The Guardian (A Wounded Warrior Novel)

by Anna del Mar

  “I’m right here,” he said. “Would you like some help?”

  “I can do it.” I leaned into the frame and pushed a little harder, but nothing.

  “Sure, why don’t you slip a disc or two in the process?” He ambled over to me. “Or you could snap your spine in two. That should be fun.”

  I rolled my eyes and kept at it. I was used to taking care of things myself. He sighed, bent his knees, and pushed. Magically, the bed slid forward as if on rollers. We parked it a few feet closer to the screen, under a patch of dry roof.

  He cocked his fists on his hips and surveyed the room. “That should do it.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled belatedly. “I knew there had to be something I could like about you.”

  “My charming personality?”

  “Nope,” I said, stripping the wet case from the pillow. “Your water management skills.”

  He laughed, a deep, quiet, satisfying rumble that fit nicely with the rainstorm’s muted song. My lips turned up in a grin as I hung the pillowcase to dry over the back of a chair along with my T-shirt.

  “You must be hungry,” he said, taking off his rain jacket and hanging it on the peg by the door.

  “Starving,” I said. “I was going to trek to the lodge and find some food next.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “The kitchen is closed between two and six. But I brought you something.” He handed me a small package wrapped in aluminum foil.

  I glanced at him, then opened the package. It was a sandwich, and a darn good one, by the looks of it, with fresh lettuce and tomatoes, three kinds of cheeses, and a stack of folded turkey. My mouth salivated, but still, I hesitated. Was the sandwich an eatable kindness or a trap?

  “I was told last night that food was prohibited in the rooms,” I said cautiously. “To keep the animals away.”

  “True, that’s the rule.” He bent his long legs and sat down on my sofa. “But after last night, I thought maybe we should make an exception.”

  He was breaking his precious rules. For me. I’m not sure why, but my heart knocked against my ribs and my face burned as if it was on fire. I bit down on the sandwich and hid my reaction with some vigorous chewing action.

  “Wow.” I swallowed, licked my fingers, and plopped down on the sofa’s opposite corner, bringing up my feet and curling my knees against my chest. “This is good. Love the mayo.”

  “Mayo was a dangerous decision.” He grinned, a totally new expression for me, one that added both mirth and mischief to the gleam in his eyes. “But it was a risk I had to take.”

  “I know, right?” I took another bite, chewed and swallowed. “It’s not a popular condiment these days. Another good, old-fashioned favorite fallen to the whim of the masses, like barbeque potato chips and macaroni and cheese.”

  The corners of his eye crinkled when his smile widened. “What’s the world coming to?”

  “Can you imagine a world without macaroni and cheese?” I crossed my eyes and, holding up my thumb, jabbed my index against my temple. “Pow. Just kill me now.”

  He laughed again, that quiet, sensual sound that went straight to my lower belly and tickled my groin. I took that as an omen that perhaps, if the planets aligned, we could maybe turn the corner, become civil to each other, who knew, maybe even become friends?

  “I’ve got some other things for you.” He dug through the basket. “I thought maybe you’d like this back.”

  He held my bra in the air, the black one I’d shed last night in the clearing.

  “Oh.” I blushed like a freaking fool and snatched it from his hand. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “That was a dangerous thing to do.”

  “You already said that.”

  “I’m saying it again.” His tone held a warning. “Around here, you’re better off keeping your bra on.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for the tip.” I tucked the bra under my bum, crammed the last of my sandwich in my mouth, and swallowed with a gulp.

  “This is for the scratches on your arm.” He lifted a jar from the bottom of the basket. “We don’t want them to get infected. Can I take a look?”

  He had to see to believe, another way in which he was a lot like me. With a resigned huff, I stretched out my arm. “If you must.”

  He examined the scratches closely, his huge hands turning my wrist this way and that, his big blunt fingers sliding up and down my forearm with gentleness that took priority over the sheer strength of his grip.

