Stolen Life

by Charmaine Pauls

  He stirs three lumps of sugar into the tea and hands her the mug. “Here you go, Cas.”

  “Um, thanks,” she says, giving the tea an uncertain look, like it may be poisoned.

  Given how hostile Leon has been toward her, who can blame her? I know my younger brother, and I know what Cas has done tonight has earned his respect.

  Leon shoots me a questioning look over Cas’s head.

  I nod again to tell him she’s fine. Going down on my haunches in front of her, I drag a thumb over her knee. I’ve disinfected the cuts but left them open to heal faster. The fear of losing her, the terrifying knowledge of what could’ve happened, makes my voice thick. “Have you eaten?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll get some soup,” Leon offers.

  I give him a terse, grateful smile.

  “How’s your heart?” I ask when he’s gone.

  “Better,” she says. “How did your business meeting go?”

  “Cas.” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. I don’t want to drag her deeper into my shit, but she deserves an explanation. “The guy you met this morning, Oliver, is the owner of the casino on the Zambian side of the border.”

  “I know. He launders your money. Shona told me.”

  Straightening, I drag my hands over the silky strands of her doll-perfect hair. “Oliver is dangerous. Most of the people I deal with are dangerous. I don’t want them to know you mean something to me. It’ll put you at risk.”

  She regards me with a pensive gaze. “Do I?”

  I rub the strands of her hair between my fingers. The first time I saw her, I was dying to feel the silky texture. I was dying do this, to wrap her hair around my fist and reel her in for a kiss. Our mouths are only a hairbreadth apart, but maybe this isn’t the moment. It doesn’t prevent my cock from thickening. “Do you what?”

  “Do I mean something to you?”

  I don’t hesitate. “No.” I drag my gaze over her beautiful face, caressing every line with my eyes. “You mean everything.”

  She needs that tea, but I need this more. I need to know she’s alive and safe. I take the cup from her hand and leave it on the side table. Pulling softly, I drag her closer by her hair and seal the truth with a kiss.

  Like with every kiss, I part her lips and learn the contours of her mouth. Every kiss feels like our first kiss. I brace one hand on the backrest of the sofa and lean closer, inhaling the clean scent of her skin. She smells like me, like my brand of shower gel, but tonight I don’t want to wrap her up in my scent. I want her to smell like orange blossoms. I want her for who she is. Perfect. For me. She was made for me, for here, for this.

  “I want you,” I say into the kiss, because I have to be sure she’s up for this after what she’s been through.

  She wraps her arms around me and deepens the kiss. She makes me come undone in every possible way. She makes me weak, but she also makes me strong. She makes me a better person, and the man I want to be.

  “Ian.”

  A soft sigh leaves her lips. I flip us around, sitting down and dragging her over my lap with her thighs straddling mine. Holding her eyes, I pull the robe open, unwrapping her like a gift. She grips my boxers and moves them down to free my cock. Her fist is around me before I can bite out a groan. Her nipples graze my chest, the hard tips teasing my skin. I cup her head and claim her lips, letting her do the rest. I want to be gentle with her. I want her to have it at her pace.

  I hiss when she slides a fist over my cock, catching the pre-cum at the crest to lubricate the length. While I’m eating her mouth like her lips are my favorite meal—which, after her pussy, they are—she aligns my cock with her slit and sinks down over me. The feeling is exquisite. Right.

  Spreading my legs, I let her take me, use me, do whatever she likes. She slides up and down, gripping my knees behind her for support. The position arches her back and gives me a prime view of her perfect breasts.

  Leaning closer, I take a nipple into my mouth. The tip hardens on my tongue. Her skin contracts when I lick. Supporting her nape with one hand, I caress her breast with the other, using my lips and fingers to tease her nipples into hard little points and make her wetter around my cock.

