The Captive's Return

Yes, a thousand reasons.



Like checking on Lucia.



Sara bolted upright in bed. What kind of mother was she? She jerked to look at the clock. She'd actually only been away from her daughter for five and a half hours total, with Lucas checking on her and likely with her now, but guilt still stung. She wasn't used to sharing parenting responsibilities.



Springing to her feet, she yanked on her borrowed clothes—jogging shorts, a loose T-shirt and flip-flops. She reached for the door just as the knob twisted. Stumbling back, she grabbed a chair for balance.



Lucas filled the doorway as he angled in with a tray of food. Ohhh, how sweet. He'd been making breakfast for her, not forgetting about her after all. His thoughtfulness, his understanding of her needs as a mother— as well as a woman—tugged at her heart, blowing away any lingering upset over waking alone.



Where had her objectivity gone?



Or perhaps it wasn't gone. Perhaps she was thinking clearly for the first time. She wanted him, and not just for one night. "You're forgiven."



"Glad to hear it." He set the tray on the bedside table, stopping inches from her, intimately close without touching. His eyes, however, held her totally. "For which offense?"



"For not being here when I woke."



A hint of a smile played with his mouth before he plucked a rolled tortilla from the tray. "I figured you would be hungry and I wanted to check on Lucia."



"And?"



He tapped the tortilla against her mouth until she opened, bit, cheese melting over her wide-awake senses that craved a kiss more than food.



"Lucia's still asleep. The doctor will stop by in about two hours after his hospital rounds." He fed her another bite before popping the rest into his mouth, the sharing of food nearly as intimate as sharing each other's bodies.



The bed called to her, and from the hard length of him pressed to her stomach, it likely called to him, as well. But she needed to see her child. Would he understand? "Is it okay with you if we eat in her room while she sleeps?"



"I'm one jump ahead of you." Backing away, he nodded toward the door. "A pitcher of juice is already by her bed, and Keagan has debrief questions he wants to ask if you're feeling up to it."



Real-world concerns intruded, but she knew better than to mourn the loss. "Of course I want to offer whatever help I can." Speaking of real-world concerns. "I, uh, need to check my blood sugar and take my insulin shot first."



How strange to feel shy about that after everything else they'd done together. Shuffling aside the strange unease, she pricked her finger for a reading, then reached for the fresh supply of insulin the doctor had given her the night before.



"Do you want me to step out?"



Si. "No."



She did, however, turn her back to him as she filled the syringe, inched her shorts waistband down and slid the needle under her skin, too aware of Lucas watching. She shook off the uneasy sensation. Discarding the empty syringe, she reminded herself she needed a clear mind before speaking with the agent. Lucas hadn't believed her at first about her time in the compound. His friend Max Keagan had even less reason to trust her. Shards of uncertainty, fear even, prickled.



As she started for the door, Lucas flattened his hand to the panel. "Sara?"



"What?"



"It's going to be okay. I won't let it be anything but okay." He leaned to kiss her once fast, then again slower—buenos dias hormones—before he inched back. "I'll join you both in a minute when I'm, uh..." He stilled her rocking h*ps with a groan. "When I'm not so visibly turned-on."



She arched up on her toes to brush her lips against his tensed jaw. "Gracias."



"You're not helping," he growled.



Laughing, Sara retrieved the breakfast tray and backed out of the room, wanting to savor every second of their time together before she entered the real world again. And no question, there were very real-world concerns piling up outside their temporary haven.



Crossing into her daughter's room, Sara set the metal tray on the bedside table by the pitcher of orange juice. "Thank you for staying with her."



Keagan glanced up from his laptop with piercing blue eyes, discerning eyes at odds with his casual beach bum facade. "No problem. I enjoyed the quiet."



Sara tucked already perfectly smooth covers under her daughter's chin, pressed a hand against her forehead—cool, thank heavens—and leaned to rest her cheek against Lucia's baby-soft skin. She whispered a brief prayer of gratitude in Spanish before straightening.



Keagan closed the laptop and retrieved his half-empty coffee mug. "The Colonel filled me in on the gist of things about the past few years and your escape. Are you up for some more discussion so I can hear your take?"



"Of course. But could we stay in here please? I don't want to be away from her any longer than I have to."



"No problem." He pulled two chairs side by side in a corner of the room where they could talk quietly, but she could still see Lucia. "What made you decide to leave Chavez's place after so long?"



"A couple of things actually. Ramon was beginning to tighten his security, more and more as he grew paranoid after his cousin died—Allesandro Aragon." The drug-running bastard had committed suicide by blowing up his yacht rather than surrender to the authorities. "Ramon ranted about how the local government's unfair targeting had driven Allesandro over the edge."



"How do you know this?" Keagan peered over his coffee cup. "I thought you were secluded?"



More fear stung along her skin as if a hundred of those brown spiders attacked her. For so long, Ramon had watched her, dissecting her every word and move. Shaking free of paranoia that was totally justified proved difficult even when she knew people were looking out for her best interests.



"I wasn't completely cut off from information in his compound, simply fed news filtered through Ramon while trying to evaluate its worth based on old knowledge."



