It had been a timing issue. He knew that. For him and for her. Hence why he’d asked for her number and had given her his. Only he’d never heard from her.
And neither had he called her.
He shook his head. Talk about timing issues. But now she was here, bedraggled, tired, but still in fighting spirit, even if a little dispirited. Then who wouldn’t be after what happened? And considering her parents’ personal problems too. He vaguely remembered talk about a health issue for her mother mentioned back then. Obviously she’d survived whatever that had been about. This scenario was bad for everyone though.
He’d been surprised at the image in the sketchbook, as he had no clue she was an artist. That showed she was more than an artist but a gifted one too. It took skill and passion to capture that face in a few hurried strokes. That Baylor’s name was in the book too …
Talk about a brain twister …
Chapter 4
A safe house? Gizella had to wonder, as she was led off the boat, put into a vehicle, and driven through a series of streets, until they pulled into a parking lot with multiple other vehicles. While the men kept a watchful gaze on the surroundings, she was led to a back door and inside. There, up a series of stairs to the third floor, she was ushered into a small apartment. As she walked in, she looked all around. “Is this the safe house?” It didn’t look like much. A small, sparsely furnished low-end rental.
“It is for the moment, yes,” Baylor said.
She nodded, then slowly turned and looked at him. “Thank you.” He just nodded in acknowledgment, but he didn’t seem to sense anything in the words other than a superficial meaning. She grabbed his arm as he went to walk past and added quietly, “Really, Baylor, I mean it.”
This time he stopped to really look at her, and his smile matched his eyes when he said, “I know.”
“Meaning that you would have done it for anybody, right?”
“I hope there will always be somebody to look out for anybody,” he said in a mild tone. “But did I know it was you beforehand? No. Not until I saw you,” he said. “I forgot your father was a governor and all.”
“That’s because, at that time,” she said, “I wasn’t having a whole lot to do with him.”
“Why is that?” he asked, curious.
“He was having affairs. All while my mother was going through a really bad health crisis.” She didn’t even know why Baylor was the one she wrote to in that journal, except that it occurred to her that he was probably one of the few SEALs she actually knew. A name, a face. Something she could latch on to in her moment of panic and fear, hoping somebody out there was actually listening. The fact that he’d come at all was a shock. A good one but still a shock.
He squeezed her fingers and said, “Pick a bedroom.”
She nodded, then turned to look around and saw two rooms off to the left. She walked over and chose the one that had a window view outside. But all she saw was another apartment building. She sagged onto the bed and realized she didn’t even have a change of clothes. She didn’t have her purse, her passport; she had nothing.
As he walked into the room behind her, he stood with his legs slightly akimbo, his hands on his hips. “Are you about ready for a nap?”
She shook her head. “I’m too keyed up,” she said. “I need news of my father’s condition. Food might not be a bad idea either, and a shower. But I don’t even have clean clothes to change into.”
“They’re coming,” he said, with a gentle smile. She looked at him in surprise, and he nodded. “I requested two sets.”
“Is it that easy?”
He laughed. “Not necessarily but, if you’re not too fussy,” he said, “we can get you something.”
“Fussy in that it generally fits and is clean,” she said, “but a T-shirt and leggings would be perfect.”
“Can’t count on what’s coming,” he said, “but, as long as it covers you, and it’s somewhat comfortable, and it’s clean, I figure we’re good to go.”
“That works for me,” she muttered. “What about the food part?”
“We also have food coming.”
She nodded and stood back up, wincing as she brushed off the comforter. “I’m so dirty even now, just from being in the bottom of that boat.”
“It was an old decommissioned riverboat cruiser. A small one that used to take up to thirty people at a time for tours,” he said.
“That is small,” she said.
“They weren’t always these big monstrosities,” he said, with a chuckle. She nodded, and he added, “Let’s go see if we can put on some coffee.”
She lit up at that. “Oh, God, coffee sounds wonderful.”
“Funny how that makes so many things better, isn’t it?”
“Coffee and sometimes tea.” She nodded. “Just something that’s normal and right about my world.” She looked over at him. “Any word on my father?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“And I suppose we have to wait for that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I can’t just go to the hospital and see him for myself?”
“No,” he said, “not at this point.”
“Why did you separate me and my mother?”
“We’re just concerned about her health,” he said, and she winced at that.
“Of course. I didn’t even think of that,” she muttered. “I just didn’t want to be separated from her.”
“If she’s well enough to be released,” he said, “we will bring her here.”
At that, she started to relax. “How long are we here for?”
“Until we can get you safely out of the
