Chapter 6 #2
“I know, it’s fine. I don’t want to sit still right now. I’d like to have something to do.” She stepped into the kitchen, found a coffee pot on the counter, and plugged it in. “But maybe you could enlighten me a little.”
“About what?”
She started filling the carafe with water. “Explain WhiteRock. That way, I won’t have to interrogate my uncle later.” Gus’s smiling face flitted through her mind, leaving a hollow ache in its path. “Today’s been rough on Leland. Maybe I could spare him most of my questions.”
Jason gave a thoughtful nod. “I think I can do that.” He walked further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “WhiteRock is a private security company, officially.”
She turned off the faucet and looked at him. “Officially? What does that mean?”
“Providing high level security is about seventy percent of what we do. Give or take. We also conduct . . . other operations of various natures.”
“Of various natures? Could you be more vague?”
His mouth quirked up. “Sorry. Some of it is pretty sensitive.”
“You mean top secret.” She poured the water into the coffeemaker. “If you’re trying to dissuade me that you’re all a bunch of spies, you’re failing miserably.”
That drew a genuine laugh from him. “Not really.” He cocked his head in mock-concentration.
“Well, maybe on rare occasions.” He smiled again.
“Honestly, Tayla, a lot of the jobs are something like . . . a wealthy trust fund kid goes looking for adventure in a third world country, finds the wrong crowd, gets kidnapped and held for ransom. Mom and Dad call WhiteRock. And we bring him home.”
Wow. Just wow. Somehow, she wasn’t shocked. Which didn’t make any sense because, until this moment, she didn’t know anyone did that sort of thing for a living, outside of the military or government agencies. “Um, that sounds like a pretty dangerous occupation.”
“It could be. But we know what we’re doing.” Confidence filled his tone. Not arrogance.
Her admiration of this intriguing man inched up a little more.
“You’re handling today very well, by the way,” he said.
“Not really. I’m just trying to distract myself.
” She opened the pantry door. “And I’ve been praying a lot, so that helps.
” She glanced at the shelf of coffee. “Wow, okay, they have more coffee choices than soap choices in that spa bathroom. Do you like a dark roast? Medium roast? Notes of hazelnut, vanilla, or cinnamon?”
“Surprise me.”
She returned her focus to the pantry and considered the variety of coffee choices.
“You said you pray,” he said.
“Yes.” She chose a medium roast labeled ‘cinnamon hazelnut’ and shut the pantry door. “Was there a question in there?”
He smiled. And she needed to stop appreciating that smile so much. It was doing things to her she didn’t want to admit.
“No. I mean, I’m glad you pray.”
The tenderness in his voice told her he wasn’t just making conversation.
He meant it. And before she could harness her thoughts, they were speed-walking out of her mouth.
“I was in a Bible study last month. They gave us a verse to memorize. It was familiar, but I’d never memorized the whole thing before.
Even though it was a powerful verse for me years ago when .
. . when I really needed it. But I’m glad I know it now, because all day today I’ve been praying the verse over and over, The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. ”
She stopped to take a breath, shocked that she’d just shared so much.
Other than with her therapist, she hadn’t talked about anything remotely personal in a long time.
Jason leaned against the kitchen counter and hooked his thumbs in his pockets.
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” His chin dipped.
“That’s a verse God points me to often. I think to remind me he’s faithful. No matter what’s going on around me.”
Wow. And . . . that smile again. And—
Oops! The bag of coffee slipped from her hand. They both knelt to retrieve it.
One second before the kitchen window shattered.
Jason lunged for Tayla, threw himself on top of her, and froze. She gasped, and he covered her mouth with his hand. He needed to listen—to discern what they were dealing with. After a few seconds of silence, he eased off of her, holding a finger to his lips for her to stay quiet.
She nodded, eyes wide with fright.
He leaned his head so close that his lips brushed her ear. “Stay here, behind the cabinet. That was a rifle shot. Don’t move. I’ll be back.”
She grabbed a fist-full of his shirt. “No, you won’t!” she whisper-shouted.
Her protest carried a terror he hadn’t seen in her before.
He placed his hand on her mouth again, his eyes begging her to stay silent.
“I will come back. You have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”
She nodded, tears running down her face.
Why did she think he wouldn’t come back? She was probably in shock. He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to do more than that. But had to protect her. And to do that, he needed to get moving. His gaze locked on hers. “I will come back,” he whispered.
She didn’t respond, but she wasn’t arguing. Praying she would stay put and stay quiet, he army crawled into the living area and retrieved his sniper rifle case.
