Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

T he weight on Maggie’s chest diminished as the sounds of the camp faded behind them. Lucky for her, it wasn’t raining. Yet the spindles of sunlight shooting through the canopy and fingering the ferns at her feet seemed to mock Mike Howitz’s death. The sun had some gall shining in the aftermath of Mike’s brutal and unjust demise. Maggie’s heart broke anew. How many more times would terrorism and political ambition kill good men, women, and children? She’d given her all to stop the madness, but the atrocities kept happening. Did her efforts accomplish anything ?

Struggling to hide her distress from David, she blinked back tears of helplessness.

It made matters worse that Jake, who was her rock out here, leaned heavily on the two of them, stumbling over roots and rocks like he didn’t have the coordination to avoid them. What if he wasn’t exaggerating? What if he died of the poisonous toxins delivered by those hellish hornets?

Without Jake, she would become the jumpy, sleep-deprived mess she was before they worked together.

“David.” She peered across Jake’s chest at the squad leader. “You said your mother was from the Arhuaco tribe?”

“ Sí, se?ora.”

“Did she teach you any remedies for a hornet’s sting?”

David reflected while struggling to bear his half of Jake’s weight along the irregular trail. “She did teach me something, se?ora.” He scanned the forest earnestly. “I don’t know if it grows this high on the mountain.”

“Please try.” Because if Jake dies, I’m going to fall apart completely. The words in her head brought tears to her eyes.

“He is strong, se?ora.”

David assumed her tears were for Jake. With a pinch of guilt, Maggie acknowledged they were more for herself and the loss of something she used to have?—a confidence that had proven ephemeral. She wasn’t ever going to get it back, was she?

At last, they reached the cataract, even more stunning today with a patch of blue sky visible through the break in the trees. She and David lowered Jake onto a boulder near the water’s edge. Maggie took out the rag she’d stuffed into her pocket and immediately wet it in the cold water before applying it to the lump at Jake’s temple.

The urge to walk straight into the water and wash away the panic swirling inside made her eye the pool longingly.

David backed away. “I will walk a short distance and look for a certain tree . You’ll be okay, se?ora?”

Did she look as overwrought as she was feeling? “Yes, of course. Please, find something. He can’t even talk.” Unless Jake was faking it.

With a nod, David turned away, then vanished soundlessly into the shrubbery.

Crouched beside Jake, Maggie caught his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. She took care to speak in French lest David was still close enough to hear. “Don’t you dare die on me, Jake.”

To her relief, a small smile hovered on his handsome lips. “You’ve said those words to me before.”

The fact that he replied in French reassured her he was lucid enough to cling to his cover. His words summoned a crisp memory, causing her to drop her hands and straighten away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Since Jake was better off than he looked, she would tend to herself first. “I’m going in.” Dropping onto a big rock nearby, she plucked at the laces of her boots, unable to get them off fast enough.

“You said you would marry me.”

“What?” She pretended not to remember, even as the memory of Jake lying in the rubble with ash in his hair filled her mind.

“It was right after the bomb went off in Paris. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I heard you. You promised to marry me one day.”

Jake’s remark drew her astonished gaze to his. He had heard her say all that? She hauled off her boots and shot to her feet, struggling to speak French and not English. “We’d just survived a bombing, Jacques! You were cut and bleeding, with glass all over you. I thought you were going to die on me. What was I supposed to say?”

The hurt that darkened his eyes made her want to take back the words because, of course, her words had meant something . But marriage?

Whirling away, she marched stoically into the water in her socks, welcoming the frigid shock as it climbed up her thighs, permeating her clothing. Careful not to dive in headfirst, she waded in until the water reached her waistline, then submerged herself, letting out all the air in her lungs to sit on the rocky bottom.

Why would Jake even bring up marriage when their jobs made that impossible? After this assignment, they might never even see each other again, let alone work together.

But what if there was a way? For the briefest moment, she imagined a future in which they remained together, and hope clawed at her heart.

Stop. With a return to reality, she banished the vision. Most case officers never married until they were retired. Their assignments took them to places that weren’t always safe. Only a few, like Mike Howitz, tried to bring their families with them, and look what had happened to him? It would have been better for everyone if he’d never married.

Oh, Mike. I’m so sorry you died so far from home. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.

Maggie wept underwater. If only its chilly current would carry away the ball of pain that filled her chest. Her lungs burned with a need for air.

By the time she breached the surface, Jake was kneeling at the edge of a flat rock, bathing his neck while keeping a sharp eye out for her.