  “It’s clean,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Duh.” I scoffed. “I rinsed it well last night. Do you think I’m a dummy?”

  “No, I know better.” Quietly, methodically, he opened the jar and set it on the coffee table. He pulled out a sterile pack of gauze, ripped it open and after dipping it in the jar, held it up. “May I?”

  “I’m speechless.” I said, consenting with a nod. “If I hadn’t met your evil twin yesterday, I could’ve mistaken all this as some sort of a kindness gene in your DNA.”

  “Another thank you would suffice.” The grin kept tugging at his mouth as he spread the ointment over my scratches, proving that maybe he did have a sense of humor after all. He traced one of the scratches up my arm and onto my back. He paused when he spotted the tattoo on my shoulder blade. “A mappa mundi?”

  “You know what it is?”

  “Of course I know what it is,” he said, a tad too sharply. “An ancient map of the world. I’m not a dumb as you make me feel.”

  Oops. “Sorry about that.”

  “This star,” he said, circling the newest addition to my tattoo. “You already added Africa to your map?”

  “It was a done deal,” at least in my mind.

  “Yeah, I imagine it was,” he murmured, as if in one night, he’d gotten to know me.

  He added a little cream to my newest tat then returned to spread relief on the scratches on my arm. It smothered the itch right away. In all honesty, I hadn’t known how bad I was burning until Matthias put out the fire. I let out a low, grateful moan.

  His gaze flowed over me hot and smoldering as if he wanted to drink the sound. “Listen,” he said gruffly. “It’s not that I don’t like you. In fact, I do like you. A lot. You’ve got guts, girl. You’ve got spunk.”

  Could it be true that he liked me? Well, he had kissed me last night. Or had I kissed him?

  The hazel eyes beamed on me, burning with a coppery glow around the pupil. His touch was soft, warming and comforting. Ripples of thrill flowed from his thumb as it slid under my wrist, near to where my pulse hammered faster every second that passed. His touch echoed in my body, commandeering my cells and setting off flutters in my lower belly.

  Holy smokes. I was so glad I wasn’t standing in front of the digital temperature-taking device the airport authorities used to ensure incoming passengers didn’t have Yellow Fever or Ebola. Had I been under the scrutiny of one of those right now, my whole body would’ve been glaring red, especially the part between my legs. I’d probably have been deported on entry.

  Down, Jade, down. Matthias was the enemy. Remember?

  “So…” I cleared my throat and in true Jade form decided to kill my reaction and go for the jugular. “Are you going to try to kick me out or what?”

  The unguarded expression on his face reminded me of a cat caught a second before it pounced. Then his eyes dulled, the lines of his mouth tensed and his Adam’s apple rippled. “Have I mentioned anything about you leaving?”

  “No, but you’re being nice to me,” I said. “In my experience, people want something very specific when they’re nice to you.”

  “Whoa.” A small pucker of concern deepened the lines between his brows. “You’ve got like zero faith in the human race.”

  He was right about that one.

  “Don’t try to trick me,” I said. “I’m a lot better at rational conversations than you’d think. Just tell me what you came to say and be done with it.”

  He dabbed the last of the ointment on my arm an
d tossed the used gauze into the nearby wastebasket. After screwing the lid back on the jar, he leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees and cleared his throat. “Look, Jade, it’s nothing personal.”

  “Sure, it’s nothing personal.” I clasped my hands on my lap. “But you still want me to leave.”

  “Yes,” he admitted with unusual candor. “It’s the best solution for everyone involved.”

  Except me of course. “How so?”

  “It’s a delicate time for the reserve.”

  “Why?”

  “The big grant,” he said, “the one that pays for operations? It’s due for renewal at the end of the year.”

  “And having a photojournalist around makes you nervous.”

  He inclined his head. “Correct.”

  “Are you afraid I might expose the shit that goes down around here along with the research?”