  The robe falls down her shoulders, exposing her sun-kissed skin. She rolls her hips and gasps. The sexy sounds she makes in the back of her throat tells me she’s close. I sit back to watch her face, and like the good girl she is, she opens her eyes and looks at me. Shows me. I got lost in those blue pools the first time I stared into her eyes, and I’ve never found my way back. I can’t come back from her. She’s my forever. My only.

  “Condom,” she says, moaning so prettily I almost come inside her.

  Condom. Yes. Grabbing her ass, I push to my feet without breaking our contact. She wraps her legs around me as I carry her to the bed. I sit down on the edge and open the drawer to get a condom. After tearing open the foil packet, I hand her the rubber. She lifts off me, sits back on my legs, and sheathes my cock. Her thighs are spread wide, putting her pussy on display. I’m glad she waxes. I suppose without access to a beauty salon, now she shaves. I’m greedy. I want to see everything.

  She pushes on my shoulders until my back hits the mattress and lowers herself over my shaft again. She doesn’t move up and down, but rocks gently, driving me insane. The erotic movement of her hips is an elegant dance, and I like to watch. I grip her small waist and let her ride me. She doesn’t hold back. She drags her nails over my chest and stomach and gives me the sounds I crave until the pressure is too much. I can’t put off my release any longer.

  In a distant corner of my mind, I remember Leon is on his way with the soup, but fuck Leon and everyone else. I can’t stop now, not for the life of me.

  I push the pad of my thumb on her clit and rub in a circle. “Come.”

  The command is hoarse, urgent, but I want her to finish before I climax. Her inner muscles squeeze my cock as a loud moan tears from her chest. Fuck, I love her sounds. I pivot my hips, spilling my release at the same time as I sit up and swallow the sound on her lips. I make her mine with another kiss, telling her without words I won’t let her go.

  The knock falls on the door just as she collapses against my chest with her head on my shoulder.

  “Hold on,” I call.

  After rolling her off me, I tie the robe in the front and make sure her body is covered when she rests her back against the headboard. I take a second to get rid of the condom and adjust my boxers over my softening cock before getting the door.

  Leon stands on the threshold with another tray laid with dishes. Vapor curls from the lid covering a bowl. A whiff of cream of mushroom soup reaches my nostrils.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the tray.

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  He calls over my shoulder, “Night, Cas.”

  I glance back. She offers him a small smile, indecision playing in her eyes.

  He slides the strap of the rifle from his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, unless something comes up in the night.”

  Meaning news about Banga.

  I watch him go down the steps and disappear into the darkness. It’s the first time since I took Cas that things between Leon and me aren’t tense. I’d almost forgotten how it feels not to divert conflict. The Leon of old is back, and it gives me hope for the future I envision with Cas. I can never abandon my brother, but she comes first. Always.

  Going back to bed, I balance the tray on her lap and remove the lids from a bowl of soup and a plate with buttered toast. “Eat. You need your strength.”

  “Ian?”

  I look down at her, drinking her in sitting in my bed, dressed in my robe, and thank my lucky stars she is who she is. If Cas hadn’t been Cas, she wouldn’t have been here—alive.

  “Who taught you to handle a gun?” I ask, my throat tight at the image of her with that rifle in her hands.

  “My dad. He taught me to sh
oot before I could walk.”

  I imagine a small Cassy with bouncy, silver curls and doll-blue eyes. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to shove a gun in that little girl’s hands. “Why?”

  “He believed it was important that I could protect myself. He only killed for the pot or culled when necessary, but I’m not a supporter of hunting.” She bites into a piece of toast. “I was eight when he took me on my first hunt. It was an old kudu with an injured leg, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. After that, he just made me shoot at paper targets.”

  I squint as I try to call up the image, still having difficulty picturing her as a delicate girl in pink frills with a gun. “What kind of guns?”

  “Everything.” She shrugs. “Rifles, pistols, and revolvers.”

  Impressive. “I take it you had game on the farm.”

