Come Midnight by Kat Martin
CHAPTER TWELVE
ITWASALMOSTtime for supper. They showered together this time, being careful and passionately creative as they made love once more. Neither of them had had unsafe sex before they’d met, so they knew they could enjoy each other freely.
Bree held onto Derek’s hand as they headed downstairs to the cantina and sat down at a rough wooden table, the aromas of roasting meat and beer floating in the air. Señora Garcia served them a meal of chile colorado, frijoles and freshly made tortillas. The food was delicious.
Bree leaned back in an old wooden chair that rocked on uneven legs. For a while after their afternoon of lovemaking, she’d been relaxed. Now Derek’s words were rolling around in her head.
Your parents...they’d never accept me. I’m not the guy for you, Bree.
Derek was the best man she’d ever known. Besides his amazing body, fantastic lovemaking and being the sexiest man on the planet, he was smart and loyal and protective. She hadn’t been looking for a man when she’d met him, but Derek had won her heart completely. He was everything she’d ever wanted, and she wasn’t letting him go.
Not without a fight.
On the other hand, he had never mentioned his feelings for her. The idea nagged her...maybe Derek didn’t feel the way she did.
There was no doubt he wanted her. Under different circumstances, she was certain they would still be in bed making up for lost time. But sexual desire wasn’t enough. Not when her heart was already fully committed. She needed to know Derek’s feelings ran as deep as her own.
She took a drink of Salva Vida, Honduran beer, hoping to calm her emotions. Derek had already finished eating. He was leaning back in his chair, his golden eyes watching her as if he touched her, but there was no way to tell what he was thinking.
Her head swiveled toward a commotion in the cantina.
“Señor Stiles! Señor Stiles!” A small brown-skinned boy rushed through the door and raced toward them. “Men come! Men come!”
Bree and Derek both shot up from their chairs, and Derek’s whole body tensed as Rafael Castillo and half a dozen men pushed through the cantina doors, General Batista among them.
Derek moved toward Bree and eased her behind him. Bree fought not to tremble. Dear God, Castillo found us! She steeled herself. No way was she letting a man like him see her fear.
“So, we meet again,” Castillo said with a look of dark satisfaction. Bree had never seen such fury in his cold brown eyes before. Next to him, General Batista’s smooth, dark features were marked with silent rage. He’d been made to look like a fool in front of his commander. Payback was etched into every line of his face.
“You’re too late,” Derek said to the men. “Wingate knows we escaped. He won’t pay your ransom now.”
Castillo’s hard mouth flattened out. “Oh, he will pay. But only for his daughter. You, my friend, will be rotting in your grave.”
Bree stepped out from behind Derek. “If you hurt him in any way, I’ll make sure you never get your money.”
“Perhaps not. But one way or another, you will both pay for the death of my friend.”
The general motioned to his soldiers, and two of them moved into position behind them, guns drawn.
“Vamanos!” Castillo raised his hand and started leading them toward the door. The soldier behind Derek shoved him forward. Bree hurried to catch up with him, her heart beating hard, her skin icy cold as they pushed through the door into the narrow dirt street.
An eerie quiet settled over her, the town strangely empty. Something shifted in the air around them, and her heart beat even harder.
“Put your hands in the air! All of you! Do it now!”
Bree clutched Derek’s arm. At least thirty armed, uniformed soldiers stepped out of their hiding places on each side of the cantina, rifles and pistols pointed at Castillo, the general and his ragged band of men.
Derek and Bree raised their hands but eased a little away from Castillo and the others, who stood frozen, hands held high, in the middle of the street.
“That’s my daughter! Breanna Wingate!” Bree recognized her father’s voice an instant before she saw him, just an average man with short brown hair and square-rimmed glasses. But there was nothing average about Jonathan Wingate. Her father’s authority crackled in the very air around them.
A soldier who stood opposite them walked toward her. He had epaulettes on his shoulders and a billed cap on his head. Brass buttons gleamed on the front of his khaki uniform.
Gripping Derek’s arm, she drew him along beside her, making sure he stayed close. Bree’s eyes stung. She let go of Derek, ran into her father’s open arms, and held on tight. “Dad. I can’t believe you’re here.”
He kissed her forehead. “You didn’t think I would come? My darling daughter, I told you on the phone I flew down as soon as I got the ransom call.”
“Yes, but I thought you’d wait for us in San Salvador. I didn’t think you’d bring an army to rescue us.”
“Colonel Zepeda got word Castillo and his men were looking for you. He was worried about your safety. Fortunately, we got here in time.”
She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Around them, Colonel Zepeda’s men were rounding up the terrorists and disarming them. General Batista stood at the head of his men, his usually graceful posture stiff and jerky as he was marched off down the street. At the rear of the column, Castillo walked in the middle of a group of soldiers, his hands cuffed behind his back.
At the least, Castillo would be facing years in prison for his terrorist activities as well as kidnapping. A sentence he more than deserved.
Bree returned her attention to her father. “Dad, I want you to meet Derek.” She looked over to where he stood tall and straight, talking to Colonel Zepeda.
Her father nodded. “Of course. I look forward to meeting the man who helped my daughter.” She had told him on the phone Derek wasn’t really her fiancé, just a passenger on the plane who had come to her aid.
Holding on to her father’s hand, Bree led him toward the man who had risked his life to save her.
“Dad, this is Derek Stiles. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for him.” Or brutally raped or forced into a life of prostitution, never to be seen again.
Her dad extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Derek. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did for my daughter.”
Derek’s expression never changed. “Bree’s an amazing woman. I’m glad I was able to help.”
“He did more than help, Dad.” She began to tell her father all the things Derek had done to protect her, but her dad cut her off.
“You can tell me all about it back at the hotel. I took the top floor of the Sheraton El Presidente to use as a command post. You both have rooms there. You can rest and refresh yourselves.”
“How do we get to the city?” Bree asked, glancing at the activity around them.
“The colonel has a helicopter waiting to take us back. I’ve got the jet on standby at the airport whenever we’re ready to leave.” He smiled. “Your mother sent several changes of clothes. She figured you would need them.”
Her mother was a rock, the matriarch of the family, the person who held everyone together.
She glanced at Derek, whose expression hadn’t changed. Bree just nodded. “Okay.”
“All right, let’s go.” Her dad set his hand on her shoulder and ushered her around the building toward a military Jeep parked out of sight behind a faded yellow, wood-frame house. Derek walked a few paces behind them. She could already feel him distancing himself, preparing to leave.
Her throat tightened. She loved him. There was no way to pretend it wasn’t so.
They all climbed into the Jeep, and the driver turned onto the road, heading in the opposite direction the soldiers had escorted Castillo, General Batista and his men. They followed the dirt track to where a big jet helicopter sat in an open field, nothing at all like the much smaller Raven that Derek had flown.
The blades were slowly revolving, waiting for orders. They all climbed in and belted into their seats, Bree making a point of sitting next to Derek. He flicked her a sideways glance but said nothing.
Just as they were ready to lift off, Colonel Zepeda climbed aboard. Then the engine revved, and the chopper lifted away. She still hadn’t had a chance to talk to her dad, but as the helicopter roared back to the city, she looked at Derek’s stony face and swallowed back the tears collecting in her throat. Nothing she said was going to matter.
Derek’s mind was made up. Whatever they had shared was over.
Bree’s heart ached as if a knife had been stabbed into her chest.
