people. One was a radio journalist who talked extensively about ousting the current president. The guy kept advocating a candidate who is gaining more popularity, a candidate the US supports.”
Ace paused. “A candidate that Congressman Alexander H. Stewart himself backs.”
Jarrett’s blood ran cold. “I didn’t know Stewart was involved in supporting political parties here.”
“His daughter’s living here, and he still maintains business interests in St. Marc. He wants her home as soon as possible.”
Quickly he told his friend about the threats at Lacey’s compound.
“Maybe the threats are politically motivated. Lacey is well connected. But back in the States, not here.”
“Or maybe Monsieur Augustin doesn’t want to build homes. Maybe he wants to kidnap your ex and wave that over her dad’s head as a threat.”
Ace had vocalized the deep fear Jarrett harbored. Still, his gut warned it was something else the man wanted. “Kidnapping is too messy.”
“I’ll say. Two weeks ago the gangs kidnapped a local and held him for ransom, and his family paid the money, but it was no use. They found his head in the local garbage dump. These guys are slick, Ice. And someone is funding them. Augustin may have the money, but someone else is directing them. Someone very quiet, a real shadow.”
“Let me know what else you find out.” He clicked off the phone and shoved it into his pocket then felt in the back of his jeans for his sidearm. Damn, life had just got a whole lot more complicated.
He knew how to maneuver around complicated. But not with a woman and a child’s lives at risk.
As he joined Lacey at the crates, she straightened. Despite the relative coolness of the day and the refreshing mountain breeze, sweat dampened her temples. It partly soaked her shirt, making the white fabric stick to her torso and breasts. She’d unbuttoned the shirt, and he could clearly see the tempting valley between her breasts.
Male interest surged, but he grimly ignored it. Sex would only complicate things a lot more.
“If you’re ready to leave, you can go now. I’m staying.”
The past was behind them. No going back. But he’d be damned if he got into the SUV and turned around and hopped a plane for home. He was a SEAL and the only easy day was yesterday.
Even when it came to dragging his ex-wife back to the States.
“Got a spare room? I don’t take up much space.”
Lacey’s eyes widened. “No, Jarrett.”
“I can sleep on the floor.”
“You’re not staying. You saw my compound, met my daughter. Goodbye.”
He walked over to her, stroked a finger down her cheek. Lacey quivered. They still had it. The chemistry between them was combustible.
He dropped his hand with a grimace. Nearly as flammable as this country.
“I’ll camp by a mango tree if I must.”
Lacey shook her head. “No. We’re not married anymore, Jarrett. You have no authority over me.”
“Dead chickens on the gate and a known arms dealer showing interest in your charity give me the authority. I’m staying until I find out who’s behind it, whether I sleep on the floor, in a bed or on the ground. Get used to the idea.”
“Jarrett...”
“Try to drag me out of here, Lace. There’s a child involved now and what threatens you also threatens her. That changes everything. I’m not budging. Not until I know you’re safe back in the States with Fleur.”
Or without her, but that option was too terrible to entertain.
He softened his tone. “If not for your sake, then think of Fleur. She’s already lost one mother.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Damn you, Jarrett. That’s a sucker punch and you know it.”
“Show me where I’ll bunk. My gear is in the back of the truck.”
After he grabbed his duffel bag, she led him upstairs to a small hallway. Four bedrooms and a bathroom were at the landing. Lacey unlocked the bedroom door on the left corner and stepped inside.
The room had a double bed with a plain white
David Hitt, Heather R. Smith