by Vanessa Kier
Not wanting to scare her, he swallowed his anger before saying, “Don’t worry. I won’t be long. And I promise to take care of my wound once I’m back.” Then he leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
He hadn’t planned it. His body just kind of took over.
But even that brief taste of her seared his blood.
He pulled back. Kirra stared at him wide-eyed.
Fuck. She’d thrown him completely off balance.
“I promise, I’m going to keep you safe, Kirra.” The best he could promise her was to get her to someone else who could keep her safe. Yet instead of clarifying, he said, “Understand?”
She nodded.
“Good. I’ll be back soon.” He shut the door and walked away.
Seth turned onto the main street and shook his head. Kissing Kirra had been a stupid, dangerous thing to do. He couldn’t afford to care about her and she wouldn’t survive if she stayed with him. He touched the wound on his arm. Hell, she’d barely missed taking a bullet in the assassin’s latest attack.
Her aversion to blood, though, had given him an idea on who to call next. About seven months ago, he’d been seriously injured trying to evacuate locals from the site of a rebel attack. Dr. Rene LaSalle had found him passed out and brought him to a rural medical clinic. While Seth was still presumed to be unconscious, he’d heard Dr. LaSalle telling a female volunteer that he had contacts who would get her safely away from the rebels.
Dr. LaSalle was Seth’s last chance at getting someone else to protect Kirra.
Relieved to have another option, Seth turned his attention to his approach to the Range Rover. This close to the building, he heard the thumping of heavy machinery. The loud noise would mask any sounds Seth made.
He gave the vehicle a quick once-over to confirm that it was road-worthy before he hot-wired it and drove away.
When he returned to Kirra, he lowered all the windows to let out the strong scent of cigarette smoke. “It should air out soon,” he told her.
She gave a delicate sniff, frowned in distaste, then lifted one shoulder in a graceful half-shrug. “I’ve lived in places that smelled worse than this. Cigarette smoke is no big deal compared to urine and vomit.”
He shot her a sharp glance. “What the hell?”
She waved her hand in the air. “You know. Starving artist and all that. We can’t be picky about where we lay our heads.”
She was lying. Or, if not precisely lying, then leaving out a lot of explanation. Because there had been something hard-edged to her voice when she’d answered. A hint of sorrow. But also of darkness. Fear maybe. Or anger. Hell, for all he knew, it could be a combination of all of them.
Wondering again if he was being suckered, and she’d just given him a glimpse into the real, darker side of her, he said, “Stay there while I brush off the broken glass from the Land Cruiser and transfer our—”
Kirra pushed past him to retrieve her backpack, stepping back as shards of glass fell to the concrete.
“Or you can help by grabbing your own things,” Seth commented dryly.
“I’m not some fragile flower who needs protecting,” Kirra told him. She shook off the glass, then placed her pack on the Range Rover’s back seat.
Seth held his hands out in surrender. “Sorry. I just figured that with the concert coming up and your aversion to blood, it would be better if you didn’t risk cutting your fingers on a stray piece of glass.”
“Well, I managed not to get cut.”
Gunfire sounded a few streets away.
Seth tossed his gear into the cargo compartment and ran around to the driver’s seat. Kirra hopped in and he eased the Range Rover out of the alley. Turning away from the gunfire, he drove at a pace designed not to draw attention to them as he navigated the maze of streets.
“No!” Kirra warned when he was about to turn down another alley.
A rebel vehicle blocked the other end.
“Shit. Thanks.” He backed up slowly, then turned onto a street heading in the opposite direction.
He grabbed his satellite phone. After punching in the access code, he handed the phone to Kirra. “Help me navigate out of here.”
Kirra fiddled with the phone. “Where’s the map program so we can get step-by-step directions?”
“There isn’t one. Satellite phones don’t come with bells and whistles. Open up the compass feature. It will show you our GPS coordinates.”
She twisted around to reach her backpack and lifted it into the front seat with her.
He gave her a look.
“What? I thought I might want to do some surfing after the concert, so I brought a paper map.” She spread the map open on her lap.
He glanced down and saw that it included all of the major and secondary roads, as well as some of the smaller roads.
Using his phone’s compass feature along with the paper map, she directed him safely to the outskirts of town. Once they’d put enough distance between themselves and the town, Seth found a place to pull off the road that would keep them hidden from traffic. He pulled up his shirt to reveal the wound on his arm.
Kirra flinched and turned away.
“It’s nothing serious,” he said, retrieving the medical kit. He pulled out the antiseptic and some gauze. “Just a shallow graze.”
“Uh-huh. It still hurts, doesn’t it? Or are you too macho to feel pain?”
He snorted. “There’s pain, and then there’s pain. This hardly registers.”
Her shoulders jerked. Great. What had he said this time to tick her off?
“All set.” He stuck the blood-stained gauze he’d used to clean the wound into a plastic baggie. Once they were back on the road, he had Kirra find the number he’d been given for Dr. LaSalle. She dialed it, then he took the phone from her. But the call went straight to voicemail. Wary of giving too much information away on a recording, Seth simply said, “I have someone who could use your extracurricular help. Call me back at this number.”
