Code of Honor

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.”