Night Fall

by Cherry Adair

  His body ached with heavy need. Five minutes, just five minutes, and they’d both be satisfied.

  No. He jerked his heated gaze away. Kess was some other man’s fantasy woman. Some guy out there in the sane world was building a house for a fiery redhead—this fiery redhead. Probably dreaming right now of Kess, swollen with his child. Imagining lying with her in long, cool grass as they made love.

  Fuck.

  The reality check was enough to piss him off. “We gotta move it. Be careful, but get a move on. I want to speak to Abi before he goes into the office.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can without breaking my neck,” she said without rancor as stones skipped ahead of her feet shod in bright orange fucking boots. “Why are you so cranky all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t get cranky.” Horny. Frustrated. But never cranky.

  “We could have taken a few minutes—”

  Simon’s jaw ached from grinding his teeth. Let her try walking with an enormous cockstand. “Drop it.”

  “Isn’t the sky spectacular?” she offered innocently, but Simon heard the smile in her voice.

  “Are you always this cheerful at dawn?”

  “Only after an unexpected, but spectacular, orgasm. Yes. Pretty much. Thank you for asking.”

  Crap.

  Kess walked a few steps behind and to his right, humming something tuneless under her breath. She was sure-footed and athletic, but the going was rough due to the loose stones littering the ground. The small ridge housing the cave ran for several hundred clicks down the center of the hilly valley, like the brown spiny backbone of some giant green beast. The sandy soil hosted rocks, shrubs, and a few hardy trees and grasses, since rain eroded the hard surface, making plant life struggle to thrive. Several deer grazing nearby lifted their heads to watch them, and a rabbit hopped across their path, then disappeared behind the shrubs.

  The sun crested the horizon, already baking the hard-packed ground and turning the sky into a shimmering pale blue streaked with magenta and orange. Kess came up beside him, still humming to herself.

  What was she humming? It didn’t matter. Simon averted his gaze from her sweat-dampened skin. The pale glow of her bare nape was sexy as hell. Damn it, now he knew what she tasted like. Joy. Damn it. She tasted…Happy. He wanted to bury himself hilt-deep in her wet heat and keep doing it until he got over this absurd desire.

  “Oh!” She suddenly skidded down a few feet, arms flailing for balance. He stopped thinking about getting any, and shot out his hand to clasp her upper arm and steady her. The three deer grazing several yards away spooked at the noise and took off in graceful leaps and bounds. Righting herself, she shot him an incredulous glance. “How on earth did you carry me all the way up here yesterday?”

  Teleportation. “Here, give me your hand.” Not so altruistic. He wanted to touch her again.

  Kess grabbed his hand as she slid another foot, scattering more rocks, which rolled down the hillside. “Thanks. Do you want to tell me what’s really happening?” She asked the question as casually as if she were asking him his favorite food. Companionably, she linked her fingers with his, palm to palm, then fell into step beside him again.

  “Do you even know?”

  She wasn’t talking about what had just happened between them. The non-sex sex that could rock his world.

  Simon was starting to have his suspicions about what was happening in this dark little corner of the world. But he wasn’t ready to air them. Not yet, and not to Kess.

  “Do you feel guilty?” Kess’s eyes were shadowed as she glanced up at him.

  “Guilty for what?”

  “Cheating on your—what do you call her—I just need to know for future reference.”

  Simon paused to give her a baffled look. “Call who?”

  “I think it’s whom. Your future wife.”

  His face felt warm. Christ. “My One Day Woman.”

  “Ahh. Well, don’t worry. She’ll never know that you kissed a redhead in deepest, darkest Africa unless you tell her.”

  She doesn’t exist, Simon wanted to shout. But he just resumed walking. Maybe a little too fast, as she slithered and slipped behind him, and he had to haul her upright every now and then. “Slow down, Sasquatch. We’ll break our necks going down at this speed.”

