by Rula Sinara
Only for ideas on how to rob her husband.
“Kat. Listen to me a minute. As my friend, not my editor. I know something is going on that involves some well-known businessmen and politicians around here, and I have a really strong feeling it involves the illegal ivory trade. We can wave a red flag over the issue.” She looked down at the thumb drives. If there was anyone she could trust, it was Katia. “I’m working on getting more solid proof. If you have to leave company names off for now, fine, but at least print the rest. Get the ball rolling. Attract attention to the cause.”
“Tessa...”
“Look, I have to catch a flight. I’m taking my nephew to his uncle’s so that I can focus on this. Just post it. Making waves could be good for both our careers.”
“Forget your career. Stop and listen to me.” Katia lowered her voice. “Nothing is private here. I’m betting every email is monitored. You’re playing with fire, and that’s not like you. Be careful. It hasn’t been that long since your sister and brother-in-law were killed. I think the stress is getting to you. Take a break. I can get someone to cover the column for a while.”
“I don’t need a break.”
There was a pause and she could hear someone talking in the background and papers shuffling.
“Tessa, I have to go.”
She started to object, but the line disconnected. Tessa cursed and jammed the phone back into her pocket. You have no proof. Why couldn’t her instincts count for something? Apparently personal agendas trumped both friendship and truth. She took a deep breath. Katia was afraid to ruffle a few feathers. Well, Tessa was about to do a lot more than that. She grasped the USBs and stuffed them into her backpack, knowing full well they could end up being empty or useless, but she was running out of time. She wiped her damp palms against her beige khakis and tucked Brice’s chair under the desk, but then pulled it back out and used the hem of her blue V-neck T-shirt to polish the drawer handle and the glass edge, just in case.
She locked the office behind her, then climbed the stairs two at a time, slowing down only as she approached Nick’s bedroom down the hall. She paused, slowing her erratic pulse with deep breaths before tapping on his door and cracking it open.
“Nick, you have thirty seconds or we’ll miss our flight.”
“I’m ready,” he said, slinging his bag over one shoulder, swinging the door wide open and shoving past her. He was definitely taking after his dad in above-average height and already matched Tessa inch for inch. His jeans and dragon T-shirt were getting too short again. If only he’d let her take him to cut his hair a few inches to match. His blond side-swept bangs made it impossible to look him in the eye. His room looked like the latest hurricane had made landfall. Good thing Brice never bothered going past Nick’s bedroom. If he had any idea there was a room in the house in a state like this, he’d die.
“Uh, are you sure you didn’t forget anything you need? Toothbrush, perhaps?” And here she was afraid something had fallen between her bedsheets.
“No,” he snapped, reaching around her and pulling the door shut.
“Okay.” Keep out. That won’t be a problem.
She followed him downstairs, letting him out first so she could set the house alarm. The taxi she’d arranged for earlier was idling in their circular driveway. Nick waited for her before getting in.
“You should be happy about taking a holiday.”
The private school he attended—one of South Africa’s popular and prestigious ones and the same one he’d attended before his parents were killed—gave its students ten days off in August. He’d complained plenty of times that one of his American classmates had told him kids back home got something like two and a half months off in the summer. How did parents over there survive that? How did parents survive, period?
Nick shrugged and gazed out the window at the passing shoreline as they headed for the airport.
“Whatever.”
Tessa caught the driver glancing at her. Sympathy for Nick’s attitude? Or recognition of whose wife she was and curiosity as to where she was going? She wouldn’t doubt that half the drivers in their area answered to Brice. He tipped well, but he also had a great rapport with everyone. Which was why getting him to approve this trip had been so important. His approval meant less suspicion on his part and that alone would buy her time.
Brice had seemed relieved when she mentioned taking Nick out of town for a week. If Tessa had noticed anything since Nick came to live with them, it was that Brice had less patience for kids than she did. He hadn’t been kidding when they’d had the infamous discussion about no kids right before they got married. But she loved Nick. He was her nephew...her blood. And Brice wasn’t solely to blame on the no-patience front. Nick was a handful. A slurry of teen moodiness thickened with posttraumatic stress. Yet Brice had welcomed him into their home. That’s why she was feeling morbidly guilty right now.
She smiled at the driver and tried to act as relaxed as possible, fighting back tears as they passed the neighborhood of midsize homes where her sister had lived. She noticed Nick looking over and her heart broke for not being able to tell him that his “visit” to his uncle might end up being a lot more than a visit...and that he’d likely not see his old neighborhood again for a long time. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he shoved it off. His constant rejections hurt. So she wasn’t ideal substitute-mom material, but she was trying to do her best.
It’s all going to be okay.
All that mattered was getting Nick to Kenya and then getting as far from the boy as she could. Because sooner or later Brice would realize this wasn’t a vacation, and when he did, he’d be after her for answers...and there was no way she’d let Nick get caught in the cross fire.
