Page 49 of Her Faithful Protector

Another man stood beside Asher, his eyes assessing. Then he was gone.

“Where’s the bomb, do you know?” Asher asked.

Her arms hurt too much so she couldn’t point. She tilted her chin toward the left side of the church. “Along that wall, all the way up to the Sanctuary.”

“Got it.” Asher left.

Maybe they wouldn’t die after all.

* * *

Nic went in and swept the room, then stopped dead. They had not trained him for this in SEAL school. He looked at the young girl standing behind a wobbly table, using it to help hold up a gun that looked as big as she was. It was pointed directly at him. The safety wasn’t on. Her little face was wet with tears, but her expression was angry and determined. Beside her was a toddler, the kid sitting on the floor in a cloth diaper, looking up at him, lost and confused.

Nic made a split-second decision. He shoved off his night goggles and laid down his rifle, then held up his hands. Somehow, he was going to have to show the girl that he was a trustworthy man.

Nic’s Spanish was only so-so.

“Leo,” he said softly. “I need you to have my back on this one, man.”

“Jesus, son. You’ve gone and done it now.” Nic knew that Leo had peeked around the corner.

“Help me talk her down,” he said in English using his gentlest voice, not wanting to do anything to upset the girl or the baby. He felt like he was on the world’s highest tightrope. Where had she gotten the gun? Oh, fuck that, who cared?

Nic stayed crouched where he was and smiled like he would at Mimi. “Hello, pretty girl. My name is Nic. What is yours?” he asked in Spanish.

She didn’t move a muscle, she just continued to stare at him.

“Honey, where is your mother?”

She jerked as if he had slapped her, her brows lowered and her eyes spit fire. She stiffened her shoulders and clutched the gun tighter. Okay, so mentioning her mom was a bad thing. Dammit, he had to get her to talk.

“What can I do to help you?” Nic asked gently in his lackluster Spanish.

“Go away,” the girl said.

He looked over the pistol she was holding. It was a standard Glock 357; where in the hell did she get that? He couldn’t leave her alone with that.

“Leo, I need to get the gun away from her, she’ll hurt herself with it,” he said in English. The girl couldn’t be more than ten years old. Her little arms were trembling as she tried to hold the gun up, even with the help of the table.

“Nic, just do what the hell she says. Back up and leave. It’s a no-win situation.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched the girl as she continued to glower at him with rage, but behind that was a shit-ton of panic and fear.

The baby started to babble and reach up its arms.

“Hush,” the girl said in Spanish.

The baby’s babbling turned more urgent, and he or she rocked over so that it was closer to the girl, now grabbing at her leg.

“No, Theresa. Be a good baby,” the girl said frantically as she looked down.

The baby turned her attention to the table leg and lunged for that. Nic made his move before there was a chance for catastrophe. In two long steps, he was at the table and plucking the gun out of the girl’s hands.

“Nooooooooo,” the girl wailed.

Nic heard shots.

“Got one,” Max said over the comm.