Secret Agent Minister (8 page)

Pastor Dev put one hand on her chin. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Lydia. Please forgive me.”

And then Lydia felt the warm wash of water hitting her in the face, along with Pastor Dev’s hands on her shoulders, holding her under the shower spray.

“Let me go,” she cried out, the lukewarm water merging with the agony racing down her body. Her skin was raw with pain and heat, tears were streaming down her face, and she wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe. So she tried to pound that thought into him as she hit against his chest. “Let me go.”

But he didn’t let her go.

Instead, he got inside the open shower with her, both of them fully clothed, and held her so tightly that soon they were both completely soaked, too.

Lydia looked at him, sobs moving throughout her body, the sensation of being burned alive clawing at her flesh. “What’s wrong with me? What did they do to me?”

He held her face in his hands, his eyes focused on hers. “Listen to me. You’re going to be all right, Lydia. I promise. I promise.”

“You always promise so much,” she said, angry now. Angry with him, and with CHAIM, and with the world in general. “You always promise, but…I’m hurting. I’m hurting.” She realized she was screaming now, but she didn’t care. “So don’t make me any more promises, all right?”

“All right,” he said, his voice low and calm, even though his eyes blazed with the same tears and frustrations she felt. And the same rage. “All right. No more promises.”

And then he kissed her.

H
e’d had no other choice, Dev kept telling himself as he kissed Lydia, and he kept right on kissing her long after she’d stopped pounding her tiny fists into his chest. Long after she’d slumped against him and settled into his embrace. He probably would have continued, since her lips had gone warm and tender, if they hadn’t been interrupted by their gray-haired friend.

“You must leave. Now!”

That urgent command brought Dev back to full alert. And made him realize that once again, he’d been distracted enough to put Lydia in even more danger. But she had been near hysterics, so what else could he have done? He wouldn’t strike a woman. Kissing her quiet had seemed the best plan at the time. But now…

Their helper turned off the water and tossed a big towel at Lydia. “Get her out of there.”

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked, her eyes dazed, her skin flushed. Chill bumps dotted her arms.

Dev pulled her out onto the tiled floor and tugged the big pink towel around her ruined dress. “C’mon, Lydia. We have to get you some medical help.”

“I’m all wet.”

“We’ll take care of that later. How do you feel?”

“I’m better. I think.”

Her big eyes sent him a look that said they’d have to talk about things later. Much later. She was shaken by that kiss. And shocked, no doubt. It hadn’t been the most proper thing to do—kiss his secretary. Or his administrative assistant, as Lydia liked to be called.

“Hurry,” the gray-haired man said, urging them toward the door.

“How many?” Dev asked, glancing out the tiny bathroom window, his hands guiding Lydia forward.

“Four. They pulled up in a dark BMW, then fanned out.”

“Did you recognize any of them?”

“No, dear boy, I’m afraid I didn’t. If they’re associated with CHAIM in any way, it’s news to me. But they didn’t stop for an introduction.”

“Let’s go,” Dev said, giving his friend a nod that he was ready. “Lydia, hold on to my back and don’t let go.”

Lydia grasped his ruined jacket with a weak grip, as if she didn’t have the strength to hold on. “Don’t let go,” he told her. He had to know she was right behind him at all times. “Got it?”

She nodded, her hands clutching the wet black wool, her eyes big with fear and fatigue.

“This way,” the man said, guiding them out yet another door to a hallway. “This leads to the kitchen and then the yard beyond. Follow the hedge and stay in the shadows. There is a delivery truck waiting at the back entrance, right past the service gate. Get in it. I have people in place to hold them off, but only for a brief time.”

“Who are you?” Lydia asked, lifting her head toward the man as Dev dragged her down the narrow hallway.

The man leading them smiled behind his mask. “Me? They call me The Peacemaker.” He shot a glance at Dev. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Dev nodded. He’d heard all right. They’d sent in a big gun to help him out of this mess. That could either be good or bad, depending on the outcome of this operation. And right now, that outcome didn’t bode well for any of them.

“‘Blessed be the peacemakers,’” Lydia said, her voice monotone and quiet. “‘For they shall be called sons of God.’”

Dev prayed she wasn’t going into shock. “I have to get her to a poison control center.”

“You will have the proper help waiting in the truck,” The Peacemaker assured him. “Kissie did her research and found an antidote to the pesticide, then she sent the truck to fetch you. The antidote is with the driver. Just get it into her system as quickly as you can.”

