by Rula Sinara
CHAPTER FIVE
MAC STOKED THE logs in the fire pit until the flames danced like Masai tribesmen dressed in their bright red and orange colors. The pit, encircled with local lava rocks, was set up in a clearing not far from the guest tents. A mix of wooden stumps and folding chairs surrounded it. He’d helped arrange those rocks and seats so that guests would have a nice place to congregate for after-dinner drinks and stories. Mugi always did love telling stories with dramatic flare.
Nick was already sleeping in the tent he was sharing with Mac, and Mugi and Kesi had gone to bed. Tessa stared at the flames with her knees tucked against her chest and her chin resting on them. Her hair glistened in the firelight like the river’s surface on a full moon. He looked back into the fire. He had no business noticing those sorts of things. At least not in a way that stirred unwelcome feelings of nostalgia and longing. As a teen there’d been something about her that drew him in, but she’d always kept her guard up good and strong.
It didn’t matter. Mac was a loner. He lived for the present and future. Not the past. Tessa wasn’t his type, anyway. The only thing they had in common was custody of their nephew. She was another man’s wife—a fact that, ever since she’d shown up in his office the night before, he had to keep reminding himself of...and that bothered him to no end. The sense of loss...the fact that she’d never really cared for him and his attraction had never been reciprocated...he could handle all of it when she was in her own country, but he’d made Kenya his and she’d crossed his boundaries. Tessa crossing any boundary and pulling a stunt like this had thrown him off-kilter. The Tessa he knew would never have done that. The woman sharing the campfire with him was a whole lot more appealing, way more interesting...and very taken. The smoke and flames had to be playing hypnotic tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes, remembering that he hadn’t really slept the night before.
“What are we going to do about all this?” she asked.
Obviously she was talking about her situation with her husband, but for a split second, he thought maybe she’d heard his thoughts.
Perhaps mind-reading came with raising a kid together.
A log popped with a long hiss and crackle and he pushed it toward the center of the pit. He’d never forget the time she’d taken Maria and Allan’s side about his first trip to the Serengeti. She’d told him he should listen to his dad and brother and stay put. It was only a week before he was scheduled to leave to do volunteer work for the experience and flight hours...and because he’d needed a break from his father and brother breathing down his neck about what he was going to do with his life. Real men made a lot of money, they said. Enough to support their families. According to them, working for free made as much sense as a hare curling up with a cheetah at night for warmth.
History had a way of repeating itself, didn’t it? Tessa had sided against him before. She’d never agreed with his choices. Why should she care about his opinion now?
He eyed her carefully across the flickering tips of the fire. Burned once, twice shy. For all he knew, Brice had sent her. How convenient would it be if they couldn’t see the files on those drives and there was no proof but her word? Or if the drives were fake? Maybe this was all a ploy because her husband didn’t want an ornery teenager in his house. Did Nick clash with their uppity lifestyle? Or were her intentions even darker? What if Brice was involved in ivory smuggling and Tessa was embroiled in her husband’s business right alongside him, like a good, loyal wife...but was having second thoughts? Maybe she was getting scared and trying to save face by making herself seem innocent. Was she playing the victim? She’d never been the type to stand up to anyone or risk losing the people in her life. If Brice had asked her to do something that went against her values, would she have been strong enough to say no?
She used to express strong opinions on animal welfare in their school paper, but after she got married, she’d settled on a fashion column. Maybe she’d given up her integrity and dreams for money. She could be here to use their shared custody of Nick to draw him into their sick game. Or she could be here as a spy, trying to get him to reveal inside information about the wildlife reservations, rescue and conservation groups in the area and the Kenyan Wildlife Service’s plans against poacher activities. Or maybe her marriage had simply gone south and she was looking for excuses to come running to him for help and support because she didn’t want to be alone. Tessa had always hated being alone.
He took the last swig of his beer and set the bottle in the dirt next to him.
“Let’s see. What are we going to do about all this?” he said. “I’d say the safest thing would be to give me the drives you have. I’ll check them out while you and Nick stay here. If there is indeed incriminating information on them, in what’s bound to be a phenomenally dramatic and dangerous operation, I’ll turn it in and help catch Brice red-handed...then kill him. In self-defense, of course, because something tells me he’s used to getting what he wants and won’t give himself up peacefully.”
Tessa had dropped her feet to the ground and sat there gaping at him.
“Are you crazy?”
Mac shrugged and leaned forward.
“Guilty of being stupid once or twice in my life and a bit stubborn, but no, not crazy.”
“Then don’t make fun of the situation and don’t go painting Brice out to be some superruthless alpha villain just because he’s rich and powerful. He was always kind and good to me. I’m not sure why he’s involved in all this or to what extent, but I know when I married him he was a smart, stable and talented man.”
Touché.
The air tasted bitter and even the insects, whose rhythmic humming had been loud enough to mask their whispers, hushed. Mac wanted to walk away, but doing so would add power to her words. What Brice was, Mac wasn’t. His father would have liked Brice. She knew it, too.
She covered her face and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I realize how that sounded. It was uncalled for. I’ve just been so stressed and confused.”
