WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (29 page)

“What?” Seth turned toward her with a puzzled look, then glanced at the burned walls of the bungalow. “Oh, no. Christ, Kirra, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trigger bad memories. This isn’t where we’re going to stay. There’s a footpath along the side here.”

She blew out a relieved breath, but it took a moment before her shaky legs regained the strength to follow him. The path wound through the tangle of vegetation, finally spilling them onto a patch of dirt at the back of a small, walled garden. The mud wall was only waist-high, giving Kirra a view of an undamaged bungalow.

Seth opened the gate and led her through the weed-infested garden. Then he stepped onto a concrete porch that spanned the entire back of the bungalow and opened the door.

Kirra followed him into a narrow hallway. “Okay, this is more like it.”

He turned on his torch as he showed her around. Even in the dim light, she noticed that dust covered everything. “What is this place?” she asked. The tiny bungalow had four rooms, all furnished, and a small bathing room. “Why is it unoccupied?”

In answer, Seth led her over to the front window. “See those low buildings?”

The window gave onto a large grassy square badly in need of a trim. Four long, single-story rectangular buildings were lined up on the left side.

“Those are classroom blocks,” Seth explained. “My guess is that this is a bungalow that belongs to one of the staff. Either the school empties out when it’s not in session, or they closed the school permanently. As far as I can tell, none of the other buildings are occupied.” He tapped the light switch. “The electricity is off. To conserve the battery in my flashlight, we should use the lanterns.” He nodded toward the wall of the combination kitchen and dining area where a lantern sat on a dining table.

“Okay.” She leaned against his shoulder a moment, then straightened. “Is there running water?”

“No. But there’s a well outside. It has water.” Seth lit the lantern, then shut off his torch.

“Good enough.” She carried her backpack into one of the bedrooms and dumped it on the floor. “I need to wash the silt and mud off.”

“All right. The well is this way.” They filled a couple of buckets with water, although Kirra was so tired that she needed Seth’s help carrying her bucket inside. She pulled what she needed from her pack, then Seth hung one of the lanterns on a hook on the bathing room wall and left her alone.

Once the door had shut behind him, she placed a headscarf on the low wooden stool, stripped off all of her clothes, and sat. She didn’t trust herself not to collapse if she remained standing another minute.

For a long while, she simply stared at the bucket of water and the cup next to it. She wanted to be clean so badly that tears stung her eyes, but her whole body was trembling with exhaustion and stress.

I don’t know if I can raise the cup over my head. I’m so…so…damn…tired…

“
Y
ou had
both Hughes and the woman under your control.” Rio’s frustration and anger over Sankoh’s failure deepened his voice. “Please explain why you let them attend the festival instead of questioning them about the diamonds.”

“I do not answer to Morenga,” Sankoh said with false politeness. “He needs to remember this. The happiness of the people in my town is critical to my continued prosperity. As long as I continue to provide them with benefits such as jobs, food, and entertainment, they are willing to overlook any glimpses they catch of the more unsavory side of my business.” He smiled at Rio.

“The pilot Michael Hughes proved resistant to our initial round of torture. Since Bureh made it clear that he needs the pilot healthy enough to fly, we could not press the matter further.” He made a wide-encompassing gesture with his hands.

“When the woman fell into my lap, so to speak, I saw an opportunity. Why should I not use a threat to the pilot’s life as an incentive for the woman to perform at the festival? She is important enough to be featured at the Shine a Light benefit concert. My townspeople will remember that I arranged for her to sing for them and be grateful. They will forget about the battered white man who my guards escorted to the festival.”

Sankoh shrugged. “It would have been against my better interests to act forcefully against the woman before she sang. I am the tribal chief. I must uphold certain standards of courtesy when it comes to guests.”

Rio leaned forward. “The woman carried a backpack, correct? Yet you failed to search it. Such a simple task could have resolved the matter. Now they have both escaped and we’re once again stuck chasing after the woman and the pilot.”

“Do not presume to tell me how to do my job,” Sankoh admonished him. “You understand nothing of our culture. I did what was appropriate. In any case, my men will soon have both Hughes and the woman back under our control.”

“Your definition of appropriate seems to vary depending on your mood,” Rio pointed out. “You didn’t extend any courtesy to the workers from your rival’s company when their car broke down in your territory four months ago. If I recall correctly, you had them shot on sight.”

Sankoh braced his hands on the top of his desk. “I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Perhaps you would prefer to explain yourself to my boss. Those are his diamonds you lost.” Rio rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Morenga is quite unhappy.”

Sankoh knocked Rio’s hand away. “Your boss forgets that he is not the only player in the region. Or even the most powerful. I have no fear of him.”

“Do you truly prefer Bureh? That psychopath? He would see your town destroyed. At least Morenga cares about the common people.”

