He opened his mouth to speak, and she held up her hand to stop him. Her cheeks heated when she realized she was holding up her toothbrush, appearing to wave it at him like a wand. She dropped her hand to her side.

“I think a lot of my anger was a delayed reaction to what happened to me and around me,” she said. “And because I misidentified you as mercenaries, that really put my defenses up. What I’m trying to say is that I owe you an apology. I understand your job. I really do. More than you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “You were part of our mission brief.”

“Me?” She asked the question even though she probably wouldn’t like the answer. “Why? Because I’m an American?”

“This jungle is full of Americans.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re the daughter of Vice President Randal Myers. I have a file on you.”

As if in denial at his words, she shook her head. Two months after she’d arrived here, the previous vice president of the United States had suffered a major heart attack and died on the way to Bethesda. Before the month was out, her father had raised his right hand while a representative of the Supreme Court swore him into office as the new vice president.

“No,” she said. “He wasn’t the VP when I got here, and he wouldn’t let people know where I am regardless. He knows how much I value my privacy out here.”

“Would you like to see the file, ma’am?”

“That’s how you knew about Berkeley.” A strange feeling of betrayal overcame her. As surreal as the idea was, her father was one heartbeat away from becoming the unelected leader of the free world. But why would a Special Ops unit have a dossier on her? Had it come from her father, or from the Secret Service? Why couldn’t she find any peace, even in the middle of the jungle? Headlines, pictures, and gossip magazine covers flooded her mind. “I have to go to bed,” she whispered as she battled the humiliation and anger that rose in her. “Good night, Captain.”

“Doctor Myers,” he said, laying a hand on her wrist and effectively keeping her from fleeing back inside. If he noticed that she clutched her toothbrush a little tighter at the feel of his calloused fingers, he gave no indication. “If it’s any consolation, there are only two of us who know.” His fingers slid away as gently as feathers.

With a dry mouth, she said, “I’d appreciate it if you kept it that way.”

“Of course, ma’am. And for what it’s worth . . .” He paused, and his eyes met hers. “That man was an idiot. And a jerk. You deserved better, and I’m not the only one who says so.”