He forced the corners of his mouth into a smile that fought against the weight in his chest.
“No worries, Tessa. I’m quite confident with my God-given gifts. I don’t need riches to prove anything or to compensate for anything else.” Now he was really smiling. “As for you marrying rich—kudos to you, baby. But running away from home tells me that you’ve questioned marrying him. So how about a game of ‘Get Tess to Confess’? Are you really here because you suspect Brice? Or because you’re having marital issues and deep down, all these years, you’ve found me irresistible?”
* * *
OF ALL THE egotistical—Tessa scowled as Mac got up and came around the fire, then reached into his pocket and tossed a coin on the ground between them before sitting on a log next to her. She was so not playing that game. The one he’d made up senior year.
When his brother and her sister, who’d gone off to the same college, had announced that they were getting married, she didn’t take it well. She’d known they’d get hitched sooner or later, but Allan was a daredevil like all of the Walker men, and she didn’t want to have to worry about Maria. She also knew marriage would mean her sister would visit home even less, and with their parents gone most of the time, Tessa would be alone more. They had asked her and Mac to help plan wedding stuff back home. She was so unenthusiastic about it that Mac had taken to teasing her, as if he needed an excuse. He’d started this habit of tossing a coin and telling her if it landed on heads and she answered a question from him honestly, he’d take care of whatever wedding arrangement she didn’t want to deal with. If it was tails, she’d have to go for a swim with him—in the ocean. He knew full well she only swam in pools. The beach was where waves pushed you under and the currents pulled you out. She feared dying in the same manner she feared her parents would. Mac would take his shirt off anyway and egg her on. A shirtless Mac always left her flustered. He proba
bly knew it, too.
It was a lose-lose scenario as far as she was concerned. At one point, when the coin had landed on heads, he’d asked her if she was glum because she had a secret crush on his brother. Gross. Or if she was jealous because no guy had even asked her to date. And every time it landed on tails, he’d rip his shirt off and make her skin heat up in a way she’d have never admitted to. He’d actually called her a wimp a time or two, when she refused to go swimming.
He tossed the coin.
“Let’s see. No wedding planning responsibilities to take off your shoulders, so what do we bet on?”
“I’m not playing, Mac. Nor am I lying to you, so there’s no point.”
“Come on. Afraid of the truth or that I’ll take my shirt off and drag you down to the river?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Ouch.”
“You know the rugged, risk-your-life adventurer was never my type.” No doubt he still sported rock hard abs. The mental image made her cheeks burn.
“Right. I’m just the guy everyone runs to when they need help that involves risk. The one who’s expendable.”
“I never, ever wanted you putting your life at risk. That was the point.” Man, he ticked her off. She got up but his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.
“Shrug it off, Tess. I was just trying to get you to let your guard down. Come on. I’ve always given you a hard time, haven’t I? It’s how we are.”
She turned around and studied his face. The creases the sun had left around his eyes made him look wiser and those around his lips, more jaded. He rubbed her upper arms, and there was nothing but a calming reassurance in the gesture. Nothing inappropriate. So why was she feeling his touch all the way down to her toes? This was Mac, for crying out loud. Maybe she just missed having someone around who knew her sister the way she did.
“Sit. Tell me what happened,” he said, nudging her back down. She sat and took a deep breath, the smell of smoke and grassy plains reminding her that Brice couldn’t hear her. She was safe here. She’d succeeded in getting here in the first place, and that had to mean she was stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for. Didn’t it? Stronger than she gave herself credit for. She scratched the bridge of her nose.
“Everything was okay at first. He’s always treated me well, Mac. He has always been there and taken care of everything. He’s smart and has never been anything but kind to me. I mean, yes, he liked throwing private cocktail parties and obligatory business dinners, none of which I enjoyed. I played along because it was the least I could do. He provided. If he wanted me to throw a dinner, how could I say no? Especially when some were for the staff at the paper. The one he encouraged me to write the fashion column for.”
Truth be told, she had asked if she could do an environment and animal welfare-related column. Had even told him about the work she’d done in high school for the paper and for shelters and the fact that she was currently involved in fund-raising efforts for them, but he’d said the paper’s readership was more fashion-oriented.
“Don’t you hire caterers and maids, anyway?”
“No, actually. Cooking is something I’ve always been good at. I had to do a lot of it growing up. And Brice hates the idea of anyone poking around his possessions to clean. It’s his one pet peeve.”
“So you keep the house.”
He made it sound like she was Brice’s maid. There was nothing wrong with cleaning your own house. Brice had never wanted children—not even cats—and with only the two of them in that massive house, she needed to tend to something other than him or herself. No amount of coffee dates with other wives or shoe shopping, nor her once-a-week column, could fill her time. Deep down, she wanted to do something meaningful, something she really cared about. But instead, she cleaned.
“I do my own thing, too,” she said defensively. “My work at the paper and organizing fund-raisers for various charities. Brice thinks that’s good publicity for his companies, but I do it because I enjoy it. Plus, I’ve been handling Nick’s needs.”
“Are you still rescuing cats? Taking in strays?”
