Diana Palmer - Soldier of Fortune

“I do. Totally. That’s why I wanted you with me. The way things are turning out, I’m going to need you more than ever. When we get to my friend’s finca, ” he said quietly, “someone has to stay behind to handle communications. We’ll have powerful radios and we’ll need updated information. The finca we’ll be staying at is only miles from the one where Martina is being held.”

She felt uneasy as she studied his hard face. “You’re not going in there alone?”

“No—with those old friends I was telling you about.”

“Couldn’t you stay behind at your friend’s finca? ”

“Worried about me?” He laughed. “Gabby, I’ve dodged a lot of bullets in my time. I was in the Special Forces.”

“Yes, you told me,” she grumbled. “But that was a long time ago. You’re a lawyer now, you sit behind a desk…”

“Not all the time,” he said, correcting her. His eyes studied her quietly. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me. About my private life.”

“You could get yourself killed.”

“A car could hit me while I’m standing here,” he countered.

She glared at him. “I’d be without work. One of the unemployed. Everything I’d do for the rest of my life would be horribly boring.”

“I’d miss you, too, I guess,” he agreed, laughing. “Don’t worry about me, Gabby. I can take it as it comes.”

“Do I even get to meet this man you call Dutch?”

He shook his head. “You’ll meet enough odd characters in Central America. And Dutch hates women.”

“You aren’t Mr. Playboy yourself,” she muttered.

“Aren’t you glad?” he asked, turning to look at her. “Would you like a man who had a different woman every night?”

The question shocked her. She struggled for an answer, but he’d already opened the door of the rental car and was helping her in.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. She went back to the hotel with him, her eyes full of ruins and Romans and maddening traffic. She had a bouquet of flowers that J.D. had bought from an old woman near the Fountain of Trevi. She couldn’t wait to get into her room and press one of the flowers, to keep forever. She buried her nose in them lovingly.

Across the room, J.D. was speaking fluent Italian with someone on the phone. He hung up and turned back to her.

“I have to go out for a little while,” he said. “Lock the door and let no one in, not even room service, until I get back. Okay?”

She studied him quietly. “You won’t go getting into trouble while I’m not around to rescue you, will you?” she said, teasing him.

He shook his head. “Not a chance. Watch yourself.”

“You, too. Oh, Jacob!”

He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“They suit you.” He studied her face and smiled. “You look like one of them. Ciao, Gabby.”

And he was gone. She stared at the door for a long time before she went to put her flowers in some water.

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