by Dana Marton
Professional black pumps. Sharp, professional gray suit. Hair in a sleek, perfect coil at her nape. Daniela lowered the manila folder she was holding to her lap as she turned to look at him.
He froze in the door. “What are you doing here?”
Last he’d seen her, this morning, she’d been eating cereal in her pajamas in the kitchen. Although, she had acted weird. Preoccupied. He’d felt her staring at him, but every time he looked at her, she’d looked away.
“Ian, why don’t you sit, and we’ll catch you up.” Karin gestured to the empty chair.
Tall, pale, and blonde, the boss was Daniela’s opposite. She could have been a Vogue model, but she would never do anything as frivolous as that. She was brisk, incredibly intelligent, a consummate professional, dedicated to assisting Americans around the world.
Ian lowered himself into the seat next to Daniela as carefully as if the seat cushion was stuffed with scorpions, his every instinct screaming that he wasn’t going to like what was about to happen.
His instincts didn’t fail him.
Karin said, “I just hired Miss Wintermann.”
Ian’s blood pressure shot into the two hundreds.
He gritted his teeth and flashed a we’ll-talk-about-this look to Daniela, and that was all he had the time to do before Karin landed the next punch.
“I’m teaming you two up for a recovery op in Brazil. Leaving immediately.”
Over his dead body.
He was going to take the case alone, like he always did. CPRU didn’t partner up its investigators anyway, except under the rarest circumstances.
“Who is the recovery target?” He fought to remain professional. He couldn’t exactly argue with the boss, but he could make Daniela withdraw her application. They were going to discuss it as soon as they got home.
“Lila Heyerdahl, a six-month-old baby, stolen from US aid workers, Carmen and Phil Heyerdahl. Time is of the essence. She has to be recovered before she gets sold into the illegal adoption circuit, or…”
She didn’t finish the sentence and didn’t have to. Ian had worked a number of human trafficking cases since he’d come to CPRU, including sex trafficking. He knew damn well the industry had no lower age limit. He didn’t even want to think about that. The depravity of some of his fellow human beings made him sick to his fricking stomach.
Karin went on with “I was trying to decide what to do with the case when Miss Wintermann called me. She’s perfect for the job. We’re lucky to have her.”
Daniela called CPRU for a job? When?
“She hasn’t had her training.” Ian ground out the words, pain blooming to life behind his right eye, making him wonder if he was going to have an aneurysm before this meeting was over.
“Which is why she’s going with you as your partner. She requested you specifically. I understand you know each other fairly well.”
Did she know that, for the moment, they lived together? Maybe not. Karin had no reason to memorize Ian’s home address. Even if Daniela had put the same address on her application, probably nobody would make the connection.
He gave a curt nod. And he felt the need to punch something. He’d been so good about that. Barely beat up anyone lately. Just the odd kidnapper.
Karin must have seen something on his face, because she said, “Miss Wintermann is from Brazil, so she knows the country, and she’s fluent in Portuguese. She’s a woman. A lot less threatening, large, and obvious than you are. She can pass for local. She’ll be able to get into places, talk to people you might not be able to reach. I’m bending the rules here, but I’m not letting a six-month-old baby be lost. After having talked with Miss Wintermann, I’m confident that she can be a valuable asset to this mission.”
“I’m aware of Miss Wintermann’s experience.” Ian clenched his jaw so tightly, it wouldn’t have surprised him if he spit out teeth when the meeting was over.
Karin handed him a folder that looked identical to the one Daniela was holding. “The details are in here. Your flight leaves tomorrow. I suggest you both go home and start packing.”
He nodded as he got up and didn’t say anything else, because he didn’t trust himself to speak.
He strode out into the office bull pen, which was—thank fuck—empty, since it was late in the day. He couldn’t handle chitchat at the moment. Even Elaine the office manager had gone home, her desk by the entrance deserted, the wall next to it wallpapered with grandbaby pictures.
Daniela followed Ian out into the hallway. “Please don’t be mad.”
He didn’t reply. He marched up the stairs and kept going. He didn’t open his mouth until they were in his car in the parking garage. “I want you to call Karin and quit. I’ll take the case.”
He flashed her the look he usually saved for kidnappers. And that showed just how serious the situation was, because for as long as he’d known her, his driving need had always been not to intimidate her but to protect her. Today, for the first time, he wanted to scare her.
And of course, she decided not to be scared.
A stubborn light came into her eyes. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
They were friends, but it was more of a guardian kind of relationship, where he guided her and protected her, and she did as he asked, had almost always done as he asked, from their first meeting.
Daniela put on her patient face. He disliked that look. It made her seem all mature and always made him feel juvenile, as if somehow they’d had a sudden role reversal.
She said, “Remember back in Santana when you were teaching me how to protect myself and you said I’d never again have to do whatever other people told me, including you?”
“Except me. I’m pretty sure, I said except me.”
She shook her head.
A couple of cars passed. Nobody paid any attention to the two of them.
“Don’t be stubborn about this.”