  Feeling idiotic, Simon slowed down to a safer speed. Her hand felt small against his. Her skin soft. He wondered what had made him tell her about his fantasy woman. His “One Day Woman.” He’d never mentioned his need for hearth and home to anyone. Damn. He didn’t need a shrink to tell him that his fantasy, hell, his fixation, was due to growing up in the foster care system. Some places had been okay. Some had been bad.

  He’d started fantasizing about the wife and the life he was going to have at about sixteen. The images had morphed and grown until the entire picture was as firmly fixed in his brain, in his psyche, as if it were the real deal. He was building the house for her. That perfect woman that was going to come along any day now.

  Kess Goodall wasn’t the woman he envisioned waiting for him at home after an op.

  It wasn’t just the superficial, it went deeper than that. Damn it, she didn’t match any of his criteria. She wasn’t in the least bit soft-spoken, she wasn’t…girly enough. She wasn’t sweetly accommodating, or any of the other refinements he required of a future wife.

  But her mouth felt right under his. Her curves fit his angles to perfection. And God—her response was everything a man could want. And more.

  “I probably know less about what’s happening than you do,” he said, dismissing the comparison of the real woman and the fictional woman. He’d known one considerably longer than the other. “I’ll run some things by Abi when we get back to Quinisela.”

  She tugged on his hand to get his attention, and he paused. Sincerity shone in her large gray eyes as she held him there, joined by their clasped fingers. “You can’t think the president has anything to do with the Hureni attacks?! If you paint him with that brush, you’ll tarnish all the good things he’s done,” she said passionately. “He’s doing an incredible job holding the peace. And no matter what you may think, he had nothing to do with what happened here.”

  “You know this, how?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate. He continued walking and she fell into step again. Interesting how quickly she jumped to Abi’s defense. Interesting, too, her knee-jerk reaction to him talking to Abi. Simon helped her over a shaley patch, enjoying the feel of her hand in his. When had he ever walked hand in hand with a woman? Never.

  “I know because I know the man. He’d die before he let anything happen to his people. He’s devastated by every reported death. The president takes each of them personally. He’s doing everything in his power to find a cure for the disease and to keep the Hureni on their side of the border.”

  “He’s not a saint,” Simon pointed out, feeling mildly—it couldn’t be jealous—Hungry. He hadn’t eaten last night.

  “His people think he is.” Kess’s eyes turned silver as she defended her boss. “And I’m not going to dissuade them.”

  “You’d be out of a cush job,” he pointed out, walking on. If it sounded too good to be true, it probably was too good to be true. And even though he considered Abi a friend, they hadn’t seen each other in more than ten years. A man could change considerably in a decade. Simon was waiting for more intel from HQ. He’d asked for everything they could dig up on his old friend.

  “Tell me about this virus.”

  “I like my job, and I believe in the man I work for,” she said with a little more heat. “The president pays me very well to do a job I enjoy doing. Cush isn’t exactly the word I’d use. Look around. Does this look cushy to you? Just once would you give a straight answer to my questions?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what, for heaven’s sake?”

  “On if I know the answer for fact and not speculation.”

  “Fair enough. It started three months ago in one of the most nort
hern villages up near the Huren border. A woman walked fifty miles, with a raging fever and her baby on her back, to the closest clinic. She reported that everyone in her village was dead. Can you—” She held out her other hand for him to take and help her over a tall boulder.

  Simon helped her up, then gripped her narrow waist and lifted her down on the other side.

  “Thanks. The doctor there presumed it had been a Hureni attack; they’ve been getting worse and worse for the last six months or so. He took a few interns to the village and discovered that everyone had died of a virulent form of hemorrhagic fever. Probably dengue. Hang on a sec.” She dropped his hand, then held on to his arm as she stood on one foot. “Rock in my shoe.”

  Simon waited as Kess paused to fish a stone out of the top of her boot. “They had an outbreak of dengue in Singapore last year,” he said. “Got it?”