At the sound of a rock clattering near the waterfall, they both whirled, astonished to see a middle-aged Caucasian male edging out from under the cascade. He boasted a mane of light-brown hair and a beard and wore plastic-framed spectacles and a cleric’s collar over his blue shirt. Given the only thing he carried was a satchel and a walking stick, Maggie remained calm. The man was clearly no threat.

Sending them a wave, he continued to pick his way along a granite shelf while Jake clambered to his feet. “Peace be with you both,” he called, heading toward them with youthful energy and a friendly smile. “You must be with the United Nations group. I’m Father Joshua.” He held out a hand to Jake as he marched toward them. “My goodness. What got to you?”

“Ah, beeg bugs.” Jake spoke English with his heavy French accent. “But where did you come from? You were hiding behind ze falls?”

“No, no, from the other side. I waved at you, but you didn’t see me.”

“Other side?”

The cleric pointed. “Yes, look just beside the cliff face, there. Can you see the trail now? It’s a little treacherous skirting the waterfall but refreshing when you stand behind it.”

Maggie’s pulse quickened as she spotted the indicated path. Perhaps it went to the unnamed camp at the top of the mountain!

“What are your names?” Father Joshua’s eyes glinted with curiosity.

Jake helped Maggie out of the water before introducing them. “My name is Jacques. And this is my wife, Lena. I believe we heard you on the radio the other day.”

The missionary beamed. “Oh, good! The FARC are listening to my broadcasts, then. There’s a radio station at the top of this mountain. That’s where I’ve just come from. A pleasure to meet you both.”

With water streaming from her hair and clothing, Maggie withheld her ability to speak English while taking note of how to get to the radio station.

“Are you two out here alone?” Unlatching the canteen from his belt, Father Joshua knelt upon the same rock Jake had knelt on earlier to fill it.

“Non.” Jake gestured toward the trees. “A rebel named David is going to look for something for these, uh, how do you say?” He pointed to his swollen face.

“Welts.” The priest filled his bottle and stood. He studied them while screwing the lid on his canteen. “How are negotiations going for the release of the hostages?”

So, he knew about that. This man could prove a valuable informant. The opportunity to question him quickened Maggie’s pulse. Seeing no sign of David, she stepped closer, pitched her voice low, and answered in English, “Not so good. One of the hostages is dead.”

The priest, at first startled by her use of English, expelled a breath, clearly dismayed to hear it. “Oh, that’s devastating news. What about the other man?”

With a warning glance at her, Jake replied quickly, “He is alive, and we’re negotiating with the FARC for his release.” He stuck with his French accent.

“Well, that is something. And thank you for the work you’re doing here. Blessed are the peacekeepers.” The man smiled at them benignly.

Maggie had never felt more like a sham. Keeping an eye out for David, she pressed for more information. “Do you live on El Castillo?”

“Are you American?” he asked instead of answering.

“French. But I studied in the States, and now we live in New York.”

“Ah.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, to answer your question, I divide my time between a village at the base of the mountain and the radio station at the top, pausing occasionally to visit the rebels on my way up. It’s quite a hike, so I only do it once a week.”

“And the rebels tolerate you?” She marveled at his temerity.

“They do, which is astonishing. They’ve been sufficiently hospitable, and the younger rebels are open to my message.”

“What message is that?”

“Why the Good News, of course.” He looked back and forth between the two of them. Before she could ask him about the hostages, he added, “Are you Christians?”

Maggie tipped her head toward Jake. “He is.” Maggie acknowledged God’s existence, but she’d never needed Him?—until Morocco.

Father Joshua blinked. “I see.” Father Joshua leaned in and pitched his voice lower, even as his gray eyes twinkled. “Well, the goal is this: If I can persuade the younger rebels that they are children of God, beloved by Him and charged by Him to love others , then the rebel faction will disintegrate. No one can love his neighbor as himself and kill him in the next breath.”

“I like it.” Jake glanced at Maggie to gauge her reaction.

“Huh.” The subversive nature of the priest’s plan appealed to her. The only problem was the grassroots effort would take too long. By the time the younger rebels had a say in what was going on, Jay Barnes would be dead, as well as Mike.

“You’re very brave.” She flattered him before asking, “Do you know where the hostages are located? Is it the camp near the top of the mountain?”

“Oh no. I am a coward.” The priest chuckled at himself. “Trust me, it is not my courage that brought me here. But with Christ before me, behind me, and beside me, what have I to fear?”

Still ignoring her question, he reconsidered Jake’s swollen face. “Well, I hope David finds just the thing you need, Jacques. He’s a smart boy, well educated.”

