“You have to get on this plane! Now!”

Brice propelled her toward the plane. Selena’s resistance surprised him—she was tiny, but she showed remarkable strength. She was also remarkably stubborn.

Brice lifted his eyes to the heavens. He’d been sent down here to retrieve the missionary. But Selena was devoted to her work and refused to go. And Brice couldn’t leave without her. She was in a lot of danger. Too much danger.

“I have my orders,” he shouted over the thunderstorm.

“I can’t leave my villagers!”

“Do you want to die, Selena?”

“I want to live—to serve these people and God.”

How could he fight that kind of dedication?

In the end, he didn’t have a chance. Bullets hit like a hailstorm all around them, right along with the rain and wind. With a grunt, Brice picked her up and carried her through the jungle.

While Selena Carter beat at his chest every step of the way.

LENORA WORTH

has written over thirty novels, most of those for Steeple Hill Books. She also works freelance for a local magazine, where she had written monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for five years for the local paper. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-three years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks and sit in her garden.

Code of Honor
Lenora Worth

MILLS & BOON

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He who follows righteous and mercy finds life, righteousness and honor.

—Proverbs 21:21

To my favorite nurse, Patricia Davids.

You are a special friend.

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

PROLOGUE

Somewhere in Northern Argentina

“Get on the plane!”

“No!”

Brice Whelan squinted through the rain falling all around him, his patience wearing as thin as his soaked black cotton T-shirt.

“We don’t have time to argue, Selena. You have to get on this plane! Now!”

The slender woman scowling up at him pushed at her wet burnished-brown hair and shook her head. “I can’t leave my villagers, Brice. I didn’t call you down here to rescue me. I wanted you to help me! I won’t go.”

Brice wrapped a rough hand around her arm, using brute strength to propel her toward the plane. Her returning resistance surprised him—she was a tiny bit of a thing—not more than a hundred pounds at best, but she showed remarkable strength. And she was also remarkably stubborn to boot. Double trouble.

Brice lifted his eyes to the fury of the heavens, wondering why he was standing here in the middle of a rain forest when he could have been sitting by a nice fire back home in Ireland or maybe watching a baseball game on television at his second home in Atlanta, Georgia. Then he remembered—CHAIM, the elite secretive Christian organization that worked to protect and help Christians in need all over the world. As a member of CHAIM, he had a duty to bring Selena Carter, a missionary nurse who helped run a clinic here in Día Belo, Argentina, home to Atlanta.

After Selena’s distraught phone call, he’d been sent down here to retrieve the devoted missionary. But Selena took her work very seriously and now she refused to go with him. And Brice couldn’t leave without her. Because she’d had a near run-in with a local guerrilla group known for drug trafficking and smuggling, she was in a lot of danger. Too much danger for the humanitarian organization that had sent her here and too much danger for her rich father back home. They wanted her back in Atlanta. Alive and well, preferably.

Brice just wanted her on that plane so he could get out of this rain. “I have my orders,” he shouted over the thunderstorm.

“And I have my integrity,” she shouted back. “I should have never called you!”

All around them, the jungle and forest hissed and sang with the rage of the storm. It was wet, humid, flashing both cold and hot, and downright miserable in spite of the beauty of the place.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, hoping to sway her.

“No,” she said with an expression full of conviction. “I want to live—to serve these people and God.”

Brice had enough. Pulling her close with his hands over her elbows, he said, “If you don’t get on that plane, you won’t ever be able to do either again, cara. You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous now. Those men will come back for you, Selena. They’ll figure out you survived the attack.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Great. Just what he needed. A brave skinny woman willing to take on some nasty smugglers with her convictions and her honor as her only shields.

“Well, you should be afraid,” he shouted. “You saw what they did to your friend Diego and to the others. I can’t let that happen to you.” Getting right in her face, he repeated, his Irish brogue going thick, “It’s time to get on the plane, Selena.”

Her violet-blue eyes widened, this time with determination and regret. “I can’t leave them. I can’t. They need me—I give them medicine and tend their wounds. I teach them how to read and tell them the word of God. I can’t leave the clinic. I’m the only one left.”

How did he fight that kind of dedication?

In the end, he didn’t have a chance.

Bullets hit like a hailstorm all around them, right along with the rain and the wind. With a grunt, Brice picked her up and carried her through the jungle, slapping at ancient vines and wet, prickly palm leaves every step of the way.

While Selena Carter beat at his chest and his face every step of the way.

ONE

Atlanta, Georgia

Two weeks later

“Are you ever going to speak to me again?”

Selena lifted her gaze from the file she’d been reading to the man standing at the door of her office.

He sure knew how to fill a doorway. And he always made her heart do a funny little lurching thing that she hated and denied each time she saw him. His shaggy honey brown hair and gold-green eyes gave him the look of some sort of modern-day pirate but the precisely tailored lightweight navy suit he wore today gave him the look of a corporate raider. Selena knew he was neither of those things.

He was worse.

Brice pushed off the doorjamb and settled into a squeaky old chair across from her battered metal desk. Loosening his silk tie, he said, “Selena, it’s been a couple of weeks now. You don’t call, you don’t write. You’re breaking my heart here.”

Selena slammed the file into a folder and shoved it in the drawer of the old desk. The drawer stuck, so she tried slamming it again, pretending it was Brice Whelan’s head instead. The drawer squeaked in protest while she flushed a mortified pink all the way down to her toes. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her have a hissy fit.

She didn’t have to. He got up and with one deft whack, shut the drawer tight then settled on the edge of her desk to stare down at her, the crisp crease of his pants every bit as edgy as the tension slicing through her stomach.

“You need some stress management, cara.”

