Come Midnight by Kat Martin

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DEREKOPTEDNOTto stay at El Presidente. He’d borrowed a phone and called the Garrett Resources office in Houston as soon he’d returned to San Salvador to let them know he was well and safe. As soon as word of the hijacking had reached Bogotá, his meetings had been canceled indefinitely.

He hadn’t expected the phone call a few minutes later from his employer, Reese Garrett, CEO of the company, though the email he had sent from the plane had gone to Reese.

“Thank God you’re safe,” Reese said. “As soon as I got your email, I called Bran, and he insisted on flying down.”

Brandon Garrett was Reese’s younger brother, a former special ops solider. During his years in the army, Bran had been deployed many times to South America, though he never talked about it.

“Bran managed to make contact with a colonel named Zepeda,” Reese said. “Zepeda was familiar with El Defensor, and once he understood the situation, the colonel was eager to help. Bran wasn’t allowed to go in with the colonel’s men, but that’s never stopped my brother. Apparently, he was in Santa Margarita when the operation went down. Soon as he saw you and Ms. Wingate were safe, he disappeared.”

That sounded like Bran. They were friends of a sort. Clearly Bran Garrett was a good friend to have.

“Tell him I owe him a beer.”

Reese laughed. “Tell him yourself. Bran’s still in San Salvador. Company jet’s waiting to bring you both home. Where are you staying?”

“Intercontinental. Room 515.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Since Derek’s phone was somewhere in the Honduran jungle, he’d picked up a disposable, but it didn’t have his contact list. “That’d be great.”

“Anything you need?”

He thought of Bree and how much he missed her. A new heart, he wanted to say but didn’t. “I bought myself some clothes, so I’m good to go.”

“Take a week off when you get back,” Reese said. “Two if you need them. Rest up and relax. I’ll be in touch.” The call ended, and Derek lay back on the bed in his hotel room. Shoving his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling.

Tired and depressed, he must have fallen asleep. A knock on the door awoke him an hour later. When he looked at the clock, it was a quarter to five in the afternoon. With a sigh, he stumbled out of the bed and answered the door, stepped back to let Bran Garrett into the room.

“Reese told me you were in the city,” Derek said to him. “I really appreciate what you did.”

“No problem.” Bran looked him up and down, taking in his rumpled clothes, uncombed hair and unshaven face. “Man, that jungle must have been even harder on you than I thought.”

Derek scratched his days’ growth of beard. All he could think of was Bree, but Bree and her father had already left for Seattle. She had wanted to see her mother, reassure her mom that she was okay.

With her father eager to leave for home, they hadn’t had time to talk, which was good. Derek had nothing to say.

Bran held up a brown paper bag. “I figured you might need a little lift. I got something here that’ll cure whatever ails you.” Carrying the bag over to the small round table in front of the window, he took out a bottle of Ron de El Salvador Cihuatan Grand Reserve rum. Bran cracked it open and poured two fingers each into a pair of water glasses, then carried one over and handed it to Derek.

“Salud.” He waited for Derek to lift his glass.

“Salud.” Derek tossed his drink back, and so did Bran.

“All right, now tell me what’s going on.”

They sat down at the table. The room was nicely furnished, done in shades of pale sea green. The queen-size bed was a hell of an improvement over a cot in a tent. On the other hand, he’d rather be sleeping in the jungle with Bree than sleeping by himself in a wide comfy bed.

“I guess this is all just catching up with me.”

Bran cocked a dark brown eyebrow. He was a good-looking guy, tall, with light blue eyes, and amazingly fit. “Is that so? I don’t suppose it could have anything to do with that luscious little honey you rescued in the jungle.”

Derek’s head came up.

“Breanna Wingate?” Bran continued mercilessly. “She’s been all over the news. Couldn’t sing your praises enough. Said she’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

Derek glanced away. “She needed help. I helped her.”

“That’s it? You got off a hijacked plane to protect her when you could have stayed aboard. You two didn’t get close while you were fighting for survival out there? Because I’ve been where you are, bro. I married the woman I rescued. Or maybe she rescued me.”

Derek sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m crazy in love with her. Breanna’s beautiful and strong and sexy as hell. What guy wouldn’t fall for her?”

Bran took a drink of rum. “So why aren’t you in Seattle? That’s where she is, right? Up there with her parents?” He went to the table and poured a little more rum into his glass, brought the bottle over and poured more for Derek.

“She’s just visiting her family in Seattle,” Derek said. “She lives in Dallas, runs a nonprofit there called Shelter the Children, among others, I guess.”

“Dallas. That’s even better. You two only live a few hours apart.”

Derek drained half the rum in his glass. “Don’t you get it, man? She’s Breanna Wingate. Her dad’s one of the richest men in the world. I’m not in her league. My mother was a druggie, and I don’t even know my father’s name. I’m not good enough for her. Her parents would probably have me shot if they knew I’d even touched her.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the top executives at Garrett Resources. You had to have a college degree, right?”

He nodded. “I studied hard and worked my way through school. So what?”

“You were a jet fighter pilot, Derek. That didn’t come easy, either. Far as I’m concerned, Breanna Wingate would be lucky to have you.”

Derek looked at his friend. He and Brandon had only talked a few times, yet Bran had flown all the way to South America to help him.

“Look, Bran, I appreciate your advice, but—”

“You think she loves you? Because she sure sounded like it on TV.”

Derek glanced away. “Everyone would say I married her for her money.”

“So who cares? There are assholes everywhere, Derek. Nothing you can do about that. She said you didn’t even know who she was when they took her off that plane.”

Derek downed the rest of the rum in his glass. “Like I said, she needed help, and there was no one but me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time you should help yourself.” Bran rose and set his empty glass on the table. “You can think about it while we’re on our way home. You ready to get the hell out of here?”

Derek pushed up from his chair. “Damn straight. More than ready.” While Bran slid the bottle of rum back into the paper bag and tucked it under his arm, Derek grabbed the few items he’d purchased at the local Sanborns department store, and they headed out the door.

An hour later, he was leaning back in a butter-soft leather seat in the Garrett Resources jet on his way back to Houston.

All the way there, Derek thought about Bree.