The man was going to walk away without telling them what he knew.

“Will we see you at the rebel’s camp?” Perhaps she’d get another chance to pick his brain.

“Not today, but possibly before you leave. How much longer are you here?”

Jake persisted with his French accent. “ Juust one more week.”

“Well, I hope that happens.” The cleric swung a gaze between them. “It would be a privilege to pray for you. May I?”

Maggie frowned at him. Why don’t you just answer my question instead?

“D’accord,” Jake answered. Of course.

Smiling with pleasure, the priest clipped his canteen back on his belt. “Would you hold hands, please?”

Not knowing what to expect, Maggie gave her hand to Jake. To her surprise, the confusion and grief still roiling in her took a back seat to the pleasure of his firm grasp. And when the priest laid his own hand over the two of theirs, an unexpected calm stole over her, replacing her earlier despair.

She pretended to close her eyes along with the men, only someone had to keep vigilant in this environment.

“Loving Father?—” The priest’s resonant voice played a melody over the rushing of the falls. “Gift your blessing upon this gracious couple as they do Your work in the world, seeking the release of captives…”

Maggie’s awareness shrank as she pondered whether Jake’s and her assignment could be categorized as doing God’s work. Studying the priest’s round face, she could tell he was immensely focused on what he would say next. “Jacques and Lena, if you know the 23rd Psalm in English, would you say it with me?”

Was he testing them?

“‘The Lord is my Shepherd,” he began while they both stayed quiet. “‘I shall not want; He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters…’”

A memory popped into Maggie’s head of this very psalm being recited in Spanish while she stared in shock at her mother’s coffin. Her mother’s car accident had left Maggie, at just eight years old, utterly alone with only a spinster aunt to take her in. Yet weeks later, Maggie had flown to the United States, where she’d been met at Dulles Airport by the father she had never known and welcomed into a family she had only ever dreamed of having. With a falling sensation, she returned to the present.

“‘He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.’”

Her childhood had been unexpectedly salvaged.

“‘Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’”

El Castillo was no valley, but the shadow of death held this place in its thrall. It had killed Mike Howitz. It could still kill Jake and her.

“‘For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.’”

Please comfort me!

“‘You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…’”

As Gallo and Commander Marquez came to mind, the missionary’s voice faded into the background, and the memory of the firefight with the JUNGLA flashed into the foreground.

“‘…and I will dwell in the house of theLordforever.’ Amen.” The priest ended his prayer, squeezed their hands, and stepped back.

Maggie stared at him, strangely stunned. His words had shaken and strangely buoyed her.

Jake inclined his head. “Thank you, Père .”

“Yes, thank you,” she repeated.

The pointed clearing of a throat had them all spinning toward the young man standing mere feet away. David was back, bearing a familiar-looking branch in one hand. With the stealth of his Arhuaco ancestors, he’d materialized as soundlessly as he’d vanished, catching them all speaking in English, which Maggie wasn’t supposed to know.

Concern pricked her. Could this become a problem?

“David, perfect timing.” Father Joshua switched seamlessly into Spanish while waving the youth closer. “What have you got there?”

David’s gaze remained watchful, keeping Maggie from relaxing. “My mother’s people call it matico . I will wet the leaves and lay them on Jacques’s skin, and soon the welts will subside.”

Matico was the other name for cordoncillo , as Jake had pointed out when first showing the miraculous plant to her. The juice of its leaf had kept her incision from getting infected.

“Brilliant.” The missionary clasped the youth’s shoulder while looking back at them. “I leave you in good hands, then. Jacques and Lena, I hope to see you both again.”

“Au revoir, Père.” Calling her farewell in French, Maggie sought to mitigate her mistake. The words of the psalm, still lifting her spirits, kept her from feeling too alarmed.

The missionary’s appearance struck her as divinely choreographed. Only why would God go out of His way to comfort Maggie , of all people?

She kept quiet as David went to work treating Jake’s inflamed flesh. With competent movements, the young man crushed the peppery-smelling leaves between his palms, then laid them along Jake’s head, face, and neck.

Jake thanked him in Spanish. “It feels better already.”

Something just happened to me . Maggie wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, not even to Jake. But Father Joshua’s words had taken her from despairing and overwrought to feeling like everything would be okay. Like God always had and always would look out for her.

“I will fear no evil.” She held the words close. Maybe she wouldn’t fall apart without Jake holding her together.

