Promises in the Dark (22 page)

She wondered if, one day soon, all the alloted tears would be gone and she wouldn’t have to endure the gut-wrenching sobs or the smaller, uncontrolled trickle of tears down her cheeks anymore.

She’d known that sleep was a hot commodity and that had forced her to take advantage of any downtime they had. But it was more than that—the intimacy between the two of them had grown so much in the past hours, threatened to overflow the small space.

Threatened to completely overwhelm her.

Why she’d told him everything, why he treated her like none of it mattered, was something the logical part of her brain struggled with. She certainly wasn’t ashamed of her past—she was a survivor—but she’d never expected a man to be okay with all of it too.

And either Zane was putting on a damned good show, or he accepted it, all of it—and her.

He rubbed the side of his head absently while staring out into the darkness, waiting for her to get herself together.

“How’s your head?” she asked, moved to check his pupils using the penlight. Decidedly a concussion, but he presented fine.

“I’ll be okay—this has happened before,” he mumbled, but he was definitely hurt. “We’ve got to go. No one’s come through because the rain was steady, but we need to get to the road to catch our ride.”

He slid out of the tent first, grabbing both their bags as he went. He seemed to disappear into the darkness and she crawled out quickly. He immediately rested a hand on her shoulder and she took a breath, then held the penlight so Zane could disassemble the tent. And then he dragged both their bags to his shoulders and took the light from her. “Ready to go?”

“If I said no?”

He gave her a small smile. “I’d tell you, tough shit.”

She didn’t know him well enough to be able to say he was kidding or not, but she suspected he wasn’t.

Without another word, Zane turned off the light and guided her through the darkness. Her hand on his belt kept them close, and she walked through the heavy brush, refusing to think of anything else but one foot in front of the other.

An hour or so later, when she tripped, he shifted the bags to his sides and helped her climb onto his back and he carried her the rest of the way, stopping only when they got close to the meeting place.

He let her climb down and moved a few steps ahead to view the road. Then he motioned for her to follow and in less than a minute, they were there; an old Land Rover waited for them, lights and engine off.

Relief made her knees go weak. She couldn’t take another step, even though maybe twenty separated her from the car. Dawn was breaking—finally, she could actually see.

They’d made it here just in time.

She should be running to the car—and the man with the rifle standing beside it, since they represented her freedom to stay here, to not return home with Zane.

Instead, she turned to Zane, buried her face against his chest. The things he’d already done for her … because of her.

For love, you had to be willing to risk everything. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do that, but she’d already risked a great deal. As had Zane.

She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Your experiences haven’t changed you—they’ve just solidified who you are.”

If they could stay here, not face anything, they’d never have a shot. Could never give the fledgling relationship a chance to grow.

“There’s never really been anyone for me … not like you. There’s never been someone important. But now is not the right time.”

“I figured you’d know better than anyone that there’s no right time. If it works, it works.” He stared at her with a gaze so commanding she shivered and then he motioned for her to walk with him to the car.

No one had ever pushed her like this. Ever. It both thrilled and scared her and she had no choice but to follow his lead.

He wasn’t sure whether to curse or celebrate—but figured a little of both never hurt anyone.

He shook Tristan’s hand, only to be greeted with, “You both ride in the backseat.”

His car, his rules, even though it rankled Zane. He didn’t answer Tristan, just grunted as he slung the bags into the third seat, then ushered Liv into the middle one.

Then he turned back to Tristan. “What route are you taking?”

“The fastest,” Tristan told him. “I hope you got rid of whoever fucked you up.”

“I took care of it.”

“I’ll get you to Doc J’s safely. Just don’t backseat drive.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Zane told him.

Tristan grinned and Zane slid in next to Liv, who began to examine him like he was goddamned dying. She fussed over his damned head, which he had to admit, still throbbed like a mother.

But her hand was cool on his forehead and the air-conditioning in the truck actually worked, so all in all, not a bad experience.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you, okay?” she told him.