  “A few antelope. We bought them from the Pilansberg Reserve when they needed to reduce their population.”

  From the way her eyes light up when she talks about it, she loved the farm. “Were you happy there?”

  “Happiest childhood a girl could ask for. Dad always wanted a boy. He taught me to drive and shoot and do the so-called boys stuff Mom disapproved of, but I was a tomboy anyway. My dad said in the end I was better than a boy.”

  My heart softens. “I bet.” I jut my chin at the tray in her lap. “Finish your soup. I’ll go make you some fresh tea.”

  “Don’t go,” she says quickly. When I pause, she adds, “I don’t want tea.”

  I brush a tendril of hair from her face. “What do you need?”

  “For you to stay.”

  I go around the bed and get in next to her, careful not to make the tray in her lap topple over.

  “Ian?”

  “What is it, baby doll?”

  “You do know we’re long past the point of people thinking I mean nothing to you.”

  Pushing up on one elbow, I play with her hair. “Meaning?”

  “Everyone in the village knows why I’m here. News spreads fast in these small communities.”

  I twist a strand around my finger, making the curl bounce as I let it go. “Is that what they said?”

  “You can’t hide it. You can’t pretend I’m nothing.”

  Regret fills my gut for many things—that I have to expose her, that I can’t continue to hide her from my enemies, and that I had to hide her in the first place. “I know.”

  “If you’re going to keep me safe, you have to show me respect in front of your cronies.”

  I raise an eyebrow at cronies. If not for the seriousness of the situation, I would’ve grinned. “I don’t want to risk you, Cas.”

  “You’re risking me more by showing your business partners I’m not worth the dirt under your shoes. They respect you because they fear you. They’ll respect me if you respect me. You just have to trust in your ability to protect me. As for the rest, I can take care of myself.”

  She’s right. Everything she says makes sense, but I focus on the underlying meaning of her words. “Does this mean you’re giving us a shot?”

  “I already told you I want to give it a try. It’s your turn to make an effort.”

  Warmth spreads through my chest. She’s willing to accept my life and all the dirty baggage and danger that come with it. There’s nothing I can give her in return to make up for the sacrifice.

  “Whatever you want,” I say.

  Her answer is simple. Sure. “You.”

  The warmth turns into a pleasant glow. The simple fact of having her here has already made me happy, but now that happiness grows into something even bigger, a force larger than life. It takes on a shape and a life of its own. It becomes the pillar of my foundation. If I’m ever to lose her, the whole structure resting on that foundation will come tumbling down.

  “You,” I agree. The pact couldn’t have been stronger if I’d cut our palms and mixed our blood.

  “Oliver won’t be a problem for us if you don’t let him become one.”

  I still have reservations, plenty of them, but I’m committed to making this work. Which reminds me. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

  She frowns.

  “When you called me, I was negotiating terms with Oliver. You wanted to tell me something.”

  Her eyes grow large. Her tongue trips over the words as she says, “With everything that happened tonight I almost forgot.”

  “Slow down.” Fresh concern burrows in my gut. “If something is wrong, you should say so from the word go. I thought you just wanted to chew my ass, and as much as I looked forward to having that sexy voice of yours chewing off my ear, I didn’t want Oliver to know about my weakness.”

  She gives me a wounded look. “I won’t call you about trivial things.”

  “No.” I drag a hand over her hair, needing a constant point of contact. “I want you to call me about trivial stuff. I want you to call me whenever you like. I won’t cut you short again, baby doll.” She’s taking her rightful place by my side. “That’s a promise.”

  She laid down her conditions and fought for what she deserves. I can only respect her more for that. She’ll get what she wants. She’ll be my woman, and all the world will know it. Even if claiming her publicly fills me with dread, I’ll make sure every man alive knows whoever lays a finger on her is dead.

  “Good to know,” she says, “but can I tell you now?”

  “Now you can.” I needed to get that out of the way.

