The Reunion Mission (9 page)

Knowing he was sleeping in the next room, Nicole had spent hours staring at the ceiling last night, wishing she could curl up next to his muscular body. Imagining a young Daniel growing up within these walls and becoming the mysterious man he was today had teased her brain in the late hours. The idea of living under the same roof with Daniel for who knows how many days made her skin feel too tight and her blood hot.

She shifted her gaze to Jake, a rugged, incredible-looking man in his own right, yet the powerfully built, sandy-haired pilot didn’t stir Nicole’s deepest passion the way Daniel did—and always had.

Pilar poked at her oatmeal and sent Nicole a sad look.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,
mija.
” The gray-beige goop reminded her, too, of the gruel they’d eaten in the jungle. Nicole shoved her bowl away and pushed her chair from the table.

The sights and sounds of the attack at her father’s house flickered in her memory, and Nicole shuddered. If she hadn’t gone to check on Pilar when she had yesterday, would the men have succeeded in kidnapping her? And why had she left the girl alone in the first place?

She’d assumed her father’s house was safe. Why wouldn’t it be? How could she have known such terrible men were already on their trail?

The questions pounded at her temples. What she and Pilar needed was an activity to keep them busy, something to distract them from thoughts of the men who’d attacked them. Cleaning the safe house topped that list.

Nicole raked her hair back from her face and remembered the picture of Mario Castillo she’d received just before the attack yesterday. The photo was still folded in the pocket of her pants. “Wait here,” she told Pilar.
“Espérate aquí.”

She hurried to the bedroom to retrieve the crumpled picture, then smoothing the paper against her chest as she returned, she sat next to Pilar and laid the photo on the table. “Do you know this man?” she asked. “
Conoces a este hombre?
”

Pilar leaned forward to examine the photo, and her eyes widened, lighting with happiness.
“Papi!”

Daniel and Jake glanced over from their huddle.

A thrill raced through Nicole, not only hearing Pilar speak at last, but seeing the pure joy and longing on the girl’s face. She smiled and nodded, pulling Pilar into a hug. “Good. That’s so wonderful.”

“May I see that?” Daniel asked, holding a hand out.

Nicole passed him the crumpled sheet. “That’s the judge who’s in hiding. Mario Castillo. That picture had just been faxed to my father’s home office yesterday when the men attacked. So we have our confirmation of who she is.
Whose
she is.”

Daniel studied the photo a moment, then passed it to Jake. “Will you see if—”

“I’m on it.” Jake shot Daniel a smug grin as he interrupted. “Do you want me to bring him here when I find him or meet you somewhere?”

Nicole cleared her throat. “Um, gentlemen. May I remind you that I already have the Colombian and U.S. embassies working on this? They’re the ones who faxed me the photo and got in touch with Castillo yesterday.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair and angled his stubbled chin as he regarded her. He lifted one eyebrow. “And may I remind you that your contacts are likely the ones responsible for leaking Pilar’s location to the men who tried to kill you? Until we know what and who we are dealing with, Jake will be doing our legwork in Colombia, looking for Castillo.”

His gaze hardened to a scowl as he glanced at his injured knee, and Nicole didn’t need to ask how he felt about relying on his teammate to do his fieldwork while he babysat them and nursed his bum leg. Sympathy she was sure he wanted no part of tugged at her. He’d already sacrificed so much for her and Pilar, but losing his mobility—and therefore his position on his black ops team—had to be the hardest for him to accept.

The men finished their discussion, and Jake headed out to buy supplies. Daniel patched the raccoon hole in Pilar’s bedroom, leaving the attic repair for when Jake could help him, then moved to the living room where he began cleaning his guns.

Nicole cleared away their untouched breakfast and turned to the girl who now clutched the faxed photo of her father close to her chest. “Well, we might as well start our cleaning in the kitchen.” She found a rag and turned on the faucet at the sink. The water that sputtered out was a rusty shade of brown and smelled like eggs. Nicole wrinkled her nose and glanced at Pilar. “Yuck.”