It was an offer he didn’t want to refuse, couldn’t afford to. And so he did, in spurts, the movement of the car keeping his guard up somewhat, Tristan’s music—hard rock—ringing in his ears. Liv’s hand on his thigh … his covering hers.

More than once, he noticed Tristan glancing at him in the rearview mirror, once mouthing, “whipped,” at him.

More than once, Zane gave him the finger, and Liv looked between the two of them as Tristan laughed at him from the front seat.

“Asshole,” he muttered, closed his eyes again and mentally thanked the asshole for knowing how not to hit every bump in the road.

He wasn’t used to any of this—traveling with a woman, having a woman taking care of him. He’d never made dating—or romance—a staple in his life. It was all sex and partying and bullshit and he’d never really expected more. Wasn’t sure he wanted it, although he certainly held up his parents as guides.

Both sets of his parents had worked together. Lived and died together. For someone like him who’d spent so much time alone, the thought of being with someone for the rest of his life fascinated him.

The picture of Liv burned a hole in his pocket. During the time after she was first taken by DMH, he hadn’t been around to help Dylan look for her. He’d had to focus on his missions, but he could feel her, never lost faith that she was alive.

Liv’s parents hadn’t thought it strange that he was looking for her so intently, that he’d sat with them, at their dinner table, listening to stories about Liv and looked at her picture and realized with a peace he’d never experienced before that he was on the right path to where he needed to be.

It was odd. And romantic.

Fucking whipped
.

He grit his teeth and attempted to catch more shut-eye for the remainder of the trip, which didn’t take long. Doc J’s camp was maybe two hours from the ports at Freetown, yet it was worlds away. Quiet, almost peaceful, especially in the early morning hours.

It didn’t stop Zane from scanning the area to look for anything suspicious, the sudden burst of sun slashing through his head like a knife.

“That’s Doc J,” Tristan said to him and Liv when they pulled into camp, nodding his head in the direction of the man in cargo pants and a tan T-shirt, with a definite military bearing, headed their way. Tristan didn’t say anything else before ambling off in another direction.

“Zane?” The man asked before introducing himself to them. “I’m glad you made it safely. Looks like some trouble found you along the way. I’m guessing you won?”

Zane nodded. “Thanks for putting us up.”

“No problem. Army?” Doc J asked Zane, who pressed his lips together for a second before saying, “Navy.”

Doc J’s lips quirked. “We all make mistakes, son. I’ll still pray for you.”

He moved his gaze toward Olivia, as if attempting to judge just how much to tell her.

She broke the awkwardness by admitting, “I know how Ama died. And why.”

“Ama chose her path, knew the risks. She was a good woman.” He paused, and then, “She told me about you.”

“So my visit isn’t a surprise.”

He shrugged. “I can put you two up for as long as you need.”

“I might stay on … for a while,” she blurted out, and it was all Zane could do to bite back a snort.

“Like I said, it’s not a problem.” Doc J eyed her steadily and then shifted to look at Zane.

If Doc J noticed Zane’s anger, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked Liv, “After you put down your things, do you mind taking a look at some of my patients?”

“I can do that, sure,” she answered, and Doc J pointed them in the direction of a stand-alone tent.

“You guys can stay in there—sparse but clean.”

“Thanks. And I can look at some patients right now,” she offered, not looking in Zane’s direction.

Doc J said, “Why don’t you start in the main tent first?”

Olivia nodded and Zane watched her walk across the compound, the stubborn set of her shoulders making his teeth grind.

Whipped
.

“So, this camp,” Zane started without any pretense, because he didn’t have any time left for bullshit. “What’s the deal?”

“Missionary and light medical care. We help those who can’t help themselves.”

Doc J was damned good and if Zane wasn’t born and bred suspicious, he might’ve bought the company line. “You’re getting Olivia involved in something and I need to know exactly what that entails. And don’t think for a second I buy that
We all have our own path we need to follow
bullshit.”

