“Well, I can certainly see why. Having to sneak around and snoop in other people’s business must be tedious—”
“But necessary,” her father added. “We do our best to help Christians in trouble, Selena. And right now, that’s you. So there will be no arguing against my decision.”
She turned on Brice. “And I suppose this was all your idea, anyway, right?”
Brice didn’t know how to reach her. “I just want to know you’re safe,” he said, hoping she could see the sincerity in his heart. “And the only way I can know that is to see it with my own eyes.”
Selena looked down at the empty fireplace, then back up at him, her expression guarded and almost evasive. For a long time, their gazes held and locked, and Brice’s heart seemed to lock into place with a definite click as he threw away the key, knowing Selena had ruined him for any other woman.
The fire hissed and sputtered. She looked away first. “Oh, all right. Just for a week.”
“That’s all I’ll need,” he replied, stalling for time the only way he knew how. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this if I have to go back to Argentina myself and bring these people to justice.”
Her head shot up at that. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
She amazed him. She was willing to put herself in danger, but not him. That she cared touched his heart in all the right places, but the fact that she couldn’t see that she was a real target now left him cold to his bones. “Aye, it is too dangerous. And that’s why I’ll be guarding you for the next week, at least.”
“At least?”
He cringed, then turned to leave the room before she could question him any more. “I’ll just go and check on dinner. Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Brice, what does that mean—at least?”
He wanted to tell her it meant he’d protect her for eternity, but he couldn’t say that. For now, he’d settle for a few days.
Which meant he had very little time. And the clock had just started ticking. He’d have to pray his way through this one.
Adele looked up as Brice entered the big beamed kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready, darling. How’s Selena?”
Brice kissed his mother on the cheek, then grabbed an olive off the tray of munchies she’d fixed. Beside her in the kitchen, Betty Sager stirred the big pot of beef stew brewing on the industrial-size stove. Next to her on the long marble counter, freshly baked bread sat steaming.
Pinching at the bread, Brice said, “She’s not pleased, but then we expected that. I’m hoping she’ll come around once she sees this is for her own good.”
“Very independent, that one,” Adele said, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. But her next words changed the lighthearted look to one of worry and dread. “Too independent. It’s amazing she made it out of Argentina alive.”
Betty turned to wipe her aged hands on a towel. “Nothing amazing about it—Brice saved her. Just as he saved my son and Charles and me.”
Brice gave Betty a peck on her cheek. The slender, gray-haired woman was fast becoming like a second mother to him. “And how is young Roderick these days?”
“Thankful,” Betty said. “We all are. We might be dead ourselves if you and Mr. Trudeau hadn’t given Roderick another chance. That boy has truly seen the error of his ways.”
Adele’s smile brightened. “That’s what we’re all about, Betty. Forgiveness and intervention. CHAIM does a lot of good for Christians, and Roderick is proving he wants to be a part of that. I’m so glad Brice convinced the authorities to let him mentor your son as part of his probation.”
“The lad shows promise,” Brice said, remembering when just a few short months ago Roderick Sager had held a gun to Gina Malone and tried to take her son off a plane—Brice’s own company jet. His friend and fellow agent Eli Trudeau had almost throttled the boy for that one. But Roderick had been threatened and coerced into doing a bad deed in order to save his parents, and the boy had learned a lot from that forced criminal intent—thanks to a visit to Brice’s isolated home in Ireland, where Brice had talked with him and assured him he could work toward a second chance. Now Brice had taken him under his wing and Roderick, very savvy in technology, was in training to become a certified CHAIM agent. And his older adoptive parents—who had been threatened, too—were now members of Brice’s household here in America. The arrangement worked for all involved.
Betty gave Brice an appreciative glance. “You’ve been so good to him, Brice. How can I ever repay you?”
“By cooking mouthwatering meals such as this one,” Brice countered, uneasy with the praise. “And keeping my lovely mum company when I’m away.”
“Easily done,” Betty said, grinning. “Now, you go and get our guests settled in the dining room and I’ll find Charles. I think he’s piddling out in the garden shed. Soup’s on.”
“I’ll be glad to do both,” he told her. “I’ll announce dinner to our guests then go and get Charles.” Winking at his mother, he added, “This should be interesting.”
Adele nodded. “Yes, since you two have been in love since you first laid eyes on each other.”
“Charles and I?” Brice said with a chuckle. “No offense to him, Mum, but he’s not my type.” Betty grinned and laughed out loud.
“You know who I’m talking about,” his mother said, shaking her head. “Selena.”
“Mum, now, don’t go pinning hopes on that. Selena hates me on sight.”
“Are you so sure about that?”
Brice saw the sweet, knowing expression on his mother’s face. He wasn’t so sure about that.
Did Selena have feelings for him? Real feelings? And how did he feel about her? He knew the answer to that one. He had always loved her. But he’d never acted on that love because of his work and because of Selena’s commitments. And mainly because he wasn’t sure how she really, truly felt about taking their long-time friendship any further. He’d have to guard his heart with this one. Or he’d be the one in dangerous territory. Selena Carter scared him more than facing down a cell of terrorists.
THREE
Brice made it to the solarium door when he heard dainty little footsteps on the tiled floor behind him.
But the command wasn’t so dainty. “Wait up.”
Halting at the French doors leading out to the flagstone terrace, he braced himself, his gaze taking in the coming dusk and the soft yellow lights of the gas lamps that burned along the garden paths all around his estate.
That request meant trouble. Selena was going to read him the riot act for forcing her to stay here.
“Don’t shoot me in the back,” he said, hands going up in surrender.
“Don’t tempt me,” she replied as she came up behind him and slapped at one of his upheld hand. “Relax. I could have murdered you years ago, but for some strange reason I didn’t.”
“That’s because you do care about me, in spite of me being me, right?”
“I suppose so. Although, for the life of me, I can’t understand it.”
He slanted a look at her, thinking he understood a lot more than she did, obviously. “Are you still mad, then?”
Her shrug brought shimmering strands of curling hair fall around her face and neck. “No madder than I already was, but then I’ve been angry at you for one thing or another since the day we met.”
Brice sure knew