Chapter 2 #2
To Pid’s surprise, Monica actually looked amused. “That’s what I thought the first time I saw it. But when you want to play soccer and the weather’s crappy, it’s pretty perfect.”
“I bet it’s haunted,” Slate said.
“Now that you mention it, I did hear strange noises when I was here, but I dismissed them,” Monica said.
The look on Slate’s face was priceless. Monica obviously thought so too, because she giggled.
The woman actually giggled. Pid didn’t even care that he wasn’t the one to make her laugh.
He was too blown away by how the smile on her face changed her whole countenance.
And for the first time, he realized she had a dimple in one cheek.
A fucking dimple.
Fuck. He was such a sucker for dimples.
“Shit, woman, please tell me you’re kidding,” Slate begged.
“I’m kidding,” Monica said obediently, but it was clear she was humoring him.
An explosion from a street over spurred them into action. Slate immediately entered the menacing-looking building, with Pid and Monica at his heels.
“Which way?” Slate asked.
Pid heard Monica’s subtle snort before she said, “You’re asking me? You’re the big bad Navy SEALs.”
He couldn’t help but smile. There was that prickly attitude. He didn’t think her lightheartedness would last, and he’d been right.
“A big bad Navy SEAL who’s never been in here. You have. Which way?” Slate asked again, no irritation evident in his tone.
“There are a bunch of boxes to the left. Last time I was here, checking to make sure the local kids were all right, I saw a young boy who wasn’t playing soccer making a fort with them,” Monica said.
Without another word, the threesome headed that way.
Monica had been right. The old factory building was a perfect temporary hiding spot. Rioters would have no interest in the place because it was abandoned, nothing of value inside for them to steal. Their attention was focused on the houses of the government workers.
Within five minutes, Pid and Slate had rearranged the empty boxes to give all three of them space to sit, protected from being seen at first glance if someone decided to enter the building.
They wouldn’t be protected from bullets, but Pid was fairly confident they were safe from that sort of threat at the moment.
Monica had taken a seat about four feet away from him and Slate. Pid didn’t like that she wasn’t within easy reach, but because he didn’t sense any immediate danger, he kept his mouth shut.
“So…Monica. What’s your story?” Slate asked.
Pid held back his chuckle. Slate had never been one to beat around the bush. He liked getting right to the heart of things. He supposed it went along with being impatient.
Earlier, Pid had lamented the fact that the moon was almost full tonight, as it hindered their ability to walk around undetected, but now he was glad for it.
The light coming through the pane-less windows allowed him to just make out Monica sitting against the wall nearby.
Her knees were drawn up and her arms were around them, as if she was holding herself together.
He didn’t like the defensive position, but he and Slate were strangers, so he couldn’t exactly blame her for being uncomfortable.
“No story,” she said, not cooperating with Slate’s attempt at conversation.
Slate harrumphed. “Right,” he said sarcastically. “What’s your last name?”
“Collins.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
“You aren’t very tall; you can’t be much above five-three or four.”
“Five-three.”
Pid smirked. This wasn’t going well. But he had a feeling he knew what to talk about to help her loosen up a bit. “How’d you get the job with the ambassador?” he asked.
He could literally see her muscles relax a fraction at that question, her shoulders dropping. “I applied and was hired,” she said, but there was a bit less animosity in her tone now.
“You like being a nanny?” Pid asked.
“I love it. Once upon a time, I wanted to be a teacher, but that didn’t work out since I couldn’t afford college.
I started babysitting to earn money to live on, and I found that I enjoyed it.
I click with kids, more so than with adults.
They’re honest to a fault. They’ll always tell you what they’re thinking and feeling. ”
After a beat, even Pid was surprised when she continued.
“I had a string of long-term babysitting jobs and then someone asked if I’d be a full-time nanny for their two-year-old.
That lasted two years, until the couple moved out of state.
I took a few other nanny positions before someone connected me with a couple who were moving to Israel for an ambassador position.
They wanted to hire someone to homeschool their three kids, and I was recommended.
When the family was preparing to move back to the States, they asked if I’d consider going to Algeria to work for Desmond Laws. I jumped at the chance. And here I am.”
Pid mentally nodded to himself. She’d been so happy to talk about being a nanny, he had a feeling she didn’t even realize she’d answered his original question about how she’d gotten the job with the ambassador.
