The Protector (15 page)

She gazed at his smiling reflection. “I was just thinking about something,” she said evasively, shuffling the papers in her hands.

“Uh huh.” He turned, and his smile was lazy, looking as if he had found out some deep dark secret about her and he was going to use it to his advantage.

She looked down at the jumbled paperwork. How did he do that? Make her thoughts go haywire as soon as she caught his gaze? “I was thinking about work,” she said, clearing her throat. “And how men like you need lots of work.”

“Men like me? Are we back to arguing again? I thought we were making headway, just talking like normal everyday folks.”

She lifted a brow. “Normal everyday folks?” she repeated and coughed. “I don’t think there’s anything normal and everyday with what you do.”

He sat down in front of her and picked up from her desk one of the small photos belonging to another coworker. “But we’re talking about who I am, not what I do,” he said. “See, even you have family.”

“Those aren’t mine.” She kept her voice bland.

He looked around the table. “None of these photos belong to you, do they?” he finally asked. When she didn’t answer, he murmured to himself. “
Tiens
, now, I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Vivi countered, quickly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She didn’t want him to. She didn’t need his pity, he of the big Louisiana family with his talk of his maman and sisters. She didn’t want to have to explain that she had no concept of what he was talking about.

He gently put down the picture frame. “I didn’t mean to upset you,
chouchou
. I didn’t know you’re sensitive about your family. And my constant talking about mine is inconsiderate.”

Vivi raked impatient fingers through her hair. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to treat a man. He constantly knocked her off guard with his manners and
made her feel as if she was precious to him, which was ridiculous, of course. She barely knew the man.

Yes, she did. She knew so much more than the file T. had faxed to her. Jazz Zeringue was definitely more than some military grunt playing warrior. He made her want…things she shouldn’t think about. Not. Right. Now.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Let him talk about himself. That ought to reinforce why she couldn’t and shouldn’t think of forbidden things. “No, no. I’m interested, really. I already know you have a large family and so does Lieutenant McMillan.” She sat back. “You’re both best friends and I can see why…big family and all that.”

Jazz frowned. “Yes and no,” he said. “Must we always bring Hawk into the picture?”

It was much safer to just think of them all as a unit, she decided. She needed a shield against this attraction she felt for Jazz. “Well, I can’t help it. You’re best friends.”

“So? We aren’t Siamese twins. We can function separately, I assure you.” His expression turned wry. “We’re more like brothers because I have so many sisters and my younger brother is a bit wild. Hawk’s family is all men, so naturally I gravitate to his family when I need some male opinions. Our family gatherings are nothing alike. One is an all female celebration and the other is—”

He broke off with a laugh.

“What?” Vivi was interested, in spite of herself.

He shrugged expressively. “You just have to be there. It’s an all-male competition at Hawk’s family gatherings, and everyone ends up with cuts and bruises.”

Vivi frowned. She hadn’t imagined family gatherings to be bloody affairs. “They fight?”

His teeth were very white against his tan face. “More or less. You just keep out of the Steves and Stevens and Stevies.”

“Huh?”

Jazz paused before he continued. This close Vivi couldn’t help but notice the way his blue eyes twinkled with mirth.
“They are all named Steve McMillan, every single one of them.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? They can’t all be named Steve McMillan.”

He shrugged again. “And you think Zola and Zippy would be the weird names in that crowd, right,
chouchou
?”

She tried to gauge whether he was pulling her leg. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope, all the brothers named their sons after themselves.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She had very little contact with family life and she wanted to hear more, but this was a bit too far-fetched. “But…why?”

“I asked Hawk’s father once and he said, ‘Why not? Where do you think George Foreman got his idea to name all his sons George?’ I know, you’re looking at me like I’m joking, but this is God’s honest truth. The McMillans are weird men. So you had better not even think about dating one.”

Vivi didn’t know what to believe. It was such a ridiculous way to warn her away from Hawk McMillan that she burst out laughing. Jazz joined her.

“I hope I’m not interrupting. Vivi, I need to talk to you.”

Vivi reluctantly turned around. Of course it had to be Juliana. Life wouldn’t be interesting without a bitch creeping up on you now and then.

