by Vanessa Kier
Careful. Your relationship with Franz started with strong attraction. You thought you could trust him to keep you safe, and look what happened.
She knew that little voice was right. Yet a small, stubborn part of her refused to bury her attraction to Seth. If she didn’t explore this, she’d regret it.
You might regret it more if you pursue him.
Ignoring her inner voice, she ducked underneath a branch Seth held out of the way for her and threw him a smile. The contrast between his aura of imminent danger and the gentle consideration he’d shown her made him doubly attractive to her.
Plus, thanks to his words of praise, she felt lighter now. Retelling her story had drained her, but her nap and the kiss had helped restore her equilibrium. She hadn’t realized that holding back the truth from those she met had become such a burden. But Seth not only didn’t judge her for being a thief or for the attack, but he admired her for surviving. That meant more than she’d ever be able to explain.
The way he’d reacted convinced her that he understood her trauma on a deep level. She hoped that some day she’d earn his trust so that he’d explain everything that had happened to convince him he was a bad man.
She watched a butterfly flit by. Like the butterfly, she’d emerged from the cocoon of her coma a changed woman. A better woman.
What would it take to transform Seth’s opinion of himself?
She pushed a vine out of her way. Before that kiss, she’d been trying to think of ways to contact Dev to let him know she was safe. But now she was glad she couldn’t call him. While she regretted the worry she was causing her brother, she knew that as soon as she spoke with him he’d sweep in and take charge. Dev would separate her from Seth, when what she wanted was more time alone with him. She preferred to remain out of touch for just a bit longer, even though it would definitely result in a well-deserved lecture.
She didn’t care. She had to figure out a way to break through Seth’s resolve, and that would take time. Maybe they’d find a place to stay that had a nice bed that they could share.
Yes. Getting him to hold her while she slept would be a strong start toward showing him that he had every right to touch her.
Smiling in satisfaction, she hummed a few bars of one of her more romantic songs. Sensual heat flushed through her as she watched Seth navigate confidently around protruding roots that she stumbled over.
Maybe if you paid more attention to watching where you place your feet than ogling Seth’s butt, you wouldn’t trip so often.
She shook her head. Yeah, she was definitely distracted. She needed to pay more attention to their surroundings and stay alert for danger. She wouldn’t let Seth take the entire burden of keeping her safe.
But as the afternoon progressed, she didn’t hear or see anything threatening aside from the gathering storm clouds. The jungle was actually a beautiful place. The varied birdsongs made her want to sit down and take out her recorder so that she could use them as background in her own music. She hummed a few bars of the new song she’d started when she’d been alone that night in the rocks above the beach, occasionally changing it to match the rhythm of the jungle.
A fly buzzed toward her face and she swatted it away. The insects she could do without. Also, the ache in her feet and the pounding in her head. But overall, she was too thankful at being alive to complain. What was a little discomfort compared to the fact that mere hours ago an assassin had been shooting at them?
Ahead of her, Seth cursed, then stopped abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” Kirra walked up beside him. “Oh.”
The ground fell away into a gully so packed with bushes she couldn’t see the bottom. It continued to the left and right as far as her eyes could see. “Well.”
“Yeah. This wasn’t on the map.” Seth glanced in both directions, then pulled his LED torch from its holder on his backpack and shone the light into the gully.
“Too deep. We can’t cross it.”
“What now?” Kirra asked. She looked left, toward the road. “There has to be a bridge for the cars to cross.”
“We can’t take the chance of being spotted. We’ll go right.”
“Okay.” A rumble in the distance had her narrowing her eyes at the dark gray sky. “Uh-oh.” The jungle had that silent, anticipatory air that happened just before a storm.
“Perfect. Just what we need.” Seth shrugged out of his backpack. “Do you have rain gear in case we don’t find shelter before the storm hits?”
“Yes.” She lowered her backpack to the ground and retrieved her jacket. The storm that first night had been wild and loud. Impressive. She’d enjoyed it because she’d been under cover.
She didn’t relish walking through a similar storm.
