Code of Honor

Her father lifted out of the deep leather chair to send her a stern withering look. “Selena, surely you’re not going back to the clinic.”

“I surely will go back,” she said as she stepped into the room, her hand unconsciously touching on the bandage across her forehead.

Brice took in the sight of her. She was alive and safe and that’s what he needed to focus on right now. But she looked pale in the muted light glowing from the various table lamps and chandeliers in this old house. She’d had a bath and was wearing the clothes her father had brought over—a green cashmere sweater and a pair of sleek black pants. She looked incredible, considering she could have died if she’d gotten into that car.

“How are you feeling?” he asked to deflect the warring stares between Selena and her father.

“I feel just dandy.” She laughed, tossed all that glorious hair away from her shoulder. “My car is destroyed and my life is in danger, but other than that, I’m just great.”

“Touchy, are we?”

“Don’t I have a right to be touchy? These people have disrupted my life. First, down in Argentina and now here. I’m not sure what to do next, but I won’t let them stop me from doing my job.” She focused on her father. “And I mean that, Daddy.”

Brice had to smile. Her feminine southern wiles were kicking in. He’d caught it in the slight inflection of her darling drawl. Even scary-smart Selena Carter knew being born and bred in the South gave a woman a distinct advantage. And it didn’t hurt that she had her formidable father wrapped around her finger—whether she realized it or not.

“Now, sugah, don’t go looking at me like that,” Delton said, coming over to give her a kiss on the forehead just below her injury. “Your mama is worried sick. She’s on her way home from London right.”

“I don’t need Mother here to babysit me,” Selena replied, all brisk business again. “Call her and tell her to stay. She’d been planning this trip for months now.”

Delton shrugged. “Well, now, you know your mama, honey. She’s every bit as stubborn as you. And when she said she’d be arriving at Hartsfield tomorrow morning, I knew I could set my watch by it.”

Selena looked from her father to Brice. “Have you scared everybody into thinking I’m not safe?”

Brice met her gaze with a sharp scowl. “No, luv, your car exploding just a few feet away from you did that. Your father has hired me to be your security patrol, not because we think you’re not safe, but because we know you aren’t.”

She waited two beats before groaning. “No! Daddy, this is silly. I don’t need Brice hanging around, bothering me. I have to live my life and that means I have to keep working.”

“We want you to do just that,” Brice said, thinking he’d like nothing better than hanging around Selena. “And that’s why I’ll be by your side every waking hour during the day and that’s also why you’ll be staying here with me for a while. Your apartment might not be safe.”

Selena shook her head so hard her hair swung out in a golden-red arc around her shoulders. “No, I will not. Daddy, we have the same security system as Brice at our house. I don’t need him hovering and hindering me. I won’t do it. I’ll stay with Mother when she gets back instead.”

“Too late, little darlin’,” Delton replied. “I’m set for that big conference in Chicago next week and your mama can’t protect a ladybug, let alone the both of you. She’s gonna come home just to be nearby this weekend and then she’ll probably meet me in Chicago next week—which was our original plan anyway. But until we both get back to town for sure I want you to do what Brice says. You’ll have plenty of company here with Brice’s mother and his well-qualified staff and your mama can come and visit all weekend long. I’ve already arranged to have some of your things sent over. And that’s that.”

Selena bristled beautifully. “I’m staying here? Just like that, I have to be under house arrest with him?” Her eyebrows lifted and her nostrils flared in distaste.

Brice made a clucking sound. An arrow through his heart couldn’t have had a more direct hit. “Ouch! The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“You better believe I do, Romeo!”

“Actually, that line is from Hamlet, but I get the point.”

“Do you? Do you really? You planned this, Brice. You know I’m still reeling from those murders in Día Belo and then being summoned back home and now this—forcing me to stay in this cold, drafty Tudor-style prison—”

Delton stepped forward and this time he didn’t sugarcoat his words. “Would you rather I send you to Ireland for some real peace and quiet, Selena? You do know that Brice has a home there that makes this one look like a doll house. Very isolated and remote—a perfect place to reflect and consider things, but also a very good place for twenty-four-hour protection, if need be. I think it even has a dungeon or two. But for your comfort, I’m sure he’d arrange the best suite in the place—the bedroom near the turret room. The view is something else, let me tell you.”