Jazz studied the woman. She was tall and blond,
mid-thirties, and looking very disapproving at the moment. Vivi didn’t appear too ruffled by her hard stare, but her laughter had all but disappeared. He didn’t think these two were on friendly terms, not with the tension stretching between them. Damn. They were getting along, finally, and he had thought—

That tanked the moment the woman’s voice interrupted them. No more Vivi relaxed and friendly. His prickly and suspicious film noir heroine returned with just a blink of an eye. He felt that earlier frustration returning.

“Of course, Juliana. I’ll be right behind you.”

Vivi’s voice was cool. She didn’t make any attempt to introduce Jazz. He recalled her mentioning that name earlier…oh yeah, the one who looked at numbers. Maybe that was why she was looking at him that way—like he was vermin or something.

“You’re the lieutenant who was released recently,” Juliana said, her gaze cold and measuring. “I’m surprised you’re still in the country. Usually the soldiers transfer quickly after a little visit here.”

And how do you do yourself, ma’am?
Jazz smiled easily. “Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Just because we couldn’t find any hard evidence to keep you, Lieutenant, doesn’t mean you aren’t guilty in my eyes. If you do what you did again”—her gaze swung back to Vivi—“under different circumstances, you won’t get out so easily.”

“Thank goodness for corroborating eyewitnesses, then,” Vivi countered softly. “We wouldn’t want to make any mistakes and put innocent people in jail now, would we?”

Jazz kept his expression shuttered. Although he seemed to be the subject of contention, he had a feeling that this wasn’t his battle. The other woman was regarding Vivi with veiled dislike; he could only see Vivi’s profile, but her neck and shoulders had tensed slightly when Juliana was talking about his arrest.

“I suppose not. Have you been able to find some placements, Vivienne?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, do you have any idea when you can find some openings? I have a new list already and you’re still asking for more funds for the old list. Maybe we need a different approach.” Juliana took a few steps into the room, pausing to pour herself a cup of water from the cooler. “You’ve suggested giving more funds to the different safe houses, yet they remain full. I also know you’ve been using some of the funds to bribe the parents. You know we don’t like that idea. We can’t do that forever and you’re just training them to be greedy.”

“I have no idea where you got the impression that I’m bribing the parents,” Vivi said. “I’ve been helping the safe houses, orphanages, and churches. The cash flow is all accounted for in the paperwork each month.”

“I see that, but I’m not stupid, Vivienne.” Juliana finished her drink and threw the paper cup away in the litter basket. “I talked to the girls and some of them relate to me incidences when you’re giving away cash. Now, what I want to know is, are you doing some fancy bookkeeping, and if that’s so, of course I’ll have to report that.”

Ah, the heart of the matter. Jazz recalled the cash Vivi gave to Mr. Tham the other day, telling him to hold off from sending Rose out to “work.”

When Vivi didn’t answer immediately, Juliana shrugged and continued, “I’m not against your intentions, Vivienne. They are wonderful and humane but we can’t afford it. Some girls can’t be saved, no matter how much you want them to be. Pick the youngest—they are the easiest to foster. The oldest ones have to either go out and find a job or…” She shrugged again.

“Or what, Juliana?” Vivi’s voice was quiet.

“I’m just being realistic. Make some cuts from your list. Our budget gets tighter and we need to show our findings to the UN Council, with high numbers, to get the countries responsible for these crimes to pay more.” She looked at Jazz with contempt before adding, “I might also add that it’s never good to mix work with pleasure. Not good for our image.”

Vivi went to close the door. She didn’t need others listening in. She did her usual thing, knowing it irritated the other woman. She circled the room and made her way to the fish tank on one side of the room. She pressed her hand against the glass and watched the fish rush toward it, anticipating food. She could feel Jazz’s eyes on her.

“Life isn’t all about image, Juliana. Do you have the new list?”

“Of course it’s about image. Do you think things just get done willy-nilly? Our organization must look professional so we can achieve our goals. If we want to be accepted as one of the UN-approved organizations, we have to do things a certain way.”