At the sound of a young woman protesting something in Spanish, Jake’s eyes snapped open. Turning his head, he saw by the whites of Lena’s eyes shining in their cubicle that she was already awake. They both sat up at the same time, ears pricked to the heartrending pleas of one of the female rebels, begging to be released.

When the light of Gallo’s lantern filtered through the bamboo blinds at their feet, Lena threw off their blanket to investigate. Jake followed suit, crawling out from under their mosquito netting to peer through the bendable blinds that faced the camp.

Over by the free-standing lean-to that housed the rebel youth, Gallo was escorting both Ixtabel and Maife from their shelter by a rope wound around their wrists. Only Maife protested while Ixtabel clung to her older friend, clearly too afraid to protest.

Oh, this wasn’t good.

Next to him, Lena went stiff with outrage. “Where’s he taking them?”

At least she remembered to speak in French. “I can guess.” The girls were being led away from camp toward the same path taken by Marquez and Arias and the soldiers in the pea-green uniforms before that.

Lena faced him abruptly. “We have to stop him.”

“Lena.” He shook his head. “Ce n’est pas possible.” She had to know they couldn’t risk drawing attention to themselves. The fact that these girls were being forced against their will had nothing to do with their mission of locating the hostages.

Perceiving a glimmer of moisture in her eyes, Jake’s resolution slipped a notch. “You know why we’re here. We can’t save everyone.”

A hushing sound came from the cubicle next to theirs, letting them know that Charles was listening to their conversation. The blind between them twitched as the Frenchman poked his head into their space. “Pardon.” He spoke in a near-silent whisper. “We could follow them, Jacques. There has to be a camp nearby, as only a fool would walk into the wilderness at night.”

None of the X ’s on the map were anywhere close to Cecaot-Jicobo , but the soldiers who’d brought beans to their camp could have hacked out a clearing close by and set up camp. Here was their chance to find out who those soldiers were while counting on the dark to conceal them.

Lena reached eagerly for her boots. “Let’s go.”

“No.” Jake clasped her arm to stop her. “You’re staying here.” She’d risked enough the other morning sneaking into the officers’ quarters.

As Lena sucked a breath, clearly preparing to argue with him, Jake did the only thing he could think of to silence her. He palmed the side of her head, tipped her face to his, and kissed her soundly. “It’s my job to keep you safe,” he said against her mouth, then kissed her a second time, more gently. “Please, stay.”

She fell perfectly quiet after that, making him think she might cooperate. After rolling away, Jake jammed his feet into his boots, stood, and grabbed his jacket off the bamboo pole it hung on. He then welcomed Charles into their cubicle so they could leave the bungalow together via the rear flap.

“Be careful,” Lena breathed behind them.

Keeping to the shadows, they skirted the edge of camp rather than dart across the open space. Somewhere above the treetops and the ever-present clouds, there had to be a full moon shining because the forest wasn’t as inky black as usual.

By the time Jake and Charles arrived at the path Gallo had taken, his lantern was like a fairy wisp floating in and out of the trees downhill but not too far away to follow. Maife, still vocal in her resistance, was slowing her captor down.

Jake winced as a shout from Gallo preceded the unmistakable sound of a slap. Maife commenced sobbing, and Ixtabel joined in, masking Jake and Charles’s furtive footsteps as they closed in steadily.

Charles clearly had training in reconnaissance equivalent to Jake’s. The French Secret Service agent’s movements were practically imperceptible. They approached within fifty yards of the trio, so near that the glow of Gallo’s lantern made the trail beneath their feet discernable. It sloped continuously downhill, taking them toward the northeast side of the mountain, possibly toward the site on the map named Ki-kirr-zikis.

As much as Jake wanted to attack the mondo and set the girls free, the repercussions were simply too far-reaching.

At the sound of coarse laughter up ahead, Jake’s pulse ticked upward. Charles flashed out a hand, stopping him in his tracks as Gallo’s lantern broke right. Calls of welcome informed Jake that they’d arrived at the mondo’ s destination, illumined by a second lantern but no fire.

Next to him, Charles ducked and picked up a glob of mud, indicating they should smear it on their faces. Following his colleague’s cue, Jake smeared a cold, smelly glob on his exposed skin. The scent of decomposing vegetation filled his nostrils.

With their faces, necks, and hands camouflaged, they closed in on the camp, pushing stealthily through the foliage, keeping their eyes peeled for a soldier standing watch. The unknown soldiers had obviously been drinking. Their boisterous voices masked the crackling of leaves and twigs beneath Charles’s and Jake’s boots.