Brice grinned. “It’s…just a little family estate, really.”

“It’s a castle,” Selena retorted. “And we’re all well aware of how you torment CHAIM agents who’ve messed up when they’re sent there. You probably make them wear shirts made with fresh Whelan wool, all scratchy and itchy.”

“We don’t torment or torture anyone,” Brice countered. “And our wool is some of the softest on earth, thank you very much.”

She looked down at her own sweater. “I guess it is, but still, living around you could turn out to be torment.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” he said, frowning and feeling jittery. “I just try to bring jaded, frustrated agents back around. The job causes a lot of burnout and other complications. We restore their energy and their motivation and give them a fresh perspective in a peaceful, secluded atmosphere where they can meet with counselors and where they can talk to anyone about anything. I guess that can be hard on a man at times, but we are kind to our guests. It really is more of a retreat.” It was a matter of pride, after all. “This job is very demanding at times.” He lifted a brow toward her to indicate this was one such time.

“Well, I can certainly see why. Having to sneak around and snoop in other people’s business must be tedious—”

“But necessary,” her father added. “We do our best to help Christians in trouble, Selena. And right now, that’s you. So there will be no arguing against my decision.”

She turned on Brice. “And I suppose this was all your idea, anyway, right?”

Brice didn’t know how to reach her. “I just want to know you’re safe,” he said, hoping she could see the sincerity in his heart. “And the only way I can know that is to see it with my own eyes.”

Selena looked down at the empty fireplace, then back up at him, her expression guarded and almost evasive. For a long time, their gazes held and locked, and Brice’s heart seemed to lock into place with a definite click as he threw away the key, knowing Selena had ruined him for any other woman.

The fire hissed and sputtered. She looked away first. “Oh, all right. Just for a week.”

“That’s all I’ll need,” he replied, stalling for time the only way he knew how. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this if I have to go back to Argentina myself and bring these people to justice.”

Her head shot up at that. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

She amazed him. She was willing to put herself in danger, but not him. That she cared touched his heart in all the right places, but the fact that she couldn’t see that she was a real target now left him cold to his bones. “Aye, it is too dangerous. And that’s why I’ll be guarding you for the next week, at least.”

“At least?”

He cringed, then turned to leave the room before she could question him any more. “I’ll just go and check on dinner. Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Brice, what does that mean—at least?”

He wanted to tell her it meant he’d protect her for eternity, but he couldn’t say that. For now, he’d settle for a few days.

Which meant he had very little time. And the clock had just started ticking. He’d have to pray his way through this one.

Adele looked up as Brice entered the big beamed kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready, darling. How’s Selena?”

Brice kissed his mother on the cheek, then grabbed an olive off the tray of munchies she’d fixed. Beside her in the kitchen, Betty Sager stirred the big pot of beef stew brewing on the industrial-size stove. Next to her on the long marble counter, freshly baked bread sat steaming.

Pinching at the bread, Brice said, “She’s not pleased, but then we expected that. I’m hoping she’ll come around once she sees this is for her own good.”

“Very independent, that one,” Adele said, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. But her next words changed the lighthearted look to one of worry and dread. “Too independent. It’s amazing she made it out of Argentina alive.”

Betty turned to wipe her aged hands on a towel. “Nothing amazing about it—Brice saved her. Just as he saved my son and Charles and me.”

Brice gave Betty a peck on her cheek. The slender, gray-haired woman was fast becoming like a second mother to him. “And how is young Roderick these days?”

“Thankful,” Betty said. “We all are. We might be dead ourselves if you and Mr. Trudeau hadn’t given Roderick another chance. That boy has truly seen the error of his ways.”

