Enemy Mine by Lindsay McKenna Page B

kitchen staff, their eyes wide with fear, had backed off and left Mac with the girl.
    “Where is my golden-haired child?”
    Cringing inwardly, Mac heard Garcia’s voice. His stomach clenched. He hated himself, because now he would have to hand Sophie over to the bastard. This child was playing hell on every emotion he had. Under any other circumstances, Mac would have gotten her back to her worried, grieving parents. Swallowing bile, he moved out of the kitchen, meeting Carlos Garcia in the living room. His boss was casually dressed in a white peasant shirt, jeans and sneakers. It was Garcia’s black eyes, narrowed and glittering, that made Mac halt with Sophie in his arms.
    “Is she all right, Coulter? You found her, yes?”
    Mac wanted to pull away as Garcia reached out with his strong, athletic hand to touch the little girl’s back. The moment he did, the little girl cried out and clung even more securely to Mac.
    “She’s okay, Patrón. Ernesto found her. I told him I’d carry her back to the villa. Look, she’s stubbed her toe pretty badly. Can I take her over to the dispensary so Dr. Macedo can treat her? In this jungle, infection can set in and become deadly. I think she tripped over a vine on the trail.”
    “Oh, of course, of course,” Garcia patted Sophie’s small shoulder. “She’s wet, too. That damn nanny! I’m tired of her whining and excuses. Now I must look for another one.”
    “I’d get someone with a military background this time,” Mac said. “You’ve had trouble with nannies since I started working here.” Señora Renaldo was the second one to be dispensed in such a way. All it took was for the spoiled Tiki to complain to her daddy about her mean nanny, and the woman disappeared—for good.
    “Perhaps you are right.” Garcia lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He motioned for Coulter to walk toward the door. “ Sí, take her to the doctor. I will accompany you. Therese is with Tiki, now. Poor little nena, baby. She is crying because she misses her Sophie here.”
    Gritting his teeth, Mac nodded his head. He shifted Sophie to his left side so that Garcia couldn’t keep reaching out to pet her as if she was were a dog. “I’m sure Tiki is upset.”
    Tiki was spoiled as hell, like Garcia’s twenty-four-year-old drug addict wife, Paloma. The woman was either high on heroin or drinking tequila until she passed out in a stupor. Paloma had a body that wouldn’t quit, which was why Garcia had decided to marry her. How Tiki ever got born was something Mac didn’t understand, because the woman was clearly an addict bent on dying from an overdose.
    “I like your idea, Mac. Perhaps I should be looking for a nanny with a military background. Perhaps that is where I made my mistake.”
    Mac knew that Garcia had already lured three or four South American women trained in child care to his compound and put them through a life-and-death test to see if they passed muster. Of course, not many lived to tell about it. The few that did survive suddenly found themselves in Garcia’s employment with no way to escape. In essence, the surviving nanny with martial arts and weapons skills was as much a prisoner of Garcia as was Sophie. Only they didn’t know that was going to happen. Once in the employ of a drug lord, one never left unless in a body bag.
    “Hmm,” Carlos murmured as he walked through the open door and out into the parking area, “perhaps I need to expand my search, for a different kind of nanny.” He turned and waited for Mac to catch up. Together they headed for a single-story dark green stucco building against the north wall of the complex.
    “So far, you’ve chosen all Spanish women. I know England is renowned for its trained nannies.” Mac was making small talk. He knew next to nothing about child care.
    The sky above was still gray, with low-hanging humid clouds, but at this time of morning it was always like that. Around noon the clouds lifted, burning off in the