Карен Кингсбери - A Distant Shore [calibre]

“Eliza. I think he meant you.” He took her hand once more, and his eyes stayed on hers. “I have no one else to love… no one to care about… except you.”

And she had no one to love but him. But she didn’t say as much. This wasn’t the time, alone here on the rooftop, with him so close that all she wanted was for him to kiss her. He had moved nearer in the telling of the story. She didn’t trust herself another minute longer, so she eased her hand free and stood. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“It is.” He joined her, taking the spot beside her. But he didn’t touch her, didn’t take her hand. “Where you’re going… East San Antonio High. It’s dangerous, Eliza.”

“I know.” She faced him. The moonlight in his eyes was something she would remember forever. “You, too.”

“I always know I might not come back. With every mission.” He didn’t look away. “And that was always okay. Because I had no one waiting for me. Back here.”

She could feel his arms around her even though he was a foot away. She searched his eyes. “And now?”

“I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Or the next year or the year after that.” He held out his hands to her. “I only know I want to come home. I want to see you again.”

How could she do anything but take his hands? And as she did he closed the gap between them and eased her into his arms. “Be careful,” he whispered near the side of her face. “Please, Eliza.”

“I will.” She pressed her cheek against his. The heat of his body made her tremble. “You, too.”

He took a step back, but it was like pulling steel from a magnet. The connection between them remained. “I… I asked Jesus to forgive me.” He took a slow breath. “I’ll never know who Beck was or why he found me in that exact moment. But I do know something for sure.”

“You know God is real.” She could see it in his eyes. “That’s it, right?”

“Yes.” His expression changed. Like he was imploring her. “You know it too, right, Eliza?”

The answer had come to her gradually in the past hour. She nodded. “I do. Otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here.”

Jack pulled her into another hug and swayed with her for a minute or two. Finally he took hold of both her hands and exhaled. “Being friends is a tricky thing.”

She was glad for the cover of night. So he wouldn’t see the blush in her cheeks. “I can’t come back here after tomorrow. Oliver said I’ll have to use the Dallas office. It’s close to where I’ll be working.”

“I know.” He put his hand alongside her face and brushed her hair back with his thumb. “It’ll be a while before I see you again.”

If only he would kiss her. Friends could kiss, right? She put the thought out of her mind. That wasn’t the kind of friendship either of them could have. It wasn’t allowed. No matter how they felt here, now.

A long breath came from Jack. He was clearly struggling, too. The physical temptation was real for him, she understood that now. Like he had told her over dinner. But with all they were feeling, Jack said something she could never have expected.

“Eliza… can I pray for you?”

Her tears came without warning. Not since her mother had disappeared in the ocean had anyone ever prayed for her. Not until this moment. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at him. Instead she closed her eyes and nodded.

“Father, the two of us, we’re alone in the world.” Jack held her hands a little more tightly. “But at least now we have You. And we have each other.” His hesitation told her he was struggling with his emotions. “Please, God. Keep Eliza safe. If Beck was an angel… then put Your angels around us both.” He pulled her close once more, his breath in her hair. “Until we can be together again. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

Any other man Eliza had ever known in the past decade would have taken advantage of her on a night like this. Not Jack Ryder. And as they rode the elevator back to ground level and as he took her home and held her door and hugged her goodbye, Eliza was struck by the most beautiful thought.

For the first time in her life, she had seen God somewhere other than the ocean.

CHAPTER TWENTY

… Because they cried out to Him during the battle. He answered their prayers, because they trusted in Him.

—1 Chronicles 5:20

The mission was different this time. Jack felt like he saw danger around every corner, guns aimed in his direction and people looking at him longer than necessary. Like everyone could tell he was an agent and not a client.

Or maybe not. Maybe the only thing different was Jack. Because he wasn’t the same person now. After his talk on the rooftop with Eliza, for the first time in his life with the FBI he wanted something more than a successful mission.

He wanted to live.

There had been no word from Eliza, but that wasn’t a surprise. She had a new phone, a new name, new identity. Crystal Caldwell. Bad girl up from Dallas. That’s what they had decided for her cover. Her laptop and phone. Her iPad. All of it was set up to match her new persona. She could email him through the bureau’s server, but not until she felt established in her new environment—which he hoped would be any day.

For now, the last thing she could do was reach out to Jack Ryder, FBI agent.

It was Day Three in the Nassau operation, and Jack and the other operatives were about to make their various moves. Jack played the part of a wealthy college kid, hanging out at the beach. He wasn’t clean shaven like when he was here with Eliza, and he wore a flat white straw hat. So none of the bad guys from before would recognize him.

At first, Oliver had wanted to send someone else on this mission. Just in case Jack was spotted as being the same guy who’d been there with Eliza. But Jack was the only agent on the operation who had seen the men the first time around. He knew their patterns and their cars and their home base. He would recognize the men and the teenage girls they used to recruit the younger girls. No, the mission was Jack’s to finish, and he wasn’t afraid to do so.

He just wanted to come home when it was completed.

The raid was set to begin at three-eleven that afternoon. It was an intentional number. One of the trafficked girls had been murdered recently, and her body had washed up on shore not far from the fish fry strip. Her birthday was March 11.

Jack watched the time on his phone. The men had approached him a few times, testing him, making vague offers. Three days in and Jack had their trust. At three ten he stood and stretched. His go bag was in a vehicle with the agents who would take him to a private airstrip when the raid was over. Fifteen minutes from now, if all went well. Part of the reason the traffickers would trust him was because he didn’t have a backpack or beach bag.

Just a Smith & Wesson in his waistband.

He sauntered to the area near the playground where he’d talked with the traffickers yesterday. This is for you, Eliza. Help me, God. Let’s get these guys off the street. He leaned against a palm tree and waited. But not for long.

After a few seconds a guy walked up. One of the two who had tried to take the little girl when Jack was here with Eliza. “You looking for something?” The man didn’t make eye contact. He kept his gaze on pivot, watching, worried.

“Just a little fun.” That was the code phrase. The men had told him yesterday that they had ways to entertain tourists. If he was interested, he needed only to say the words. And now he had.

The man nodded and lit a cigarette. “Come on.” He nodded for Jack to follow him. There was no further conversation, but a hundred yards down Bay Street Jack saw the yellow car. This goon’s buddy was in the driver’s seat, no doubt.