Sankoh’s only reply was an enigmatic smile.

Since there were several truckloads of Bureh’s men combing the area, Rio figured Sankoh had been promised a substantial reward if he turned the diamonds over to Bureh.

Rio struggled to find something to say that would turn the situation around. Morenga couldn’t afford to lose such allies. More importantly, his boss couldn’t allow Sankoh’s defiance to go unpunished. Otherwise, Morenga’s enemies would swoop in and tear apart his alliances.

The phone on Sankoh’s desk rang.

“Ah. See? Did I not tell you that we would have the foreigners recaptured shortly?” He picked up the handset.

If Rio hadn’t been watching so closely, he would have missed the minute tightening of the man’s facial muscles. So he understood the news was bad before Sankoh spoke.

“Apparently I did not give Hughes enough credit. He—”

Rio’s satellite phone rang. Since it was his immediate boss, the head of Morenga’s security, he held up a hand and murmured, “Excuse me.”

The news he received made him wish he was alone so he could beat his head against the nearest wall. “Thank you. I’ll get right on it.”

Rio shut off the phone and took a moment to collect himself. Then, when he’d tamped down his anger, he said very calmly, “Please explain why, when you knew that Hughes is a pilot, you did not secure the routes to the airstrip?” He put his phone carefully back in his pocket, hoping to distract himself from the urge to wring Sankoh’s neck. “In addition,” he said, giving Sankoh his coldest look, “please explain why you did not alert our men at the airstrip that Hughes was on the loose and likely heading their way?”

Sankoh watched him. For the first time since Rio had entered the office, the other man regarded him with uncertainty.

Rio stood up. “We have four men dead, the facility has taken extensive damage, and our plane has been stolen.” God save him from short-sighted, arrogant criminals like Sankoh who blundered around and caused more trouble than they were worth.

At least he had the satisfaction of seeing wariness replace Sankoh’s confidence.

“You may rest assured that my boss will exact appropriate punishment for your failure.” Without waiting for an answer, Rio stalked from the room.

S
eth had noticed
Kirra weaving on her feet, so he set his lantern on the floor outside of the bathing room and took up guard position, even though it made him feel like a pervert. He’d already taken advantage of her exhaustion earlier when he’d deliberately knocked her hand away from the map so that it blew away over the river. Assuming they could find transportation, they would reach the east-west road and pass the turnoff to her concert tomorrow. As long as he kept Kirra away from the map feature on his satellite phone, she wouldn’t realize that they’d passed the road to the concert.

She’d eventually figure it out, but hopefully not until it was too late.

After several minutes passed without any sounds from inside the bathing room, he knocked on the door. “Kirra? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

No answer.

Seth knocked and called out again. When Kirra still didn’t answer, he said, “I’m coming in to check on you, all right?” He pushed the door open.

Kirra was slumped against the wall, sound asleep. “Ah, sweetheart.” The plastic cup, with a bit of water still inside, lay on its side next to the bucket. From the water trail down the right side of her naked body, she’d managed to dump part of the cup over her head before her body shut down.

He knelt in front of her and sucked in a shocked breath. This was the first time he’d seen the extent of her injuries. Even in the flickering lantern light he spotted the numerous cuts, scrapes, and bruises across her skin. A long, horizontal bruise across her stomach would have been caused by the window digging into her when the bus hit the pickup truck.

God. She was lucky to be alive. The bus could easily have crushed the truck, which from Kirra’s account had been small and rickety.

His hand formed a fist while he struggled against panic he had no right to feel.

Once he was calm again, he placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. Under other circumstances he would have picked her up and carried her to bed, but since she was already a bit wet, and since dirt and river sediment stuck to her skin, he thought she might be more comfortable if he cleaned her up first.

But he would not touch Kirra like that without her permission.

It took him a couple of tries to rouse her. When her lids finally lifted, she blinked sleepily at him. “Seth? What’s wrong?” she slurred.

“Shh. Nothing’s wrong. You fell asleep.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want me to finish washing you or put you to bed?”

“Wanna be clean,” she mumbled. Her eyes closed and she would have slipped off the stool if Seth hadn’t caught her and propped her against the wall again. The feel of her bare skin under his fingers sent a jolt of arousal through him.

Great. His body knew they’d survived a brush with death and was all about reaffirming life in the most primal manner.

But this was Kirra. She deserved so much more than just a quick fuck because they were both glad to be alive. She deserved clean, soft sheets. Romantic music.

And a man who wasn’t about to die.

Yet even that thought didn’t have the usual cooling effect on his body.

“Forget it,” he muttered. He was strong. He could wash Kirra in a totally impersonal manner. Besides, they were both too tired to do anything but sleep.