“What I need,” Selena said, tired and ready to go home to her quaint Midtown apartment and a nice bath followed by a cup of hot herbal tea, “is for you to leave. Now.”

“You can’t stay mad at me forever,” he said, not moving. “It’s me, Brice, remember? I’m just too lovable for you to stay angry. And I’m not leaving until you smile at least. You’ve such a pretty smile, cara.”

Selena’s breath grabbed onto her rib cage, searching for release. He was too close. Which meant she was trapped since he was between the door and her. And that was the way Brice always made her feel—trapped in the intensity of his eyes, in the hold of his innate code of honor. Brice was too forceful, too unwavering for her. Just to prove he couldn’t get to her, she gave him a brutal frown. “Go away.”

He held his hands out, palms up, his big signet ring that bore the Whelan family fleur-de-lis crest dazzling her with flashes of gold. “I had to do it. You know that. Your father—”

“My father is still trying to control me, only this time he went too far. I called you down to Día Belo to help me solve the problem, not bring me home. His command for you to do that was the last straw.”

“He cares about you.”

“Yes, I know that. But he also hovers over me much in the same way you’re doing right now. And I’d really like you to just leave so I can go home. I’ve had a horrible day and I just want some peace and quiet and maybe a sappy movie on the cable channel.”

“How about coming to my house for dinner with me instead?”

Selena let that idea slide over her like warm rain dripping off a rhododendron leaf and for just a second, considered it with a full intensity—candlelight, soft classical music, the comfort of Brice’s loyal considerate staff at her beck and call. But then she snapped out of that daydream. “What part of ‘peace and quiet’ did you miss, Brice? I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

He put a hand to his heart. “‘Fate slew him, but he did not drop.’”

Emily Dickinson—her favorite. “And don’t start reciting poetry to me. That won’t work either.”

She’d play dead before she’d admit that she loved it when Brice quoted poetry to her—it was just the Irish accent, nothing more, that made those moments so special. But then, there were a lot of things about her old college friend that Selena didn’t want to acknowledge. Especially now, after he’d betrayed her trust by forcing her to leave the village in northern Argentina where she’d worked for more than two years.

He stood, looking exasperated, staring down at her with those lion-like eyes imploring her, his silence shouting more than his poetry ever could. “You have to forgive me sometime, you know.”

Selena put her head in her hands. “If you’ll just let me go home, I’ll consider it.”

He huffed a sigh at that. “How are things, now that you’re back here at the clinic?”

She let out a dry chuckle, not daring to answer that with the whole truth. “Do you actually care?”

He bent his head, his eyes slanting up toward her. “Of course I do, darlin’.”

She lifted a hand in the air. “Well, then I’ll tell you. Mrs. Parker has diabetes but she can’t afford her medication and the closest hospital won’t honor her insurance but we can’t get her on Medicaid—too much red tape to explain. And I had to call in reinforcements this morning because there’s a nasty spring virus going around this neighborhood and…a woman died right here in one of the exam rooms from a heart attack before we could get a transport to the hospital. She was taking the heart medication Dr. Jarrell prescribed—so we don’t know yet what happened with that. The first responders don’t have us on their priority list.”

Before she could let out a sigh, he had her up and in his arms. “That does it then. You need nourishment. You’re coming home with me.”

Selena had to work hard to hide her breathlessness. “I am not.”

“Yes, you are, too.”

She retracted herself, the warmth, the nearness of him, too much for her to handle on this rainy Friday afternoon. “No, Brice. You can’t fix things this time. We’re not in college anymore. And this isn’t a broken window or a flat tire or you rescuing me from my ex-boyfriend. You forced me to leave a place that I love, to leave the people that I love, and come back home to…to even more despair and sickness.” Whirling to grab her battered leather tote bag, she shook her head then hurried to the door. “You can’t fix this. So just go away.”

Brice never listened to reason. It was his shortcoming, his downfall. He was too stubborn for his own good, really. Or, as his dear deceased grandmum used to say—bómánta—stupid. If he were a smart man, he’d do as Selena had asked. He’d just leave.

But he wasn’t that smart. Not when it came to this particular woman. He’d known her since they were both young students, since the day he’d started college in a new city in a new country and was terrified down to his knickers, so to speak. And when it came to Selena Carter, or rather when it came to keeping Selena out of trouble, he was still terrified.

For her.

So instead of going away as she had requested, he marched after her and took her by the arm again. “I might not be able to fix this situation so you can go back to Argentina, but I can fix you a decent meal. Or at least, someone at my house can. So don’t argue with me on this. Selena?”

She whirled, the scent of jasmine and sweet pea floating around her, her expression sharp-edged and full of resentment. “You, of all people, should understand how I feel. I didn’t want to come back here. I wanted to stay in Día Belo because I made a commitment to those villagers and because I cared about them.”

Brice lowered his head, his whisper just for her. “And you, of all people, should know that I could not leave you down there in danger. It’s a matter of honor.”

Hitching her tote onto her shoulder, she grabbed a pile of files off a hallway table and headed for the double front doors of the inner-city clinic known as Haven Center. “Yes, right. CHAIM honor. I know all about that. Remember, I’ve lived it and breathed it since birth. My father’s honor, your honor—”

“The Lord’s honor,” Brice said, fighting to keep from grabbing her arm again. “C’mere.” Reaching for the files, he shifted them to his other arm as he guided her toward the door. “We try to do God’s work. You know that. And I couldn’t let you stay down there after—”

“After those cutthroat smugglers killed my best friend and a good doctor, after they murdered Diego before I could help him? I watched them raid my clinic, Brice, while I cowered in the trees. Is that why you forced me to leave?”

“Well, yes, cara. That was certainly enough reason for me to come and fetch you home.”