Adele’s smile brightened. “That’s what we’re all about, Betty. Forgiveness and intervention. CHAIM does a lot of good for Christians, and Roderick is proving he wants to be a part of that. I’m so glad Brice convinced the authorities to let him mentor your son as part of his probation.”

“The lad shows promise,” Brice said, remembering when just a few short months ago Roderick Sager had held a gun to Gina Malone and tried to take her son off a plane—Brice’s own company jet. His friend and fellow agent Eli Trudeau had almost throttled the boy for that one. But Roderick had been threatened and coerced into doing a bad deed in order to save his parents, and the boy had learned a lot from that forced criminal intent—thanks to a visit to Brice’s isolated home in Ireland, where Brice had talked with him and assured him he could work toward a second chance. Now Brice had taken him under his wing and Roderick, very savvy in technology, was in training to become a certified CHAIM agent. And his older adoptive parents—who had been threatened, too—were now members of Brice’s household here in America. The arrangement worked for all involved.

Betty gave Brice an appreciative glance. “You’ve been so good to him, Brice. How can I ever repay you?”

“By cooking mouthwatering meals such as this one,” Brice countered, uneasy with the praise. “And keeping my lovely mum company when I’m away.”

“Easily done,” Betty said, grinning. “Now, you go and get our guests settled in the dining room and I’ll find Charles. I think he’s piddling out in the garden shed. Soup’s on.”

“I’ll be glad to do both,” he told her. “I’ll announce dinner to our guests then go and get Charles.” Winking at his mother, he added, “This should be interesting.”

Adele nodded. “Yes, since you two have been in love since you first laid eyes on each other.”

“Charles and I?” Brice said with a chuckle. “No offense to him, Mum, but he’s not my type.” Betty grinned and laughed out loud.

“You know who I’m talking about,” his mother said, shaking her head. “Selena.”

“Mum, now, don’t go pinning hopes on that. Selena hates me on sight.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

Brice saw the sweet, knowing expression on his mother’s face. He wasn’t so sure about that.

Did Selena have feelings for him? Real feelings? And how did he feel about her? He knew the answer to that one. He had always loved her. But he’d never acted on that love because of his work and because of Selena’s commitments. And mainly because he wasn’t sure how she really, truly felt about taking their long-time friendship any further. He’d have to guard his heart with this one. Or he’d be the one in dangerous territory. Selena Carter scared him more than facing down a cell of terrorists.

THREE

Brice made it to the solarium door when he heard dainty little footsteps on the tiled floor behind him.

But the command wasn’t so dainty. “Wait up.”

Halting at the French doors leading out to the flagstone terrace, he braced himself, his gaze taking in the coming dusk and the soft yellow lights of the gas lamps that burned along the garden paths all around his estate.

That request meant trouble. Selena was going to read him the riot act for forcing her to stay here.

“Don’t shoot me in the back,” he said, hands going up in surrender.

“Don’t tempt me,” she replied as she came up behind him and slapped at one of his upheld hand. “Relax. I could have murdered you years ago, but for some strange reason I didn’t.”

“That’s because you do care about me, in spite of me being me, right?”

“I suppose so. Although, for the life of me, I can’t understand it.”

He slanted a look at her, thinking he understood a lot more than she did, obviously. “Are you still mad, then?”

Her shrug brought shimmering strands of curling hair fall around her face and neck. “No madder than I already was, but then I’ve been angry at you for one thing or another since the day we met.”

Brice sure knew that to be a factual statement. Selena and he had actually gotten into an argument without even knowing each other’s names that first day at the University of Georgia. He didn’t really remember what the argument had been about, but he sure did remember the fiery young girl working him over with her idealist political views.

She’d been magnificent then and she was even better now. “Do you keep a list? Against me, I mean?”

“No. I’d have run out of paper long ago on that.” When he guided her through the doors opening from the glass-enclosed solarium, she stopped, a soft sigh slinking out of her body as the now cool spring air hit them. Biting at her full lip, she said, “I have to admit, this has scared me more than I’m letting on.”

