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“You think I’m here because of you?” Sparks flew from her blue eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”

Her reaction made it clear that her presence in Puerto Jardin had nothing to do with him.

The intensity of her response was pure adrenaline.

Oz should have considered that. He could have asked the same question in a way that wouldn’t have triggered her.

“Relax, Pollita,” he said. “I couldn’t think of any other reason for you to be in this country. ” And it was one hell of a coincidence.

Instead of calming her, she bared her teeth.

The gesture was wasted when the brim of her hat fell over her face.

Oz hid a grin. She wouldn’t appreciate it, not in her current state.

At least she wasn’t crying. Her adrenaline release easily could have come as tears and he’d rather deal with anger than sobbing.

She whipped the hat off, holding it in one hand, and Oz stared.

She was as beautiful as he remembered. Her light ash-blonde hair was pulled into a messed-up bun on the top of her head.

Tendrils fell into her face and along her cheeks.

He’d seen it loose, knew she had curls, and wore it past her shoulders.

He knew how soft it was, and that she liked it when he’d buried his hands in it, holding her still for a kiss.

Shaking off the memory, he took in her perfectly arched eyebrows, the angry blue eyes, and the sharp, pointed chin before his gaze landed on her full lips. Oz knew he should look away, but an image from that night left him locked up. He pushed it aside. This wasn’t the time to lose focus.

Trying for a neutral tone, one he hoped wouldn’t set her off, Oz asked, “Why are you in Trujillo? And why a bus? Why didn’t you fly down from Rio Blanco? The airport is in a reasonably safe location.”

“I don’t like airplanes.”

It took a moment to understand what she meant. “You’re afraid of flying?”

The glare returned. “I never said I was afraid. I just prefer the bus.”

Oz opened his mouth to pin her down before he realized it didn’t matter if she admitted she had a phobia or not. He knew she did. “You know, you never told me your name that night. Who are you?”

She bit her lower lip.

“I’m Oz,” he offered, hoping it would ease her mind.

“Oz? What kind of name is that?” Her tone was confused, not angry.

“It’s short for Oziah. What should I call you?” he prompted.

“Ayla.” Her voice hesitated, likely because she was reluctant to share the information but didn’t want to be rude. They’d have to work on that. He wanted her to be able to tell him—or anyone else—to stuff it when necessary.

“Pretty name.”

She appeared startled. “This is an odd conversation.”

He shrugged. “I suppose it is, given how intimately we know each other.” Oz watched red spread across her cheeks. A blush, not anger. “Since your presence has nothing to do with me, why are you in Trujillo? Hell, Ayla, why are you in Puerto Jardin at all?”

“My sister—” Immediately, she cut off her words.

“Your sister is down here?”

Her hand fisted around that ridiculous straw hat, and Oz swallowed a sigh.

She didn’t trust him—he couldn’t blame her—but it was a pain in the ass.

“Did I do anything to hurt you that night?” She shook her head.

“Did I do anything that scared you?” Another shake.

“Then haven’t I proven you can trust me? ”

The answer took a while to come. “Maybe. I don’t know. You told that gang you were a mercenary. Are you?”

Oz fought off the urge to grimace. He couldn’t share the truth about who he was. He didn’t know her, not really, and the risk to his team and to their op was too great. Until he was back in the States, he was a merc. “Does it matter?”

“Of course, it matters. Mercenaries have no loyalty, no honor. I can’t trust you with information that might put someone I love at risk.”

“Your sister?”

Her lips tightened, but Ayla remained silent.

Oz made an assumption—her sister must have wound up in some kind of shit.

Easy enough to have happen in Puerto Jardin.

He nearly suggested Ayla could hire him to handle it for her, but resisted the urge.

He had a job to do. BD would understand him getting her out of the trouble she’d been in, even if it meant losing the man he was supposed to tail, but the captain would not understand Oz jumping in to offer his help.

“Pollita, I promise you that night we shared guarantees that I won’t betray you or your sister.”

Her cheeks went red again.

“Trujillo is a dangerous city. There are a lot of areas you’ll need to avoid.

Those limitations will make it hard for you to help your sister.

If you fill me in, I can offer some suggestions on what your next moves should be.

” The words didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t want her out on her own.

She could find herself in over her head before she realized it.

“How dangerous?” She sounded suspicious.

“This is where out-of-work mercenaries wait to be hired, and since a lot of contracts recently expired, there are more in town than usual. That’s in addition to the usual gangs, drug cartels, and assorted other criminals who call the city home.”

“Why are all these people in Trujillo? Why not somewhere else?”

She really didn’t trust him, and strangely enough, Oz liked that.

As he fought off an urge to smile, he shrugged.

“Maybe because it’s the largest city in the southern half of Puerto Jardin.

Maybe because it gives them access to the rainforest. That’s where the illegal mining and logging are centered.

Maybe because there are two rival drug lords in the area.

As for the mercs, I don’t know for sure, but it’s neutral ground.

Both the rebels and the government can come in and hire men. ”

“Would I be safe on my own? Would any woman be safe alone?”

He curbed the instinct to say no. It wasn’t exactly the truth, and while it would be easy to manipulate her, he resisted the urge.