“Fetch me home?”

She marched up the hallway, locking doors and telling workers to call it a day. “You certainly did fetch me home, all right. You practically kidnapped me.” Turning at the intricate doors of what had once been a church school and now served as the hub of this underprivileged inner-city suburb, she gave him a look that would trouble his dreams, her violet-blue eyes so big and luminous Brice’s heart crumbled like zapped stardust right at her feet.

“They needed me,” she continued. “And I needed them. Someone should have protected those villagers, too. But no, we left them to be slaughtered.” Poking at his cotton shirt with a finger, she gave him a disgusted, disgraced look. “You took me and left them. And that’s what I can’t forgive. Or maybe I just can’t forgive myself for not confronting those thugs in the first place.” Grabbing back her files, she turned and stalked out the door.

The sting of her anger hit Brice with as much force as the damp spring humidity on the warm Atlanta streets. A quick spring shower had assaulted the city earlier, but the rain had stopped, leaving everything steamy and soaked. Searching, he saw her heading toward her hybrid mini SUV, her long golden-red ponytail set swinging with her frustration, her lightweight white button-up sweater sweeping away from her slender body.

“I guess that means she’s not coming home with me,” he mumbled. Selena, you do my head in, you know that?

He almost walked away, but he looked back up as she hit the remote key to open the SUV. When nothing happened, she hit the key again, then frowned.

Brice stood frozen by the door of the Haven Center, his instincts ramping up, his muscles clenching. Something wasn’t right.

Selena stepped toward the car, still clicking the remote. Again, nothing happened. Her aggravated groan echoed down the street as she continued to hit the remote lock attached to her key chain. Finally, she looked up the street toward Brice, a determined frown on her face.

“Selena?”

Brice hurried toward her, a pulse booming inside his temple. “Selena?”

“Leave me alone, Brice! This thing hasn’t worked right since I bought the car before I left for Argentina. So much for going green.” Intent on finding out why her car wouldn’t unlock, she reached toward the door, her fingers brushing against the lock button.

Then Brice smelled it—a strong scent of gasoline and oil. He screamed her name again, then sprinted toward her and grabbed her from behind, lifting her up as he ran with all his might away from the car. About thirty feet away, he pushed her down onto the sidewalk, knocking her files all over the concrete, his body shielding hers as he tried to cover her.

Seconds later, the explosion hit and the inside of Selena’s car became an inferno of molten-hot metal and chrome.

His voice was close to her, but the buzz inside her ears made it sound so far away. “You’re bleeding.”

Selena looked up at the man holding her, her breath coming in deep, slashing gulps. “So are you.”

She tried to sit up, tried to touch a finger to the scratch running across Brice’s cheekbone. But his hand on hers brought her back down. “Don’t move, cara. Let me make sure you’re in one piece.”

“I’m fine,” she said, his nearness as heated as the fire from the burning vehicle. Pushing at him, she managed to shift away. “What happened?”

Brice sat her up against the clinic wall as people came running out of nearby buildings. “Your car exploded.”

“But…why?” Then she looked up at him and saw it there on his face. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. This can’t have anything to do with Argentina, with La Casa de Dios?”

The grim set of Brice’s mouth told her he certainly believed it did. La Casa de Dios—the house of God—was what the locals had called the clinic where she lived and worked. “I told you these were very dangerous people, luv. If you’d gotten in that car—”

Selena pushed up the wall. “No. I don’t believe you. My key pad didn’t work. Something malfunctioned inside the vehicle. A spark—”

Brice squatted in front of her, blood running down his face. “A bomb, Selena. A bomb happened inside that car, or at least underneath the car. You smelled the fumes, didn’t you? I don’t know what went wrong—maybe they weren’t as expert as they thought or maybe their timer wasn’t set correctly. But your key pad messing up saved you. It went off before you cranked it. Before you got inside—”

Selena took in the scene, realizing the magnitude of what he was saying. Her car was totaled, a burning heap of gas fumes and scorched metal and chrome. Thank goodness no other cars or people had been nearby. Not many ventured on this street this late in the day, so no one else had been hurt.

And she was still alive. And Brice. Brice was still alive. She thanked God for that.

He held his cell phone while he looked up and down the street. Sirens sounded in the distance. “Listen, I called 911 but we don’t have much time. We have to get you away.”

“Away from what?” she asked, her thoughts all jumbled up like mixed wires.

“Away…before the newspeople get here. Your face doesn’t need to be plastered all over this city. They’ll try to come after you again.”

“But if they know where I am already—”

“We don’t need to give them any more firsthand information, though, do we, luv?”

A clinic worker came running out then. “Selena, are you all right?”

Brice lifted her up. “She needs to be checked out. We don’t want her going into shock.”

The worker, whose nametag said Meg, looked frantic. “Dr. Jarrell left early for an out-of-town meeting, but I can call him back.”

Selena slapped at Brice’s hand. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.” But her legs trembled like twigs.

“Not just yet,” Brice said. His voice sounded far away, vacuumed, while his arms around her became a source of strength. “Meg, take her inside. I’ll talk to the police and explain what happened and then I’ll be in. They’ll want statements from Selena and any other witnesses, but I’m going to try and deal with them first. Lock the doors and do not open them unless you see my face.” When she didn’t answer, Brice leaned close. “Meg, this wasn’t an accident, understand?”

Meg bobbed her head, her dark eyes going wide. “I hear you, Mr. Whelan. Mercy, what’s this old world coming to—a car exploding right here on the street.”

Selena had to agree with her friend and coworker. Maybe this had just been some sort of random neighborhood retaliation. Maybe they’d gotten the wrong car. “Brice, are you sure?”