* * *
MAC WALKER HATED being played almost as much as he hated owing anyone anything. But everyone—including Mac—had a price, and saving Air Walker Safaris from the red was a big one. He’d always gotten by okay. Up until now, the balance between booking enough paid charters to keep the cash flowing and still having plenty of spare time to volunteer free flights for herd observation or tracking for wildlife reservations or research and rescue camps in the area had been perfect. His safari charters hopefully raised awareness of endangered species while letting tourists take in or photograph the phenomenal world below. But his volunteer work? That’s what he lived for. That’s what he didn’t want to sacrifice if AWS suffered. He liked the way his life was—he was on his own and in control. And no matter how many psychological games bigger, better companies tried to play with him, he wasn’t going to give in.
He hated the fact that once anyone got wind of the good life or a diamond in the rough, they wanted a piece of it. Now every other flying junkie was trying to set up shop and cash in on the draw of Kenya’s Serengeti and his books were beginning to show it. It made him sick that they didn’t really care for the land, so much as the opportunity. He sat back, propping his dirt-crusted hiking boots onto the undersized wooden table that served as his desk, and studied his email reply to the latest franchise trying to buy him out. He deleted the colorful insult he’d added to the draft.
It wouldn’t be selling out, really—except from his perspective. The companies trying to buy AWS positioned their offers as more of a partnership and a chance to increase business. No doubt the move would fund the kind of tender loving care his one true love—his chopper—needed, and he’d finally be able to add a second helicopter and pilot to his payroll. But the mere idea of giving up an ounce of control made him cringe. Sure, he was just a small charter business, but he’d never needed much to keep himself afloat before. He’d had a few extra expenses this past year. That was all. He just needed a small business boost and time to recover. He still had adequate savings to keep sending his share of support for his nephew, Nick. That was one of his priorities and the least he could do, but boy, did he need to star
t adding to the bank account. The numbers in the partnership offers were tempting.
Just not tempting enough. AWS wasn’t on its deathbed yet.
But his gut told him it would happen sooner or later. The question was when. How many bridges could he burn before he lost all his chances at a deal that would keep AWS from going completely under? For now, though, it was a risk worth taking to maintain his independence.
He took his feet off the battered wood desk and hit Send. Done.
He needed a drink.
And more customers.
He scrubbed his face with his palms and took one swig from a bottle of Scotch he kept in the short filing cabinet that helped support the end of his desk. Then he turned off his lamp and computer. His long-term lease at Hodari Lodge, one of the upscale tourist lodges near Amboseli National Park, afforded him a windowed office where tourists could browse brochures and sign up for tours. He also had adjoining private living quarters that were barely big enough for a man half his size. He’d divided his humble “single bed and bath” space with a curtain consisting of long orange and red cloths gifted to him by Masai friends after he’d located a young child who’d wandered too far from their village. The handiwork, woven with care, was a reminder of what was important in life.
He made short use of the basin and urinal that occupied the left side of the room, turned off the lights, sat on the edge of the single bed he dwarfed and pulled off his boots.
The chitter-chatter of insects and mellow cries of nocturnal beasts carried through the mosquito netting on the window he’d opened earlier. Potent sounds that fueled his blood and kept him company.
He leaned back against his pillow and started to tuck his hands behind his head but froze at the barely perceptible click of the door to his quarters. Shuffling steps were followed by the metal grind of his rusty file cabinet opening and the rustle of papers. Not a very quiet thief, but then again, few people knew he lived at the back of his office, and Sue, his assistant, never went past the front desk. She’d left much earlier and had promised to lock the door that opened to the lodge’s foyer so he could deal with emails uninterrupted. He should have double-checked.
He slipped his switchblade out of his back pocket and rose. This had happened to him once before. The guy had been after his alcohol. Handing over his Scotch would be the least of Mac’s worries. Losing his computer or the day’s cash that he hadn’t had the chance to bank would bite a lot harder.
He peered past a break in the Masai drapes and quickly noted that the dark figure was no match for his six feet. It looked more like the size of an older kid. Moonlight reflected off his bottle of Scotch at the back of the file drawer. Untouched. Not after the booze, huh?
One long stride and he had his hand over the intruder’s mouth and their body braced hard against his. A faint trace of perfume or scented shampoo and the thief’s curved shape gave her gender away and, admittedly, shocked the heck out of him. She gasped and dug her nails frantically into his forearm while trying, unsuccessfully, to kick her heels up at his knees. The little witch even tried sinking her teeth in him, but he twisted his hold and saved his skin. He held his blade just far enough from her neck so she could see it.
“Stop struggling and this won’t get any worse.”
Her chest heaved, but she obeyed. He flicked his blade shut with one hand, shoved it in his pocket and reached to turn on the light, then he flipped her around and pinned her against the closest wall.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Mac said.
Tessa stared up at him with the same doe-like eyes he remembered, only now faint lines creased her forehead and a couple of early grays streaked through her long brown hair. She was still as beautiful as she’d ever been, but the past six months had clearly left their mark. She looked older than her thirty years...even more so than when he’d seen her at the funeral. Too many lazy beach days with fancy drinks did that to a person, didn’t it? Okay, he was being a jerk, stereotyping her. He wasn’t that judgmental. Not any more than she’d always been of his lifestyle. Maybe it really was the stress of her loss showing. That was something he did understand.