Pilar scrunched her nose, too.

After running the water for a few minutes, the accumulated dirt and smell in the pipes cleared enough that Nicole felt comfortable using the water with some liquid soap she found in a cabinet to wash the dishes and wipe the counters, table and chairs. As they worked, Nicole continued the quasi game she’d played with Pilar in their cage in Colombia. Moving through the kitchen, she pointed to objects and told Pilar the English name for each item. Though Pilar never repeated the words, her bright eyes reflected intelligence, and Nicole felt sure the child was soaking the information in.

They’d nearly finished wiping down the kitchen and all the pans when Oreo sauntered in, tail twitching and something furry in his mouth. Nicole jumped back with a screech.

Startled, Oreo dropped his prize. The white fuzzy thing didn’t move.

Daniel scrambled from the living room into the kitchen, his gun at the ready. “What happened?”

“Oreo had something in his mouth….” Nicole nudged the wooly thing with her toe, realizing it was a toy. “At first, I thought it was alive. Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

Pilar picked up the toy, a small stuffed lamb that looked like it came from a child’s fast food meal, and held it out for Oreo to sniff.

“Hey, where’d he get that?” Daniel asked. “Lamby was mine when I was a kid.”

“Lamby?” Nicole’s cheek twitched with a grin.

“Cut me some slack. I was five.” Daniel stepped closer to reach for the lamb, but Oreo swatted at the small stuffed animal and snagged it with his claw. “Hey,
minou,
gimme—”

Pilar giggled as Oreo batted Lamby across the floor, and she chased down the hall after the cat.

Nicole covered a laugh. “If Lamby is an heirloom you want protected, I’ll get it back from Oreo….”

“Pfft.” Daniel waved a hand and sighed. “It’s a cat toy now.”

Nicole cocked her head and tried to read Daniel’s expression. “But if it’s important to you...”

Daniel hitched his head toward the hall where Pilar played with Oreo, giggling. “Listen to her. That’s more important than some old dusty toy.”

Nicole’s heart swelled, and smiling warmly, she caught Daniel’s gaze with her own, held it. “That’s the Daniel I remember.”

Something in his hard gaze shifted, softened, but before Daniel could reply, Jake burst through the back door, his arms loaded with bags. “Ho, ho, ho. Santa came early this year.” Jake set the bags on the kitchen table, then aimed a thumb at the door. “There’s more in the truck. A little help?”

“Pilar?” Nicole headed out the back door, crooking a hand to tell the girl to follow. When Nicole saw the pile of groceries and supplies mounded in the bed of Jake’s truck, she stopped to stare. “Geez Louise, Jake!”

Jake shrugged as he marched past her. “Tell me about it.”

Daniel swung next to her on his crutches and paused. “There a problem?”

She motioned to the huge pile of supplies. “Just how long do you think we’re staying?”

His returned gaze was hard and flat. “As long as it takes to make sure you’re safe.”

Chapter 8

J
ake left for Colombia to search for Judge Castillo as soon as they’d unloaded the supplies from his truck. Jake was one of the best agents the black ops team had, and Daniel felt confident the native Texan could track down Pilar’s father within a week or two.

Over the next two days, Daniel watched Nicole buzz around his grandmother’s house, cleaning up a storm. Guilt nibbled at him every time she picked up a rag or broom, as if her housekeeping was an indictment against him and the safe house he’d provided. Or an unspoken commentary on the home of his youth.

At first, he tried to ignore her, but that exercise was futile. If Nicole was around, she had his full attention. When he tried to help, she shooed him away.

“Cleaning keeps me busy, and if I’m busy I’m less likely to dwell on things that are out of my control.” She rinsed her rag in the kitchen sink and headed back outside to wash the porch windows. “Besides, I had enough idle time while I was held captive to last me a lifetime.” She aimed a finger at the sofa. “You should sit. Rest your knee. You’ve earned it.”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender and settled on the couch, frustrated with his own idleness.