Kirra raised her brows as he ended the call.
“I’ll explain if I get a call back.” He nodded at the cigarette lighter. “Plug this in, will you?”
She complied, then turned on the radio.
“…and for all of you music lovers out there, don’t forget that we’ll be reporting live from the Shine a Light benefit concert on Friday.” Kirra straightened in her seat.
“If you can’t make it up to the UAR for the concert,” the announcer continued, “you can still donate on our website or by phoning in a contribution.”
The announcer’s voice faded into a montage of songs from various artists. “Was that you? Singing about the meaning of power?” he asked Kirra.
“Yes. Wow. You have a really good ear.” She sang a few lines from the song, her voice pure and powerful.
“Damn. You have an amazing voice.”
Kirra flushed. “Thanks.”
“So this concert. It’s a really big deal?”
“Oh yes.” The darkness that had come over her seemed to have dissipated under the excitement of her upcoming performance. “We have Miriam Tchaco heading the program. Can you believe it? She hasn’t been back to West Africa since the rebels became active. I’m so hoping to meet her. I love her music. Are you familiar with it?”
“Ah, no. I don’t really listen to music.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” Kirra turned to stare at him in disbelief. “Not ever?”
He shrugged, oddly embarrassed. “I don’t usually have time. Besides, after being in the air all day with the racket of the engines, I like coming back to a bit of quiet.”
“Oh.” She studied him a moment, before nodding. “I guess that makes sense. But oh, my God. Miriam Tchaco is absolutely amazing. She’s one of my idols. She combines traditional tribal music with lyrics about today’s volatile political climate and ends up with a song that has you tapping your toe and thinking at the same time.”
He loved the sparkle that had come into her eyes. “Have y
ou been into music your entire life?”
The life fled from Kirra’s face so quickly, the hairs on the back of Seth’s neck stood up.
Ducking her head, she shifted to face out the windshield. Her right hand shoved into her pocket. Her shoulders hunched as if she were cold.
Or expecting to be hit.
Dread settled in his belly. “Kirra?”
“I always enjoyed music.” Her voice was flat. Lifeless. Jesus, it had been an innocent question. So what about it sent her off into Trauma Land?
“Six years ago I learned how to play the guitar and realized that I wanted to make music my life,” she added quietly.
He wondered if she was even aware that she’d pulled her backpack up so she could hug it against her chest. With a sigh, she turned and rested her cheek on top of the pack as she looked out the side window. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long, rough day. As I said before, I don’t really feel like talking.”
“All right.”
But it wasn’t all right. She looked lost and miserable and he didn’t know what to do for her. He was no good at dealing with emotions. Not even his own. His emotions usually came out when he slept. Anger and guilt and regret twisted through dark, bloody nightmares that occasionally jerked him awake with a cry of protest on his lips.
But no matter how much he wished it, he couldn’t go back and change the day his life had been torn apart. And if he let his emotions out during the day, he feared that he’d destroy everything around him.
He glanced over and saw that Kirra was asleep. Poor thing. She’d had a rough couple of days. Determined to get her to someone who could protect her, Seth found a spot where he could pull off the road behind a screen of bushes. He put in another call to Dr. LaSalle, but again got voicemail. He didn’t leave a message.
Next, he quickly swapped license plates with the extra set he’d pulled out of the back of his Land Cruiser.
Once back behind the wheel, he focused on his next steps. He’d need Kirra’s help to navigate around the next town, because it was in territory claimed by drug lord Albert Sankoh. Seth had done work for the man in the past and couldn’t risk being recognized.
Three hours later, he drew in a sharp breath. “Kirra, wake up.” He reached over and shook her shoulder.
“Wha—?” She straightened up, rubbed her eyes, and blinked at him. “Seth, what’s wrong?”
“Look.” He pointed at the billboard.
“Oh!”
Neon pink block letters spelled out Shine a Light Benefit Concert. The date and location were listed underneath. The lower right side of the billboard contained two jauntily uneven columns displaying giant photographs of the top acts.
In the middle of the first column was a headshot of Kirra above her name in large, bright orange letters.
“Hey! That’s so cool.” Kirra leaned forward. “I knew they were planning a big media campaign, but I didn’t realize that I’d be on a billboard.”
Seth shook his head. “Kirra. Think.”
“What?” She frowned, then cursed. “The rebels know what I look like, plus they have my name because they took my passport.” She turned to stare at him in dismay. “The rebels now know where to find me.”
“Yeah.”
“Does this mean—”
“That they’ll give up the chase? No. They can’t risk you passing their missing item off to someone else. But it does mean that you’re not safe even once you reach the concert.” He scanned the heavy traffic around them. There was too high a possibility that someone might glance over, spot Kirra, and recognize her from the billboard. When he came up on a side road, he turned onto it. “Cancel. I’ll find you a safe place to hole up until the rebels have been dealt with.”
“Forget it,” she snapped. “I’m not backing out.”
“Kirra, be reasonable.”