They’d reached the butler’s pantry leading into the long, modern kitchen. The Peacemaker checked to make sure no one was around. “I’ve distracted the caterers. You have just enough time to make a run for it.” He opened the back door, then motioned them through.

Dev turned on the porch. “Who’s really behind this?”

The Peacemaker looked down at the floor. “We’re still not sure. But we’re beginning to think it has something to do with the South American rescue that went bad a few years ago.”

Dev let out a sigh. “The one Eli Trudeau—The Disciple—was involved in?”

“Yes. And we both know how that ended.”

“But we still don’t know if it’s Eli, or someone else trying to get to me? We made a lot of enemies down there.”

“Yes, we did. We’ll keep searching until we have an answer, but everything we’ve found so far indicates The Disciple. We won’t make a move until we’re sure, of course. Meantime, you have your orders. I suggest you follow them to the letter.”

Dev tugged Lydia close. “Eagle Rock.”

“Hurry.”

Dev looked back. “What about you?”

“Me? My dear boy, I was never here.”

With that, The Peacemaker jumped off the porch and disappeared into the New Orleans night.

Lydia clung to Dev, then looked toward the shadowy path. “He never even took off his mask.”

Dev didn’t bother waving goodbye to The Peacemaker. They’d meet again before this was over, he was sure. He pulled Lydia away from the muted light coming from the crowded house. When he glanced back, he thought he saw something move just beyond the corner of the house.

“Lydia,” he whispered close, “if I say run, you take off and don’t look back.”

“Will I turn into stone?” she quipped, but her voice sounded weak and shaky.

“Just don’t look back. I mean it. Someone is following us.”

Lydia moaned, but she kept moving. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to stop whoever it is. I want you near, but not harmed. If things go bad, you have to get to the truck and hope our man is inside. The code word is Eagle Rock. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, here goes,” Dev said, shoving her into a clump of hydrangea bushes, his body shielding hers. He waited, watching as the dark form crept along the shrubbery line. He had to take out the weapon first. With a practiced ease that surprised him since he’d been out of CHAIM for so long, Dev positioned himself in the shadows, then pounced hard, his foot lifting into a powerful kick toward the sleek handgun in the stranger’s grasp.

The gun flew out into the air. The assailant grabbed his arm, then went into fight mode. Dev was ready with a second swift kick to the man’s midsection, followed by a focused chop to his neck. The dark stranger fell into a clump by Dev’s feet.

“Go,” Dev whispered to Lydia, pushing her ahead of him. He glanced back once to make sure no other assailants were behind them. But The Peacemaker should have had a way of stopping assailants, and Dev figured his superior had taken care of the others by now.

Once they reached the dark alley, Dev turned to check on Lydia. “How are you?”

“Cold and wet,” she said, pushing damp strands of hair off her face. “And I guess my makeup is ruined, huh?”

“You look fine,” he told her. “But you’re not out of the woods yet. We have to make sure the pesticides didn’t get too far into your system.”

“I’m not itching nearly as much now. But it’s still hard to breathe.”

“We’ll take care of that.” He gave her a quick hug, then turned to look up and down the alley for the truck. “There’s our ride,” he said, tugging Lydia by the arm. She had to hold on to the big towel to keep from tripping over it.

“I wish I had my Easy Spirits,” she said. “These shoes are not made for quick getaways.”

Glad her wry sense of humor was back, Dev looked down at her wet strappy high heels. “Just a few more steps. Once we get settled, we’ll find dry clothes.” He almost said “I promise” but then he remembered Lydia’s heated words to him earlier.

And his to her. “No more promises.”

He wouldn’t promise her anything beyond each moment he could keep her alive. He’d just silently ask God to help him make that happen.
Please, Lord,
help me. Keep her safe. Give her the promise of Your protection. Please
.

As they approached the big truck from behind, Dev held a finger to his lips, warning Lydia to stay quiet. He stood her beside the truck, then swiftly opened the driver’s side door. “Where does the eagle dwell?” he asked the man he now had by the throat.

“It dwells on the rock,” said the frightened man, “and resides on the crag of the rock and the stronghold.”

“How do we get to the eagle?”

“Eagle’s Rock, sir.”

“We need to get out of here,” Dev replied. Then he let the man go. “I’m The Pastoral.”

“I’ve heard of you, sir,” the young driver said. “I’m David. Nice to finally meet you.”

“I wish we had time to chat,” Dev replied, shaking the younger man’s hand. Then he made a quick sweep of the shadows. “But I have to get this woman to safety.”

“I understand. Climb into the back.”