That wasn’t who he was. Not anymore. “I don’t know, Pollita.

Depends on how street-smart you are. It takes a lot of savvy to read a situation early enough to avoid it, and even then, it might be too late.

It also depends on where you go and on who you talk to. ”

A look of concern settled on her face and she shifted uneasily.

Quietly, Oz said, “It might be best if you went back home. I think you’re in over your head down here.”

Her expression immediately turned stubborn. “My sister—my twin sister—is in trouble. I’m not leaving without her, no matter what.”

His assumption was right. It wasn’t a shock.

At least she’d trusted him enough to actually admit why she was here.

If she had shown up in Trujillo to rescue her sister, he’d never get Ayla to leave, no matter how hard he tried.

Oz’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want her to get hurt.

“Why did your sister travel to Puerto Jardin?”

“For her job.”

Which technically answered his question while giving next to no intel. “Want to expand on that?”

There was a long pause, and it was obvious she was debating whether to tell him anything. Oz waited, biding his time. If she decided not to share, he’d prod her a little.

At last, Ayla said, “She’s a photojournalist.”

Again, an answer that told him very little. “And she received an assignment down here? What was the assignment?”

“She’s supposed to photograph the ruins near San Isidro and do a feature on the society that abandoned the site.”

Oz’s heart skipped a beat. The ruins were a problem.

His former boss, drug lord Julián Vargas, used them for meetings sometimes.

Fuck, less than two weeks ago, the man had met there with Lurch, and his teammate had ended up as an unwilling guest to protect an archaeologist who’d been found at the site.

He didn’t volunteer that intel. It might send Ayla racing to the ruins—or to Vargas’s hacienda —to find her sister and that would put her in a world of trouble.

He had more questions, though. “What publication is interested in a story about some obscure ruins in Puerto Jardin? Who hired your sister?”

This pause dragged out even longer and Ayla scrutinized him intently. At last, she said, “She works for the Paladin League. We send out a quarterly magazine to our donors.”

Oz didn’t breathe for a second. The Paladin League. For fuck’s sake, why was it always the Paladin League? He latched on to the most important word. “We? You work for the Paladin League, too?”

Ayla appeared uncertain. Definitely nervous.

“Pollita?” he prompted.

She nodded. Slowly. Hesitantly. As if she wasn’t sure she should share any intel with him. “Yes, I do.”

“You’re an archaeologist?”

“The Paladin League hires people besides archaeologists.” Ayla sounded irritated, but he didn’t know if that was adrenaline or if she was tired of people assuming what her job was. Her eyes widened almost immediately. “How do you know the Paladin League is involved with archaeologists?”

Her tone held suspicion, and Oz nearly grinned. Nearly, but he was pissed at himself for revealing too much. He knew better. Now he needed an explanation that allayed some of her distrust. “A friend of mine is married to someone who works there.”

“Really? Who?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sharing that.” If Ayla wasn’t on the up and up, that information could put his former teammate’s wife at risk. Not only was Oz not taking chances, but he didn’t want to face Stony’s wrath. “If you’re not an archaeologist, what do you do?”

Ayla stared at him as if trying to see into his soul. “I work in public relations.”

There was a snap in her voice that had Oz hiding his amusement.

She wouldn’t appreciate it. Public relations.

Yeah, he could see that. She had a polished, corporate kind of look to her.

He wished she were an archaeologist. At least then she’d have some more scrappiness—at least going by the three he’d met.

How the hell did someone who worked in PR think she was going to rescue anyone? “Did your sister contact you from San Isidro to tell you she was in trouble?”

“I’m not sure where she was when I got the message she needed help.”

Of course not. Why would Ayla think to ask for that information? There was an odd note in her voice, but Oz couldn’t figure it out. In the meantime, on to the next question. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes. I’m going to travel to San Isidro and talk to some of the people there. I’m sure one of them will know where I can find Io.”

“Io. That’s your sister?”

She nodded. “It’s short for Iona.”

“Do you really believe that if Iona got in too deep in San Isidro anyone would pass along that information to you?”

It was more likely that the elderly innkeeper and his two friends would take over the rescue.

The three men had retired from the presidential brigade, Puerto Jardin’s Special Forces, and they saw themselves as the protectors of San Isidro.

Stony would be majorly pissed off if anything happened to those old men.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me? Unless they’re involved. Do you think people in the town are involved?” She leaned closer as she asked the question.

Before he could come up with how to answer, a man wandered too close. Oz leveled a warning stare at him, and he immediately shifted course, giving them more space.

“Is he a threat?” Ayla whispered.

“Probably not.” Yeah, probably not, but Oz remained on high alert. He’d positioned them so they were near the statue. No one was coming up on their backs, but scanning, assessing, and reacting were ingrained. He did it all the time without thinking about it.

The dude exited the park, but Oz didn’t relax.

He couldn’t allow Ayla to go near those ruins.

The only reason Lurch and his archaeologist had escaped from the drug lord’s compound was because he’d been there to help them.

Without someone on the inside—and one hell of a diversion to keep Vargas’s troops busy—no one was getting out.

Had Ayla’s sister also been imprisoned by the drug lord? Was she still locked up inside the hacienda?