His Kind of Trouble by Samantha Hunter Page B

six feet away from me, but when I turned around, she was gone. A travel clerk said that she saw Ana leave with a handsome man, likely Mexican, maybe local, in casual clothes. The clerk said she looked happy to see the man, but he must have had a gun on her or was telling her to cooperate.”
    “Shit, Chance, really? You lost our client?” Garrett said, cursing again, and Chance winced. He was good at his job, but somehow, when he did mess up, even a little, he felt about five years old. Always the irresponsible baby brother.
    But he couldn’t focus on that; time was of the essence if they were going to find Ana. He’d broken a cardinal rule and let her out of his sight. He’d dropped his guard, and this was the price. Stupid.
    “Any ideas how to proceed?” he asked, his self-
disgust clear in his tone.
    “I have a friend in the American embassy down there. He might be able to tell me what he’s hearing regarding any kidnappings and if any news or ransom demands are being made. You should go to her town, to her family, and see if they can help. They might have local contacts who might know something.”
    Chance breathed for the first time in the past twenty minutes, nodding. “On it. Thanks, Gar.”
    “Don’t beat yourself, up, bud. It happens to the best of us. Let’s just find her,” Garrett said, and Chance appreciated the support, though nothing would make him feel better until he found Ana and knew that she was safe.
    “Thanks. I’ll call when I know something. You, too.”
    “Definitely.”
    Chance went to the rental desk and was in a Jeep fifteen minutes later, finding his way to Hatsutsil, about fifty miles from the airport. Luckily most of the distance was highway, though the past fifteen miles or so was back roads into some coastal jungle that would have been awesomely gorgeous if he had noticed it at all.
    A wooden sign announced that he had entered the small village, and Chance pulled to the side, scattering a bunch of chickens that had congregated by the side of the road. Hearing laughter, Chance looked up to see a group of young girls, teenagers, standing together on the porch of a small business, a grocery by the looks of it, watching him. When he made eye contact with one of them, more giggles.
    Chance was hard-pressed not to smile back at the charming group, though their dark hair and pretty eyes made him think of how pretty Ana must have been at their age, and how they all would be beauties like her one day. Thinking about Ana at the hands of some kidnapper made something twist in his chest, and he waved the girls over, hoping they could help.
    They shook their heads no, however, apparently versed in the ways of strangers, and knowing better. Chance understood, and turned the gas off, getting out of the Jeep and walking up to them, instead, keeping a distance that would make them feel safe.
    “Olá. Me llamo Chance,” he said with a smile. They watched with big eyes and said shy hellos back.
    “I’m looking for the family of Ana Perez. I am a friend from the States,” he added, showing them a picture of Ana that had them nodding. One of the older girls, maybe sixteen, came forward.
    “You know Ana?”
    “Yes. We flew down here together, but then we got separated at the airport. I need to talk to her family, to make sure she’s okay. Can you tell me where to find them?”
    Chance’s Spanish might be a tad rusty, but it was coming back to him, and the girl nodded, apparently deciding he could be trusted.
    Minutes later, he was pulling up in front of a lovely adobe home, gardens gracing almost every corner along the stone-covered drive that led to the house.
    Getting out, Chance stopped before reaching the door, unsure how he was going to explain to Ana’s family that he had been in charge of protecting her and yet had allowed her to be kidnapped. That wouldn’t earn him any points, for sure.
    He knew from the file that Ana’s father had passed away several years before and her mother