Enemy Mine by Lindsay McKenna

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    After spitting vehemently, Ernesto turned and stomped back up the trail.
    Relief flooded through Mac as he returned his attention to Sophie, who sobbed her heart out. His own heart wrenched. Sometimes being an ATF mole in this godforsaken green hell was too much for him to bear. It was enough that working undercover for the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, Mac had to transport soldiers, drugs, plus Garcia and his spoiled wife, Paloma, around South America.
    As he studied the muddy little child, he wanted to put a bullet into Garcia’s temple. The man was a sick bastard. But if Mac did that, he’d blow his cover—which had taken more than a year to develop—and could no longer feed information to the ATF. His main goal was to stay undercover long enough to identify all of Garcia’s drug ties and find out where the other drug lords lived. He would then give all that information to the ATF and the CIA so that an international sting operation could be coordinated to bring Garcia and his buddies down for good.
    As Mac reached out for Sophie, he wanted to chuck the whole thing. He hated the fact that Garcia regularly kidnapped people; that was a way of life and a source of earnings for many people down here, including drug lords. But when it came to harmless, innocent children like Sophie, Mac could barely hang on to his composure.
    “Come on, Sophie. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. My name is Mac. Can we be friends?” He crouched down because he knew his size would intimidate her. He worea shoulder holster as well as a sidearm over his dark green flight suit. Mac knew he looked scary to the child. She sat there and scrubbed her eyes with her dirty hands, making messy red circles around them. With a very slow movement, Mac opened the Velcro fastening of the pocket on his right thigh and pulled out a white linen handkerchief.
    “Hey, I’d say you need a little cleaning up here.” He handed her the handkerchief. She hesitantly took it and then scrubbed her mud-streaked face. Behind him, Mac could hear the shouts dying down. Sophie hadn’t gone far from the fortresslike villa hidden in the jungle.
    “I want my mommy….”
    “I know you do. We’re working on that, Sophie. In the meantime, you have to come back to the villa with me. Can I carry you? Look at your toe. It’s bleeding. I think you stubbed it while running.” Her left big toe was bruised, swollen and purple, and Mac thought she might have broken it.
    “Oh…” she whimpered.
    “It’s okay, Sophie,” Mac said in English to her. “Will you let me take my other handkerchief and wrap it around your foot? We’ll get you cleaned up back at the villa. I’ll make sure your toe gets taken care of. Can you move it, honey?” He kept his voice low and soft. Little by little, Sophie responded. She held up her leg and wriggled all her toes. Grinning, Mac said, “Hey, that’s terrific, Sophie. Looks like you just stubbed it. Let me lift you up and take you back to the villa? I’ll get Señora Renaldo to clean it up for you. Okay?”
    Renaldo was the latest nanny hired by Garcia to tend his only child, six-year-old Tiki, a beautiful black-haired little girl. Mac knew that the reason Sophie had been kidnapped was because Tiki was lonely, and she had a norteamericano doll with white skin, blond hair and blue eyes. Tiki had said she wanted a real doll matching that description. Garcia had put out a call to find a child around Tiki’s age, and poor little Sophie had been targeted.
    “Where’s my mommy?” Sophie asked, sniffing.
    “She’s at home in Lima,” Mac explained. He slowly eased up on one knee and held out his hands toward her. At first she cringed away, but then changed her mind and moved into his arms. When she wrapped her own slim arms around Mac’s neck, he nearly cried. Sophie clung to him as if desperate for protection.
    “It’s going to be okay, Sophie,” he told her as he lifted her gently and got to his feet.