Dev nodded, then turned to Lydia. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

“Why the back?” she asked as he lifted her over the open flatbed with wooden, slitted panes on each side. “Wouldn’t it be much nicer to ride inside with the driver?”

“Perhaps, but it would be much more dangerous.”

Looking resigned, Lydia held her towel and dress and quickly climbed up onto the truck.

Dev hopped in after her, then glanced around. “Hay. Wonderful.”

“And watermelons,” Lydia said, the big towel held tightly around her. “I hope I don’t start sneezing.”

“You’re allergic to watermelons?” he asked, hoping to at least lighten the moment a bit.

“No, silly. Hay.” She grinned, then looked sad all over again.

Because of him, Dev thought. Because he’d brought her to this point.

“The hay and watermelons help to shield us from bullets,” he explained. “We can hide back here much better than sitting up front. But if you’re feeling worse—”

“I’ll be all right,” she said, her head down, her breath coming hard in spite of her efforts to be calm.

Dev hated the way she seemed to be slipping into defeat. He couldn’t let Lydia give up. He hadn’t. Not yet.

They sank into a corner near the cab of the big vehicle. Dev tugged her down, made sure she was covered, then knocked on the window.

The driver opened the panel. “Yes, sir?”

“Antidotes? Do you have any antidotes or a first-aid kit? I was told we’d have help for the poison in Miss Cantrell’s system.”

“Yes, sir,” the young man said. He shoved a small package through the window. “We ran a research based on the information from Miss Kissie. There’s an injection inside this pack.”

“A shot?” Lydia said, sitting straight up against the wood-paneled truck. “I hate shots.”

“I have to do this, Lydia,” Dev told her. “To make you well.”

“But I feel better now.”

He hated the fear in her eyes. “But we have to be sure.”

David cut his gaze toward the house. “And we need to hurry.”

Dev quickly prepared the syringe, then looked over at Lydia. “I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.”

“Famous last words.” But she held out her arm like a soldier about to be executed.

“I have to give it to you in your thigh,” Dev explained, trying to sound calm.

Lydia let out a breath, then extended one of her legs. “Just get it over with, please.”

Dev worked quickly and efficiently, thankful for the hours of training and fieldwork he’d had to school him for this. Lydia closed her eyes and let out a little groan as the needle penetrated her skin.

“How was that?” he asked as he pulled the damp towel back over her leg.

“I hardly felt a thing.” But her eyes were still squeezed shut.

“You might become drowsy, but you’ll be able to breathe much better soon.” Dev tapped the window. “Let’s get out of here.”

David cranked the truck and they were off. The jostling caused Dev to fall toward Lydia, but as he tried to right himself, she reached out to grab his arm. “Stay close,” she said. “Please?”

Her soft words were filled with a vulnerability that tore at his heart, and again, Dev felt the guilt of her fears washing over him. He had to take care of her, get her to a safe place. Then he’d find whoever was chasing them and take care of matters himself, if need be.

The way Eli did?

That question shot through his head like the glare of a rocket. Because of Lydia, Dev would have to be very careful to do things by the book.

So he scooted over to the corner and pulled her into his arms, holding her and making sure the damp towel had her covered for now. “Rest,” he said into her ear. “Just rest.”

He remembered telling her that the very first night they’d been on the run. Had that really been only a couple of days ago? As he held her, cushioning her with each bounce and shift of the big truck, he thought about how their relationship had gone from employee and employer to friends, and now, to something much more intimate and intense.

Now, they were two people on the run, forced together under extreme circumstances. And Dev had once again become the protector, because Lydia was dear to him and someone was trying to kill her. He’d keep running in order to save her.

Now, he’d breached all decorum and protocol and broken all the rules. He’d kissed her. And he wanted to kiss her again. But that couldn’t happen.

He’d hurt her too many times already.

And how would Lydia feel when they reached the end of the line? Would she still be his friend—his treasured friend—or would she hate him forever?

I’m hurting.
How could he ever forget her angry face, the pain in her beautiful eyes, or those words she’d hurled at him? He never would forget. And he certainly couldn’t forget that kiss they’d shared.

I’m hurting, too, Lydia,
he thought now as he pulled her head down onto his chest.
I’m hurting for you, and for what might have been…for us.

Lydia woke with a start, the smell of diesel fuel permeating her nose. Glancing around, she looked up into bright sunshine and Pastor Dev’s haggard but handsome face. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he said, helping her to sit up. They were still in the back of the watermelon truck.

“Where are we?” she asked, squinting into the sun. The road was busy and multilaned, an interstate. Then she saw signs for Austin. “We’re in Texas?”