Right. He’d just keep telling that to himself until his frigging dick settled down.

“So make it fast.” There was no point washing her, then contaminating her with his own dirt, so he stood up and peeled off his filthy top. He unwrapped the scarf from his leg and shucked off his pants, but left on his boxer briefs. The wound on his thigh was ugly, but as he’d told Kirra, it wasn’t deep. Still, it had started to throb on the walk here and he would be glad once he could lie down and take his weight off of it.

Testing the water in the bucket for temperature, he scowled. The water was lukewarm. While the air temp was comfortable, Kirra deserved hot, relaxing water.

Another reason he needed to get her to safety.

“Here goes.” He scooped up a cup of water, tilted her face down, and poured the water over her head. She stirred.

“Shh. Keep your eyes and mouth closed so the water doesn’t get in.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

This would go so much easier if she just fell back asleep, but of course that didn’t happen. Instead, Kirra shifted on the stool as the water ran down her head to her body. She made low, sleepy sounds of approval deep in her throat that only ratcheted up his arousal.

In desperation, he poured a cup of water onto his wound. Hissing at the sting, he focused on the pain while he returned to his task.

Once Kirra’s hair was completely wet, he took the travel bottle of shampoo she’d set beside her and gently worked it into her hair.

“Mmm,” she murmured as his fingers massaged her scalp. “Feels good.”

Hell yeah, it did. He broke out in a sweat as he fought the temptation to move his hands down to her shoulders and then her breasts. Holding tightly to his precarious control, he massaged her scalp while she made more of those deliciously sexy sounds of approval.

He quickly rinsed her hair, then worked some conditioner into it.

Then, oh God, it was time to wash her body. Thankfully, Kirra had set out a clean bandanna along with the soap. He lathered up the bandanna, then slid the thin cloth over her face, careful of the cuts and bruises.

Kirra gasped at the sting of the soap against her wounds.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll be done soon.”

He finished with her face and moved on to her neck and shoulders. Then, coward that he was, he moved around to her back. He pushed her hair out of the way and quickly washed the long, sexy expanse of her back.

Her backpack straps had left grooves on her skin. He gently massaged the spots until the lines disappeared.

Once the dirt washed off, he noticed the network of scars on her back. Jesus Christ, he’d heard her talk about the attack and seen the scars on her arms, but seeing more proof of how badly she’d been hurt sent him to his feet and across the room in rage.

He slammed the side of his fist into the wall, then pressed his palms against the wall and bowed his head as he shook under an onslaught of murderous fury. Nothing short of death was good enough for the men who’d done this to Kirra.

“S-Seth?”

He turned his head and saw her body shaking with cold. “Damn. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” After taking several deep breaths, he returned and hurriedly rinsed the remaining soap off her back, then began washing her front. Spotting yet more scars, he clenched his hands on the cloth until his knuckles turned white.

Don’t let her see you this angry. You’ll scare her.

It took more self-control than he thought he had to shove his rage out of the way and focus on washing her breasts and belly. Slowly, the urge for vengeance was replaced with a need to bring her pleasure to replace her memories of pain.

Forget it. This isn’t the time or the place.

Right. Despite desperately wanting to lower his head and put his mouth on her most delicate flesh, he began washing her legs, instead.

In order to wash the back of her legs, he lifted her slightly off the stool. The feel of her head resting trustingly against his bare chest caused something to tighten in the vicinity of his heart. It was dangerous, but tonight he didn’t care. Tonight he was going to hold onto every precious minute with Kirra.

So he held her against him as he slicked the bandanna over her buttocks and down the backs of her thighs. Then he shifted her back onto the stool while he washed her lower legs and feet.

Damn. Even her slender, elegant toes were sexy. Yet the sight of the chipped, hot pink nail polish made his heart ache. As if the imperfection was his fault for not protecting her better.

After washing her feet and toes, he bent down and placed a kiss on each toe in testament to the fact that she appeared so soft and girly on the outside but had the endurance and soul of a survivor. Then he pulled her to a standing position so he could pour water over her hair. As he rinsed the conditioner away, the runoff water rinsed most of the soap off the rest of her body. He dumped more water over those places that still had soap.

Kirra had been silent for so long, he’d assumed that she’d fallen back asleep. But as he reached to put the cup down and grab the towel, her fingers closed over his wrist.

“Kirra? Don’t you want to dry off? You’ll be warmer.”

She blinked at him and shook her head. Her eyes slowly cleared. “Not yet. Let me wash you.”

Have Kirra’s hands all over his skin? Hell yeah. But if she touched him, there was no way this wasn’t going to turn sexual. And he didn’t want to spill into his damn boxers. The only place he wanted to come was balls-deep inside of her.