Brice held her close, wiping smut and grime from her bloody face. “Don’t argue with me. This is why I had to get you out of that village. They know you didn’t die in that attack and now they’ve found you. It’s not safe in Día Belo.”

“And this place is?” she retorted.

He couldn’t answer that, so he dropped his hand and motioned for Meg to take her. Then he turned to go and talk to the two Atlanta police officers stepping out of a patrol car. Behind them, an ambulance and two fire trucks pulled to a skidding halt.

But when Selena looked back, Brice had his hands braced on his hips and he was watching her all the way to the door. And for the first time since she’d known him, she saw something there in his eyes that she’d never seen before.

Uncertainty and fear—for her.

TWO

“She is not going to be happy.”

Brice took a swig of mineral water, then put the goblet down on the coffee table. Selena’s debonair father, Delton Carter, sat across from him, his fingers placed together temple-style on his lap. Mr. Carter was a prominent Atlanta businessman and he was also a long-standing senior member of CHAIM—Christians for Amnesty, Intervention and Ministry. He wanted his daughter protected and he’d assigned Brice to the job. Twenty-four seven. This just might prove to be Brice’s toughest assignment yet.

“We’re not trying to make her happy, Shepherd,” Delton said, using Brice’s code name. “We’re trying to keep her alive. And until we find out what kind of bomb that was, how it was triggered, and who set it up, we have to protect her.”

“But she won’t see it that way, sir.” Brice leaned forward, remembering the terrible scene back at the downtown clinic. “She’s already angry with me. This won’t help matters.”

“Do you care?” Selena’s gray-haired dad asked. Then he lifted a wrinkled hand. “I know how much you do care, so don’t even answer that. But Brice, I want the best on this. And in my mind, you’re the best. I won’t have anyone else watching out for her, especially when I’m already scheduled for that mandatory meeting in Chicago next week.” He shifted in the chair, worry lines slashing across his ruddy complexion. “We managed to give the police enough information that hopefully they’ll help us locate the people who did this, but you know how that goes. It could be months.”

“I understand, sir,” Brice replied. “And you have my word that I’ll do my very best to protect her while you’re out of town. If she’ll just cooperate.”

“Cooperate with what?”

Brice turned to find Selena standing in the arched doorway opening into the spacious den of his home. “I thought you’d be fast asleep by now.”

“You thought wrong,” she replied, her hand brushing down the length of her burnished-colored hair. “And whatever it is you two have cooked up, you’re probably right. I won’t cooperate. I’m fine now, so let’s just let things get back to normal.”

Her father lifted out of the deep leather chair to send her a stern withering look. “Selena, surely you’re not going back to the clinic.”

“I surely will go back,” she said as she stepped into the room, her hand unconsciously touching on the bandage across her forehead.

Brice took in the sight of her. She was alive and safe and that’s what he needed to focus on right now. But she looked pale in the muted light glowing from the various table lamps and chandeliers in this old house. She’d had a bath and was wearing the clothes her father had brought over—a green cashmere sweater and a pair of sleek black pants. She looked incredible, considering she could have died if she’d gotten into that car.

“How are you feeling?” he asked to deflect the warring stares between Selena and her father.

“I feel just dandy.” She laughed, tossed all that glorious hair away from her shoulder. “My car is destroyed and my life is in danger, but other than that, I’m just great.”

“Touchy, are we?”

“Don’t I have a right to be touchy? These people have disrupted my life. First, down in Argentina and now here. I’m not sure what to do next, but I won’t let them stop me from doing my job.” She focused on her father. “And I mean that, Daddy.”

Brice had to smile. Her feminine southern wiles were kicking in. He’d caught it in the slight inflection of her darling drawl. Even scary-smart Selena Carter knew being born and bred in the South gave a woman a distinct advantage. And it didn’t hurt that she had her formidable father wrapped around her finger—whether she realized it or not.

“Now, sugah, don’t go looking at me like that,” Delton said, coming over to give her a kiss on the forehead just below her injury. “Your mama is worried sick. She’s on her way home from London right.”

“I don’t need Mother here to babysit me,” Selena replied, all brisk business again. “Call her and tell her to stay. She’d been planning this trip for months now.”

Delton shrugged. “Well, now, you know your mama, honey. She’s every bit as stubborn as you. And when she said she’d be arriving at Hartsfield tomorrow morning, I knew I could set my watch by it.”

Selena looked from her father to Brice. “Have you scared everybody into thinking I’m not safe?”

Brice met her gaze with a sharp scowl. “No, luv, your car exploding just a few feet away from you did that. Your father has hired me to be your security patrol, not because we think you’re not safe, but because we know you aren’t.”

She waited two beats before groaning. “No! Daddy, this is silly. I don’t need Brice hanging around, bothering me. I have to live my life and that means I have to keep working.”

“We want you to do just that,” Brice said, thinking he’d like nothing better than hanging around Selena. “And that’s why I’ll be by your side every waking hour during the day and that’s also why you’ll be staying here with me for a while. Your apartment might not be safe.”

Selena shook her head so hard her hair swung out in a golden-red arc around her shoulders. “No, I will not. Daddy, we have the same security system as Brice at our house. I don’t need him hovering and hindering me. I won’t do it. I’ll stay with Mother when she gets back instead.”

“Too late, little darlin’,” Delton replied. “I’m set for that big conference in Chicago next week and your mama can’t protect a ladybug, let alone the both of you. She’s gonna come home just to be nearby this weekend and then she’ll 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 of Brice’s household here in America. The arrangement worked for all involved.

Betty gave Brice an appreciative glance. “You’ve been so good to him, Brice. How can I ever repay you?”

