Hot Zone (Elite Force #2)(41)
Author: Catherine Mann

“Nice to meet you, Hugh.” Laughing softly, the woman steered onto a narrow road back into the jungle.

He turned on his mental GPS as she drove away from the beach—away from the direction of Oliver and Tandi’s crash site. The woman drove like a speed demon racing along the dirt road like it was the f**king autobahn as she talked with Amelia, shifted gear, and drank from her water bottle all at once.

The Jeep was a working vehicle and a real mess. Tools rattled in the box beside him. Papers were stuffed in the console. And a silver angel swayed from her rearview mirror.

“I would imagine it’s been difficult for you out here alone with such a little child. How did you say you became lost out here?”

He tensed in response to the question, ready to jump in.

Amelia turned toward her without missing a beat. “I was out walking with my son when the earthquake hit. We got cut off from help. I wandered around lost. We probably would have died out there if he hadn’t found us.”

Her lie fell out of her mouth so easily he would have believed her if he hadn’t known better. She’d seemed so trusting as she walked out of the jungle to his side. Of course now that he thought about it, that latest aftershock may have put her as on edge as he was. Although even on edge, she was keeping her wits enough to play it close to the vest—as he was.

The Jeep jostled over another dip in the dirt road, sugarcane fields on either side of them until they entered a clearing with a small homestead fenced off. Thick vines grew over most of the length, muted the harsh metal. Jocelyn reached down to her keys and thumbed a remote that opened the main gate. The graveled drive led up to a beige stucco house on stilts as protection from hurricane floods, even though they weren’t on the beach. It wasn’t a plantation home, but it sure wasn’t a shack. Porches circled the entire place. Plenty of means to leave quickly if he needed to, not far to scale down.

Hugh scanned the outbuildings—a shed and a large barn that appeared to serve as a garage. A couple of RVs were parked alongside as well. It seemed some people had taken refuge at her place. Her family, maybe? Or some locals? But it certainly wasn’t the jam-packed mayhem they’d left behind in the city. And everything here seemed intact.

He could treat Amelia’s hand, give her and Joshua both a chance to clean up, eat, and sleep. They would all definitely be more comfortable here than in a jungle lean-to or a cottage halfway sliding off the edge of a bluff, assuming trouble didn’t follow them to Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart’s doorstep.

They might have a few more amenities here for the night. But he still wasn’t letting Joshua or Amelia out of his sight.

Chapter 12

The late-afternoon breeze curled over Amelia as she sat cross-legged on the porch floor, rolling a ball back and forth with Joshua. She could grow seriously addicted to staying out on this porch. Safe. Peaceful. And relatively clean, thanks to a quick sink rinse-off and change of clothes. Although God, she couldn’t wait for a shower after they all ate dinner, while there was still daylight to stream through the open floor plan.

A generator was being used to power the fridge and freezer. Windows, windows, windows and French doors were open to reveal the living room, dining area, and kitchen. The place was made to capture breezes blowing through, perfect architecture for the Bahamas. Someone had spent some serious dough building this place. But it appeared that money had stopped long ago.

The kitchen would have been top-of-the-line twenty years ago. High-end appliances, slate floors, and countertops were pristine clean but showing signs of age with scratches and dulled yellow.

She’d worried at first that the woman—Jocelyn—might be affiliated with the Guardian, perhaps his wife. But Jocelyn said she was a widow living with her two nieces. Jocelyn’s supply of baby gear had seemed strange, but she’d smoothly explained it away as leftover from frequent visits from her nephew’s family in Miami.

If she was lying, she was doing it so damn well, even Amelia couldn’t read a hint of deception in the woman’s calm hazel eyes. And this place certainly didn’t appear to be the affluent compound of someone trafficking in babies and women.

She’d seen that this was a working farm—Jocelyn stepping outside to give fertilizing instructions to a worker on a tractor, staking the trunk of a fledgling tamarind tree in a pot off the back step, tending a spice garden on the kitchen sill. She’d witnessed the evidence of time and effort put into the sugarcane plantation, and Jocelyn clearly knew how to keep the cogs in the machine running smoothly.

They were safe. For now. Her hand was barely even throbbing anymore, and she could move her fingers again.

Joshua pushed the soccer ball toward her, sweet baby laughter rolling free just as fast. He was such an adorable child, six teeth gleaming as he smiled. His joy just reached out and filled her right up.

“Beautiful boy,” Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart said from the open doorway. She’d ditched the hat on her gray-blonde hair. She was one of those women who aged with grace, comfortable in her own skin, free of implants or injections.

Amelia couldn’t help but think if she’d met this woman in everyday life, she would have liked her, respected her. She wanted to do that now, but this experience had made her a much more cautious person.

“Thank you, Jocelyn, for taking us in. Truly.” Amelia rolled the ball back to Joshua. “You’ve been so generous.”

“It’s nothing.” She sank into a wide rattan chair, a palm fan in her hand. “In a crisis, we all do what has to be done.”

“Once I’m back in the States”—she caught the ball as it rolled to her again—“I would like to reimburse you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jocelyn fanned her face with slow swipes, but her eyes were sharp, alert. “I don’t have any needs.”

“All right.” Pride was a tricky thing. “Do you have a favorite charity? I’ll make a contribution to show my appreciation.”

“That’s very thoughtful.” Jocelyn nodded regally, odd given she was wearing stained khakis and a loose peasant shirt, but somehow, the whole package fit. “Something to do with the homeless would be appreciated. That’s first in our minds after a tragedy like this.”

The horrible catastrophe a few miles away came roaring back to the forefront of her mind. “Joshua and I are very lucky to be alive.”

“You’ve both been through a lot. I’ll be happy to watch this little sweetheart while you sleep.”