Once they were kitted out in their protective gear, Seth led her along the gully. A few minutes later, large, widely spaced drops of rain began to fall. But that quickly gave way to a heavy rain.
“Here.” Seth motioned at a thick clump of bushes. “Help me cover these bushes with fallen branches to form a tighter roof.”
Kirra set her pack down, then they piled the leafy branches on top of the bushes. While they worked, the wind picked up. It tossed some of the lighter branches away from their pile and drove the rain in horizontal bursts.
Lightning flashed, followed by the crack of breaking wood.
Seth dove on top of Kirra and bore her to the ground. She landed on her back with Seth on top of her, protecting her with his body and hands.
Something hit them, driving Seth painfully hard against her chest.
He grunted, then went still.
“Seth?” Kirra squeaked. His weight pinned her to the jungle floor. A sharp tree branch gouged her cheek. “Seth! Are you okay?”
A burst of thunder was the only answer.
She tried to take a deep breath, but Seth’s weight pressed her too tightly.
Oh, God. I can’t breathe!
Panic flooded her.
Pinned down…unable to escape the kicks and blows and cuts…pain clawing deep inside her while Franz laughed…
No!
She was not going to let the panic win. Because that would result in her doing nothing. And doing nothing equalled death. I am safe. I am in control.
She would handle this. So what if she couldn’t take a deep breath? She’d just take several shallow ones.
She sipped at the air. Her chest hurt, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to draw in breath.
Lightning brightened the world. A moment later, the earth trembled under a roll of thunder. Repeating her mantra in her head, she opened her eyes to slits so the rain wouldn’t blind her and studied what little she could see of her surroundings. Seth had landed on top of her with his head turned to the side and resting on the ground. The back of his head pressed against her right ear. His arms were still bent protectively over her head.
A large tree branch had fallen across his upper back and shoulders. A smaller offshoot branch pinned Seth’s head in place.
“Seth? Are you awake?”
“Can’t…breathe…You…’kay?”
Relief flooded her. He didn’t think of himself as a white knight? Uh-huh, right. The idiot man had been hurt protecting her. That qualified as white knight in her book.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “Hold still while I get us free.”
He grunted. Whether in protest or agreement, she couldn’t tell.
She cautiously wiggled her fingers and toes, then moved her hands and feet. She tried to only move the body part she was testing, because she didn’t want the branch to settle harder on Seth, or the offshoot to dig any deeper into her cheek. Finally she determined that although her upper body was pinned, her arms below her elbows, and her right leg were free.
Okay.
Somehow, using just her hands and her right leg she had to free herself from under Seth and the branch, then find them both shelter for the night.
Tears of fear and inadequacy stung her eyes. She did
n’t want to be responsible for someone else’s well-being. She barely managed to handle her own life. What if she made the wrong move and the branch shifted, crushing Seth’s skull? One of its offshoots might even now be stabbing into a part of him she couldn’t see, while he bled to death.
“Stop it!” she muttered. “Think about this as a heist. What would you do if one of your partners had been injured? Stop. Assess. Plan. Execute.”
Okay, that helped. She took a breath and once more shoved her emotions to the side.
First things first. She felt upward until she found the trunk of the branch, then tried lifting it. It wasn’t a large branch, perhaps only as wide as Seth’s leg, but it was heavy, with lots of offshoots. Her lungs burned and her muscles protested.
Have to…do…this…
She shifted the branch far enough to let her wriggle sideways a bit. The offshoot scraped across her face before sliding free. Then dizziness and a cramp in her hand forced her to let the branch sink back onto Seth’s shoulders.
While she waited for the dizziness to pass, she planned her next assault. It took three more tries before she managed to reposition the branch such that she could get a firm grip and shove it fully away from them.
Seth groaned.
Kirra rolled and wriggled until she could scoot out from underneath him, careful to let him sink gently onto his stomach.