“No. Brice doesn’t want pets destroying the house or putting off guests with allergies. My role as Mrs. Henning is to wine and dine potential clients of his. When no one’s around, I sit at this table we have overlooking the ocean and—never mind.”
She couldn’t believe she was about to embarrass herself and tell him that she’d stand at that massive window and pray for her parents to be okay out there at sea and to return home safely. Same wish she’d always had growing up. Mac was so like her parents. Their rush...their raison d’être...was the sea. Mac’s was the wild expanse of earth and sky out here. And hers...she’d never been able to pin down her purpose, passion or place in life. Even her love of journalism had stalled at her fashion column. Katia had always rejected any other pitches she’d made. And her contract with the paper prevented her from submitting articles anywhere else. Her parents and Mac had callings that made a difference. All because of some contractual covenant not to compete, hers never would. Unless she went up against Brice, which she’d never dared to do before. She ran her finger against her dry lips. Mac stretched his long legs in front of him and crossed his ankles.
“I saw your column once. Online,” Mac said.
Tessa closed her eyes and felt heat creep up the back of her neck. She held her breath and waited for the criticism she knew would follow.
“What of it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “It’s just that you used to write opinionated stuff in the school paper. You created quite a storm with the one report on how the cafeteria’s vegetarian menu wasn’t so vegetarian, after all. Shocked the heck out of me. Didn’t think you had guts. I was pretty sure it would get you suspended.”
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“How could I not? It was one of the few times you showed a little courage. Writing about fashion? I don’t know. Just surprises me, is all.”
“It’s not like I never dressed well.” Maybe she knew how, she just never did. Jeans and a sweatshirt had been more her speed than miniskirts and heels. “So fashion’s not your thing,” she continued. “It is for a lot of people.”
“Four-inch heels and leopard-print leggings? Yeah, not sure I could pull off the look.”
“Very funny.”
He was right, though. Writing made her feel courageous. It was the one way she felt comfortable speaking up or taking action. Brice’s influence had gotten her the opportunity to put her words out there—it just came with limits and no control.
“Anyway,” she said. “Shortly after Allan and Maria’s funeral, things began to change. Brice grew more distant, but I didn’t care at first because I needed to be alone. Losing my sister crushed me. I was emotionally and physically drained, but Nick came first. So the fact that Brice was around less and less, taking more trips and coming home later at night, was a bit of a blessing in disguise. He was supportive of Nick living with us. He understood, yet there was palpable tension when both of them were in the house. Brice was less equipped to deal with Nick’s emotional state, on top of the usual teen challenges, than I was. At least whenever Brice wasn’t around, I didn’t have to spend time placating him.” She hoped Mac picked up on the fact that he hadn’t been there to help with Nick, either.
“I hate to bring it up and don’t jump on me for asking, but how do you know he wasn’t having an affair? That it isn’t still going on right now? Watch all of this have nothing to do with poaching and everything to do with another woman.”
Tessa forced her lips shut before she could spit out the response he deserved. Her throat tightened. She should have expected as much from Mac. It only proved she’d never be more than an awkward, wimpy nerd in his eyes. What cut even deeper was that the very same suspicions had crossed her mind.
What did that say about her self-worth?
“Why? Because I was never the girl a guy wanted to ask out, let alone one to land a husband? You think I can’t hold on to a man?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Usually, when a guy is scarce without reason, an affair is a possibility. The fault being on him, not you, Tess.”
She shuffled her sneaker in the dirt. Why did being around Mac make her feel like a teenager again? Unsure of herself, needing approval and struggling to think clearly in his presence. She scratched her upper lip. She was an adult now. She had a career...a voice. You’re in control here, Tessa. You’re not a kid anymore.
“I can’t be one-hundred percent sure,” she said, “but I don’t think he is. He trusts me to take care of things like paying the bills. I’ve never seen anything out of the ordinary on our bank statements. Of course, he could be smarter than that, but I’ve never smelled perfume on him or seen lipstick, and if something was going on there would be rumors going around by now. Okay, I’ll admit, the same thought crossed my mind at first. Who wouldn’t wonder when their spouse’s behavior changed so drastically? But then about a month ago, we had a cocktail party. The usual, except there were a couple of men I hadn’t met before. New business associates, presumably. Nick was in his room, where he always hides during these parties. He hates them, too.
“I went up to check on him and came down the back stairs to the kitchen, not knowing that Brice was having a private talk with someone in the walk-in pantry by the steps. At first, I thought he was with one of the guests, but then I saw from behind that he was on his cell phone. I didn’t think anything of it until he began saying things like, ‘No one can find out,’ and ‘You’re on your own if there’s a leak.’ My gut told me to keep quiet and back up the stairs. I did, but my heel caught on my long dress. I stumbled, he heard me and he turned. I pretended I was just coming down.”
Tessa took a deep breath. The memory of that moment, the instant panic and churning in her stomach, came back. Adrenaline had helped her keep her wits about her, but she knew in that second that something was very wrong. Her skin had prickled like fire ants were crawling up her arms and her chest had gone ice cold.