“By cooking mouthwatering meals such as this one,” Brice countered, uneasy with the praise. “And keeping my lovely mum company when I’m away.”

“Easily done,” Betty said, grinning. “Now, you go and get our guests settled in the dining room and I’ll find Charles. I think he’s piddling out in the garden shed. Soup’s on.”

“I’ll be glad to do both,” he told her. “I’ll announce dinner to our guests then go and get Charles.” Winking at his mother, he added, “This should be interesting.”

Adele nodded. “Yes, since you two have been in love since you first laid eyes on each other.”

“Charles and I?” Brice said with a chuckle. “No offense to him, Mum, but he’s not my type.” Betty grinned and laughed out loud.

“You know who I’m talking about,” his mother said, shaking her head. “Selena.”

“Mum, now, don’t go pinning hopes on that. Selena hates me on sight.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

Brice saw the sweet, knowing expression on his mother’s face. He wasn’t so sure about that.

Did Selena have feelings for him? Real feelings? And how did he feel about her? He knew the answer to that one. He had always loved her. But he’d never acted on that love because of his work and because of Selena’s commitments. And mainly because he wasn’t sure how she really, truly felt about taking their long-time friendship any further. He’d have to guard his heart with this one. Or he’d be the one in dangerous territory. Selena Carter scared him more than facing down a cell of terrorists.

THREE

Brice made it to the solarium door when he heard dainty little footsteps on the tiled floor behind him.

But the command wasn’t so dainty. “Wait up.”

Halting at the French doors leading out to the flagstone terrace, he braced himself, his gaze taking in the coming dusk and the soft yellow lights of the gas lamps that burned along the garden paths all around his estate.

That request meant trouble. Selena was going to read him the riot act for forcing her to stay here.

“Don’t shoot me in the back,” he said, hands going up in surrender.

“Don’t tempt me,” she replied as she came up behind him and slapped at one of his upheld hand. “Relax. I could have murdered you years ago, but for some strange reason I didn’t.”

“That’s because you do care about me, in spite of me being me, right?”

“I suppose so. Although, for the life of me, I can’t understand it.”

He slanted a look at her, thinking he understood a lot more than she did, obviously. “Are you still mad, then?”

Her shrug brought shimmering strands of curling hair fall around her face and neck. “No madder than I already was, but then I’ve been angry at you for one thing or another since the day we met.”

Brice sure knew that to be a factual statement. Selena and he had actually gotten into an argument without even knowing each other’s names that first day at the University of Georgia. He didn’t really remember what the argument had been about, but he sure did remember the fiery young girl working him over with her idealist political views.

She’d been magnificent then and she was even better now. “Do you keep a list? Against me, I mean?”

“No. I’d have run out of paper long ago on that.” When he guided her through the doors opening from the glass-enclosed solarium, she stopped, a soft sigh slinking out of her body as the now cool spring air hit them. Biting at her full lip, she said, “I have to admit, this has scared me more than I’m letting on.”

Brice escorted her down the terrace steps, then turned to give her a tight frown, the pool’s azure water glistening behind them. “Now you’re beginning to see things my way.”

“I didn’t say that,” she retorted, holding her arms close to herself to ward off the chill. “I’m still not happy about this. I know I’m at risk, but it seems silly for me to stay here since we can’t be sure what actually happened with my car until we get the police report back.”

Brice took in the spring evening, the freshness of the gloaming contrasting with the coldness that had come over him when he’d watched Selena’s car blow up. “Having you here while your parents are in Chicago is the only way I’ll get any sleep. I can watch out for you while I research this situation myself. We can’t always trust the police on these things, and CHAIM has a lot of resources for dealing with people like this.”

She went back into her adversary mode. “So you’re officially on the case then, not just playing bodyguard to me?”

“That’s the plan, and frankly, you can either be mad or you can be glad, but I’m not budging on this. We got you safely away from Día Belo, but our work isn’t done. We can’t allow innocent Christians to be slaughtered by criminals, nor will we allow innocent villagers to be caught in the crossfire. We’re supposed to be there to make a difference, but it’s always a hassle with these militant groups and the local government both involved and constantly trying to upstage each other all around us. If it becomes too dangerous, we won’t be able to send other missionaries back down there.”

He watched her face in the dusk, saw the flutter of scattered emotions moving over her features with a swift clarity just like the remaining random rain clouds in the early evening sky. She shivered and he quickly took off his lightweight coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” she said, her hands gripping the labels of his jacket. “I can’t talk about it anymore, not tonight. It’s so nice and peaceful here.” They walked through the budding azaleas and the tall oaks and magnolia trees toward the large narrow gardening shed at the back side of the expansive yard. Selena took in a deep breath as they neared a cascading dogwood ripe with white blossoms. “The gardens are beautiful, Brice. Especially after this afternoon’s rain.”

“You can thank Charles and Betty for that. Since they’ve been here to supervise the yard crew, this garden has really taken off. Or as Roderick would say, ‘It pops!’”

She actually laughed, the delicate giggle like the sound of tiny bells. “It was kind—what you did for him. You could have sent him to jail for a very long time.”

“That’s not usually the CHAIM way, unless of course someone deserves to go to jail. Then we turn them and the 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 called at the open door to the garden shed.

They heard a grunt. “In here.”

Brice rushed into the long, narrow, glass-encased building where a single dim light burned. “Charles, where are you?”

“Down here, on the floor.”

Brushing past bedding plants and exotic house plants, Brice ran toward the big table shoved in a corner. When he and Selena reached Charles, the older man was lying on the floor, surrounded by broken pots and a pool of dirty water.

“What happened?” Brice asked, glancing around the big shed. It was hard to see in the waning light.

