Morgan's Rescue (11 page)

     
"Don't tell Hector where we are or where we're going. Most of all, we have to keep your daughter out of this. Taking her to the village is a good idea."

     
Shaking in earnest, Pilar raised her hands and struggled to steady her emotions. "Rane is so young. What if they've taken her? I've tried so hard to protect her, to—"

     
"Okay," Culver said harshly, unbuckling his seat belt, "move over. I'm going to drive. Don't
worry,
we'll get your daughter. She'll be fine."

     
Pilar eased her hands from her face and looked at him. She had expected Culver's expression to be harsh and emotionless, but it was anything but. His narrowed eyes gleamed with an unexpected tenderness that she had thought she'd never see again. "Y-yes," she whispered, opening the door. "You drive."

     
P
ilar tried to gather her strewn emotions as Culver drove steadily back toward the lights of
Lima
. It was ten o'clock—dinnertime for most of
Lima
's residents—and traffic had once again become light. Taking a handkerchief from her purse, Pilar wet it with her saliva and tried to wipe away the remnants of blood on her temple and cheek.

     
Nearly all of her attention was centered on Rane—getting her out of
Lima
and to some semblance of safety. Just having Culver in the car with her steadied her frayed nerves somewhat. She stole occasional glances at his rugged profile, which reminded her of the
Andes
—relentlessly harsh yet beautiful, suggesting a stoic loneliness. The tight line of his mouth revealed that he, too, was worried. They hadn't spoken since night had fallen, the darkness like a cocoon in which to hide their thoughts and feelings.

     
Culver broke the silence as they once again approached
Lima
. "Tell me the best way to get to your apartment."

     
"We should probably take an indirect route, using small side streets," Pilar suggested.

     
"I'm in agreement. We don't want to risk being seen by one of Ramirez's men again."

     
"You think it was his men who tried to kill us?"

     
"No question in my mind." Culver shot her a glance. Beneath the streetlights, Pilar's face appeared taut and colorless. She had wiped away the telltale blood at her temple, but her eyes were wide, and he could see terror and anxiety in them. Even now she was beautiful. They'd almost been killed. He could have lost her. His heart squeezed in pain at the idea. No, he didn't want to lose her. Despite all she'd done to him, she still managed to look innocent—and vulnerable—as if life hadn't hardened her as it had him.

     
Culver digested those discoveries about Pilar. Her hair was windblown, in mild disarray around her soft, oval face, and she seemed untouched by the unfolding events except for her concern for her daughter. On that point, Culver agreed with her. No child deserved to be caught in the cross fire between adults. Pilar's daughter was too young to protect herself, and her safety had to come first, before their own.

     
Pilar began giving him directions as they entered
Lima
. "It's an apartment east of the city. My housekeeper, Alexandra Somoza, lives there with us," she explained as they wound their way through quiet back streets tightly lined with houses.

     
"Good, then Rane has someone to take care of her."

     
"Yes," Pilar whispered unsteadily, "she does."

     
"So you think your grandparents' village is the best place for her?"

     
"It's safer there."

     
"Why not leave her with Hector?"

     
Pilar heard the derision in Culver's voice and met his eyes momentarily. "Hector would put her in a safe house if I wanted, but Rane is sensitive, and I know she would be frightened. No, I want her with people who love her. She's used to going out to the village on weekends with me. My grandparents love her dearly. They will see to her safety."

     
"There's a possibility Ramirez or the mole inside the government knows exactly where your grandparents live."

     
"I know that." Pilar touched her aching temple. "It's a risk I have to take. I don't see a better option."

     
"We can't take her with us."

     
"No!" Pilar didn't mean to sound so alarmed, but she couldn't help herself. "Rane has been protected all her life. She knows nothing of what I once did for a living. I want my daughter to be able to sleep at night without nightmares."

     
"Did you have nightmares after you quit your job as an agent?"

     
Pilar avoided his sharp look. A lone car passed them as they moved down a curving side street. "I have them to this day, sometimes," she whispered.

     
"Part of the trade."

     
"Isn't it,
though.
" Pilar gave Culver more directions,
then
murmured, "I don't know how you continue to be an agent."

     
His smile was cutting. "I was about to turn in my resignation to Jake when this thing began to unfold," he admitted. "I've had it. All I want is to get back to the land, where I belong."

     
"You talked of wanting to live with my people at one time," Pilar reminded him quietly. Culver had confided in her during their three months together that he'd fallen in love with her village and the jungle. She glanced at him shyly. "What would you rather be doing?"

     
Culver shrugged, never losing his awareness of passing automobiles. "I'm not sure. Some of my ancestors were Scottish seafarers who sailed the world, so I think it's in my genes to travel. But we always had an anchor, a homebase to come back to after wandering." His mouth flattened. "I guess that's what I'm missing most now—a home."

