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“I got the pack back, didn’t I?”
Doyle dug into it and found two ventilators. He pulled one out and went over to Keon. Crouched in front of him. “This is for you.” He shoved it over his head, affixed it on his face.
Keon grabbed his wrist. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “What it looks like is that you betrayed Hope House.”
“I had to?—”
Doyle yanked his hand from Keon’s grip and turned to Kemar.
Pete held out the ventilator to Doyle.
“It’s for Jake. You and I can trade off.”
Pete hesitated a moment, then gave it to Jake.
Good.Doyle took a breath from Pete’s vent, then turned to Kemar, who sat against the dusty walls, his legs pulled up, his arms locked around them. Dust covered his worn tennis shoes, and he trembled.
Doyle pulled off his overshirt and wrapped it around Kemar, buttoning it up. Then he put an arm around the kid and helped him to his feet. “Ready to go home? Your brother is waiting.”
Kemar’s eyes filled, but he nodded.
Pete had grabbed up Keon, Jake struggling behind him.
“Let’s get out of here,” Doyle said and walked through the blood-red dust.
* * *
“They found Doyle and the team.” The male voice carried across the mostly empty dining hall. The words weren’t directed at her, but Tia still heard them from the dark place she’d gone in her mind, her head on her folded arms as she sat at a long table, fatigue trying to pull her away from the search conversation.
As it was, she’d downed three cups of coffee and a hot currant roll that Rosa brought from the kitchen. They’d fed the children earlier, the rain and darkness pressing against the windows, turning the night somber. Lucia and Aliyah had held hands and cried, and Jamal had stirred his rice and beans around in his bowl before setting it away.
A few of the American donors had shown up, and Jane and Perez Marquez had carried Royce and Remy to their dorm, read the other children stories. The Jamesons had arrived as well and played a game of Chutes and Ladders with Jamal.
Sweet people really. Doyle had done the right thing trying to create families.
And of course, that only made her think of her conversation with Doyle, his words about Juliet...“Kind. Soft-spoken. Sweet. And yes, she wanted to be a mom of many. Probably the perfect missionary.”
Then she’d made that stupid,stupidjoke—“so, completely different than me”—and instantly wanted to take the words back.
But it was probably true. She’d never thought of herself as a mother. Never as a missionary.
Frankly, she didn’t know what she dreamed of?—
“Ham called and said they have people with them.” Again, the male voice.
Tia lifted her head and found the source—Ranger Kingston, who had manned the comms since Declan, Hamilton, and one of the two Jones, Inc. security guys left.
Ranger wore glasses as he scanned the map. “They’re on their way back.” Water dripped from a rain slicker hanging on a hook by the door. Could be he’d been outside, where reception was probably better. He stood next to Austen, his cousin, so clearly there were Kingstons everywhere, and pointed at the map.
Tia stood up, and the movement of her bench made Austen look over at her, give her a tight smile. Tia climbed over the bench and walked to them.
“People? Not kids?”
Ranger met her eyes, took off his glasses. “I dunno. He said they were on their way back, one injured.”
She stilled. “Doyle?”