Brice escorted her down the terrace steps, then turned to give her a tight frown, the pool’s azure water glistening behind them. “Now you’re beginning to see things my way.”

“I didn’t say that,” she retorted, holding her arms close to herself to ward off the chill. “I’m still not happy about this. I know I’m at risk, but it seems silly for me to stay here since we can’t be sure what actually happened with my car until we get the police report back.”

Brice took in the spring evening, the freshness of the gloaming contrasting with the coldness that had come over him when he’d watched Selena’s car blow up. “Having you here while your parents are in Chicago is the only way I’ll get any sleep. I can watch out for you while I research this situation myself. We can’t always trust the police on these things, and CHAIM has a lot of resources for dealing with people like this.”

She went back into her adversary mode. “So you’re officially on the case then, not just playing bodyguard to me?”

“That’s the plan, and frankly, you can either be mad or you can be glad, but I’m not budging on this. We got you safely away from Día Belo, but our work isn’t done. We can’t allow innocent Christians to be slaughtered by criminals, nor will we allow innocent villagers to be caught in the crossfire. We’re supposed to be there to make a difference, but it’s always a hassle with these militant groups and the local government both involved and constantly trying to upstage each other all around us. If it becomes too dangerous, we won’t be able to send other missionaries back down there.”

He watched her face in the dusk, saw the flutter of scattered emotions moving over her features with a swift clarity just like the remaining random rain clouds in the early evening sky. She shivered and he quickly took off his lightweight coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” she said, her hands gripping the labels of his jacket. “I can’t talk about it anymore, not tonight. It’s so nice and peaceful here.” They walked through the budding azaleas and the tall oaks and magnolia trees toward the large narrow gardening shed at the back side of the expansive yard. Selena took in a deep breath as they neared a cascading dogwood ripe with white blossoms. “The gardens are beautiful, Brice. Especially after this afternoon’s rain.”

“You can thank Charles and Betty for that. Since they’ve been here to supervise the yard crew, this garden has really taken off. Or as Roderick would say, ‘It pops!’”

She actually laughed, the delicate giggle like the sound of tiny bells. “It was kind—what you did for him. You could have sent him to jail for a very long time.”

“That’s not usually the CHAIM way, unless of course someone deserves to go to jail. Then we turn them and the evidence over to the proper authorities.”

She stopped near a large stone fountain sculptured in the shape of two smiling, robed women holding one clay pot while they stood by several other colorful pots, trailing wisteria vines twirling behind them. Adele called this her Ruth and Naomi fountain. Listening to the gurgling water as it spilled over the multitiered centerpiece where purple wisteria blossoms danced in the splash, she asked, “And these people who killed Diego—the ones who appear to be after me now, what do they deserve?”

He heard the danger underneath her soft-spoken words. She wanted retribution. Brice wondered just how close she’d been to the young doctor who’d been murdered in a shoot-out that had also killed several villagers, wondered what she hadn’t told him during her frantic phone call to him late on that terrible night. And as he’d flown down to the tiny village of Día Belo, his imagination reeling with what might happen to her before he could reach her, he also wondered why the smugglers had targeted La Casa de Dios. True it was located in a place of poverty and despair near the border with Brazil, where the villagers had very little money and even less hope, and they did keep a cache of prescription drugs at the on-site pharmacy and dispensary there. But for the most part, Selena’s team of devoted missionaries and villagers didn’t cause trouble and they didn’t bring on any trouble. They were simply part of a humanitarian effort trying to help.

If Selena hadn’t been on the other side of the camp, checking on a sick baby when the ambush had taken place, she might have been right in the middle of the slaughter, too. She’d heard the shots as she was walking back toward the clinic and had managed to hide in the jungle growth just as the culprits finished the job and left. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about what she had witnessed. And now he needed her to talk, to remember, so he could find information on how to protect her. Brice couldn’t think beyond that, beyond the scent of jasmine and wisteria and the way her hair lifted in the damp night wind.

“Brice, did you hear me? How are you planning on handling this?”