His brother, Allan, had been a pilot, too. He’d married his high school sweetheart, Tessa’s sister, Maria, and when their Cessna had crashed just miles from their home in Cape Town six months ago, custody of their then twelve-and-a-half-year-old son, Nick, had been given to both Mac and Tessa. An arrangement that made no sense at all, given that she lived in South Africa with the millionaire husband she’d landed and he lived in Kenya’s outback with no time or place to add a kid. The only explanation Tessa or Mac had been able to come up with had been that Maria and Allan wanted their child to retain ties to both sides of his family. Having the comforts of a mansion, great schools and both a father and mother figure on hand made more sense than uprooting him. Besides, as far as Mac knew, Tessa had plenty of time to spare, what with playing the butterfly wife and not doing much more than writing a fashion column once a week. Mac didn’t have anything close to that kind of luxury.
“Can you please ease up on the man hold?” she panted.
Her face was pale and clammy. He’d scared her to death, all right, but she deserved it. Tessa Henning. In Kenya. In his cave. Unbelievable. He glanced down to where something glimmered against her skin with the rise and fall of her chest. A simple silver M...for Maria. He recognized the necklace as the one he’d helped his brother pick out for Maria’s birthday senior year. Back when he couldn’t afford a whole lot.
Mac released his hold and motioned her to sit on his desk chair while he stood akimbo between her and her only escape.
“What were you looking for, Tessa?”
* * *
TESSA SUCKED IN the corner of her lip the way she always did when she needed to think. This was Mac. She had to be on her toes. She waved away the entire situation with her hand.
“Looking for? Come on, Mac. Suspicious much? I was trying to find a plain sheet of paper to leave you a note to let you know that Nick and I arrived a few hours ago. He’s in a room sleeping right now. We were hoping you could meet us early for breakfast and then take us up for a tour.”
Mac folded his arms and raised a brow. Why had his confidence always irritated her? Standing there like that in his jeans and white T-shirt...like he was a model posing for a rugged photo shoot for one of her fashion posts. It just... She didn’t like it. That was all.
“You broke in here and planned to write me a note,” he said.
“Yes.” Tessa nodded for emphasis.
“In the dark.”
She kept nodding. She used to be so good at smart comebacks, but her nerves had clearly wiped out her memory banks. You’re such a dork, Tessa. Pull it together. She cleared her throat.
“There’s plenty of moonlight out and I thought lights out here were on some sort of generator timer. Aren’t they? I was telling Nick on the flight that we might have to get some LED torches or brush our teeth in the dark.”
“Cute. Really cute.”
She smiled.
“Tessa.” Mac ran his fingers through his short blond hair. Nick looked a lot like his uncle. “Seeing Nick will be great. But why in the world would you pay for a charter from Nairobi instead of calling ahead so I could pick you up? Couldn’t you at least have left a message?”
“And ruin the surprise?”
He raised a brow at her. Okay, so even she knew Mac wasn’t keen on surprises. She hadn’t initially planned on sneaking into his office, but it was the one place she figured she could access a computer privately. She needed to do some research, but she also wanted to check if Katia had sent her an email. Maybe she’d changed her mind about the article. Tessa had forgotten her tablet charger. She should have searched her sheets better. As for getting here from the main airport in Nairobi...yes, counting on Mac would have been easier. And stupid.
“I realize you’ve grown accustomed to the silver spoon and spa type of life and people falling at your feet, but I don’t bow to anyone. Don’t you think it’s a bit presumptuous to assume I’m not already booked tomorrow morning?”
She hated—really hated—when people made her sound petty and self-centered just because she’d married a wealthy man. They had no clue about her marriage or what her life was like below the surface. As for Mac...he’d judged her and made fun of her since their school days. He used to call her a hermit, chicken and nerd. She hated him for that and had always resented the fact that Mac, Allan and Maria were part of the cool crowd she’d never fit into. They’d been the kids who got invited to parties, always looked trendy and weren’t afraid to break rules or play hooky when she didn’t dare.
But right now, Mac’s ego wasn’t her problem. His cooperation was. She noticed the top of a brochure sticking out from underneath a few envelopes by his computer. AWS: Air Walker Safaris. He had his logo embroidered on half his shirts and had given a shirt and matching cap to Nick when he’d come down to South Africa to settle things after the funeral. Narcissistic company name, if you asked her. Bet he’d had an easy time coming up with that one.
Nick was a Walker, though, and she needed to press the fact that he was the last “Air Walker.” No way could she bring up having him stay with Mac permanently until she could negate all of Mac’s logistical arguments against it. She needed Mac to succumb to his emotions regarding his nephew. It wouldn’t be easy. She needed to slip under his radar and rob him of his bachelorhood.
When they’d gained custody, Mac had made it quite clear that raising a boy while being both a bush pilot and tour guide wouldn’t work in any way, shape or form. His refusal to take Nick was just one more reason why she resented him. Mac—who lived for spontaneity, change and challenge—had backed off when it came to raising a kid. And he’d assumed that just because Tessa was married, had money and a house and was female, she was mother material. He’d implied that she had more time on her hands—between manicures—than he did.