Perfect Stranger (8 page)

Jericho turned his attention to the man.
"The woman and I, we are being hunted by Islamic extremists," he
told him. He raked a hand over his head. "My team and I had
uncovered a compound the hostiles were training in before leaking
their people into the United States. The mission went south the
night I was separated from my team. Chloe helped me escape when I
was captured, unknowing of the danger she put herself in. They've
been on our tails ever since."

Carvalho nodded slowly. "And what about the
woman? Do you trust her?"

Jericho clenched his jaw, not liking to yet
again to feel censured for doing what was right. "I have no reason
to not trust her. Like I said, she helped me, and now they surely
want her as dead as they want me. I will not leave her to face them
alone so I can move more freely."

Carvalho sighed hard. "I spent many years in
the service. You don’t have to explain to me the whys of their
reasoning for wanting her done with." He paused. "I merely meant,
having a woman as a distraction in the field … her presence serves
no good." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, letting it go. "I'll
need your photos. Probably best if you masquerade as a married
couple."

Jericho nodded. "You have any information on
the leak in Brazil?" he asked, casting an anxious stare on his
host.

Carvalho ticked his head to the left and
then sat back, his hands on his knees. He blew out a long breath.
"Heard about an agent gone rogue, working both sides from the
Middle East. No names, just heard he has ties over there.
Connections."

That wasn’t anything surprising. Problem
was, there were too many heads to pick from. Yet, that information
was a mark against one particular handler he knew. "Heard the name
Conyers mentioned any?"

Carvalho shook his head. "No."

A tiny muscle leapt under Jericho's eye, but
he forced himself to ask the one question he dreaded. "What about
MacKall? You heard that name anywhere?"

Again, Carvalho shook his
head no. "Wish I had heard more, but I am retired. I rarely hear
anything anymore. My suggestion is to get back Stateside where you
will
both
be
safer. Go to Langley."

Jericho released a pent up breath. He didn’t
know what he might have done if Carvalho had said he knew of
MacKall.

"Stay the night here," Carvalho said. "In
the morning, go to the airport. Get the woman to safety. You can do
no more in Brazil for your men. You do more if you go." Carvalho
fixed a sage look on Jericho. "And the woman, before I photo her
for the passport and ID, cut her hair. If they've seen her as you
say, the long hair is too identifying."

Jericho groaned.

Carvalho chuckled. "The wife will help
her."

Jericho pushed his hands through his hair.
Carvalho was right. There was nothing he could do here except risk
his and Chloe's lives the longer they stayed.

For Chloe's sake, they had to leave Brazil
tomorrow.

Chapter Six

1900 hours, Saturday

Barbacena, Brazil

Chloe stepped from the hot shower,
refreshed. However, as she wiped the fog from the medicine cabinet
mirror, she twisted her lips at the sight of her new haircut. She
rubbed the towel over her head, mussing her new style. Her hair
tickled her shoulders when it fell back into place, as did the
side-swept bangs on her forehead when she brushed them into place
with her fingers.

She hadn't had short hair since she was
five. Jericho had been hesitant to tell her she would have to cut
her long locks and why. Because the length was too familiar to
their enemy. She was honestly surprised he hadn’t suggested she dye
her hair, too, though because her hair was already so dark, a boxed
color wouldn’t have done the job.

She didn’t think she had given him the
all-out fight he had been prepared for. The man had seemed ready to
offer her anything if she would just cut her hair. Chloe smiled,
remembering the boyish uncertainty about him in the conversation he
had clearly not wanted to have. He had allowed her to keep her hair
at shoulder level, just long enough for a ponytail.

Chloe quickly finished a rough,
accessory-less toilette and then pulled on her clothes and
boots.

As she walked back into the living area,
smells from the kitchen assaulted her nose and made her stomach
clench. She rounded the corner to peep into the kitchen.

"
Mmm
, what is that?" she
asked.