  “I’m afraid you’d publicize the reserve and people who have no clue would take it upon themselves to pass judgment on a very complex and fluid environment.”

  He had a point, but so did I. “Poaching is not a gray area.”

  “Jade…” He lowered his head, clasped his hands together, and cracked his knuckles. He looked up at me again. “We live in an upside down world. The bad guys outgun the good guys. If we’re not smart, places like this won’t survive.”

  There could be an interesting brain underneath that thick skull of his.

  “New question,” I said. “What’s somebody like you doing here?”

  “Like you said, I’m a mercenary, so what?”

  “Um…” I hesitated. “I might have been a little wrong about that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He flashed me a tentative glance. “How do you figure that?”

  “If you were a true mercenary,” I said, “you’d be working for one of those global security companies that pay mega dollars to operators willing to go into complicated theaters. You’d be a recruiter’s dream. And the money… Surely, you could easily make ten times what you make here. But no, you’re not here for the money, which makes you most definitively not a mercenary. Which leads me back to my original question. Why are you here?”

  “I like Africa.” His gaze shifted out the window and scanned the river. “I like my job here.”

  “True.”

  His eyebrows came up. “What are you now, a human lie detector?”

  “No, I just like to use my brain now and then. Here’s a hunch. I think you like Africa a lot, sure, but I have a feeling you also don’t like the USA very much lately.”

  “Look, this conversation is not about me,” he said, tapping his thumbs together impatiently. “It would be much better for you to leave now. It would be best for the reserve and the station, less complications and…”

  “It would be better for you,” I finished his sentence. “Because if you and I climbed in a jar, we wouldn’t need vinegar to make a bitter pickle together.”

  His eyes met mine. “That bad, eh?”

  I shrugged, unable to process the disappointment that dulled his eyes. Somehow, I’d hurt his feelings. God, Jade, you can be such a bitch. Well, at least I was a competent bitch with a job to do.

  “Last night,” I said. “You kissed me.”

  “Did I?” His mouth twitched. “It kind of felt like you kissed me.”

  It was possible. “I’ve been known to be reckless before.”

  “Reckless, yeah.” He leaned toward me. “That’s you all right.”

  His face came near. His mouth beckoned. Oh, no, no. I panicked. Was this going to happen again? Yes, it could happen and worse, if the heat burning between my legs and the bulk rising beneath his cargos had anything to do with it.

  The knock at the door startled me. I jumped three feet high. Jesus. Saved by fate?

  I catapulted for the door. Before I opened it, I glanced back. Matthias’s stare was nailed to the coffee table, jaw tight, eyes hollow. Disappointment again, kind of what I felt inside?

  As I swung the door open. A small, bespectacled man dressed in a white robe and a white cap gave me a slight bow. “I’m the reserve’s director, Ari Farai. May I come in?” He didn’t wait for a reply. Wrinkled face tight, he marched past me and into the bungalow without another word.

  Zeke stepped in right behind him and closed the door. He widened his eyes in a cautionary warning. Something was amiss. My belly squeezed. Crap. I had some idea of what it could be. How had they found out? I couldn’t help but wonder: In my haste, had I already made the mistake that would get me kicked out of Pacha Ziwa?

  7

  Matthias

  Ari marched into Jade’s bungalow, impeccable as always, a dark, small, wrinkled raisin of a man encased in a layer of pristine linen. My brain fired a ton of questions. I glanced at my watch. He wasn’t due at the station for another two hours, so he must have rushed back. Plus, Ari was a devout man and a stickler for protocol, preferring to conduct his meetings in the professional setting of his office, especially when women were involved. The concern that pinched his face and puckered his mouth got my gut rolling. What the hell was he doing here?

  I rose from the couch. “What’s wrong?”

  “Matthias, good, I’m glad to find you here.” He took the chair across from me and nodded at the couch. “Please, sit. You too, Ms. Romo. This won’t take long.”