She kept the patient look. “I’m declaring my independence.”
If she began talking in Cantonese, he wouldn’t have been more taken aback. “You’ve always been independent. I never tried to—”
“You didn’t. You made me independent. But now I’m declaring it for myself. Because I’m an adult.”
“You’re twenty-two.”
“Exactly my point.” She flashed a confident smile. “I graduated from college.”
“Yes!” He grabbed on to that. “You finished pre-law, and now you’re going to apply to law school. You want to study international law. You want to be a human rights lawyer.”
“You want me to be a human rights lawyer.” Her eyes and voice held gentleness, as if she was trying to let him down easy.
What the hell was happening?
“I want to help people in bad situations,” she said. “I want to be there with them. I know you’d rather have me safe in an office. But that’s not my dream.”
“Since when?”
“You saved me. I want to do that for others. It’s important to me.”
He let his head drop onto the steering wheel. Tried to think. True, he had been the one to send away for law school information packets. But only because law school had been her dream. Hadn’t it?
“At first you wanted to be a teacher.”
“That’s because the missionary was the most respected person I knew. I wanted to be respectable. It’s not like I had a wide variety of occupations to choose from in my village.”
He clamped onto that as he sat up and faced her. “See, you wanted to be like the missionary because that was all you knew, and now you want to do what I do, but only because it’s the one thing you’ve seen up close and personal.”
She gave him another patient look. “Give me some credit, Ian.”
And he had to, because, God, she was so damn bright. She’d gotten her GED and was in college within a year of him bringing her to DC. And she finished pre-law in three years. She had a brain that, once set free, soared like the harpy eagles over the Amazon. She cou
ld be anything. She didn’t need to risk her life in some damn hellhole halfway around the world.
His forehead beaded with sweat. He needed to turn on the car, blast some AC, and get out of here. He didn’t.
He couldn’t make his brain work.
He could not, absolutely could not tolerate the thought of Daniela being in danger. The idea made acid bubble up in his stomach, and he didn’t have stomach problems anymore, dammit. He wished, for the first time in years, that he had a drink handy.
“Do you want me to drive?” she suggested softly.
“No,” he barked back, despite knowing that she could drive as well as he could. He’d made sure she’d taken defensive driving classes—at the same level as Secret Service agents did. He had a buddy in the business and called in a few favors.
Just like he’d made sure she’d had the best weapons training a civilian could get short of joining the military. And she had self-defense training to the point where the only reason she couldn’t beat him was the extra eighty pounds he had on her.
He accomplished what he’d set out to achieve: Daniela Wintermann would never be anyone’s victim again. What he hadn’t ever dreamed was that she would use her self-confidence to disregard his advice, advice he was giving for her own good and safety.
“Where is your car?”
“I took the subway. I don’t have a parking pass yet.”
With resignation, Ian backed out of the parking spot and drove out of the parking garage. Part of him liked that she had grown into a strong woman, strong enough to stand up even to him. But, now what the hell? Because no way was he going to let her rush headlong into danger.
“We’re going to make a great team.” She was smiling.
He grunted.
She laughed, and the soft trill of her laughter filled the car, filled the space all around him, and maybe even inside him.
God, he had a hard time staying mad at her when her laughter was his favorite sound on earth. He’d known her for over a year by the time he’d first heard her laugh. And she still did it too infrequently.
“Okay, so no law school, but why not something else here in the US?” he asked as he drove into the bright sunlight from the dim parking garage. “Even in the government.” He grabbed his sunglasses from the visor. “You speak three languages fluently.”
She grew up with Portuguese, learned English, then she’d taken up Spanish in college. She soaked up languages like a sponge. If there was something she couldn’t learn, he hadn’t seen it.
“I’m grateful beyond words for what you’ve done for me.” Her tone turned serious, her eyes solemn. “You ever need a kidney, Ian, you say the word. But I’m going to start making my own choices.”
She managed to be gentle and firm at the same time. And completely adult. While he felt like throwing a fit like a kid.
He drew a slow breath and tried to dial back his frustration a notch. “I thought you were applying for positions at a couple of nonprofits.”
Only a flinch of her eye betrayed her frustration. “The best they had was making photocopies in some tiny cubicle on the twenty-fourth floor of an office building in the middle of the city.”
He watched her. No, that’s not for her. She was all life and sparkle. She needed to be out there, needed to be free.
“I can’t believe you went behind my back to apply for a job at CPRU.” He winced. Shit. He was playing the guilt card now? He was turning into an old housewife.
“I can’t believe I had to,” she responded.
She always had an answer for everything.
“You need to listen to me on this—”
“Stop acting like you’re my father!” She didn’t exactly snap, but her tone was tighter than it had been so far.
Then, as he opened his mouth to answer, she stopped moving and just stared, the light slowly going out of her eyes until she looked stricken. “Is that how you see me? Like a stupid kid? Because I have never thought of you as a father figure, ever. I’m an orphan. I’ve always been an orphan. I don’t need a father. I don’t want a father. I don’t want a big brother. I want…”
He waited for her to finish, but she didn’t. She looked out the passenger-side window, away from him.