With two lanterns lighting up the clearing, Jake made out a single structure, an elevated lean-to, surrounded by hammocks slung between trees. A field desk and an empty firepit stood in the center while three dozing mules surrounded a pile of boxed goods. Using the mules to screen themselves, Jake and Charles edged closer. One of the mules startled at Jake’s advance but immediately calmed when he stroked its bristly, wet nose.

Over the backs of the mules, Jake counted eight soldiers in the flickering light. Several lounged on their hammocks, two sat on the platform of the lean-to, while the rest were checking out the young women Gallo had brought to them. Maife and Ixtabel stood hugging each other, their faces averted. Jake noted the end of the rope trailed from their wrists onto the ground. They could try running, but their fear of the dark would likely keep them rooted.

Disgust brought his blood to a simmer. He turned his attention to the soldiers. Were they ELN? If not, then who?

As one of them hunkered near the lantern, its flame illumined the band on his left sleeve?—gold, blue, and red, with white stars stitched into the blue stripe. Recognition yanked Jake’s scalp tight. Holy smokes, these were soldiers from the Venezuelan National Army! He’d had to contend with them two years ago while snatching Lena out of the warehouse in Maiquetía!

Wow, so the FARC did have an ally in the form of Venezuela. It curdled Jake’s blood to think what these soldiers could teach the untutored rebels?—fighting tactics that could easily turn the FARC into the menace it had been a decade earlier.

He had to inform the JIC as soon as possible. Catching Charles’s eye, he pointed out the patch to the Frenchman, receiving a nod in return. Charles had seen it too, and with a jerk of his head, he indicated that they should leave. Outnumbered and facing an armed squadron, the worst thing that could happen would be getting caught by these men.

It soured Jake’s stomach to leave the girls with these villains. Already, they were taunting the young women, sniggering and muttering crude remarks.

With a prayer in his heart, he forced himself to turn away. You see this, right, Father? In that instant, his gaze fell upon the contents of a box sitting on the pile of goods surrounded by the mules. Those shiny, black lumps were hand grenades. He and Charles could easily wreak some havoc here if they had the nerve.

Catching Charles by the back of his jacket, Jake directed the Frenchman’s inquiring gaze toward the box. Charles frowned and shook his head, but a whimper coming from one of the women made him firm his mouth and close his eyes. When he opened them, he gave a short nod.

Let’s do this right.

With determined stealth, Jake hunkered lower, striving to remain unseen as he slipped around the mule he’d petted to get to the box. Five more feet. He crept closer, scarcely daring to breathe. Four. His sole scuffed a rock, causing him to freeze. No one seemed to hear. He crept closer. Three feet. As a bout of laughter seized the group in front of him, Jake used the distraction to snatch up two grenades and back away.

Returning to Charles without incident, he passed one off to the Frenchman. Assuming both grenades were operational, they would certainly serve as a powerful distraction, allowing the girls to flee, provided they could overcome their fear of the dark.

The best tactic was to detonate the grenades downhill so the girls could flee back uphill to their camp and away from the disturbance. After that, Jake and Charles would have to stay small while the Venezuelans swarmed the area, searching for those responsible. Their first guess would be the JUNGLA, of course, which might spook them into leaving El Castillo altogether. Jake could only hope for that outcome.

He and Charles scurried downhill, where the darkness swallowed them, slowing their descent. As they ran into a centuries-old Andean oak choked in vines, Jake pointed it out to Charles, who headed straight for it. A minute later, they sat on a branch that gave them a bird’s-eye view of the twin lanterns twinkling uphill.

Securing his seat on a moss-covered limb, Jake nodded at Charles. They pulled the pins on their grenades simultaneously, then lobbed them into the foliage.

Thwack, thwack, thumpity, thump . The grenades tumbled through branches and leaves before falling to the ground. Jake braced himself.

KA-BANG! BOOM!

Bright flashes of light lit up the wilderness. The shrieking of startled monkeys accompanied shouts of alarm as the soldiers responded. Snatching up their weapons, they scattered from the camp, seeking cover and searching for their foe. From his safe perch up the giant oak, Jake kept an eye on the swiftly emptying camp.

Maife and Ixtabel remained paralyzed, clutching each other. Jake urged them on under his breath. “Come on, girls. Run!”

In the next instant, Maife snatched up the trailing rope and pulled her companion with her. As they scurried up the path toward Cecaot-Jicobo , Jake met Charles’s glinting eyes and grinned.

