Page 53 of Her Guarded Hero

Nobody showed. Okay, time for reconnaissance.

He threw his sniper rifle onto his back and put his assault rifle to his assault to his shoulder for the close quarter work.

With all the noise from the storm he could probably sing the national anthem and not be heard, but still, Dalton took pains to be silent as he entered the hacienda. For twenty minutes he checked every nook and cranny of the first floor. He even found the trapdoor hidden under a jute rug in the dining room. Nobody was in the cramped space.

He headed upstairs. After long minutes, he headed for the last door at the end of the hall. He heard muffled crying. He slammed it open, his gun ready. He found a terrified woman frantically hugging two small children to her bosom.

“Hands behind your head,” he commanded in Spanish. It took her and the children long moments to comply. He couldn’t take this at face value. He just couldn’t.

He checked the room, the closets and under the bed. When he was satisfied that they were the only three occupants, he crouched down and gently patted down the women and even the children for weapons. He hated, absolutely hated, having to do so.

The woman was fighting back tears and the children were sobbing with fright. He saw the little girl was wearing a Hello Kitty shirt. His heart clenched, she couldn’t be more than five. The little boy looked to be about seven.

“Please, please don’t kill us,” the boy sobbed in Spanish.

The woman immediately reassured the children that he was a friend. He didn’t know how she could be so confident, but he thanked God that she was. He pulled at the bedspread and wiped the mud off his face and smiled. The little girl’s tears started to abate.

“You’re right, I am a friend,” he said to the woman. “I’m here to help. Who are you?”

She quickly explained that she was the housekeeper, but she didn’t hold his gaze. If he had to guess she was probably more than just a housekeeper. He also took in the dark bruise mottling jaw.

“I need to get you out of here.”

She shook her head wildly. She scrambled under the bed and pulled out a cell phone and lifted it high as if it was a prize.

“Please, please, let me call my father. Please, please let him come and get us.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Where did you get that phone?” Dalton asked in amazement.

She trembled and didn’t answer him.

“Where-” he cut himself off. He looked at her bruised cheek and realized there were bruises on her arms from a man’s grip. What was he thinking come at her as an angry male?

“What’s your name?” he asked in a soft voice.

She gave him a wide-eyed stare.

“My name is Dalton Sullivan. I’m an American.”

“You’re a soldier. You’re going to save us!” The little boy grinned.

“He killed people,” the little girl shoved her face under her mother’s arm.

“Ma’am? Can you tell me your name?”

“Carmelita Hernandez,” she whispered. “I stole the phone from Rodrigo’s body.”

Rodrigo was the drug lord who’d overseen the whole operation. Dalton was pretty damn sure that he was the man who had roughed her up.

“Please can I call my father?” He watched a single tear run down her cheek.

He nodded, knowing she wouldn’t get a signal. Not in this weather.

He watched as she fumbled with the phone. She pressed buttons, her eyes welling with tears as she tried again and again to no avail. It was heart-wrenching.

“Papa!”

Dalton figured it was his training that kept his jaw from hitting the floor in amazement. Really? She really got through to her father?