Pilar found a children’s book in a storage box of his childhood things and brought it out to the living room. She sat next to him and opened the cover. A fuzzy warmth filled Daniel’s chest. He wasn’t sure what to do with the tenderness he felt toward the little girl. He hadn’t spent a lot of time around kids, except when he was supposed to be in soldier mode and not focusing on things like how sweet a little girl’s smile could be or how a child’s laugh could lighten even the tensest mood. Living with Pilar over the past two days, watching her interact with Nicole, cast his protective duties in a whole new light. Pilar had an innocence and vulnerability that stuck under his ribs and crowded his heart.

The first day, as she’d clung to Nicole, Pilar had looked at him with a heartbreaking mix of wariness and hero worship. He was the brute with the guns and the loud voice and the gruff appearance who’d rescued her from even scarier men. He hated the idea that he frightened the girl, so by the second day, he shaved the black stubble that made him look like a thug. When she glanced his way, he made an effort to smile, and with no immediate threat warranting barked commands, he consciously lowered his volume and softened his tone.

Not only did his efforts seem to calm the little girl, but Nicole noticed the changes and sent him appreciative smiles that shot straight to his soul. Though he wanted more from Nicole than her gratitude, Daniel welcomed the points he scored with her because he’d built a good rapport with Pilar.

He didn’t know where things with Nicole might go. They had a lot of crap in their way—like her father. But his body ached for her, and his heart bled a little more every time he thought of the happiness he’d known with her for one magical night. If they could get past their differences, could they recapture that bliss, that passion? Or would he always be
that guy from the bayou
to her...a convenient chump from the wrong side of the tracks to use and discard when he’d served his purpose?

A niggle of irritation poked him for the umpteenth time. Nicole’s pride had been hurt when he’d walked out on her five years ago. She was determined to rehash the events of that morning, root out his reasons for leaving and exact her pound of flesh for his slight. But how could he relive the pain and humiliation of that morning? His pride and dignity had already suffered one nearly crippling blow thanks to her. He was no glutton for punishment.

The crinkle of yellowed pages drew his attention to Pilar and the book in her lap. The text was in Cajun-English dialect, and the girl stared at the pages, frowning.

He’d heard Nicole chanting English words to Pilar many times in the kitchen or bedroom when they were alone, and he wondered if the English lessons were helping the girl’s comprehension at all. Scooting closer to Pilar and readjusting his injured leg, he pointed to the book in her hands,
Cajun Night Before Christmas.
“May I?”

When Pilar handed him the book, looking chastened, he reassured her with a wink and a warm smile. The shadows in the girl’s eyes dissipated, and she flashed him a shy grin. Flipping to the first page, Daniel studied the pictures, nostalgia stirring an ache in his chest.

“My
grandmére
used to read this to me when I was little,” he told her quietly, knowing she wouldn’t understand. “Even when it wasn’t Christmas.” He pointed to the bearded man in his sleigh. “There’s Santa Claus...’cept around here, we call him
Père Noël,
Father Christmas.” He glanced down, looking for any signs of recognition in her face. “Oh, yeah. Y’all celebrate with
El Niño Jesús,
right?”

Now Pilar’s face lit with a smile.

Daniel had an idea and pushed off the sofa to hobble to a cabinet across the room. He dug in a pile of dusty books until he found the photo album his grandmother had kept of him and his parents. Planting himself next to Pilar again, he turned the pages of aged photos until he found one of himself at about age three. “See, that’s me.” He pointed to the picture, then to himself. “Daniel.”

Pilar examined the picture with a small furrow in her brow, then glanced up at him, a wide smile brightening her face. He turned the page and found another picture of himself with
Mémère.
“That’s my
grandmére.
” He motioned around them. “This was her house.”