Mrs. Carvalho laughed cheekily. "That is the
arroz com pequi you smell. The dish is made of rice and a savory
fruit called pequi. This is a most loved recipe for the fruit. The
dish comes from my home state of Goiás. You will love it," the
older woman told her.

"I think I already do." Chloe smiled.

"Come and eat. I've just finished." As the
woman took the large, steamy bowl to the table and set it beside a
dish of roasted, glazed pork, Mrs. Carvalho called for her husband
and boys.

A moment later, Jericho and Miguél emerged
from the downstairs basement where Chloe had taken her photos
earlier. As they all sat at the table, they prayed over their food.
The Carvalhos were a strict Roman Catholic family, and the youngest
son led them in the mealtime prayer. The meal made her miss home.
Every Sunday her family met at her grandmother's for lunch, and
they always prayed, too.

The meal was as satisfying as the
conversation around the table, and afterward Chloe helped Mrs.
Carvalho clean up while the children begged to play a game.
Exasperated, their mother agreed, but only if their guests did,
too.

"I've never turned down a
card game," Jericho told the boys. They squealed and clapped and
raced for the card deck, setting up for
Buraco
, a rummy game with
similarities to canasta, highly favored in Brazil.

Chloe teamed up with one child, Mrs.
Carvalho with the other, and then Jericho and Miguél. The men
thought it very humorous they defeated the women a short time
later.

The warm, cheery house kept Chloe's fears at
bay for a time.

After the children picked up the cards, Mrs.
Carvalho sent her boys off to bed with a kiss, then sashayed over
to a record player and flipped the out-dated machine on. Samba
began to gently spill from the speaker, growing livelier.

"Oh, turn that mess off. Our guests do not
care to hear our music at this hour." Miguél scoffed at his wife.
"They've had a long day."

"A long
few
days," Jericho said,
stretching back in his chair, watching Chloe as she
stood.

"I've actually come to really like Samba,"
Chloe told them.

"Come,
senhorita
, let me show you the
moves." Mrs. Carvalho beckoned Chloe.

When Chloe began to sway and twist her hips
to the music, lifting her arms over her head to snap her fingers,
her audience whistled in surprise.

"
Muito
,
muito
good, Miss Chloe." Mrs.
Carvalho clapped.

Chloe continued through the song, laughing,
and having—surprisingly—the first good time since she had been in
Brazil. It wasn't until the song ended and Miguél rose to turn the
player off himself that Chloe caught Jericho's intent stare. She
smiled a little sheepishly, and he turned his hooded stare to the
floor.

It took Miguél insisting Mrs. Carvalho, a
lively spirit willing to make any occasion a party, seek her bed
for the woman to go. Chloe waved goodnight to her as she went. She
really liked Mrs. Carvalho, yet the woman's antics now had her
wide-awake when she should be exhausted.

Chloe slipped outside
though a sliding glass door and onto the patio off the dining room.
The night air was balmy and sweet from a
Tabebuia
tree near the
porch.

The Carvalhos had a decent home, a wonderful
family atmosphere, and it was hard to believe they were in any way
tied into the situation she and Jericho were in. They were such a
nice family.

Chloe flinched at the warm palm on the bare
skin of her arm, and she turned to look over her shoulder. She
smiled up at Jericho, but then turned her gaze back out into the
landscape of the backyard.

"Do you not trust me to not run away?" she
asked him.

"It's not that. I don’t feel comfortable
with you out of my sight. It's not safe out here. I honestly don’t
know who might be lurking around the next corner."

Chloe nodded and turned close to Jericho's
side as he leaned on the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles
and his arms over his chest.

"It seems safe enough here," she said.

Jericho shrugged. "I don't think we've been
followed, but you never know."

"Is that why you decided to stay here?"

He nodded. "That, and it's close to the
airport. We are fortunate for Carvalhos’s generosity."

"Yes." Chloe slowly nodded in agreement.

A warm breeze caressed them on the porch
then, and Chloe took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When the
light wind had died away, she reopened her eyes. Jericho was
looking across the yard now. She regarded him a moment, curiously.
She didn’t even know where he was from. She didn't know anything
about him.