A black limo cut in front of them, diplomat license plates. Typical midday DC crazy traffic, everybody in a rush, tourists darting across the road to provide an extra level of difficulty. Ian focused on that to keep himself from saying something he might regret later.
“I didn’t go behind your back to be sneaky,” Daniela said. “I just— I wasn’t sure if I’d get in. I didn’t want to tell you until I did. I wanted you to be proud of me.”
She still wouldn’t look at him.
He’d hurt her feelings, and he hated that he had. But he hated the idea of her overseas, on dangerous assignments even more. “You don’t know the first thing about this kind of work.”
“Karin has been giving me an orientation for the past three hours.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And you can teach me the rest. You’ll be with me every step of the way.”
“No.”
She finally turned to look into his eyes. “I already have an idea how we can approach this. When you and I get into Manaus, you could get in touch with the local trafficking network. We could pretend that you’re selling me to them. We’ll lie about my age.”
His turn to look away. He stared straight forward. He pressed his lips together so hard, he was losing feeling in them. And he didn’t say another word to her all the way home, which made him feel like a fricking drama queen, but he didn’t trust what he might say if he opened his mouth.
Selling. Her. To traffickers.
The acid in his stomach grew into a lake. With piranhas that chewed on his stomach lining.
He pulled into the condo parking. She could probably tell that he was having a silent shit-fit, and she was waiting him out, maturely. And he tried to calm down as they marched up to the third floor. He didn’t succeed.
He rented a two-bedroom condo for them in a safe neighborhood. Each bedroom had its private bath. Lots of sun, big kitchen. Lots of IKEA furniture, because she loved the store. She was like a kid at a playground there, trying every armchair and every bed. And she’d put together most of their furnishings, loved the puzzle, loved building things, her face shining with the pleasure of accomplishment.
He loved watching her when she was like that.
Right at this moment, however… The top of his head was about to blow off. He couldn’t remember ever being this scared and mad at her.
We could pretend that you’re selling me…
“Can we talk now?” she asked.
“We. Are. Not. Pretending to sell you to anyone.” He ground out the words. “Ever!” His voice rose on that last word.
He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and— The tension in the room was throwing enough sparks to catch the curtains on fire.
Before he could say or do something he might regret later, he marched off. “I’m taking a shower.”
He needed time. He needed some ice-cold water to cool his anger. He needed a lobotomy.
He let that cold water pound him. Okay. No big deal. She was an adult. She was a very capable person. He’d always known that eventually she would assert her independence by refusing his advice. He could live with that. He wanted that for her. He wanted her to be happy.
He just didn’t want her anywhere near a human trafficking case in Brazil.
By the time he was toweling off his hair, padding naked into his bedroom, he almost convinced himself that they could have a reasonable conversation, after which she was going to make the reasonable decision.
She was waiting for him inside the bedroom door.
They never entered each other’s bedrooms.
He hadn’t set it as a rule, but he never entered hers, and she’d taken his lead. Until now.
“What the hell, Daniela?” He snatched the towel from his shoulder and wrapped it
around his waist as he jumped back into the bathroom.
* * *
Daniela
“Well, that’s one stupid rule broken.” Daniela couldn’t move.
Her body felt as if she was in the last mile of one of their ten-mile runs. When she was here, they often went for runs in the morning, to the Lincoln Memorial and back, up one side of the Reflecting Pool and down the other.
Her heart pumped harder; her blood raced.
She’d seen other women stare at Ian when he wore running shorts and no shirt, but to her he’d always been just…Ian.
And now… Now her heart wouldn’t slow down.
“What rule?” His words came out winded.
She could see him through the open bathroom door. He was facing the mirror, hands braced on the sink, his back to her.
She couldn’t look away from his wide shoulders, from his naked, muscled back. She was as bad as Crystal. When did that happen?
Over the summer. While he’d been in Jordan, and she’d missed him so much, she’d slept in his bed. And dreamt of him.
She’d dreamt of men before—those had always been nightmares.
But her dreams about Ian…
On impulse, she strode up to him, pressed against him from behind, and let her hands slide around him and up his chest, her palms resting against his hot skin.
She laid her cheek against his bare back. “Remember when you said we were never ever going to see each other naked? I think I hate that rule. I’m glad it’s over.”
She couldn’t touch anyone else like this, but she could touch Ian. She trusted him to the bottom of her soul.
“Daniela.” His voice carried warning. He was vibrating with tension.
Everywhere they touched, her body burned. She almost laughed out loud. She wanted Ian the way a woman wanted a man. Because she was…normal!
The pure, sweet desire that tingled through her was a thrilling surprise and an incredible relief. She wanted him, and she wanted him to want her too. She wanted to make him see her not as a waif, but as a woman.
If he didn’t want her because of her past, she could accept that. But if the only reason they weren’t together was because he insisted on seeing her as his responsibility, someone who needed his protection…