  “I went over to see Lesedi today, and Vimbo showed me the books you’d bought for him. The receipt fell out of the bag.” She pauses, waiting expectantly for me to connect the dots.

  “And?”

  “The date proves you were buying books when Nick was murdered.”

  “So?”

  “So?” She blinks. “It proves your innocence.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not as if I can drive into the local police station and slap a receipt on the desk to prove I’m innocent of murder when I’m guilty of twenty-something heists.”

  Her face falls. “What about sending the receipt in anonymously?”

  “I paid cash. There’s no way to prove the identity of the buyer of those books.”

  “What about the person in the store who sold you the books? Can’t he identify you?”

  “I appreciate you trying, but give it up. Leon is looking into it.”

  “He’s trying to find out who did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What will you do when you know?”

  “We’ll expose them.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Some things are simple.” Cupping her face, I kiss her lips. “Finished with dinner?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’m not very hungry. What about you?”

  “I’m good.” I take the tray and lean over her to leave it on the floor. “Now go to sleep. You need the rest.”

  She shifts down and puts her head on the pillow. I kiss her again, but her eyes are already closing. It’s the shock. The best way for her body to recover is rest. I hold her bandaged hand in mine until she’s breathing with an even rhythm before I slip out of bed and get dressed. Taking my phone, I go out onto the terrace so I don’t wake her.

  The call connects to the ER in Harare. I request information about Banga, but the nurse tells me he’s still in the operating theatre. It’s late, but I doubt Shona will be sleeping.

  She sounds tired when she answers.

  “How are you holding up?” I ask.

  “Good. The doctor said he’ll let me know how Banga is doing the minute he gets out of the theatre.”

  “Do you need anything? Can I send someone?”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks for the money you transferred. It’ll help if I have to get a hotel room for the night. How’s Cas?”

  “Shaken up, but brave.”

  “She did well, Ian.”

  I look toward the closed doors of my room. Our room. “I know.”

  “The people love her. She works with th
em, and she actually knows what she’s doing. She’s mixing with them, sharing their food and their shebeen. She’s part of them now, Ian. She saved one of us. If you make her unhappy, they won’t take to it kindly.”

  “I know how it works. You don’t have to spell it out.”

  “You better hold on to that one. I told her the same, but she wasn’t happy when you left with Oliver and those whores.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve worked it out.”

  “You won’t get another one like her.”

  “Yeah.” Because she was made for me. “Call me when you have news.”

  “Take care now, you hear?”

  “Says the one who needs to take care.”

  She cuts the call with a chuckle.

  Like Cas, Shona has strength in spades.

  At first light, there’s a commotion at the door. I dress and step outside, closing the doors behind me to not wake Cas. The whole village is there. Keeya is at the forefront, carrying an iron pot. The women carry baskets, and the men carry handwoven rugs and blankets.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We heard the news,” Keeya says. “We brought gifts for Cas.”

  I’m about to say she’s sleeping when the double doors open. Cas steps out still dressed in my robe. Her eyes grow round when she sees the horde crammed between our terrace and the riverbank.

  “Aikona, Cas,” Keeya says, crying and stomping up the steps. “Look at you.”

  “I’m okay,” Cas says with an awkward smile.

  She doesn’t like the attention, but this is the biggest honor the villagers can pay a person.

  One by one, they climb the steps and leave baskets with beads, jewelry, dried fruit, and trinkets at Cas’s feet until the whole deck is covered with baskets. Each one takes his or her turn to shake Cas’s hand in the respectful manner while wishing her a long life and many babies.

  To them, this is about more than killing a baboon and saving Banga’s life. The belief around here is that a baboon turns rabid when an evil spirit inhabits its body. In their eyes, Cas did nothing short of executing an exorcism.

  After an hour, I wish we had some coffee. I make a mental note to get a coffee and tea maker in the room. On cue, a few women, followed by armed men, arrive from the direction of the main building with cone-covered dishes.