As Pilar looked around then back at the photo, Daniel sent a glance to the front window where Nicole was scrubbing madly. As if feeling his gaze, she paused in her work and met his stare. When she spotted Pilar beside him, the book spread between them, she smiled. Warmth expanded in his chest until he could barely breathe. Damn, Nicole was beautiful.

Pilar tugged on his sleeve and pointed to another picture of him as a young boy, wearing wet cut-off jeans and a sappy grin while he showed off the catfish he’d caught. “
Oui,
that’s me, too.”

On the next page, he tapped a picture of himself at about five years old, pouting. “Look-a dat
bahbin!
” he said with a thick Cajun accent, remembering what
Mémère
used to say about that photo.
“Quoi faire tu braille?”

Pilar laughed and imitated his exaggerated pout.

“Oh, just what we need in this house,” Nicole said as she walked back into the living room from the porch, her tone wry, “a
third
language.” She sent him a teasing grin and headed back into the kitchen to rinse her rag again.

“De rien,”
he called after her.

As she returned from the kitchen with the rinsed rag, Nicole spotted the picture album he held, and her teasing grin faltered. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” He gave her a dismissive shrug. “Just some old pictures of my grandmother’s.”

“Can I see?” Nicole joined him on the sofa, her thigh brushing his as she settled close enough to see the photos, the lemon scent of dish soap clinging to her.

“Go ahead,” he said, trying to sound casual, even though his heart thrashed as hard as that catfish in the picture had flailed when he’d pulled it from the water. He loosened his grip on the album so Nicole could angle it toward her.

Daniel’s gut tightened, suddenly all too conscious of how Nicole might react to the Cajun lifestyle depicted in the photos—isolated, poor, living off the bayou. His grandmother had never received a formal education, never embraced modern conveniences and technology. Daniel had been the one to update the house with modern amenities in recent years.

But as out of date as this house had been, the Gatreau family’s tiny shack on stilts, deep in the bayou, where his grandmother had been raised, was even more primitive. He’d pointed Alec and Erin to that bayou shack when they’d needed a hideout last winter.

Pilar carried
Cajun Night Before Christmas
to a chair across the room and settled in to study the pictures, while Nicole perused the photos.

A sunny smile lit Nicole’s face, and she pointed to the proud boy with his catch. “Is this you?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded tight. Willing his muscles to relax, he forced the air from his lungs. “Yours truly.”

Nicole’s blue eyes brightened, and she laughed—a happy sound of discovery, not derision.

Daniel slid a covert side glance to her, studying her reaction as her gaze moved from one picture to another.

“Oh, my gosh,” she chuckled, “I bet you hate that picture. Look at your pout!” She met his eyes, her lips twitching with humor. “Were you a grumpy little boy, Mr. LeCroix?”

The urge to kiss her teasing grin slammed him so hard he had to catch his breath before he could reply. “No more than most. I’m smiling in all the other pictures.”

Her attention returned to the photo album for a moment. When she raised her head again, warmth filled her face.

“So you are.” She smoothed a finger over one of the photos, and his skin reacted as if she’d stroked him instead. “That’s the smile that stole my heart the night we met.”

Stole her heart? The phrase sent a shock wave through him, though with effort, he masked his surprise, suppressed it. His smile hadn’t been enough to build a relationship on after she’d used him in her rebellion against her father years ago.

His fingers tightened on the photo album as a familiar knot of bitter disappointment swelled in his chest. He couldn’t allow himself to forget the pain and sense of betrayal he’d known that morning and in the months that followed. He’d buried himself in special operations training, praying he could forget Nicole and the hope she’d crushed in that overheard phone call to her father. But he’d never completely erased her from his heart or his mind. And now, here he was sharing the house he’d grown up in with her, protecting her from an unknown threat...and in danger of falling for her all over again, if he didn’t find a way to fight the old feelings stirring to life again and keep her at arm’s length.

