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CARTER
Money buys a lot of things. Today, I needed it to buy us temporary lodging. I didn’t want to be on the road any longer than necessary. I didn’t think anyone was searching for the BMW we’d “borrowed” once we’d crossed into Latvia, but I’d feel safer once my team regrouped.
My team and I had split up fifteen minutes ago. I’d left four men behind to tie up loose ends, including getting those thirty-plus people who’d been in that room to safety. Without those men with us, we were more vulnerable than I wanted to be.
“Stop up there,” I ordered.
“A church?” Easton passed a puzzled glance to Griffin, who smirked but never took his eyes off the road.
“Not the church. The rectory next door.” I couldn’t tell if that term or my request was causing him so much confusion, so I clarified, “The priest’s home.”
“Yeah, uh, I suppose no one will search for us there.” Easton’s hesitation wasn’t lost on me, nor was his shrug and shake of the head.
Our options for a temporary location were fairly limited, so we didn’t have much of a choice, not with Diana riding with us. The belt I’d used to secure her arms to her sides was back around my waist, and she was stretched out on the seat between me and Dallas, her head resting in my lap.
We may have ditched our helmets, masks, and gloves once we’d exfil’ed, and our rifles were now stowed in the trunk, but we didn’t exactly give off “you can trust us” vibes. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go when we knocked on the priest’s door.
Once parked, I waited for Griffin to hop out from behind the wheel and open my door. “Get the bag of cash from the trunk,” I directed while shifting Diana’s head to the leather so I could slide out.
Dallas jumped out and remained protectively on alert, glued to my side. I leaned in to carefully pull her out, draping her jeaned legs over my one arm to carry her. I lifted my chin to Easton. “See if he’s home.”
Nodding, Easton walked ahead of us to the small ranch home a few hundred meters away from where the cathedral sat bathed in morning light.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Griffin coming up alongside us with the bag of cash—something I never left home without.
Griffin shot me a lopsided grin. “Feels like old times.”
Only Griffin knew I used to visit the confessional. Not that I’d intentionally shared that with him. After he’d witnessed me walking into a church with money and leaving without it a few years back, I spilled the truth to him over a bottle of scotch.
Diana began stirring in my arms, moaning a little. I considered shielding her from the sun in case that was bothering her, but maybe some vitamin D wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.
When the priest opened up, appearing on his doorstep in his robes, Easton cut to it, asking, “Will you help us?”
The priest was probably in his late fifties or early sixties. Black hair with gray at his temples. Glasses covered his eyes, and those eyes were fixed on Diana, lying limp in my arms.
Hopefully, he didn’t see us as mercenaries, a danger to him and anyone else inside, and slam the door in our faces. The last thing I wanted was to force his hand in helping us, but I knew this was likely our path of least resistance.
I stepped closer, drawing my eyes to Diana to help emphasize why we were on his doorstep. “She’s injured. We need a place to check and clean her wounds.” Emotion pinched up into my throat. What if something serious was wrong with her? “We need to borrow your home for a few hours.”
Tipping my head, I gave Griffin a quiet signal to step forward. He unzipped the duffel bag to show the cash to the priest, and the man’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Do you have a medic kit? Anything we can use to help her?” I carried on, beginning to worry he didn’t speak English. I’d been in such a hurry to get her to safety, I’d forgotten the entire world didn’t speak one language.
“Do you know any English?” Griffin asked, reading my thoughts.
“I do,” the priest finally spoke up, eyes on me now.
“We rescued her from human traffickers.” I decided to go with a dose of honesty. Lying to a priest wouldn’t get me anywhere, and the truth was miserable enough. Hopefully, we could garner his sympathy so he’d assist us. “There could be more men out there looking for her. We just need a safe space for an hour or two.”
“She doesn’t look good,” the priest said somberly, zeroing in on the dried blood on her forearm. He probably didn’t miss the bruises on her body as well. Contusions from the fight she put up that first night along with that wild but bold move she’d pulled when jumping from a moving vehicle.
“Possibly drugged, too,” I shared. “Considering how long she’s been missing for, most likely nothing to eat in days.”
“I’ll help.” The priest moved from the doorway and relief swelled inside me as he waved us in.
I repositioned Diana in my arms and took the lead. Griffin, Easton, and Dallas trailed in behind us.
“In here.” The priest opened a bedroom and pointed inside. “Set her on my bed.”
