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Mouth twisting, Nik said in a low voice, “I worry about that. It’s taken Megan a year to come out of the surgery and recover to where she has her old strength returning. She’s street smart. She knows there are other Russian mafia drug teams around. I don’t think, given she’s been here for two years, and has the good will of these people in this town, that she couldn’t make some inquiries and find out about more regarding Boris Golub.”
“And then what?”
He gave her a cool stare. “Megan was in the military, like you, Daria. She’s trained, armed and lethal. I wouldn’t put it past her, once she figures it all out, to go after Boris herself. She’ll take the bastard down, including all his men.” He flexed his fist, frustration in his tone. “Liz is worried about that, too. The last I heard, she was calling Megan’s cousin, Morgan Trayhern. He’s got a security company, Perseus, in Montana. I think he knows about all this and promised Liz he’d do something about it.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Wow, this is a really unsettling situation.” She chewed on her lip. “Do you think Megan would just arbitrarily leave her kids here to go hunt down Golub?”
“That’s the dicey question, isn’t it? Does she turn vigilante or does she stay here and care for her children? No one can do what she does here, Daria. She’s a one-woman show. The Indian women come and help. She pays them what she can, but basically, it’s all on her shoulders.”
Shaking her head, Daria choked softly, “I feel so sorry for her. How tortured she must be…”
CHAPTER 11
The sky wasa druzy blue as Daria emerged with Nik from the orphanage at 1600, fourp.m.
Sunlight struck the western side of Machu Picchu, the bustling streets of the community below alive with wandering tourists, all the noise across the hill the town sat upon rising into the jungle that surrounded it. She felt a mix of emotions. At their forefront, heart-rending grief for Megan who appeared cheery, patient and seemed to have herself together, despite her trauma. As Nik and her walked up and over the hill, she asked him, “You said you were helping Megan medically?”
Nik cut his stride in half, taking her hand to ensure, in case Brudin watched them, they looked like a couple falling in love. “Yes, a sleep medication. I wanted to give her an anti-anxiety med as well, but she refused. She thinks she can work through this without such. I understand her reasoning, but she is here alone, without any real emotional support system. And when we go through terrible things in our life, we all need someone.”
Daria heard the heaviness, the heartbreak, in his low tone, clearly moved and worried about Megan Cantrell. She squeezed his hand a little more and he glanced her way. “Did you ever get support after your family was murdered, Nik?” she asked softly. Instantly, Daria knew the answer as serrating anguish rose in his face for a moment before he quickly masked that real, raw reaction. Daria had to stop herself from pulling Nik to a halt, throwing her arms around him and just holding him. Because, as never before, she saw what lay beneath Nik’s everyday demeanor. And it was as she was beginning to suspect: the man did wear his compassionate nature daily with those he cared for medically.
“No… You are an unexpected joy in my life, Daria,” he said, giving her a partial smile. “More than you know.”
“I’d like to be there for you, Nik.” She saw him nod, give her a warm look. It was enough.
He slowed at the top of the hill. To the left was a vegetable vendor. “Tonight,” he said, “I want to make dinner for you. Allow me?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You cook, do you?” and her lips curved in a teasing line.
“I’m not half bad. I end up doing most of the cooking out in the jungle for my team. They can’t stand their own poor attempts. My mother had me in the kitchen ever since my head was level with the kitchen counter. She taught me everything she knew, and I liked working with her in the kitchen. It was fun. I see cooking as a form of chemistry.”
Her heart broke. Daria could imagine a dark-haired little Nik next to his mother, curious, eager, holding her full attention, care and love. And it had all been ripped away from him. “Sounds wonderful. To tell you the truth,” and she held up her reddened hands, “I could use some downtime on these.”
Nik slowed to a stop, taking one of her hands in his, and examining it. “Red and chapped. When we get home, I’ll put some special lotion that I carry on them? I always give Megan a bottle when I see her monthly.”
Her body began to melt as he held her hand gently between his own. For all of his size and strength, Daria was always shocked by how tender Nik could be. At the same time, it was juxtaposed because she knew Spetsnaz operators were black ops like herself. There was no tougher breed of men or women in the world than them. The roughness of the thick callouses on his hands and fingers attested to such, her skin arcing with tiny tingles of pleasure as he skimmed his fingers across her chapped skin. “Yes, that would be great… thank you.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Now, come with me. Juanita, the old woman who runs this vegetable stand, is a good person. I always buy my fruits and vegetables from her when I get into town. She will love meeting you. And this is where you should come to buy vegetables in this town when I leave.”
Nik led her over to the small wooden stall that canted somewhat to one side, poorly constructed and sagging with age as it was. It had a bright-yellow, dilapidated rainproof tarp over the top of it. Under the tarp, Daria spotted a gray-haired, plump Quechua woman with a brown bowler hat perched jauntily on her head. Her steel-gray braids hung tight and shining over her ample breasts. Daria loved that the Indian women all wore bright, colorful, hand-woven tops, and matching skirts that brushed around the ankles of their brown, bare feet.
Juanita rose slowly as she saw Nik approach. When she smiled, half her front teeth were missing. She waddled slowly around the edge of her crates of vegetables, her arms wide open.
Nik rushed forward, cutting the distance quickly, leaning down, gently enfolding the old woman in his arms. She patted him heartily on his back, returning his huge hug of welcome. They spoke in Quechua with one another.
Daria smiled, feeling more and more yearning for this man, who was so unlike the other men he was forced to be with. She decided, as Nik released Juanita, that he was hurting equally, if not more than herself. Probably suffering as deeply as Megan Cantrell. Life wasn’t easy down here and she knew that in spades now.
Megan pushed on, idealistic, believing in the good in life, helping the destitute innocent children who had no one else to protect them. But she could at least protect them, even if no one had come toheraid when Golub and his men had raped her.
Nik pushed on because of his fierce love and loyalty for his brother, his focus on getting Dan the latest medical expertise that might help him recover from his TBI.
And what was she doing? Mouth flexing, Daria didn’t want to look closely at that answer. She needed to start the healing process. No one had ever said it didn’t take guts to do so, as she was beginning to fully realize.
“Come meet Juanita,” Nik urged, holding out his hand toward Daria.
