Page 2 of His To Protect

“Feels like forever,” she said, looking away.

His fork stalled as he stabbed the last bite of egg with it. He swallowed his toast. She was being purposefully evasive, he decided. He straightened and narrowed his eyes on her.

“Why do you want to find him if you haven’t talked to the guy in so long? Some men shouldn’t be fathers. And searching for that kind of man only ends in heartbreak.”

“I never said I hadn’t talked to him, Mr. Cole. You asked when I last saw him.”

He scrutinised her face. She blinked twice in quick succession and looked away, chewing the corner of her lip.

And that’s your second vague half-truth, little one.

Jack tossed his napkin onto his plate, the last morsel of egg suddenly unappealing. Odd, he thought, even now that his belly was full, he still found the girl irritating. There was something about the look in her eyes that made his instincts kick in though. Both his internal lie detector and his protective alarms were ringing.

He leaned back in the booth. And she was definitely a brat.

“If you talk to him, why the hell do you need me?” His jaw clenched as the girl rolled her eyes, his biggest pet peeve of all. Little girls who roll their eyes are playing with fire. He cracked his neck and forced his hand to stay where it was despite the itch in his palm. He was old-fashioned in more ways than technology. He also believed a good old-fashioned spanking soundly delivered could cure the brat from anyone.

“I can see this meal has done nothing to improve your mood.” She crossed her arms. “Perhaps lack of sleep is your problem?”

The little brat had some instincts of her own, he decided. He was exhausted. But was that really what had him itching to spank the sass from her?

She waved to the waitress. “I’ll find someone else, but it’s really too bad. I heard your firm is the best.” She threw a fifty down and got up, but leaned her hands on the tabletop. “Maybe it’s the fat guy with the jelly donut people are talking about.”

Heat rose in him, but he held fast to his temper, clenching his jaw instead to keep from saying something that could get him banned from his favorite restaurant. She turned and began walking away, and even though Jack wanted to let her, he couldn’t. He clenched his jaw tighter. Bloody taxes! God dammit, Pete!

“Wait!”

She turned back to look at him and the small smile that tipped up the corner of her mouth made the angry heat in him turn scalding. He ground his teeth, gnashing them hard enough to make his jaw ache, but then took a deep breath.

“You’re right. I am tired but I’m also the best.” He gave her what he hoped passed for a pleasant look. “I’ll help you, but I’m warning you now. This is my good mood.” She narrowed her eyes but walked back and sat down. He took a gulp of coffee, hating himself, but more so Pete for making them need this.

“My father’s in Colombia, and I want you to take me to him.”

“What?” Jack sputtered and coughed.

“Mr. Cole, I have done extensive research—I know the culture, history, language and food. I’m ready. I want to find him and I have his address, but I’m not stupid enough to run off to Colombia without some help.”

“Christ!” Jack slammed his cup down, sloshing coffee and getting more than a few dirty looks from other patrons. “You don’t need a PI or a bodyguard; you need a lobotomy. Do you have any idea what’s in Colombia?” Jack thought of his friend who’d ridden his motorcycle across South America several years before. It was a hell of an experience, a trip of a lifetime, but he’d had more than his share of trouble in Colombia. Not as much as when he shipped his bike by cargo plane to Panama and crossed the Darién Gap on foot—that was downright bloodcurdling, but he’d definitely had it rough in Colombia. And this little girl? Well there was no bloody way she could handle it.

“Yes, but it’s not like it used to be, Mr. Cole. Colombia is a very popular tourist destination now. Safe enough if we stay in the cities. And my dad lives in Bogotá, a tourist rich city.”

Jack’s gut told him again she wasn’t telling him everything. She sounded like a tour guide trying to sell him on a trip.

The waitress came by, wiped the table, refilled their cups and took Alexis’s fifty. Alexis smiled politely and waved her off as she began counting out change.

“Keep it. Thank you.” When the server’s eyes enlarged, Alexis added to her statement, “You put up with him as a regular.” She turned to glare at Jack. “You deserve it.”

And you deserve… He stopped the thought there, fearing if he let it fully form he’d actually follow through in the busy diner and get himself arrested. It might be worth it if he didn’t need sleep so much though. Those concrete slabs with thin mattress covers didn’t offer a good sleeping accommodations.

The waitress smirked but quickly hid it when Jack glowered at her. As soon as she was gone, Alexis pulled a stack of hundreds out of her purse and dropped them in front of Jack. His eyes darted around the busy diner.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispered harshly and shoved the money back. “Put this in your damn purse!” Again she rolled her eyes. Jack felt a muscle in his jaw jump. This girl was pushing his buttons—more than they’d been pushed in a long while. She shoved the money back in her bag and slid a bank statement across the table. His jaw dropped at the sum printed on the statement dated only hours earlier.

“That was ten grand to show you I’m serious, and this shows you I can more than afford to pay whatever’s fair plus some for your inconvenience.”

“Shit!”he cursed. “How old are you, little girl?”

“Old enough to go to Colombia, but I admit I’m naive, too trusting, and often find myself in bad situations.” Her eyes softened. “I know I can’t do this alone, Mr. Cole, but I will if I have to.”

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