He kissed her forehead. “That’s a very generous offer, sweetheart, but you didn’t even have the energy to bathe yourself. I’ll wash up after I’ve carried you to bed.”

“N’uh-uh.” She dug her nails into his wrist. “Both of us clean. One bed. Hold me.” The hint of tears in her voice completely undid him. She’d held up so bravely over the past few days that he didn’t have the heart to deny her.

The cool bandanna slapped against his back. Shit. Kirra had picked it up while he’d been concentrating on talking his dick into submission. She rubbed the cloth in weak circles over his dry back.

“All right.” But he wasn’t going to let her expend any more energy on his behalf. “How about you sit on the stool and watch me bathe?” Having her eyes on him would only be marginally less arousing than her hands.

She glanced up and he saw a faint prick of heat in her eyes. “Like a strip show.”

“Uh…sure.”

She nodded and released his wrist. “Okay.”

He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her before she sat back down. Making sure that the stool was close enough that she could lean against the wall, he grabbed the second bucket of water. He’d bathed thousands of times out of buckets or even just using the water from his canteen, but having Kirra’s eyes on him changed the act from utilitarian to highly sexual. The cool slide of the water against his overheated skin was as sensual as if Kirra were running her mouth along the same path. An image helped by the fact that he was using her sweetly scented shampoo and body wash. The slight texture to the bandanna stood in for the roughness of her tongue as he ran it over his skin. His nipples tightened as he moved the cloth across his chest, and by the time he poured the last cup of water over his head, his cock was so hard it hurt.

He’d expected Kirra to fall asleep part way through, but instead she watched with rapt eyes. Color stained her cheeks and she took rapid, shallow breaths. He knew that if he took the towel away, he’d see that her nipples were even tighter than before. It would be so easy to—

He cleared his throat. No. He couldn’t make love to her and then go off to die. He couldn’t hurt her like that. So he’d just have to keep his damn thoughts in neutral territory.

“All done,” he said.

“Here.” Kirra stripped off the towel and held it toward him.

“Jesus, Kirra.” His gaze was stuck on those perfect breasts with their raspberry nipples just begging for his mouth.

Seemingly unaware of the effect her nakedness was having on him, she shook the towel at him.

“Fine.” He snatched the towel and ran it roughly over his hair and body, inhaling deeply the scent of aroused woman that Kirra had left on it. Then he thrust it back at her. “Go ahead. Cover back up. I don’t want you getting cold.”

Cold. Right. If she was feeling even a hundredth of the heat he was, she had to be burning up. But to his relief, she tucked the towel around her torso. Then her eyes went to his crotch. “No sleeping with wet underwear,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry, I’ll change before I get into bed.” He had a spare pair in his pack.

“Naked’s okay,” she said.

He choked. Sure it was.

Not.

Naked would have him inside her before morning. His control wasn’t that good.

“Let’s…ah…get you to bed, okay?” He glanced over at the pile of discarded clothing. Ideally, he’d wash their clothes now and hope that they dried by morning, but he didn’t think Kirra would stay awake that long. Plus, the idea of going outside to fill a couple more buckets of water seemed like too much effort.

Yeah, he’d do laundry later.

Kirra nodded, but when she tried to stand up, her legs wobbled.

He caught her up in his arms, acutely aware that she was naked underneath her towel. Calling himself all kinds of fool, he snagged the lantern, then carried her quickly to the bedroom where she’d set her backpack. The occupants must have expected to come back at some point, because Seth had found a bag with linens inside a battered wooden armoire. He’d already put sheets on the bed, so he simply set the lantern on the bedside table, then lowered Kirra down.

Only, Kirra didn’t let go of his hand. “Stay. Don’t want to sleep alone. Hold me.”

A fissure open inside his chest. He cleared his throat. “Kirra, I’ve got to change boxers.”

She pouted. “Not letting go. You’ll run off and leave me alone. Then the nightmares will come.”

His stomach turned at the thought of her waking from a nightmare alone, with no one to soothe her. “I promise I won’t leave you. I’ll talk to you the whole time.”

“Okay.” She let go of his hand with such reluctance that it broke his heart.

He hurried over to his pack, describing to her the layout of the bungalow so he wouldn’t break his promise to keep talking. It took him just a moment to change into dry boxers, but when he returned to the bed, Kirra had already fallen fast asleep.

His poor, tired angel. He brushed a lock of hair off her face. Then, taking advantage of her lack of awareness, he slipped out of the room and did a quick perimeter check. He didn’t see how anyone could have followed them here, but he couldn’t take anything for granted. He set up a few low-tech alarms using items he scrounged from a box of kitchen implements. Unfortunately, he didn’t find anything he could use to rig a temporary battery to charge his satellite phone. He’d have to wait until morning and hook up the solar charger.