She’d done it! Flooded with relief, she lay on her back on the wet jungle floor and tried to catch her breath. Her chest ached when she breathed too deeply. She’d probably have a bruise from where Seth’s elbow had driven into her. Despite the soreness, she reveled in the ability to fill her lungs completely again.
Stop lazing about. Seth needs your help.
She sat up. “Seth, are you okay? Can you move?”
He gave a low, pained grunt that could have meant anything from “leave me alone, I’m dying” to “give me a moment and I’ll dance a jig.” She patted his leg. “Stay still while I figure out what happened.”
She studied their surroundings.
“Okay. Here’s what I see. A tree about twice my width crashed to the ground. A branch as wide as your thigh broke off and fell on you.” She swallowed heavily. They wouldn’t have survived if the trunk of the tree had hit them.
She fingered her guitar pick to center herself. Seth needed her to keep a clear head.
Edging around the branch, she retrieved Seth’s torch from where it had fallen to the jungle floor, still on. As she played the light over him he winced and shut his eyes.
“Sorry. I need to check you for serious wounds.”
He had a small lump on the back of his head where the branch’s offshoot had hit him. Scratches covered his face, neck, and hands. The rain had washed away most of the blood, except for a still-bleeding diagonal scratch along the back of his neck. Kirra’s stomach threatened to revolt. Uh-uh. Don’t you dare.
“Seth, can you feel it if I put my hand here?” She touched his ankle through the wet fabric of his pants.
He grunted and she blew out a breath in exasperation. “What does that mean? Yes or no?”
“Yeah.” The word was barely audible.
“Here?” She moved her hand to his other ankle.
“Uh-huh.”
She repeated her gentle testing until she’d confirmed that he had full awareness of all his limbs.
“Now I’m going to check for broken bones or deep cuts.” She ran her hands over his body. By concentrating on her breathing, and by explaining her movements to Seth, she completed her examination without throwing up or passing out. He twitched a few times when she touched a particularly sore spot, but he kept his eyes closed.
“Okay, I’m finished. You’re…fine…” Or maybe not. What if the impact had done internal damage? She had no way to check for that. What if he suddenly collapsed after a bit of walking and died? Then what would she do?
Stop worrying. Focus on the immediate situation.
All right. They needed a dry place to spend the night.
Her lips twisted. Given how hard the rain was falling, that seemed unlikely. So, she needed to find them a drier place. Preferably one with some sort of roof.
She took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to. For Seth.
Chapter Sixteen
Fucking rain.
The torrential rain had forced Dev to take shelter for the night when the roads turned into small rivers. Dev stared out the window of the guest room in the home of a local doctor who belonged to Rene’s network of informants. The rain had already turned the enclosed garden behind the bungalow into a swamp.
He hoped his sister and that pilot, Seth Jarrod, had holed up someplace safe and dry.
The question that Dev had been avoiding was whether Kirra and Jarrod were still alive. Witnesses had reported that a white man riding a motorcycle had shot at a black Land Cruiser with tinted windows. The assassin had made no attempt to hide his identity. Worse, he’d shot at the surrounding vehicles, killing several civilians.
It made no sense.
There had been too many people—inside vehicles, walking along the pavement, and seated in the park—to justify the assassin’s actions as an attempt to eliminate witnesses. The assassin hadn’t even been wearing a helmet. A few enterprising people had snapped photos and turned them over to the authorities. Since a white man was involved, the police had forwarded the photos to WAR and Lachlan had sent copies to Wil’s team.
Dev had visited the scene and had been allowed to talk to a couple of the witnesses. They confirmed that after firing twice at the Land Cruiser, the assassin had deliberately aimed at the nearby vehicles. Why? Disabling the vehicles had not blocked Jarrod in. The man had simply shifted into reverse, gunned it, and escaped.
Dev was glad that Jarrod hadn’t lost any of his combat reflexes. But he still didn’t want his sister with Jarrod any longer than necessary. He didn’t care that Kirra wouldn’t have survived this long against the rebels without Jarrod’s help. Jarrod had brought Kirra into the sights of the assassin, and that was unforgivable.