  I took my seat and queried Zeke silently. The look in his eyes confirmed trouble. He stood by the door, hugging a tablet to his chest, eyes darting nervously from Jade to me.

  “I’ve read your report,” Ari said in a stark tone that denied his usually affable nature. “The incident last night was very serious, the first time that poachers have come this far south into the reserve. Ms. Romo, I regret that your arrival coincided with such a dreadful situation.”

  “Yes, dreadful.” Jade sat next to me without meeting my gaze, eyes wide, shoulders tensed like a cat about to leap. “If you’ll allow me to explain…”

  Ari lifted a small hand in the air and cut her off with a small, frustrated huff. “The terms of your presence here don’t prevent you from doing your work, but you agreed—in writing—to clear all of your reports with our chief of security prior to releasing them to the public.”

  “What report?” The blood roared in my ears. “Why don’t I know shit about this?”

  “Matthias, language please.” Ari’s stern gaze shifted from me to Jade. “Care to explain?”

  “Um…err…” Jade stammered. “I had to send those pictures out because—”

  “What pictures?” My voice came out in a savage snarl. “I have all your pictures. I asked Zeke to print them out this morning in order to identify the poachers. The pictures are evidence, and must be kept under a clear chain of custody.”

  “Excuse me, Matthias?” Zeke’s shoulders twitched helplessly. “I had to do the patrol schedule, so I only now reviewed the pictures.” He tapped on his tablet, and turned it around for all to see. “Turtles. No poachers. All the pictures are of turtles.”

  I clamped down so hard my teeth clanked. “What the hell did you do?”

  For an instant Jade slumped against the couch, but then, in typical Jade fashion, she squared her shoulders as if she was about to step into the fighting rink.

  “You wanted to take my camera.” She fisted her hands on her lap. “You wanted to confiscate my work. So I gave you the memory card for my other camera, which contained pictures of my last assignment and was also in my backpack. You left me no choice.”

  “I asked you a question.” I tried really hard not to shout. “What did you do with the poachers’ pictures?”

  “She emailed them to her agent in the States,” Ari put in, “along with the story of what happened. Her agent forwarded the story to Nat Geo. The story went live online and on TV several hours ago. It’s all over social media as well. Show him, Zeke.”

  Zeke punched his tablet, crossed the room, and handed it to me. I stared at the clip, unable to believe what I saw. It was a good report. It
was also a devastating blow to my case.

  I swear, this woman was gonna kill me. But before she did, she was gonna drive me bat-shit crazy, that is if the glower I launched in her direction didn’t vaporize the damn flesh off her bones.

  “You lied to me.” The heat in my blood ignited my face all the way to my ears. “You tricked me and gave me the wrong set of pictures. On purpose.”

  “You were acting like a jerk,” she said. “You didn’t give me a chance to do things right.”

  “I didn’t give you a chance?” My jaw was gonna break. “And what about you giving me a chance. To do my frigging job. These pictures?” I held up the tablet and jabbed my finger at the screen. “They are part of only a handful of images we have of the poachers in action. They would’ve been a powerful piece of evidence in court. But the law requires a perfect chain of custody to accept them into evidence, which you have now broken. So thank you, Jade, for screwing up our case. That giraffe died for nothing.”

  Her throat rippled with a hard swallow and she slumped over her belly, so pale I thought she was gonna puke. “I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry my ass.” It took all I had to stay mad at her, especially because her reaction was so visceral, but I was beyond pissed. Prosecuting the poachers without the pictures was out. And then there was the small matter of Kumbuyo. I had no doubt that now, in addition to being number one on Kumbuyo’s shit list, Jade had just skyrocketed to the top of Lamba’s list. I dragged my hands through my hair. What a fucking mess.

  I looked to Ari, urgency pounding my breastbone. “She needs to leave. Now. She needs to be back in the States, far away from Pacha Ziwa, from Africa.”

  “Believe me,” Ari said. “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Director?” Jade said. “I had no intention of breaking any rules—”