Vivi shrugged, teasing the fish. She wasn’t part of the organization and perhaps that was what was rankling Juliana, but her job wasn’t to appease the woman or anyone in the organization. “Interpol doesn’t seem to have a problem with my image.” Juliana hated being reminded that Vivi answered to Interpol first, even though her contract was with the organization. It was part of the deal written out by GEM to en
sure control and protection from liability issues. “I haven’t done anything to create any problems in my work.”

“Not yet,” Juliana asserted, “but there will be if you keep continuing what you’re doing. Do you mind turning around? I find it hard to talk while you play with the fish.”

Vivi hid a smile. Turning, she walked back to the desk and sat down. Jazz stayed where he was, silent and watchful. “And the trouble is?”

Juliana heaved out a sigh. “Do I have to spell it out? The cash flow problem. That is part of your volunteer work so I have something to say about it, don’t you agree? Your refusal to strike names off the list is creating unnecessary work for the rest of the team. In volunteering, you’re part of us and you haven’t been a very good team member. And now you’re going around with an ex-prisoner. What will people think?”

Vivi sat back too, lacing her hands in her lap. She glanced at Jazz, trying to read what he was thinking. His blue eyes were on Juliana, studying her.

“I don’t know. What will they think?” She couldn’t care less, anyway, but she knew Juliana was right about the cash flow. She hadn’t done anything wrong, since she hadn’t used any of the organization’s funds for the bribes. “You’re the public information officer, so I guess you’re more sensitive to these things than I am. As far as I know, I haven’t done anything wrong. Jazz hasn’t, either, and that’s why he was freed, remember?”

“Perception. Everything is that these days. Your giving money to those parents—they see this and they know how to play the game, Vivienne. You want to save everyone and that’s very noble, but the reality is, you’re hurting the cause. Now, your being seen with this lieutenant—and this is just
my
perception—is in very bad taste. He was recently seen by the people here as a prisoner—”

“Excuse me,
detainee
,” Vivi interrupted. She was getting tired of that word. “Lieutenant Zeringue was detained till he was proven to have done nothing wrong. How many times am I supposed to repeat that? Besides, I thought you were
accusing me of playing magic number games with the cash logs.”

Since the beginning, Juliana had made it clear that Vivi wasn’t a suitable volunteer but because of her ability to mix with the locals, the organization had accepted her time and contributions. Today, she obviously thought she had enough information to go to another level in their ongoing battle. Vivi never underestimated Juliana’s knowledge of numbers and details; she knew the other woman had been waiting for the right moment before confronting her with what she had been doing.

Juliana came forward and handed over a file. “These are the latest allocations given to our team here. You can see how desperate we are. What you’re doing on the side isn’t helping the cause.” She gave a sideways glance at Jazz again. “I’ll use any means necessary to get you to sign off on those names, Vivi. Misuse of funds is a serious charge, you know.”

“You would like to see me gone, wouldn’t you?” Vivi asked softly. “The others won’t argue too much about the lists of names, whether one girl is less important because she’s older than another, the numbers will all line up with the detainment report, and
voilà!
a UN stamp of approval faster than you can say ‘
Au revoir,
Vivienne Verreau’.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t compromise,” Juliana said smoothly.

“What do you want me to do?”

Juliana looked surprised. She hadn’t expected cooperation yet. “Well, for now,” she said slowly, “we have to pare down your old list. This is the newest list of girls who need places to go to. I have already removed the older ones to spare you. The next few weeks are crucial because the second quarter reports are due. If I can show positive results, we will get nominated into the UN-approved associations.”

And those were the cards dealt. Make the reports look good and get UN funds. According to people like Juliana, the end justified the means, so a few sacrifices on the way shouldn’t hurt one’s conscience. And as she had so kindly
added, she had already “removed” the older children from the list so Vivi would be “spared” the pain.

Vivi looked down at her lap. Her laced hands had curled into twin fists. As a volunteer, she really had nothing to lose one way or another. But as someone who had been in the shoes of those very same children who were left without hope or help…

Vivi, you will come back and take me away from here, won’t you? The nuns said we aren’t pure, said we are paying for our parents’karma…

Hush! The old baldheaded bitches are just jealous. Now, wipe away those tears, hmm? I’ll be back, I promise.