Continuing in a ducked position to the living room picture window, he unzipped the case and took out the rifle. He peeked behind the drawn curtains. Using his scope, he found his target—a shooter with a sniper rifle of his own, about forty yards away.
This wasn’t one of the goons from earlier. He looked professional, maybe former military. Some wild shots at his feet wouldn’t scare him off. Jason prayed he wouldn’t have to shoot him. But he knew he could, and would, if he had no other choice.
He watched the shooter move through the trees to a spot closer to the cottage, and repositioned again, even closer. Jason was about to lose sight of him from his vantage point. Didn’t matter. The shooter’s plan was clear. He was going to breach the back door.
Jason scanned the area once more. Reasonably satisfied the shooter came alone, he ran in a crouch to the back door and flattened himself against the wall next to the doorframe.
Silent seconds crawled by. Finally, a creak sounded on the back porch. He readied himself. The door eased open. The shooter took one step inside the cottage, and Jason sprang.
His swift, skilled greeting was physical and brutal, but not fatal.
More prepared than earlier that day, he pulled some handcuffs from his pocket and cuffed the man’s wrists.
He took a second set of cuffs, looped them around the set on his wrists and cuffed his ankles—rendering walking impossible if he happened to wake soon.
And for good measure, he duct taped his mouth. Then sprinted back to Tayla.
He found her right where he left her, lying on the kitchen floor. “Hey, are you okay? He’s unconscious and tied up.”
She rolled to her side. Her eyes acknowledged his words, but she didn’t speak.
For some reason, he felt compelled to brush his thumb across her cheek. “I need to check outside. To make sure we’re alone. I won’t be long. Stay down, just in case.”
She looked pale, but nodded.
He jogged to the front door, seriously wishing the cottage had video surveillance.
A satisfactory assessment of the perimeter took longer than he liked. The jungle was dense. And he couldn’t listen for movement because of the incessant roar from the waterfall. But after a few minutes, he felt sure there was no threat.
Returning to the cottage, he verified the shooter hadn’t moved. Although awake, and staring daggers at Jason, the shooter was secure.
Jason rejoined Tayla, who hadn’t budged from the kitchen floor. “We’re safe, for now. I’m going to contact Leland with the sat phone.” He crouched beside her and offered his hand to help her up. “You okay?”
Gripping his hand, she stood and nodded. She lifted her chin in a show of strength, but the rest of her body trembled. And it tore something inside him.
He stepped closer. “Come here,” he whispered.
She stepped into his embrace, and fell against his chest. He held her close and felt her head rest over his heart.
Slowly, her tremors subsided. She clung to him, and part of him wished she’d never let go.
As irrational as that was. He wasn’t sure if ten seconds or two minutes passed.
But when she retreated from his arms, he immediately missed her closeness.
“Thank you,” she said, without meeting his eyes.
He swiped a water bottle from the kitchen cabinet and handed it to her. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She looked at him, more composed than moments ago. She took a sip of water, and he grabbed a bottle for himself.
Looking beyond the kitchen, her brief confidence faltered when she saw the shooter on the ground.
Jason touched her arm. “It’s okay. He’s not going anywhere. He won’t hurt you. I promise.”
She looked back at him and cocked her head. “You’re good at that.”
“At what?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it in person, of course. I mean, I’ve seen the all the Jason Bourne movies, but—”
Jason choked and spurted out his last sip of water.
“Sorry,” he wiped water from his mouth with the back of his hand.
He coughed twice, trying to recover his voice.
“Please, please, tell your uncle you compared me to Jason Bourne.
He would love that.“ He let out a choked laugh. “That’s a lie. He would hate it. But I would really enjoy it if you did.”
She wasn’t ready to smile yet, but a hint of amusement shone in her eyes.
The sound of a car approaching halted their conversation. And froze them for a beat.
“I’ll check it out. It’s probably the guys. Stay here, just in case.” Before he walked away, he felt like kissing her. He didn’t. Didn’t even try. But he wanted to. Which shocked him. How was someone he just met able to drudge up feelings like this in him—ones that lay dormant for so many years?
She felt so right in his arms a minute ago. But that wasn’t proof this attraction was a good idea.
Forcing the thought from his mind, he walked to the window near the front door. He stood to the side to get a view of the car without revealing himself in the window.
“It’s okay, Tayla. It’s them,” he called out.
Good. Now they needed to get their unwanted visitor to the authorities, plan their day tomorrow, and eat some dinner. The guys better have food with them.