     
Pilar absorbed his words. This was the first time Culver hadn't treated her coldly. He was more like his old self, the person she remembered from so long ago. "I…never knew much about your background—before."

     
His laugh was sharp. "Yeah, we didn't spend too much time doing background checks on each other, did we?"

     
Heat rushed into Pilar's face at his words. They had been thrown together on a makeshift CIA mission, and the moment their eyes met, they'd both felt the undeniable electricity. The ache to touch Culver, to find out what it would be like to kiss him, had become almost an obsession to Pilar that first month. Once some of the danger eased, they had come together like the sudden thunderstorms that gathered so quickly and unexpectedly over the Peruvian jungle. Pilar had never forgotten that first time—nor any of the times they shared. Those memories were the stuff her dreams were made of.
Even now.

     
Culver saw how his comment had hurt Pilar. She had turned her face away, pretending to look out the window, but the shame in her expression was clear, arousing an anger directed mostly at himself, but also at her for her ability to affect him at the deepest levels. What they'd had, while it lasted, was the best thing he'd ever experienced. He no longer knew what Pilar would call their coming together, but for him, it had been love. Pilar had brought her virginity, her innocence to him, had walked trustingly into his arms, her eyes guileless. And he'd taken her that humid jungle night, surrounded by the aphrodisiac fragrance of orchids clinging to the surrounding trees. To this day, Culver could not separate memories of her from the heady, exotic scent of those rare flowers. Nor did he want to.

     
"Turn here," Pilar said in a choked voice. "We can park a block down on the right."

     
"I don't want to stop in front of the apartment," he warned. "They could be waiting for us."

     
"We're two blocks away."

     
Culver nodded, respecting Pilar's intelligence as an agent. Despite her overriding fear for her daughter, she was keeping a cool head. "I thought your skills might be a little rusty, but they don't seem to be," he murmured, braking and pulling into a parking space in the block she'd indicated.

     
"I am rusty, as you put it," Pilar admitted as he shut off the engine. Gathering up her purse, she un-snapped her seat belt. "I can use all the help you can give me."

     
Culver nodded and looked around the quiet, darkened neighborhood. "This is one of the wealthy sections of town, if my memory serves me," he said in a low tone.

     
"Yes, it is."

     
"I'm glad you did well for yourself, Pilar."

     
His words cut her to her soul. Compressing her lips, she opened the car door as she said, "Fernando was one of the finest,
most gentlest
men I have ever known. He cared for us. He protected us." She choked back the rest as she glared over at Culver, recognizing the jealousy in his darkened eyes.

     
"I cared for you, too. I protected you. But I guess that wasn't enough, was it?"

     
Pilar wanted to cry at the pain in his voice, but now was not the time. "It's the past," she cried softly. "Let it go!" Leaving the car, she hurried down the sidewalk, her hand in her purse, touching her pistol. If only she could shield herself from Culver's angry sniping as easily. She knew she had it coming, and she felt helpless to protect herself.

     
As she climbed wrought-iron steps that she knew led to an alley that would take them to her apartment building, she felt Culver's presence. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him approach soundlessly, his strides much longer than her own. His face was set and unreadable, but she could sense the anger throbbing around him. Well, he had every right to be angry.

     
"Take it easy," he growled, coming up to her side. "Slow down." His gaze moved ceaselessly, casing the street as they walked. Many areas weren't lit by the sparse streetlamps and he and Pilar stuck to the shadows. Large apartment buildings rose on either side of them, and small trees lined the boulevard, with a few concrete benches at bus stops. Culver longed to reach out and touch Pilar's arm—just in case. Matching his stride to her much-shorter one, he remained on her streetside.

     
Pilar tried to check her panicked pace. Culver was right. She would look out of place and could draw attention to them if Ramirez's men were watching. Her shoulder brushed Culver's arm, and she jerked away, inhaling sharply. Touching him was like tapping into a secret compartment hidden in her heart, revealing a glowing coal from the past that refused to die, reminding Pilar of all she had forfeited.

     
"Is there a rear entrance to this place?" Culver asked in a low tone.

     
"Yes, this way." She turned onto a narrower sidewalk lined with tall bushes that offered perfect cover. She led him to a door the janitor used.

     
Culver stepped ahead of her. "Give me your gun."

     
She pulled it out of her purse and handed it to him. The small pistol looked like a toy in Culver's hand. He motioned for her to stand back, away from the door.
So many of the ingrained habits of being an agent were flooding back to her.
Never directly approach any door—approach from the side so you won't be hit if someone begins firing through it from the other side. Her heart took up a staccato beat as Culver pressed himself against the wall next to the door. With his left hand, he pushed it open,
then
stepped inside. She was amazed by his agility, despite his size.

     
"Come on," he said harshly, signaling for her to hurry inside.