She looked up. There was a short silence as she stared at Juliana. She could hear in the background the fish tank filter bubbling merrily. Turning away, she looked at the fish swimming so comfortably in their artificial environment. With stubborn determination, she said softly, “I won’t compromise.”

There were some things she shouldn’t compromise about. Lives, especially those who were innocent, especially those who needed help most. Juliana’s eyes flashed with anger as she she turned and left the office. That final look spoke volumes. She was going to show that Vivi’s objectivity was compromised when it came to the organization’s directive.

Vivi didn’t care. She just wasn’t going to play God to children’s lives. She had made promises and meant to keep them. Her jaw tightened with determination. She finally looked up at Jazz, wondering what he thought of the unexpected meeting.

“I’m sorry you’re spending your free time like this, cooped up in an office, listening in on a catfight.” She waved at the pile of papers in front of her. “Those are names and places, and most of them are requests for funds or help of some kind. Give them something and they might find an open spot for one girl, or two. And she doesn’t think
that
’s bribery? But I can’t say anything because this isn’t my job. I’m just a volunteer for this.”

“Don’t worry about my free time. I’m where I want to be, really. This Juliana can’t really get you into trouble, can she?”

She shook her head. “I’m the liaison for them with Interpol.” She smiled. “I do have some authority, you know. Their organization can’t just order Interpol officers around. Interpol recommended GEM as a liaison to help them do their work. It’s just that sometimes, the organization is a bit…overeager to achieve their goals. It isn’t any different from any funded groups who see the result and ignore the way there.”

Jazz came to her and leaned over the desk. He touched her cheek. His hand felt warm and tender. “I believe in what you do, Vivi. I know you care about these girls and that they’re more than numbers to you.”

She smiled back tightly. “Much good caring does, huh? I can’t seem to find any permanent solutions. And Miss Numbers wants me to pick and choose. As if—” She bit down on her lower lip.

Jazz felt her helplessness, her inner anger. “We all do what we can to save the world,
chouchou.
” Not that his words would help. From what he had just seen and heard, he didn’t think much could be done to persuade Juliana Kohl from following up on her threats. But he wanted to comfort Vivi, who seemed all alone in this fight. “One step at a time, that’s all we can do. Here, I’ll go back to checking out the walls while you finish your paperwork.”

“Okay.”

Vivi looked up half an hour later, distracted by a strange sound. Jazz was checking out a musical instrument. Her mouth softened at the sight of him plucking out an awkward tune that somewhat resembled “Oh Susannah.” She should have known he would be attracted to it once he saw it resting in the corner. It had been so long since she had put it there…

“That sounds awful,” she said.

He looked up, the frown of concentration still stamping his features. “Its sounds like a banjo. What is it?”

“It isn’t a banjo. It’s a lute. Here, you hold it like this.” She showed him the proper way, with the handle straight up. “It’s called a Dan Nhat, a sun lute, because its body is shaped like the sun.”

She watched as he positioned it the way she had and couldn’t help but marvel at how gentle he was with the instrument. She had easily imagined him with a big heavy weapon, but he held the Dan Nhat as if he’d used it before.

“Is this yours?”

She nodded, then shook her head. “It’s sort of mine. I bought it for a friend, but I haven’t given it to her yet.”

“Do you play it?” he asked.

“Yes, but not well. My friend, though, could play it very well.”

“Show me.” He handed it back to her.

Vivi hesitated before taking it from him. It had been literally years. She had bought it out of impulse when she saw it in the market, when she had first arrived. It was a symbol, that she would one day find her Sia-Sia and give this to her.

“Well,” she said, and laughed nervously, “my mind is blank.”

She plucked the strings tentatively, slowly getting used to the tension as she adjusted the chords from memory. Then, smiling at him mischievously, she did a quick rendition of “Oh Susannah” without any mistakes.

“Hey,” he said, “you can play pretty well!”

“No, that’s just child’s play. You should hear a professional sometimes. It’s an amazing instrument, sounding between a guitar and a zither depending on the tension and chords.”