“No. Absolutely not. The whole point of the concert is to prove to the rebels that the people of this region support peace. That they won’t be bullied or threatened by such violent attacks as the Hospital Massacre.” She jabbed her finger at him. “My parents died last year in the rebel attack against the peace summit in the Democratic Republic of the Ivory Coast.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry.” His heart sank. How was he going to convince her to go into hiding when she had such a personal reason to take a stand?
“My parents believed peace and reconciliation was worth the risk to their lives.” There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “If I let the threat from the rebels stop me from attending, then I’ll be undermining their work. I won’t do it.”
“Even if it puts your life and the life of everyone at the concert at risk?” The Range Rover hit a bump too fast and the impact jolted them out of their seats.
“Hey!”
“Sorry,” Seth muttered. He’d been so focused on his fear for Kirra that he hadn’t realized he’d pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, pushing their speed up beyond the point where the vehicle could comfortably handle bumps. He backed off.
“The event organizers already know that the concert will be a target for the rebels,” Kirra continued. “They’ve hired extra security, all ex-military. But I should let them know that I might specifically be targeted.” She picked up his phone. “I don’t have their number, but you at least have internet access on this, right?”
“No.”
She sighed in frustration and tossed the phone back onto the console. “We need to warn them.”
“Until we figure out what the rebels want and why they think you have it,” Seth said, “you’re not going to be safe no matter how much security the concert has in place. The rebels have sheer numbers in their favor.”
“And the concert has the weight of popular opinion behind it.” Kirra waved at the radio, which had switched to a highlife song.
Seth shut it off. The singer didn’t have nearly the voice that Kirra did.
“According to my research,” Kirra continued, “since the Hospital Massacre, people are less supportive of the rebels. They have to be careful not to conduct another mass killing or they’ll be hunted down and killed by angry mobs.”
“Yeah, nice pipe dream there. You’re forgetting that the rebels have already killed a number of innocent people in their search for this mysterious item. Their leader, Bureh, doesn’t care about public opinion. He wants to purge the region of anyone who opposes him. Wiping out the concert in full view of the media would be a coup for him.”
“The organizers have considered all possibilities,” Kirra insisted. “That’s why the extensive security presence.”
“All it takes is one man with a miniature bomb and the concert will turn into a repeat of the attack at the festival a few months ago.” He glanced at her. “You heard about that?”
“Yes. The rebels hid miniature explosives inside MP3 players, then passed the players out to children at a regional festival.”
“That’s right.” Guilt deepened his voice. “Rumor has it that some of the explosives haven’t been used yet.” Sani Natchaba had stolen the shipment of experimental explosives from his father, Jonathan Morenga. If the rumors were right, Morenga had stolen the remaining explosives back after his son’s death.
“Okay. I understand that there’s a real danger. But as I said, the concert organizers took this into account when they hired security. What I need to do now is get up there so I can warn them that there’s an additional risk.”
Seth shook his head and made a sound of disgust. “And you accused me of having a death wish.”
Kirra crossed her arms over her chest. “How is the danger from me showing up at the concert and potentially being attacked by the rebels any different from riding with you and hoping your assassin doesn’t kill me?”
Chapter Thirteen
“What do you mean, Kirra’s with Seth Jarrod?” Dev demanded. “I thought she was with some pilot named Michael Hughes.” He tightened his grip on his satellite phone as he walked through a neighborhood not far from one of the
underground network’s contact points. He’d once again missed his sister by hours.
“Aye,” Lachlan said. “Hughes is the alias Jarrod is using here in West Africa.”
Dev swore. “Isn’t Jarrod the guy Marcus calls his evil twin? You’re saying he’s the same guy who’s been flying for Morenga and the like? I thought Marcus respected Jarrod.”
“Correct. According to Wil, the lad has already saved your sister from one attempt by the rebels to grab her. He thinks Jarrod will keep her safe.”
“He’d damn well better,” Dev grumbled. “Because if he harms so much as one hair on her head, I’m going to tear him apart.”
“Have you any idea where she is?”
“No. Our contact from the underground saw a woman who sounds like Kirra duck between two buildings when the rebels turned onto the street. The rebels gave chase, but that hunting party is long gone and I have no clue where she went from here.” He scanned the street, careful to stay out of sight of the police who had cordoned off a driveway. Dev spotted the glitter of shattered glass. Since none of the garage’s windows appeared broken, Dev figured some vehicle had lost a window. But was it the rebels, or Kirra and this Jarrod guy? Skid marks at the end of the driveway and further down the street indicated at least two vehicles had taken off quickly.
“Knowing that she’s hooked up with Jarrod explains why she keeps eluding me.” His sister wouldn’t have been able to stay hidden without Jarrod’s help. She had the survival skills of a newborn. So there was no way she could have avoided being found by Dev, let alone the rebels, without help. Particularly since there were so few white women in the region these days.
“Aye, well, if you don’t find her, there’s always the concert,” Lachlan reminded him.
Dev groaned. “A concert which is already under the threat of annihilation from the rebels.”
“I know, mate. We’ve alerted the security forces that there’s a potential threat specifically to your sister and to notify our team if they hear from her. But Helen and the other organizers agree that they’re still going to hold the concert.” Lachlan did not sound happy about that.