“Something spooked me,” Charles said, trying to sit up. “A noise. I think it might have been a big bird—maybe an owl or something. It was just such a strange noise—almost like a wail or a growl.”

“Aye, we heard it.” Brice’s eyes locked with Selena’s while she automatically began checking Charles’s vital signs and examining him for broken bones. After Selena made sure Charles was breathing properly, Brice asked him, “Did you see anything—anyone?”

“No, nothing,” the white-haired man answered while Selena helped him to sit up. “I was turning off lights and closing up shop. I came back here to put up the watering jug and I just heard this awful sound—like a bird’s call or some sort of animal crying out—sounded like it was coming from beyond the wire fence, maybe down on the river. I jumped about a foot, hit a pot there on the floor and lost my balance and toppled right over, bringing these other pots down with me. Think I twisted my ankle.” He lifted his bushy eyebrows. “I’m sorry about the mess, Brice.”

“Don’t worry about that. We need to get you to the house.”

Selena reexamined him, asking him to speak again. She studied his face, then touched her fingers to his head, asking him questions as she analyzed him. “No symptoms of a stroke—that’s good news. Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

“I’d like to make sure of that,” Selena said, her voice shaky. “Your pulse is racing, Mr. Sager. Did you get dizzy before you fell? Did you hit your head?”

Charles mumbled, “No, I wasn’t dizzy at all, just startled. I caught myself on my arm and leg on the right side.”

Brice helped lift him, then together he and Selena steadied Charles. “Is the golf cart nearby?” Brice asked.

Charles nodded, favoring his right leg. “Yep. I was gonna drive it back up to the house.”

“I’ll get it,” Brice said. “Lean on the table and let Selena check you over a bit more until I bring it around.”

Charles bobbed his head. Selena offered kind words as she helped him back against the support of the heavy wooden table. “Maybe we should call 911, Brice. Or I could call your family doctor.”

“No, no,” Charles replied, waving a hand in the air. “I just stumbled is all. I’ll be okay. I’ll take some pain pills and be good as new.”

Brice shouted at Selena as he made his way to the other side of the building. “If you think he’s okay to move, we’ll get him up to the house and decide then.”

Selena turned back to Charles. “I don’t have my equipment but we can still make sure you’re all right.”

Charles gave her a dim smile. “My equipment ain’t so good either, but I’m okay. Don’t make a fuss.”

Outside, Brice quickly checked for anything out of the ordinary around the perimeters of the shed. After finding the golf cart that Charles used to cover the large acreage, he drove it toward the back of the shed, then squinted into the muted light to see if he could find any footprints. The bushes and vines were wet and thick but nothing looked broken or marred. If anyone had tried to get to the estate from the river, alarms would have gone off immediately, unless someone had managed to disarm them. But this estate was airtight. Cameras everywhere, laser beams along the remote fence lines, and so many alarm and security details that even Brice had to sometimes go back over the whole layout.

Maybe Charles had been startled by a night creature such as a raccoon or a possum or, as he’d suspected, an owl shrieking somewhere off in the dense woods leading to the river.

Or maybe the old man had heard something else.

Something meant not only to scare the gardener, but also to send out a warning into the night to anyone on this property who might happen to be nearby and listening.

A warning that could turn out to be a war signal.

FOUR

Selena sat up in the big teakwood four-poster bed on the second floor of Brice’s house, wondering how she’d managed to get herself in such a fix. She didn’t want to be like Rapunzel, trapped in the castle, but between Brice and her father, she didn’t have much of a choice right now. Too exhausted to argue after all the excitement of this day, she’d meekly come upstairs to try and get some sleep. But she couldn’t relax, so she held her Bible close like a shield, trying to find comfort in the Scriptures.

But even her nightly ritual of reading verses before she went to sleep couldn’t calm her. Her skin crawled with tension as she relived seeing her car explode and finding Charles lying on the floor of the shed. When she remembered the long bloody gash on Brice’s cheek and thought about how much worse it could have been, she shivered in her soft fluffy bathrobe.

Ye shall not fear them: for the Lord your God he shall fight for you. That passage from Deuteronomy should bring her comfort, but she was still afraid. Not so much for herself as for those trying to protect her. Especially for Brice. He was so fearless, so focused, that he’d do anything to protect her. Even put his life on the line.

At least Charles was all right. He’d be sore tomorrow and his right ankle was bruised so he’d have to stay off of it for a couple of days. After they brought him to the house and checked him over yet again, Charles had refused any further medical help. So Betty had taken him to their room near the kitchen while everyone else settled down to dinner. But Selena barely managed to eat a bite of the hearty stew and freshly baked bread Adele and Mrs. Sager had offered. She was too keyed up, too worried.

And she was still worried right now.

Because she hadn’t told Brice everything.

And after what Charles had described, she was afraid to tell Brice or anyone else the rest. Afraid that if she voiced what she believed to be true, she’d put Brice and both their families in even more danger. And bring down the law on her beloved clinic, too. She couldn’t tell anyone anything until she had proof. And so she waited and wondered. She’d enlisted help on this and had given what could become important evidence to a confidant to analyze, and now she was waiting for a report back. It wasn’t that she wanted to deliberately keep anything from Brice. This was just curiosity. Or so she had thought until today. When would she hear? And how could she keep everyone safe until she had answers?

Glancing over at the battered, buttery soft, tan leather tote bag she always carried, she wondered how long she could keep her secret hidden away. What if someone tried to attack her again? What if someone got their hands on that bag? Was that why these people had tried to harm her?

And what about Charles and that sound they’d heard tonight, like a bird cawing or a cat’s loud meowing, a loud sharp sound that had spooked Charles enough to make him stumble and fall. Selena and Brice had heard it too—faint and echoing—so it was hard to say. But she had heard such sounds in the jungle, and something about this particular cry tonight caused her heart to chill like a chunk of ice inside her body. She’d heard a bone-chilling cry right before her village had been attacked.

