It was still fairly early, so the gardens were quiet. Nate spotted a man up ahead of them, but the guy must've gotten a phone call, because he pressed his cell phone's screen and turned in the other direction. Nate stared after the guy. With his long jeans, he didn't seem to belong here. Nate's PTSD kicked his heartbeat into overdrive, but surely it had been nothing.

Ana tugged on his hand, her soft grip pulling him away from his dark thoughts. He turned and smiled.

"Let's sit down." She pointed to a park bench. He discovered that if he stood on top of the bench in just the right spot and looked between two hotels across the street, he could see Acapulco Bay. He lifted her so she could see, too, and she snapped a few more photos.

They sat next to each other, and she filled him in on her life, her and Marisa's small house, the orphanage, and her schoolwork. Marisa had told him Ana was four, but the girl seemed so mature for her age. Not that he would know much about that.

"Let's take a selfie," he said.

"A what?"

He explained it while he rotated the view of the camera. They spent the next few minutes taking silly photos of themselves. Her innocent giggles seemed to melt a long-frozen place in his heart, and he had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. To protect her from all the evil in the world.

He'd probably scare the kid away.

"There you are!"

He looked up to see Marisa walking toward them.

Nate stood. "How's Leslie?"

"You were right. She's resting."

"Stinks to get sick when you're traveling."

"Typical for—"

"Mama!" Ana tugged on her hand. "Uncle Nate and me took pictures. Wanna see?"

"And I." Marisa's eyebrows lifted, and she looked at him. "Uncle Nate?"

He shrugged. He hadn't given Ana the idea, but he liked the title.

Marisa sat beside her daughter on the bench. Nate sat on the far side, and together, they scrolled through the photographs while Marisa oohed and aahed. Finally, she laughed. "My goodness, how long was I gone? I think you've taken a thousand pictures."

"Can I take them home with me, Uncle Nate? Abby has a picture in her room because sometimes she misses her mama and papa. I want to show her where we were. Oh, and can we take a picture of the pool?" She looked at Marisa. "We saw the beach"—the little girl pointed—"through there. Can we take pictures of the beach? Are we still going to the beach? Can we, Mama?"

Marisa tweaked the girl's nose. "I promised, didn't it? But maybe not yet." She looked at Nate. "It's nice right now. I thought we might explore, go shopping or something, and go to the beach later when it gets hot."

He wiped his brow and chucked. "When it gets hot?"