“Oh, there’s the requisite I-lost-a-tooth shot.” Nicole angled another grin at him, and he ignored the acceleration in his pulse. “Do you remember what the tooth fairy brought you?”

“I didn’t have a tooth fairy.”

“What?” Nicole sounded truly offended on his behalf. “Why not?”

“Doesn’t matter. I had a good childhood,” he said, hearing the note of defensiveness in his tone. “I had plenty of reason to be happy, to smile, even though I lost my parents when I was twelve. We didn’t have much materially, but I never knew it. What we lacked in things, my parents and
Mémère
made up for in the love they gave me.”

“Oh, Daniel...” Nicole stared at him with a certain sadness in her eyes. A bittersweet smile that felt too much like pity to Daniel tugged her lips.

He closed the photo album with a grunt and shoved to his feet, wincing when a sharp ache shot through his knee. The pain only fueled his frustration with the elusive dissatisfaction that nagged him. “I’m not looking for sympathy! I have no regrets from my childhood. I’m proud of my family, my heritage.”

Pilar raised a startled looked, and Nicole blinked her surprise at his outburst. “As you should be. I never said otherwise.”

Daniel sucked in a deep breath, his nose flaring and his hands fisting at his sides.
Get a grip, man.
She
hadn’t
said anything derogatory about his Cajun roots. Not today, anyway, and not since he’d brought her home from Colombia. But being with her in this house had him on edge.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, picking up his crutches and heading outside. “I’ll be on the porch.”

The weight of Nicole’s stare followed him as he left, and his gut tightened. Like a storm rolling in from the Gulf, a showdown between them was coming, and he dreaded the fallout.

* * *

Nicole carried her glass of iced tea toward the front porch but stopped behind the screened door when she spotted Pilar sitting with Daniel. He sat in one of the rocking chairs with his injured leg propped on a large bucket he’d turned upside down, and Pilar stared at the ugly red surgical scar visible through Daniel’s knee brace.

“Pilar,” he said softly, and the little girl glanced up. He crooked his finger, motioning her closer. She walked to his side, and Daniel put an arm around her shoulders, turning her and pointing toward the bayou. “Look.”

Nicole looked the direction he indicated and spotted a beautiful blue heron strutting through the water, searching the shallows for fish.

Pilar angled her head to grin at Daniel, and Nicole’s heart tripped. The little girl had a beautiful smile, and Nicole’s spirits lifted seeing the child happy at last. Was it the new hope Pilar had of being reunited with her father that made her feel safer, more cheerful, willing to smile?

No sooner had that thought filtered through her mind than Daniel flashed a warm grin back at the little girl. Now Nicole’s heart thundered. When he smiled, Daniel could melt the hardest heart. This was the man she’d fallen so hard for five years ago at the Mardi Gras ball, the man with whom she’d spent a sensual night and with whom she’d envisioned her future. Perhaps part of Pilar’s happiness had to do with Daniel. She couldn’t blame Pilar for developing a crush on the handsome man who’d rescued her twice.

With a flap of its massive wings, the heron took flight, and Pilar tracked the bird with her gaze, until it disappeared behind the cypress trees that lined the bayou. Pulling her chair closer to Daniel’s, Pilar settled in, staring again at the injured knee.

“Te duele?”
Pilar asked in a tiny voice, her finger lightly touching Daniel’s scar.

Nicole was so startled to hear Pilar speak, she gasped.

Pilar and Daniel both swiveled their heads toward the door where Nicole stood. Caught spying on the duo, Nicole pushed through the screen door and took the rocking chair next to Daniel’s. “She asked if your knee hurts.”

He shot Nicole a strange look, then arched one black eyebrow and said dryly, “Thanks.”

“Wh—”

Before she could finish, he turned back to Pilar and, with a devastating smile, replied,
“No mucho. Espero que la cicatriz tan horrible que tengo no ahuyente a las chicas bonitas.”