An awful, high-pitched wail that even now sent shivers up and down her spine because Selena was pretty sure the shrilling call had been made by a human being. Had it been a warning or an alert? She may never know. She only knew that right after she’d heard that sound echoing throughout the rain forest, her world had shifted and changed and she’d lost Diego. And any hopes of staying in Argentina. And now she was harboring secrets that could possibly cause her to lose her nursing license for good. And the clinic too.

What should she tell Brice?

Getting up now, Selena padded toward the chair where she’d dropped the tote, her hand reaching for the thick strap. She’d have to find a new hiding place. A knock at the door caused her to pull her hand away as if she’d touched a snake. But maybe what she’d found was worse than a snake’s bite—evil and sneaky and destructive.

Pulling her robe around her cotton pajamas, she went to the door. “Yes?”

“It’s only me, luv.”

Brice. Her heart caught in a grip of fear and trepidation. Should she be honest with him?

“Not just yet,” she whispered. She’d do a little more snooping of her own before she’d involved Brice in this. No need to get everyone all riled up on just a suspicion and something she’d found by accident. And she had no way of knowing if what they’d heard tonight had indeed been the same type of call that she had heard down in the jungle. All sorts of wildlife inhabited the woods around Brice’s estate. She should know—she’d gone traipsing around with him here many times. Maybe this had been some sort of night creature. Maybe no one human had been out there in the woods.

She shivered again.

“Selena?”

He had never been a patient man.

She opened the door, a slight smile hiding the dread coursing through her system. “I’m right here, safe and sound.”

“Don’t scare me like that,” he said, coming inside the room, his gaze scanning the big bay window and the stained glass patio doors across from the bed. Stomping to the window, he made sure the brocade curtains were pulled together. “And don’t go out onto the balcony alone.”

Selena watched him, knowing he was only concerned for her safety. And because of that concern, he looked a bit wild and disheveled, and about as hyper as she was right now. She needed to be kind and at least grateful, even if she did feel trapped by CHAIM’s need to always be on the lookout for danger.

“I won’t go out onto the porch, I promise. Even if that balcony does remind me of Romeo and Juliet.”

He whirled, his hands on his hips, his eyes moving over her. “I put you here because I remembered that you liked the balcony, but you’re also safer on this level and it’s not that far from my suite down the hall—if you need me.” He left that statement hanging in the air for a few seconds, then asked, “Are you all settled in, then?”

She took in the big room with the oversized antique furnishings and the striking Sir Frank Dicksee painting over the bed. It depicted a knight and his lady—La Belle Dame sans Merci. The irony of that vivid portrait weighed on her soul tonight. The beautiful one without mercy. Was she betraying Brice by not being completely honest with him?

“I’m nicely settled,” she replied, hoping her tone sounded neutral and upbeat. “And I didn’t mean what I said earlier about this being a Tudor-style prison. Your home has always been comfortable.”

His brow furrowed. “But?”

“But, Brice, I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’m not used to such close observation. This happened so suddenly, my head is still spinning. You’ll have to give me a little time to get adjusted to this new arrangement.”

“Take all the time you need—just be careful and stay alert.”

“I’ve always been careful and alert, especially when I was working down in Argentina. But this is different.”

He put his hands on his hips in that Brice way she knew so well, his head lowered as he gazed over at her. “You feel as if your life had been taken from you?”

She nodded, then sank down on a bronze-colored brocade loveseat tossed with burgundy and gold pillows. “Yes. I’m a nurse. That’s what I do. I don’t understand how these ruthless criminals could possibly hold that against me. I’m all about saving people, not destroying them.”

He came over to sit beside her. “They don’t like us having a presence down there, luv. They can’t get away with their dirty work if we get in the way.” He leaned back, fatigue pulling at his features. “It would help with our investigation here if you could remember something, anything that might have provoked this attack.”

Selena glanced toward her bag, wondering why she couldn’t just show Brice what she’d found and tell him her suspicions, maybe tell him about her own independent investigation. But what if she was wrong? That would open up a whole new set of problems. Better to wait until the right time to figure this out, if ever. “I don’t know,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. “It all happened so fast. One day we were going about our business, examining patients, and the next, this gang of militants came crashing through the jungle and out into the village to destroy what we’d worked so hard to build, not only our physical buildings but the trust of the natives, too. I’m sure the camp is gone by now since everyone abandoned it the minute the shooting started. Even me.”

Brice’s finger on her chin brought her head around. “I haven’t told you this because I didn’t want you to worry, but I sent reinforcements down there to help the locals. They got as many of them to safety as they could. But you’re right, most had scattered and couldn’t be found.” Rubbing his finger down her cheek with a feathery touch, he said, “I did try, cara. I did it for you. And I did it because it’s not my nature to leave any innocents behind.”

“Oh, Brice.” Selena pulled him close, hugging him tight as she’d done so many times in her life. But this time, this time when she lifted her head, her eyes meeting his, a surge of longing and need rushed through her, a feeling that was both foreign and familiar, both joyful and frightening. And from the shattered, searching look in Brice’s eyes, he felt the same. Bewildered, Selena pulled away. “I appreciate that. The villagers have been on my mind. I wish—”

“I know what you wish, but you can’t go back there. Not now, maybe not ever.” He got up, as if the awareness they’d just felt had scorched him with its power. He paced, as was his nature, his hands fidgety, his eyes flashing. He pushed at his tousled hair. “Right now, we have to focus on finding out who tampered with your car. I’m thinking it was either a pipe bomb or some sort of backpack hidden underneath the chassis. Once we know for sure, we move from there. Maybe it will be local and a random thing, but I doubt that. I’m pretty sure it was a message from Los Andedores del Noche—”

“The Night Walkers,” Selena translated, recalling the notorious Brazilian gang of smugglers. “They never bothered us before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, luv. Especially when criminals are involved.”

