. “And how is young Roderick these days?”
“Thankful,” Betty said. “We all are. We might be dead ourselves if you and Mr. Trudeau hadn’t given Roderick another chance. That boy has truly seen the error of his ways.”
Adele’s smile brightened. “That’s what we’re all about, Betty. Forgiveness and intervention. CHAIM does a lot of good for Christians, and Roderick is proving he wants to be a part of that. I’m so glad Brice convinced the authorities to let him mentor your son as part of his probation.”
“The lad shows promise,” Brice said, remembering when just a few short months ago Roderick Sager had held a gun to Gina Malone and tried to take her son off a plane—Brice’s own company jet. His friend and fellow agent Eli Trudeau had almost throttled the boy for that one. But Roderick had been threatened and coerced into doing a bad deed in order to save his parents, and the boy had learned a lot from that forced criminal intent—thanks to a visit to Brice’s isolated home in Ireland, where Brice had talked with him and assured him he could work toward a second chance. Now Brice had taken him under his wing and Roderick, very savvy in technology, was in training to become a certified CHAIM agent. And his older adoptive parents—who had been threatened, too—were now members
