Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(31)

From the pictures he’d been able to find, Zara had been an adorable kid. Her brown hair was frequently mussed in the photos online, and her eyes seemed to sparkle with happiness. In short, she’d been happy and carefree. He didn’t see any of that person in the Zara he knew, which was sad. He hated that she’d had to learn the hard way how unfair and hard life could be.

The thing that bothered Meat the most about his quick online search was the lack of press regarding Zara’s disappearance. When her parents had been found murdered, there were a few articles about their missing daughter and speculation about what had happened to her, but that was literally it. There were no true-crime shows about the incident, no anniversary specials, no vigils on Zara’s birthday each year, no updated sketches of what Zara might look like as an adult.

It was as if no one had cared that the little ten-year-old had disappeared into thin air, including her grandparents.

Compared to the ruckus Morgan’s father had caused when she’d disappeared, the information on Zara was pathetic. It was heartbreaking, actually. Her paternal grandparents had died in a car wreck when Zara was five. But her maternal grandparents hadn’t done any in-depth interviews about her disappearance. In the few pictures he’d seen, they’d appeared stoic. The only quote he’d found, from her grandfather, said that they’d told the couple not to go on vacation to Lima, that it was dangerous.

It was almost as if he was saying “I told you so,” when he should’ve been putting together search parties for his missing granddaughter.

Meat vowed then and there to do whatever he could to help Zara reacclimate to life in the United States. Not to fail her in the way it seemed her grandparents had.

He had a feeling, because of her inheritance, people would be coming out of the woodwork offering to “help” her. And while she wouldn’t come into the bulk of her money for another few years, she’d be getting a good chunk of back pay from the stipends she should’ve been receiving.

All in all, Zara was now a very wealthy woman. And with money came trouble.

When Meat heard the shower turn off, he glanced at his watch. Forty-five minutes. He smiled, loving the thought of Zara luxuriating under the hot shower. He didn’t begrudge her the indulgence. If he’d lived the way she had, he’d take his time too.

Not wanting to risk using the motel’s phone in case it was being monitored, Meat had a quick instant-messaging chat with Rex on a secure app they regularly used. Their handler had already spoken with Gray and was working on getting the documents Zara needed to legally leave the country. It would take a couple of days; even with his connections, he couldn’t get a passport to Lima overnight.

Rex had been disgusted that he’d had to pay off a couple of Peruvian government officials to get it done, but after everything both men had learned about the corruption in Peru, neither was surprised.

Rex had asked if Zara would be willing to take a DNA test to prove she was actually Zara Layne, and Meat told him he had no doubt whatsoever she would. But he knew without a doubt that Zara was who she said she was.

Rex told Meat he was glad he had a hard head, and that he’d talk to him and the rest of the team when they got back to Colorado.

Meat had just pushed his laptop away when he heard the bathroom door open. Turning, he grinned when he saw the huge plume of steam rush out the door, followed by Zara.

The steam framed her, making it seem as if she were stepping out of a corny spaceship movie or something. Her short hair was wet and curled a bit over her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, and his clothes were huge on her petite body.

Meat was moving before he even thought about what he was doing. He walked toward her, limping a bit, as his ankle hurt after the exertion of the day. He stopped in front of her, the fresh, clean smell of the soap she’d used wafting up between them, making him more than aware of how dirty he was.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—if anything. He just knew that he was drawn to her. That he wanted to be near her.

“Feel better?” he finally asked.

She nodded and chewed on her lower lip.

He didn’t know if she was nervous to be around him or if something else was agitating her. She looked so unsure, Meat wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. That he’d make certain of it. Somehow, standing there in her bare feet, wearing his clothes, she seemed more vulnerable.

Out on the streets, in her “boy” clothes, dirt on her face, she was in her element. She blended in and was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But if anyone could see her right this second, they’d know she wasn’t the teenage boy she’d pretended to be.

Meat’s eyes wandered down her body for a split second, and he was startled to note she very much indeed had curves. She’d somehow managed to bind what looked like lush breasts, and while he couldn’t exactly see much under the miles of cloth, there was absolutely no doubt that Zara was a woman.

She shifted in front of him, as if uncomfortable with his scrutiny. “I washed out my clothes, but couldn’t put my . . . underthings back on because they’re wet,” she said in a rush.

Meat inhaled deeply, trying to get ahold of himself. He took a step back because he figured he was probably intimidating her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m sure Arrow will find you appropriate underwear.” He wasn’t sure of that, and in fact, he didn’t like the thought of Arrow picking out such intimate things for Zara. But that was ridiculous—first, because Arrow was completely smitten with Morgan, and second, Zara had to have something to wear under her clothes.