  At her nod he took her hand again as naturally as if they’d been friends or lovers for years. He told himself that it was to keep her safe, and they continued down the hill. “Aedes aegypti—yellow fever mosquitoes.” Simon tried to remember what he knew about mosquito-borne illnesses. Not a whole hell of a lot. He made a mental note to get the research department on it. “This would be the place for it. Apparently dengue is the most virulent mosquito-borne disease after malaria.” And that about covered the totality of his knowledge.

  “We have that too, of course. But Mallaruza hasn’t had a dengue fever outbreak in thirty years.”

  “And now it’s back,” he pointed out.

  “No. This has all the earmarks of a hemorrhagic dengue outbreak, but it’s not dengue. There are courses of treatment that work for that. The president has supplied all of them to physicians across the country. Nothing cures whatever this is. So far three million people, and counting, have died a gruesome, painful death. And no one can figure out what’s causing it.”

  “And you were doing what exactly, going to a contaminated village? Writing a press release?” he asked savagely. What the fuck was Abi thinking, sending Kess into a lethal setting?

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I was taking pictures.” She dismissed his condemnation entirely. “They’ll go with a series of articles I’m writing to show the outside world what’s really happening in Mallaruza. People need to know what’s happening here. And how Mr. Bongani is handling it. He’s working tirelessly to eradicate whatever this is. He has a lab in Switzerland working on a cure 24/7. If anyone can save these people it’s their presid—

  “You weren’t kidding, were you? Where did this come from?” she demanded, switching gears when she saw the huge black chopper waiting for them at the bottom of the hill.

  She glanced around. Nothing but sky, grass, and a few scraggly acacia trees. And a military Black Hawk. “Where’s the pilot?”

  Simon had materialized the chopper. No pilot necessary. “He took off. I’m flying us back.”

  She frowned. “Took off…Where?”

  “Two choppers.” He yanked open the door, lifting her in before she could tell him she could get in on her own. He liked the feel of her. The slimness of her waist, and the way her hips flared beneath his hands. He liked the way the weak sunlight set her hair into a blaze as gloriously Technicolor as the African sunrise. He liked the way she kissed, giving back everything she got. Nothing in reserve.

  He liked that his mini vacay was turning into an op after all. He liked that he’d take Miss Goodall back to Quinisela. He liked that he probably wouldn’t have to run into her again.

  She complicated things.

  Disengaging his hands from her ass, Simon walked around and got in on the other side, then started the engine. The MH-60M, like the Rover, was armor-plated. But the right projectile, meticulously aimed, could take the helicopter out just as it had the vehicle.

  “Strap in.” Slowly the rotors started spinning. “Only one headset. We won’t be able to talk until we land.”

  He put on the earphones, glanced over to confirm she was secure, then lifted off in a swirl of dust.

  Kess settled back against the leather seat, staring out at the rolling green hills of the savanna spread beneath their swiftly moving dragonfly shadow. How convenient for him not to have to talk all the way back to Quinisela. She had so many questions, but she knew if she pushed she’d get nowhere.

  Far below, a small group of elephants grazed ponderously on a clump of thorny acacia trees, and a herd of zebra, graphic black-and-white, nibbled the grass at a giraffe’s feet. Amber light from the slowly rising sun elongated shadows, making it harder to spot more than the most obvious animals.

  As Simon flew over the medic’s campsite, the noise of the rotors disturbed a dozen or more vultures on the ground. They flew up in a frenzy of ragged gray wings and scrawny pink heads. Kess averted her gaze from the scavengers and the clearing below. What she’d seen there was indelibly engraved on her synapses. She didn’t need to see it again. She’d never forget.

  She’d made some close friends there. People who wanted to save lives and instead had given theirs. For what?

  The helicopter turned over the trees to follow the road south. It didn’t occur to her to doubt Simon’s ability to fly a helicopter, even as he flew off at an angle. To their left the dense tree canopy followed the winding Congo River. Farther downstream was the last village Kess had visited with the medical team. They’d hastily sent her back to base camp when they’d seen how quickly the virus was spreading.