A niggling new fear teased through, worries about what she might have missed or misinterpreted? What other things could Ramon have kept from her? What kind of world would she be returning to? Potential land mines could be all around her and she would never know. Panic weighted the air, every dragging breath more difficult than the last.



For so long she'd dreamed of escaping, and now she wanted to stay in this safe house with Lucas and Lucia where it was, well, safe.



The room narrowed, the edges pulling in darker.



"Mrs. Quade?"



Mrs. Quade?



Keagan's call snapped her back, the edges of the room lightening again. She'd been married for five years and never once used her new last name. Ramon had stolen too much from her. She wouldn't let him have even a second more.



"Si. I am sorry for drifting off for a moment. There is much to process." She gripped the arms of her chair and continued, "Ramon also grew less careful in keeping secrets. I began to hear things, which brings me to my second reason for leaving. After Aragon's death, Padilla gained power since Ramon lost his major ally. Padilla decided the time had come to launch an attack."



She breathed, in, out, slowly, carefully to stop the panic attack from returning. "I'd given up waiting for a miraculous rescue—ironic, isn't it, how close you were? But I still do not understand why, after so many years of turning a blind eye to men like Aragon, would local officials decide to clear the snakes from the jungle? And the United States is helping?"



Would Keagan even answer her? Perhaps she should have asked Lucas, but he seemed so bent on cosseting her, she doubted he would discuss any of this in detail.



Keagan hooked an ankle over one knee, flip-flop dangling from his jostling foot. "Cartina doesn't want to become another Colombia, so overrun with crime that tourists avoid the place like the plague. The crime stakes upped a notch with the infiltration of terrorist factions into South America demanding a piece of Aragon's drug money."



"Why not eliminate Aragon, Ramon and Padilla all at once?" Even though the thought of reentering the world set off nerves in her stomach, she couldn't stem her overflowing curiosity after so long having her mind stifled. When she'd worked in the embassy, she'd been privy to world secrets. That long-suppressed side of her clamored to be fed.



"That's a mighty large undertaking and terrorism is already spreading our people thin all around the world. Sometimes it pays to let folks clean up their own messes when possible. Think about it."



The pieces slid into place. "With Aragon out of the picture and no longer in Ramon's camp, his power lessened, which emboldened Padilla. So you sat back to wait for them to kill each other."



"We didn't exactly 'sit back.' They're being watched."



"Which is how you finally found me."



"Yes, and that's enough for now." He waved toward the breakfast platter. "I should let you eat. I'll tell the Colonel we're through. Have a nice breakfast, Mrs. Quade."



Mrs. Quade. The panic and excitement churned inside her all over again. The marriage was official now, consummated. To end things required more than an annulment.



So go for it. Right? Of course. That made total sense. She didn't even need to think about it.



She should enjoy her breakfast with Lucas while they watched over their daughter together. She walked to the breakfast tray and looked at the assortment of foods Lucas had put together. More of the tortillas filled with cheese. Some simple toast with a fruit salsa in a small crock. Another couple of tortillas with what looked like sausage and eggs inside—and thankfully no more bananas. He'd gone to so much trouble for her.



Which did she want?



The tickle of panic returned.



How silly. She only needed to pick which to eat. One tiny choice in light of all the decisions she would make in resuming her life.



Panic swelled higher at what waited for her outside. For years, she hadn't been allowed to make a decision on her own, even what to eat. Every meal had been prepared and served with Ramon controlling her diet "for her own good."



And the decisions to come were far more important than cheese versus eggs in the morning.



A knock sounded at the door.



"Lucas?"



No one answered. The pounding continued. She frowned. The hammering was muffled, distant, not on the bedroom door at all.



Someone was beating on the front door outside the apartment.



Lucas snatched his M9 off the bedside table and sprinted for the hall, the pounding outside echoing through the apartment. He ran smack into Sara dashing from Lucia's room.



"Back inside. Keep the door shut and stay away from the windows." He gripped her shoulders, spinning her away and into the bedroom, trying like hell not to think about how delicate her bones felt under his hands.



He struggled to come to grips with the airy Sara he'd known before and the woman who'd knifed him outside the compound with a strength that defied her size. "Stay behind the bed. Don't come out until I tell you all's clear."



He regretted his brusque tones, but she seemed to understand there wasn't time for niceties. Best of all she seemed to realize the importance of watching over Lucia. The woman who'd drawn a knife in defense of her daughter had returned and damn, she was mesmerizing.



Shaking his head clear, he ducked into the living room where Keagan, Rodriquez and two other agents were positioned around the perimeter, out of the direct line of fire of the entrance.



Rodriquez stood to the left of the door, weapon drawn. "Si?" he called through the door.



"Jorge?" a muffled female voice gasped. "His dentist appointment. How did it go?"



Recognition clicked a second ahead of relief. Lucas bolted around the sofa. "It's Seabrook, my missing pilot. Let her in."



Rodriquez opened the door to reveal that yes, Seabrook stood outside, whole and seemingly unharmed in spite of the mud, scratches, bug bites.