Unfortunately, the Land Cruiser’s trail went cold after it disappeared from the scene. This town didn’t have closed circuit cameras on its streets, and no one had reported spotting the vehicle.
With the rain, the poor state of the roads, and darkness falling, Dev wouldn’t have made it very far even if he had known which way Kirra and Jarrod went. But he hated waiting here, hoping for some miracle witness to report seeing the white woman and her companion.
During their investigation of the bus attack, the government had discovered Kirra’s name on the passenger list. At WAR’s urging, they’d agreed to keep Kirra’s disappearance a secret. No one wanted to give the rebels fodder by announcing that one of the headliners at the upcoming benefit concert was missing after a rebel attack. So there was no country-wide APB on Kirra. Only informal requests for contacts to be on the lookout for her.
Dev sighed. The lantern behind him turned the water streaming down the window into fiery flows of lava. He traced one with his finger.
If he’d been in their position, Dev would have found another vehicle to replace the shot-up Land Cruiser. Then he would have taken back roads to get out of town. Without conflicting information, Dev had to assume that Jarrod intended to drive Kirra up to the concert. But he didn’t like staking his sister’s life on an assumption.
Dammit, he couldn’t take any more of these life-and-death situations. It had been agonizing sitting by her hospital bed, waiting for her to emerge from her coma. Afraid that she’d die without hearing him tell her that he loved her. Once she’d recovered and made music her career, he’d breathed a sigh of relief.
Now here they were again. Him worrying because Kirra’s lack of responsibility had landed her in trouble. This time he had to convince her that she couldn’t just go off and do whatever she pleased. She had to learn to think through the consequences, then promise to put her safety first.
Because fuck, as if being targ
eted by the rebels wasn’t bad enough, she had Morenga’s guys and the damn assassin hunting for her. If she’d just kept her butt in South Africa, none of this would have happened.
Dev rubbed the back of his neck. It bugged him that he hadn’t seen any sign of Morenga’s men. He knew Morenga must have sent at least one guy after the diamonds. So why hadn’t Dev spotted him yet?
Because you’ve been too focused on Kirra.
Yeah. That.
His satellite phone rang, the sound barely audible over the rain pounding on the metal roof. He snatched it up. “Give me some good news.”
“Do you always answer your phone so rudely?” the soft-spoken voice of Obidawah Dapaah, his team’s sniper, chided.
“Um. Sorry. Thought it was Lachlan.”
“Even worse, as he is our leader and due the respect of his position.”
Right. Obi knew damn well Lachlan didn’t stand on formalities. His teammate was just ragging on Dev in his own subtle way. “All right, do you want to call back and I’ll answer with a respectful, ‘What do you need, sir?’”
Obi laughed. “No need.” He paused and Dev braced himself. “Do you want the bad news or the worst news first?” he asked.
“Shit. Bad then worse.”
“The bad news is that Wil gave us an ID on the assassin. His name is John Haig. He was part of an elite military assassination squad in Southeast Asia at the same time as Jarrod was there. Haig’s younger brother, Abe, was also part of the squad.”
Dev cursed.
“Yes. It gets worse. Abe went MIA shortly after the attack on the base. When John Haig’s tour was over, he became an independent operator.”
“Did Wil’s team discover who put him on Jarrod’s tail?”
“No. Wil says they’re working on tracking the man’s finances since he went private, but his tracks are well-hidden.”
“What’s the worse news?”
Obi cleared his throat. “As a sniper, I have my own concerns about the behavior you’ve reported.”
Dev’s stomach sank. “What?”
“According to the witnesses, Haig could have easily killed Jarrod and your sister. Instead, he aimed at civilians, thus stepping beyond the boundaries of his training. Our job is to eliminate our target. That is all. We do not switch, or add, targets unless there is a mission-critical reason to do so. We do not ask why a target needs to be eliminated. We do not have the right to question the morality of our shots. We must have ultimate trust in those giving the orders. Because if we do not believe that those giving the orders are doing so for the right reasons, then how can we look at ourselves in the mirror each day?”