But then his smile faded. The lumpy bark of the oak tree was gouging his backside, and until the soldiers moved some distance away, they would have to stay exactly where they were. By then, the two girls ought to be lying safely in their hammocks?—at least for tonight.

Maggie’s pulse jumped as the sound of explosives silenced the drone of insects. Her heart threw itself against her ribs. Jake!

She couldn’t do this mission without him. Shrugging on her jacket, she left the bungalow the same way Charles and Jake had earlier. Rounding the building, she flattened herself against the blinds as David and the teen rebels stumbled out of their lean-to and stared toward the path, conjecturing amongst themselves.

In the building behind her, Maggie could hear Boris and the others talking amongst themselves. She prayed they wouldn’t notice her, Jake, and Charles’s silence and then find them gone.

Despite her elevated pulse, the calm that had pervaded her spirit at the waterfall remained, assuring her everything would work out. Jake was trained to handle himself in the dark. And, unlike her, he was versed in guerilla tactics. He’d be fine.

Making up her mind to go back into the bungalow, Maggie was just about to retreat when David looked her way and stared. “Se?ora?”

Shoot, he’d seen her. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to walk in his direction while looking completely natural. In the shadowy camp, it was impossible to read his expression. “?Qué ocurre?” She hoped she sounded merely curious.

“Don’t worry yourself.” His tone was subtly harder than usual. “Why are you out at night, all alone?”

“I’m not.” She gestured back at the tree. “My husband is in the trees over there, doing his business.”

David eyed the area she pointed out with nothing to say.

He knows I’m lying . She stuck stubbornly to her story. “Ah, I hear him calling me now. Good night, David. I hope the JUNGLA aren’t attacking us again.” Turning her back on the squad leader, she marched straight back to the tree line, pretending to call reassurances to Jacques?— “Oui, oui, j’arrive”?— as she darted behind the bungalow. Then she peeked around the corner to gauge David’s response.

He had turned away to greet Maife and Ixtabel, who’d just come running from the path Gallo had towed them down earlier. A grim smile curled Maggie’s lips as she watched David usher them back into the lean-to. Jake and Charles had found some way to free the girls?—only where had they gotten their hands on explosives?

Assured by the girls’ return, Maggie decided to return to Jake’s and her cubicle. Boris and the others had fallen silent. She deliberated on leaving her muddy boots on, just in case Charles and Jake needed her, then decided to trust in their training and to slip back into bed. There would be no sleep for her until Jake joined her.

Thirty minutes later, the camp had fallen quiet, layered again by the hum of insects. Still no Jake.

Fighting the pressure on her chest, Maggie drew deep, calming breaths. A craving for the peace she’d experienced at the waterfall had her clasping her hands together and reciting the 23rd Psalm in her head, surprised to discover she knew most of it by heart . Her stepmom would be happy to know all those Sundays of being dragged to church as a teen had taught Maggie something, after all.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, for when she snatched her eyes open, the barest hint of dawn brightened the blinds. A draft had awakened her. Two men were crawling into the cubicle. Recognizing Jake’s broad shoulders, even though his face was smeared with mud, her heart cartwheeled with joy. She sat up, bursting with questions, but the answers could wait until morning.

As Charles passed through their cubicle into his own, Jake went to work scrubbing his face, using the bowl of water and washcloth they kept in the corner.

Minutes later, he was back under the mosquito netting, wearing his shirt and pants. She embraced him warmly, savoring the gift of his presence, and received a heartfelt embrace in return. The memory of his kiss earlier made her want to pick up where they’d left off, but she could tell by his averted face that his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Quelque chose ne va pas?” she whispered. Is something wrong?

He put his mouth to her ear, scarcely speaking loudly enough for her to hear. “The soldiers who brought the beans the other night. They’re from the Venezuelan National Army.”

The unpleasant news slid like a thorn beneath her skin. That wasn’t unexpected, but neither was the news good.

“You worked at their weapons depot in Maiquetía, Lena. If one of them sees you, there’s a chance you could be recognized.”

It touched her that he fretted on her behalf. “Come on, what are the odds of that? I’m not worried. So tell me how you freed the girls?”

“The Nats have a cache of weapons. We detonated two of their grenades, and the girls ran during the aftermath.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him more tightly. Her hankering for another of his magical kisses would go unfulfilled as Charles hushed them from the next cubicle over.

Battling the yearning inside her, she rested her head on Jake’s chest and willed herself to fall back asleep. It’s better this way . Soon enough, she and Jake would return to their separate lives. It would be tough enough to let him go without adding a layer of intimacy to the many ways in which they were already united.