be good enough for all of us.”
A quiet man seated next to Rafi, who hadn’t said a word all night, stood up. “I know someone who can reach Pazir. The man has been working as a driver and translator like Pazir had been, and he might know where he is. He can let him know you survived and want to talk to him.”
“I appreciate that.” Denver bowed his head. “I appreciate all of it.”
Later that night after more tea and a shared hookah, Rafi allowed Denver to bunk down by the fire.
With the rest of the inhabitants asleep in the hut, Denver rolled toward the fire and then away. He stretched out his legs and then brought his knees to his chest.
The smoke had his head pounding again—or maybe it was the spicy lamb stew. He sat up and drew the rough blanket around his shoulders. Then he crept to the doorway of the hut.
He slipped outside to inhale the cold, fresh air. His head jerked as a glimmer of light from the rocks at the bottom of the foothills caught his attention.
He squinted into the darkness and saw a second point of light bobbing next to the first. He grabbed his weapon by the door, hoisted it and peered through the night scope.
Uttering a curse, he tracked the guns bearing down on the village. He’d brought the enemy to their doorstep… Now nobody was safe.
Lana’s brown cowboy boots clumped over the wood floor of her congressman’s office building. As furtive glances followed her, she tipped back her head, nose in the air and took even heavier steps—the louder the better. She wanted to create a stir.
“Miss, excuse me.” The blonde at the front desk half rose from her chair, phone at her ear. “Miss, you can’t go in there.”
Lana spun around, one hand jiggling the locked doorknob, the other on her hip. “Because it’s locked or because I’m not welcome? I’m a taxpaying constituent.”
“I’m sure you are, but Congressman Cordova is in a meeting right now.” The assistant waved her manicured fingers at a pathetic suggestion box stuck to the wall. “You’re welcome to leave a note.”
“I’ve left notes. I’ve left voice mails. I’ve left emails.” Lana leveled a finger at the blond gatekeeper. “I’m pretty sure I’ve spoken to you on a number of occasions, and Congressman Cordova—” the name rolled off Lana’s tongue in a perfect Spanish accent “—has yet to return my notes, voice mails or emails. Excuse me if I have a hard time believing he’s going to check his suggestion box. I have a suggestion. Tell him to open this damned door and meet with one of his constituents.”
The assistant plopped back down in her chair, swiveled away from Lana and whispered into the phone. She put down the receiver and cleared her throat. “If you’d like to leave your name and number, the congressman will call when he’s free.”
“When will that be? Never?” Lana twisted the doorknob and kicked the door with the toe of her boot. “Open the door, or you’ll be sorry, Cordova.”
The woman at the desk grabbed the phone again and held up the receiver, shaking it at Lana. “Miss, if you don’t leave at once, I’m calling security.”
“Do it.” Lana leaned against the impenetrable door and folded her arms across her chest. “This will play well.”
The blonde’s cool exterior and her voice finally cracked as she shouted into the phone, “Someone needs to get over here, right away.”
Before the final word left her lips, two security guards charged through the side door of the building. Cordova’s office only gave the illusion of his approachability. Barriers and layers protected him from the common people just as surely as they had protected a czar from his serfs.
As the two goons veered in her direction, Lana thrust out her hands. “I’m not going anywhere until I talk to my congressman. I pay his salary—yours, too.”
“Ma’am.” The bigger security guard spread out his hands, which looked like slabs of pink beef. “Go about this the right way. Don’t cause any trouble today.”
“Trouble?” Lana sniffed and blinked her eyes rapidly. She refused to give in to tears here. Did she have any left? “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
The big guy rolled his eyes at his slightly smaller partner and said, “Are you even five feet tall? You’re not going to put up a fight, are you, ma’am?”
Lana widened her stance, the heels of her boots digging into the polished floor. “Five foot two.”
Security guard number two snorted. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave the premises, one way or another.”
“How about you leave the premises, and I meet with my congressman.”
“I—I can make an appointment for you with Congressman Cordova.” Cordova’s assistant swung her chair in front of her computer, her hands poised over the keyboard. “He’s free tomorrow at three o’clock. Will that work for you?”
“Hmm.” Lana tapped a finger against her chin as she tilted her head to the side. “No. Right now works for me.”
The taller, bigger, beefier security guard took a step forward. “Ma’am, this isn’t working for anyone right now. You’re going to have to leave and make an appointment through Tessa later.”
“I don’t want to leave, and Cordova is never going to keep an appointment with me. I’m on his no-call list.” Lana ground her back teeth together.
Tessa’s face blanched, almost matching the color of her hair. As the security duo moved forward with purpose, Tessa shouted, “Wait!”
But the guards had both started speaking at once in coaxing tones as they moved in on Lana, drowning out Tessa’s exclamation.
They each took one of Lana’s arms and peeled her off the congressman’s door. They started to march her toward the front entrance, the one facing the sidewalk, the one facing the public.
Tessa had jumped from her seat, the chair banging against the wall behind her. “What’s your name? What’s your name?”
Lana cranked her head over her shoulder and smiled at Tessa, her pale face now crumpled with worry. “Lana. Lana Moreno.”
“Wait…don’t.” Tessa scurried around the desk, banging her hip on the corner.
The security guards had embraced their mission and continued propelling Lana to the exit—flipping the congressman from the frying pan into the fire.
The three of them burst through the double doors into the wintry Greenvale sun, straight into the arms of the media Lana had called earlier.
Cameras zoomed in and microphones materialized out of thin air.
“Did Congressman Cordova kick you out of his office, Lana?”
“Did
