Page 68 of Austen

A guard, maybe in his early twenties, stood near the door, clearly some dock worker who’d been assigned to watch the Invaders.

She pulled up one knee and rested her chin on it, and prayer just rose from inside her.“For who is God, but the Lord?And who is a rock, except our God, the God who girds me with strength and makes my way blameless?He makes my feet like hinds’ feet, and sets me upon my high places.”

She glanced at Declan, his back to her.

“He sent from on high...He drew me out of many waters.He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me.They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my stay.He brought me forth also into a broad place; He rescued me, because He delighted in me.”

She closed her eyes and heard her own words to Declan.“I know it’s terrifying to be in a place where we can’t control things.But we have to trust that God is good and He is sovereign.Even in Cuba.”

Oh, she wanted to believe that.It sounded good, but frankly, the words pinged inside her, fragile.She didn’t like finding herself in over her head any more than Declan did.Except her approach was not to figure out an escape plan but to dodge the whole situation in the first place.

So maybe she should have a little mercy on him.

The door finally opened and the guard moved and Declan walked inside.“You okay?”

She got up.“Yes.Although I’m hungry and I’ve given the same debrief about twenty times to three different people.”

“I know.Took a little longer than I thought it would, but a rep from the US embassy is on the way to pick us up.”

She considered him for a long moment and tried to suss out if he was lying to her and what he’d had to do to arrange for their release.But she was an American citizen, so why wouldn’t the US embassy come and help them?

“Who were you talking to on the phone?”

“A friend I have in DC.He placed a couple calls and vouched for me.And for you.It’s hard when you land in a country without any identification.”He smiled.

It seemed honest.“Have they found Steinbeck or Phoenix?”

He shook his head.“Not that I know of.”Then he put his hand on her shoulder.“But Steinbeck is going to be just fine.”

She wanted to lean into his touch.Wanted to trust him.But all she could do was nod.

“Let’s go,” he said, his mouth a little tight at the edges, and they headed out of the building into the gravel parking lot.

The afternoon sun waxed hot on her shoulders, and fatigue burned into her bones.She just wanted off this island.And frankly, away from Declan long enough to straighten out her brain.Because the story of Dark Horse, or whatever, still hung inside her too.A man who could finagle his way around international complications and come out on top sounded exactly like Declan.

She almost turned to him and asked if he spoke Russian, but then a car pulled into the gravel drive.Black SUV, dust-covered but with embassy plates.

A man got out of the passenger seat.He wore a suit, glasses, and a short haircut.Very official looking, mid-forties, and he held out his hand.“Tobias Clark.You’re Declan Stone?”

Declan shook his hand.

“Never thought I’d meet you in Cuba,” Clark said.He turned to Austen.“And you must be Austen Kingston.”

She shook his hand.“We’re fixing up a new passport for you back at the embassy.We’ll get you on a plane to Miami as soon as we can.”

Oh.She glanced at Declan, and he gave her a smile.

Phoenix was right about one thing.His good looks did go right to her head.Those dark-gray eyes, the way he held open the door for her and then slipped in beside her in the back seat.

Two cold bottles of water rested in the cup holders, and he grabbed one, opened it, and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”She took a sip.

He opened the other one and drank as they drove through the city.

The city bore the marks of Spanish influence, with orange, teal, and burnt-yellow buildings, some with second-story wrought-iron Juliet balconies along with archways and cobblestone courtyards.But the farther they drove from the harbor, along the outskirts of the city, the more the newer, communist-style buildings—white, cement—rose to shadow the city.A few Neo-Renaissance buildings (probably other embassies) suggested a European presence, but the US embassy contained no adornment.Just a plain white building inside an iron fence.

They passed two American guards at the gate, and only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath.And please.How much of a criminal could Declan be if the US embassy welcomed him in with open arms?Clearly he couldn’t be a terrorist or a smuggler or even a person of interest.Especially since, as they pulled up to the entrance, someone who looked like the embassy director came out to greet them.

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