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How, exactly, were they going to leave tomorrow if the airport wasn’t an option? She decided she would wait and see. It was enough that Magdalena Montoya was sharing her provisions and shelter with them.
Reappearing with the proffered bedding and a towel, Lena left them on the armchair. “Need anything else?”
“No. I think we’re good.” They had a safe place to pass the night, which astonished her.
“Good night, then. You can have the bathroom first.” She gestured to the second door as she walked past it.
Helping herself to the bathroom, Grace showered quickly, brushed her teeth with the toothbrush from Amos’s medicine cabinet, then dressed in her nightshirt. After scooping up her dirty clothing, she carried it straight to the washing machine and added her clothing from yesterday. Mateo still had one more outfit to wear.
Before turning out the lights and joining Mateo on the soft couch, Grace contemplated emailing Peter and messaging Amos. But no, Lena had made it perfectly clear she wasn’t to tell anybody whom she was with. If she could message either of them, she would tell them what she was just beginning to glean: That God was still for her. Amos had been right.
Finding an outlet, she left her phone charging on the arm of the couch in case he messaged her again—not that she could answer. Next, she stretched out beside Mateo, wedging him between herself and the back of the couch. Amos was probably sleeping or too busy working to send another message anyway.
Listening to the strange sounds in Lena’s impersonal apartment, she imagined herself on his houseboat. A yearning to be there instead of where she was brought tears to her eyes. She hoped Simon wasn’t missing her at all. She missed him, though. And Amos, too.
With a long sigh and the hope that he would want her back in his life, she savored the memory of his life-affirming kiss.
CHAPTER17
Grace instantly awoke to the sound of a distant explosion. She lifted her head, spotting Lena, who stood at one of her windows, tabbing the blind to see outside. Loath to awaken Mateo this early, Grace eased herself away from him and stepped off the couch to approach her hostess. Lena glanced back at her before peering out the window again.
“What’s that noise?” Grace drew up alongside her.
“It’s the Rebel Army. They’re destroying the Caracas Maiquetía Airport, like I said.”
“They’re that close?” Separating the blinds, Grace went to look for herself. From the vantage of Lena’s apartment, positioned high on the hillside, she could see practically the entire capital of Caracas spread out below her from the glitziest monument to the ugliest of slums. To the north, the West Caribbean Ocean rimmed the coast, but it was hard to see for the smoke billowing at the shoreline where the airport lay.
Grace swallowed hard as smoke belched from an indeterminable structure. “I would have been stuck here.”
Lena said nothing.
Grace faced her. “Can you tell me how we’re getting out of here tonight?”
The woman’s lips firmed. “The less you know, the better. Like I said, I’ll have to take you to work with me. You’ll need to wait in the car until I’m ready to leave.”
Dozens of questions vied for articulation, but Grace doubted Lena would answer them. The brunette beauty was looking at Mateo with worry in her eyes.
“He must mean a lot to you.”
“Oh yes.” Grace’s thoughts went back to the previous summer. “I met him on a mission trip last summer and started the adoption process right away, but his dossier wasn’t complete until a couple of weeks ago.” She didn’t bother mentioning her harrowing experience earlier that summer nor her forcible extraction.
Lena glanced at her left hand, clearly to check if she was married. Grace’s thoughts went, oddly enough, to Amos.
Emerald green eyes rose to hers. “You’ll be a good mom.”
“Thank you.” Grace could tell without asking that Lena had chosen a career over starting a family. The wistful thread in her voice had betrayed some regret about that.
“Who’s Amos?” Lena asked. “You said he knows Jake.”
Strong emotions roiled in Grace. “Amos McLeod is a Navy SEAL senior chief. He snatched me from Venezuela earlier this year when Maduro was hunting down Americans.”
Lena blinked with surprise. “Oh, I heard about that. That was you?”
“Yes.” How much did Lena know?
“Okay, this makes sense to me now.” Lena swiveled on her bare feet and padded over the parquet tiles to the kitchen. “Coffee? You’d have to drink it black.”
With a tug of remorse, Grace recalled the chocolaty coffee Amos made for her. “I’m good, thanks.”