Nothing about this brutal act made sense to him and he intended to dig a little deeper to get some answers. But he tried to answer her question in the only way he knew how. “I want justice, of course.”

“CHAIM justice?” she asked, her hand trailing along a damp honeysuckle vine. “Or the real kind where they actually serve jail time for the rest of their days?”

He stopped her, taking her hands in his as he looked down at her. “You know how we handle things. We work with the proper authorities to bring any criminal to justice. But in this case, that will take a lot of evidence and a lot of cooperation with the authorities in Argentina—if we can even get them to cooperate. But first we have to gather information and find these people, and Selena, these are the kind of people who make it their business not to be found.”

She yanked her hands away, held them up like a shield. “Well, it seems they didn’t have any trouble finding me.” Then she halted again, her eyes full of liquid fire as she stared up at him. “Why would they kill Diego, Brice? And why would they follow me here to Atlanta?”

“Well, that’s what we have to figure out. And we will. I’m going to get busy again tracking down any information or leads I can find to see what’s going on and what exactly these people were trying to keep undercover besides the obvious—we know they’re smugglers but why did they suddenly attack the clinic? You don’t keep the kind of drugs they deal in there, so why would they bother?”

She looked away, out toward where the sloping yard met the Chattahoochee River. “Diego must have stumbled onto something.”

Brice’s antenna went up on that comment since this was the first time she’d alluded to that possibility. “Did he ever talk to you about anything out of the ordinary, anything that could have caused this?”

She shook her head, then looked down. “We spent most of our time fighting red tape and trying to help patients. We didn’t have time to worry about some rogue gang of militants and smugglers. Saving lives didn’t leave room for anything else.”

And since she’d been home, she hadn’t allowed for any talk about Diego or his death or what exactly that gang had taken. All Brice had managed to piece together was that a renegade group had passed through the village and wreaked havoc on everything before murdering Diego and some of the villagers. What they’d taken or what they’d left behind was still being investigated. But nothing had been forthcoming from the local authorities. And Selena didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Brice wanted to believe she’d told him everything she could, but he’d seen the subtle shift of darkness in her expression just now. She was worried, no doubt. But she also looked unsure and—he hated to think it—guilty. He didn’t press her, but he would have to keep at her until she told him everything. Maybe she was just suffering survivor’s guilt and nothing more.

She hitched a breath. “He didn’t deserve this. He was a good man. Such a good and noble man.”

Brice couldn’t respond to that. He saw her love for Diego there in her eyes and a flare of white-hot jealousy hit him square in his guts. He wanted her to look that way whenever she thought of him.

But for now, he’d have to be content with just protecting her and trying to help her bring these people to justice. And he’d have to watch as she mourned another man and waited for retribution for that man. He prayed she didn’t try to take matters into her own hands. Maybe she at least understood after what had happened today that she was in serious danger.

Please, Lord, keep her safe. And help me to do my job to the best of my abilities.

He reached up a hand to push at the hair falling around her temple, then moved his fingers to touch her wound. “Are you in pain?”

She let out a little laugh. “Right now, yes, more than I can bear. I’m bruised from falling and my head is sore. But it’s not my head or my bruises that hurts. It’s my heart. I think it’s broken. I need to turn to my Bible and my prayers—that will give me strength.”

She stepped toward Brice and wrapped her arms around his waist, then laid her head against his shoulder. “At least I have my best friend here to help me through this. Even if I am still mad at you.” She squeezed him tight, her hands brushing against his back. “But you’re right. I can’t stay mad at you forever.”

Brice brought her close, his arms taking in her tiny frame as he drank in the sweet jasmine scent of her fragrance. He wanted to hold her this way forever, to make her forget her broken heart and the man she’d found dead along with all of her other coworkers in the pouring rain down in the jungles of Argentina.

He wanted to make her forget everything that had ever hurt her. But first, he had to keep her safe.

And right now, all he could do was offer her his arms for comfort, his shoulder to lean on, his friendship and protection, just to be near her.

“We’ll figure things out, cara. It’s going to be right as rain for you—soon I hope.”