“You’re obviously very good at what you do,” Pid told her. “That boy was extremely concerned about you, and even though he was scared, he mustered up the courage to approach and ask me to find you.”
A small smile formed on Monica’s face, and once more Pid caught a glimpse of her dimple.
“We’ve talked a lot about safety and doing the right thing,” she said.
“I don’t remember where I heard the saying, but it stuck with me, and I taught it to the boys.
‘Being scared means you’re about to do something brave.
’ I’m sure August—who I’m guessing is the one you talked to; his older brother is Remington—was nervous about approaching you, but hopefully he remembered that saying and was proud of himself afterward. ”
Pid heard the confidence in her tone as she talked about her charges. She sounded almost friendly, which was quite the change from her standoffish attitude since the moment they’d found her.
He opened his mouth to ask her more about August and Remington, just as Mustang’s voice sounded through the radio in his ear.
“This is team leader one. Got your ears on?”
“Ten-four,” Slate responded.
Pid pointed to his ear and said softly to Monica, “It’s our team leader checking in.”
She nodded.
“We’ve got you on the map, good choice to hole up for a while. It’s a fucking mess out there,” Mustang said.
“It was Monica’s idea,” Slate said.
“Well, no one’s gonna mess with a hollowed-out building, not when there are houses to loot one street over. Stay put as long as you can. As soon as the fucking mobs break up, we’ll send a helo for you both.”
“Ten-four,” Slate said.
“Mustang?” Pid asked.
“Yeah?”
“She said someone else came to the house claiming to be a SEAL. Gave her bad vibes, and she hid while he shot out the back door.”
There was silence on the radio for a beat before Mustang said, “Fucking hell. Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“I’m assuming he didn’t find her?” Mustang asked.
“You’d assume right. But there was evidence that the house was searched. He was smart, didn’t trash the place, left everything as clean as he could.”
“Was anything taken?”
“We didn’t have time to stick around and check things out.”
“Is he asking if the SEAL stole anything?” Monica asked.
“Hang on,” Pid told Mustang, then nodded at Monica. “Yeah. Did he?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
“How do you know?” Slate asked.
“Desmond had camera monitors inside the safe room. They weren’t expensive, just a cheap system he bought off the internet and installed himself.
But I watched as the SEAL and his accomplice went from room to room.
There were a few guns Desmond had stashed around the house that they took.
They also grabbed jewelry and cash, and even broke into the safe the ambassador had in the back of his closet. ”
“Someone else was with him?” Slate asked.
“Yes. But it didn’t look like they were partners…if that makes sense? They didn’t really talk much. The SEAL guy kind of looked annoyed that the other guy was even there.”
“Shit. All right. What was in the safe?”
“Passports, birth certificates, and a lot of money.”
“How much?” Mustang asked through the radio in Pid’s ear. Slate had obviously opened the mic so their team leader could hear Monica.
“How much money? Do you know?” Pid asked, since Monica couldn’t hear Mustang.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure, but probably several thousand. Desmond was a fan of keeping a stash of money on hand for emergencies.”
“Didn’t help him much, did it?” Slate muttered.
It was a rhetorical question, but Monica didn’t seem to realize. “No, it didn’t. He would’ve been better off keeping other, more important things on him at all times.”
Pid had an epiphany. “Like you do?” he asked.
Monica looked surprised, but quickly blanked her expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m just thinking, it would make your life a lot easier if you had your passport on you right about now,” Pid told her.
No one spoke for a long moment before Monica shrugged and said as nonchalantly as possible, “I’ve got my passport.”
“Smart,” Mustang said through the radio once more. “But at the moment, I’m more concerned about this asshole claiming to be a SEAL and going around ransacking houses.”
“Same,” Slate said.
Pid kept his gaze glued on Monica. She fascinated him. The more he found out about her, the more he wanted to know.
“Seems fishy that an area of town that wasn’t the site of the main protest is suddenly ground zero for the rioters,” Slate said.
“I thought so too,” Mustang agreed.
“As if someone spread the word that the occupants had fled and their houses were ripe for the pickin’,” Slate mused. “That asshole’s partner was probably a local, happy to get first crack at looting houses in return for helping to incite violence.”