"When we get out of Brazil, if we do, where
will you go?" she asked.

He looked down at her from the corner of his
eye. "Fort Bragg."

"Is that home for you? Where are you
from?"

He smiled faintly. "That's as home as it
gets for me. I was a military brat, so I'm from all over." He
shrugged nonchalantly. "Georgia is where my parents settled. We
spent more time there than anywhere, but they're gone now."

Chloe flinched, frowning. "I'm sorry," she
said quietly. "Don't you have any other family?"

He shook his head. "Nope. That's why I
joined."

"Do you have a girl back at Fort Bragg?"
Chloe asked.

Jericho snorted. "My love-life went south
when I chose this career. The lifestyle doesn’t allow for much time
to invest in another person." He laughed a little uneasily. "What
about you?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose. "Nope. No girls
back home for me either." She chuckled, cutting an impish look up
at him. He shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he
tried not to smile. She rather hoped he let the question go.

"You know what I meant," he said.

"No." Chloe sobered, crossing her arms and
leaning at the railing, too. "No one for me, not anymore." She
cringed as they clearly toed the line of going into her past, and
she instantly regretted approaching this subject of significant
others. She really wasn’t even sure why she had asked him such a
personal question anyway.

Jericho leaned in, ever so slightly. "Is
that why you're in Brazil?"

Chloe swallowed the panic rising up.
"Kinda."

"Hmm." Jericho rubbed his jaw as he studied
her. "Come to Brazil to hunt him down?" he asked.

Chloe laughed, though the sound came out
somewhat forced. "No."

"Ran away to Brazil to get away from him?"
He winced at her pained look. "Sorry, I hit a sensitive spot
there." He studied her then, his brow pinching together.

Chloe lowered her gaze to the wooden slats
of the porch. "I came to Brazil on what should have been my
honeymoon, to run away from the fact that my groom deserted me at
the altar because he had already married another woman." Chloe felt
the pain rising up, choking her. She started to flee, to go back
inside, pushing off the rail, but Jericho caught her arm.

He stood, stepping out to circle around her.
His back to the light, she could see him very clearly. "Chloe, I'm
sorry. I wouldn’t have pressed. It's just, I really didn’t think it
was anything like that," he said.

She tried to smile. "It's
okay. That's all over and done with anyway." She paused. It felt
good to get some of this off her chest, even if to a most unlikely
listener. "My youngest sister suggested I take the trip to clear my
head." She gave Jericho's raised brows a little laugh. "Yeah, she
doesn't know what she's in for when I get back home.
If
I get back home," she
muttered.

Jericho half-smiled, but didn’t give her any
other reassurance.

Chloe sighed hard. "My
other sister is probably still trying to make
his
life hell. She was on the
warpath to seek all kinds or retribution when I left. I just wanted
away from it all. I guess I thought I would find something if I
came here. Some peace, relaxation. Some reassurance, maybe? What he
did…" She laid her hand over her broken heart. "What he did left me
so hurt and insecure. There is no excuse for anyone to treat
another person that way. He could have ended our engagement, called
off the wedding. I still don’t understand why he let me go all the
way up to the wedding day believing everything was as it should
be." She stopped herself, looking back up at Jericho. "He was very
cruel."

Jericho's jaw ticked, and he clenched his
teeth. "You have nothing to be insecure about. Some men can be real
asses." When silence began to fill in around them, he asked, "So, a
good sister, a badass sister … where does Chloe fit in?" He reached
out and tucked a shortened strand of hair behind her ear, trailing
a finger along her jaw, lifting so her stare met his.

Chloe shrugged as she looked into his
darkened gaze. His touch caused a tingle along her jaw. "In the
middle somewhere, I guess."

"Not too gentle, not too mean. Good place to
be." He stepped back. "My plan is to go to the airport tomorrow and
use our new IDs to get to the U.S. I'll see you back to those
sisters of yours."