  God. Kess rubbed the back of her neck where tension squeezed her muscles. For five minutes up there in the small cave she’d been able to put the graphic images aside and just feel. He played her body like a musical instrument. But those few minutes didn’t really blot out all that had happened. Not by a long shot. No matter how incredible it was.

  How could this horrific disease be controlled? Millions were already dead. The medical team had been there to help the survivors, to take water and soil samples for testing, to help the villagers bury their dead. And in payment they themselves had been slaughtered like cattle.

  Kess couldn’t even begin to come up with an answer that made any kind of sense.

  Looking down, she saw where Simon had parked outside camp the day before. The only sign of the vehicle was the aerial view of what looked like splatter. As though someone had dropped a bucket of black paint on the dirt road. The Rover had disintegrated, completely obliterated in the explosion. Kess rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. If she hadn’t gotten out of the vehicle. If Simon hadn’t returned just then—

  He’d damn well better answer her questions the second they landed. There was definitely something off about whatever was going on way out here. What, Kess had no idea. But she’d bet her last bar of Dove soap that Simon knew. And if he didn’t know, then he was the kind of man who’d find out.

  To do her job effectively she had to know the truth. Who had killed the medical team, and why? The last thing she needed was a native uprising at this juncture of the election. Not only did the president have to keep his focus, if the murderers were Mallaruzis it would be a PR nightmare. The fact that Bongani was doing everything in his power to help his people—bringing in medical supplies and outside aid—was commendable, but if his own people were killing those sent to help them—

  Kess shuddered at the idea that she would have to come up with a way to keep that out of the mainstream media. There was just no way to spin this so it looked good.

  The world already knew about the Hureni. Knew that Mallaruza’s borders were under attack and that the small country’s neighbors were getting bolder. It was also common knowledge that Bongani’s army could only do so much when half their time was spent burying the dead.

  She had a feeling her mettle was about to be tested to the max as she spun this latest crisis in the media.

  Was Simon really just a friend of Bongani’s, or was he something more? She turned her head to look at him. Since he was frowning, she guessed he was barely aware that she was two feet away from him. Not bothering wi
th subtlety, Kess scanned his features, trying to figure out how this man had gotten under her skin so quickly.

  There was no point pretending to herself that she wasn’t fascinated by him. Just looking at him aroused her. It wasn’t necessary to glance down. Her nipples felt sensitive, as the hard peaks rubbed against her T-shirt, and the damp spot between her legs still felt tender.

  That kiss had turned her inside out. Kess enjoyed sex. She was young and healthy and found making love, with the right man, incredible. While she’d believed herself in love with the three men with whom she’d had serious relationships, she’d had a couple of spectacular one-night stands as well. Which proved she didn’t have to be in love to enjoy the act. And for the other times, there were all sorts of interesting toys.

  Love? She frowned, eyeing him again. Why was she thinking of the L word? She’d climaxed from a simple kiss, plain and simple. Her brow furrowed and she squeezed her thighs together to stop them from trembling.

  There was nothing simple about Simon.

  Seven

  Kess recognized the luxury car waiting for them at the Quinisela airport as part of the president’s fleet. There was no sign of a driver. Simon certainly knew how to make things happen in more ways than one.

  “Where can I drop you?” he asked, holding open the passenger door for her.

  What had she expected? That he’d want to come back home with her and finish what he’d started on the ridge? “Kagunda Hotel on Zende; know it?”

  “Midtown?”

  Looking at his mouth, Kess nodded. What was it about this guy that made her insides feel all warm and goopy when she looked at him? On some primitive level she knew it was because he was big and strong. He’d protected her yesterday. And damn it, he’d kissed her like she was all he could think about.

  She needed to get over that kiss. No matter how incredible it’d been. While a brief fling might sound appealing, Kess had a job to do. She was a professional, and this job meant so much on so many levels. She was not going to screw it up by screwing around.