A cold reality seeped over Selena while she watched Brice trying to focus on the problem at hand. He wasn’t ready to get any closer to her because he had a job to do—and this time the job involved her. He’d always taken his CHAIM oath very seriously and this had caused Selena to never take him seriously—as anything other than a good friend. They were still that—just good friends. She was projecting her fears into something more—this strong bond between them would naturally grow in the midst of all this danger. But Brice would always put duty first. She’d be wise to remember that.

“What about you?” she asked to hide her disappointment and this unfamiliar longing. “Don’t you need to get back to Ireland and Whelan Wool?”

“Whelan Wool runs itself,” he replied, his pacing only adding to her awareness of him. “I have the best management team in the world and I’ll be in constant contact with them, no doubt. They’re used to me being absent a lot.”

“But you love the shearing season, Brice. You love getting down and dirty and working along with your men.”

“Aye, that I do. But I love—” He stopped, his gaze moving over the room, one hand lifting out in the air. “But I have a responsibility to you right now, and besides, it’s a couple of months before shearing starts back up. So don’t you worry about any of this.”

“While you take on the burden?” she asked, seeing him in a whole new light. Or rather, seeing the light that shined through his character much more clearly now.

“You’re no burden, cara. None a’tall.”

With that, he bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Sleep well, princess. And say your prayers.”

And then he left her sitting there, staring after him with her guilt and her secrets pressing on her soul.

Brice couldn’t sleep. So he walked the perimeters of the property, checking on concealed cameras, securing already secure high fences. This rambling old house had belonged to his mother’s side of the family for close to one hundred years. After his father died a few years ago, Adele had immediately come home to Atlanta. She could always be found here when she wasn’t traveling or visiting Whelan Castle in western Ireland.

Adele loved the castle and its rich heritage, but unlike Brice, she couldn’t stay there in seclusion for months on end. And while she supported Whelan Wool and traveled as a spokesperson to promote the farm and their mills, she would never understand Brice’s need to work with his hands on the land that had been in his family for centuries. That didn’t matter to Brice. He didn’t mind living in two worlds. His CHAIM duties had him traveling all over the world anyway.

So besides the obvious, he couldn’t figure out why he was so on edge tonight. He longed to be back in Ireland, working the farm, watching his sheep dogs, Greta and Piper, corner a herd of blackface ewes and yearlings to help him bring them down from the mountains. Okay, so he missed Ireland; that was nothing new. And while he loved the cosmopolitan energy and urban intensity of Atlanta, his time here now wasn’t turning out to be a relaxing, fun visit.

He stopped, the dark night surrounding him as a thousand nocturnal sounds assaulted his senses. Living near the Chattahoochee River made for interesting late-night walks. But tonight even the creatures scurrying and singing all around him couldn’t put Brice on such high alert. No, something else was nagging at his soul right now.

Yes, he was worried. About Selena. About these nasty people who seemed determined to scare her and possibly harm her. But there was something else hanging like a loose vine near his consciousness. And Brice wouldn’t sleep until he could pinpoint that something else.

So he walked and listened and went over everything in his mind. Selena’s SUV had been bombed in a bad area of downtown Atlanta, and a few hours later, an unusual sound had come from the back of Brice’s estate north of the city. The bombing was surely a cause for concern, but something about the incident tonight bugged Brice. Charles was a naturalist and outdoorsman. That man knew every kind of bird call and every kind of animal cry in Georgia and beyond. So why had he been so spooked by what he’d heard tonight?

And what about Selena? She’d been as shaky as Charles by the time they’d taken the golf cart back to the house. At the time, Brice had chalked it up to the events of the day. But now…he had to wonder if he’d missed something.

Selena was usually very cool under pressure, especially when she was with a patient. She was a top-notch R.N., one of the best. But tonight, she’d been too skittish when she’d examined Charles. Normally, she would have insisted on getting her patient to a doctor. Maybe Charles had convinced her differently, or maybe she’d been too flustered to think straight.

Brice stopped again, then looked up toward the room where a light still burned. Selena’s room. She was trapped up there like a princess in a castle. And her fears seemed trapped inside her memories and her mind.

Then he understood. She wasn’t telling him everything. He could sense that each time he asked her about her memories. He’d interrogated enough people in his life to know when someone was being evasive. And he’d noticed a sense of guilt floating like an aura all around Selena each time he asked her for more details. Was Selena withholding information on purpose? Or was she just confused and scared?

Why would she hide things from him, of all people?

Maybe because she didn’t want him to find out the truth?

That was the thing. Selena and he had shared a lot during their years as friends. What would make her clam up now, when he needed to know everything in order to help her? It didn’t make sense.

Unless she was trying to protect someone else.

He thought of a James Joyce poem—“Alone.” “The sly reeds whisper in the night. A name—her name—”

Selena. That was the name calling to him tonight.

Brice grunted, kicked at the soft grass at his feet. He didn’t like being so helpless and feeling so alone. He needed answers. But how could he get those answers if the woman he was trying to protect didn’t want to tell him the truth? What could be so scary or so important that she felt the need to keep it to herself?

Saying a prayer for help from a higher source, Brice took a long, calming breath and asked God to guide him. Then he stared up at the big bay window and wondered what secrets Selena had brought home from Argentina.

And he wondered how he’d ever convince her to let go of those secrets so he could help her and protect her.

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