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Moments later, they were down in the bunk room, where Grace saw that Amos had made up a second bed right next to the first with the two stuffed sharks on it, their pillows end to end, so they could talk after lights out.
Simon wriggled under his covers. “There’s enough beds in here for all my cousinsandAuntie Em.”
Grace cocked an ear at the moniker. Auntie Em was Dorothy’s aunt in theThe Wizard of Oz. Did Simon ever feel like he’d been transported to a whole new world, like Dorothy? His somber tone told her he was still thinking of the family he had left behind.
“You’ll see them again, Simon.” Careful not to hit her head on the overhang, she eased a hip onto his mattress and ruffled his hair, finding it lighter in texture than Mateo’s.
Simon sent her an appealing glance. “Will you say prayers with me like Auntie Em used to do?”
Grace hesitated. “Sure.”
To her relief, Simon led the way, reciting a sweet children’s prayer Grace had heard before. At the end, he added, “God bless Chris’fer and Colton, Baby Carter, and Auntie Em. Also Grace, and Daddy, and Mateo, too.”
Hearing her child’s name on Simon’s lips startled her. So, too, did the realization that she would soon be leaving the country to fetch Mateo. She’d left her backpack upstairs, beside the armchair. She would leave it there, as Simon’s workbook was stowed in there, along with a couple moreToonbooks and, most importantly, Mateo’s dossier.
Her departure was going to have ripple effects, causing hardship for others. Simon would have to get up early with Amos. And Faith would have to look elsewhere for someone to keep an eye on her two children—unless Grace could grab Mateo and get him quickly out of the country.
“Amen. Good night, Simon.” She kissed his cheek and switched off the light inside his bunk. “I’m going to go change into my pj’s, and I’ll be right back.”
Guilt and worry churned in her as she carried her pajamas back to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Staring at her reflection while slipping her nightshirt over her head, she wished more than anything that she could be in two places at once.
* * *
“Senior Chief.”
Amos looked up from assigning duty rotations. Seeing Commander Monteague at his office door, his hopes rose that the CO had read his email and was about to reply with a “yes” to Amos’s suggestion.
“Sir. Come on in.”
Monteague, whom senior officers called Monty, took two steps that brought him to the corner of Amos’s desk. Right then, it was still littered with memos and matters he was still sorting through.
“I feel like you’ve been gone for a month.” The CO’s golden-brown gaze rested on him.
That wasn’t the lead-in Amos wanted to hear. His stomach tightened as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Monteague was going to tell him he was needed at the Team building and couldn’t afford to send him back to Colombia.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how vital you are to this Team, Mako.”
Amos sighed inwardly. Flattery wasn’t going to take the edge off his disappointment. If the CO wanted to keep him here, how in blazes was he going to keep Grace from collecting Mateo by herself?
“Unfortunately, I can’t send you back to theAgrupación. There’s a situation in Venezuela that’s urgent.” He leaned over the desk and pitched his voice lower.
Amos’s ears had pricked at the mention of Venezuela.
“I’ll leave it to Lieutenant Carrigan to brief you.”
Amos’s eyebrows rose. Jake Carrigan was a lieutenant in Team Six who’d been recruited and trained by the CIA after becoming a SEAL. He was young and scary-intelligent, and one of just a handful of SEALs who was both an operative and a special operator. Of course, Carrigan would never admit that aloud. In fact, the only people on the Team who knew of his dual allegiance were the CO, the XO, and Amos, himself.
Intrigued, Amos nodded. Here he was, trying to find his way back to Venezuela, and now there was a situation in Venezuela. “When?”
“He’s waiting for you in his office.”
Standing up slowly, Amos followed the CO into the hall, where he cruised around the corner to the tiny office afforded to the lieutenant. The door was half-cracked. As he announced his arrival with a knock, Carrigan, who had no code name as far as Amos was aware, glanced up from his computer.
“Senior Chief, come on in and shut the door behind you.” Closing the file he was working on, the young SEAL sat back in his seat and waited for Amos to shut the door.
The man no longer wore glasses, thanks to some recent laser surgery. Yet, even with the body of a warrior, just over six feet tall, with thick brown hair that tended to curl at the ends, he still had the air of an intellect. His soft blue eyes framed in long lashes added to the impression that he was harmless. Amos doubted that was the case.
“I’ll get right down to it.” Jake spoke in a gentle voice undergirded with determination. “The CIA needs help in extracting a deep-cover operative who goes by the name Zorra.”