“I happen to believe it,” Doc J said. “Look, I’m in the business of helping. It’s as simple as that.”

“You can’t help without funding.”

“True.” Doc J motioned for Zane to walk with him.

After they got out far enough to see the road, he said, “We’re muscle for hire, yes. But what you see here, this is real. I train the men and women who come to me—mainly former military—to take care of other missionary clinics throughout Africa. And then I send them with the weaponry to do so. The local government, if you want to call it that, doesn’t know what I do here, they’ve never suspected that we’re anything more than what I tell them we are. I even pay off the soldiers that come around a couple of times a year so they continue to think we’re scared of them, just like a lot of the local businesses do. If any get too pushy, I take care of them and make sure no one finds them here. It’s a win-win.”

“I asked who funded you. I don’t give a shit about the rest.” That wasn’t completely true, of course. Having trained men for hire in the vicinity possibly put them in more danger than they’d been in before, despite Doc J’s insistence that it was done in secret. Zane was certain the soldiers were sent to sniff around the Americans far more than he was comfortable with. The only plus was that there would be more guns to fight with.

“It’s a private company with no ties to terrorism at home or abroad,” Doc J said.

“How do you know that for sure?”

“It’s funded by some former Army buddies of mine.”

“Mercs.”

“They help me, I help them.” Doc J paused. “The doc’s not in good shape mentally.”

“She’s getting better. I’m trying to get her to go home ASAP.”

“And you’re hoping I can talk some sense into her?” Doc J raised a brow as he spoke and Zane nodded.

“I want you to tell her to get the hell out of here. She’s in danger. She’s putting your whole operation at risk.”

“It’s always at risk. I offer a haven to anyone who wants to stay. Ama was a good friend. You want Olivia out, it’s your job to convince her.”

“You don’t understand who’s after her.”

“I know who’s after her, trust me on that. Word travels fast. And, like I said, she’s not the only one bringing danger here.” Doc J nodded toward one of the back tents Zane assumed was used for supplies. “I’ve been hiding a family for the past five days.”

Zane’s gut tightened. “A family?”

“Mom, dad and two kids—a boy and girl, eight and ten,” Doc J confirmed. “Tristan’s going to get the kids to town. Would’ve already, but it’s been crazy around here.”

“Missionaries,” Zane said quietly, and Doc J just nodded. For a long while, Zane didn’t say anything. Couldn’t trust his voice—or his temper. Because there were kids … as young as he’d been.

“Mom’s dying and she knows it,” Doc J said, finally breaking the silence. “Randy—the father—does, but the kids don’t.”

“What about getting her better medical care?”

Doc J shook his head. “Won’t matter. She wouldn’t survive the trip. I’m assuming Olivia will confirm that.”

Doc J had been doing this long enough to know, Zane supposed, but still, he’d seen Liv work some magic.

“What about the father?” he asked finally, hands stuffed in his pockets, refusing to meet Doc J’s eyes again.

“He wants the kids to stay with Julia until the end. He thinks it’s too dangerous for them to travel now anyway—the soldiers have been threatening the parents with hurting the kids for months. They spoke out a little too much against the current government to a privately run newspaper, which was seen as incendiary, and now they’re all wanted for questioning, including the kids.”

Yeah, sounded about right. The soldiers didn’t like anyone teaching the people under their control that there was another way, that they might not have to live under oppression forever.

Zane scrubbed his face with his hands. “None of this can end well.”

“It ends how it’s ordained to. The best we can do is try to do what’s right.”

“I’ll get the kids to safety,” Zane said.

“I can’t ask that.”

“You didn’t,” Zane said sharply. “I can get them to the harbor—I’ve got people meeting me.”

Doc J looked at him. “Then what?”

“I’ll get them to Morocco, to the American embassy. From there, they can go home.” Zane paused. “I know they don’t want to, but it’s the best thing. Best if you tell Mom and Dad that too. Not that I give a shit what they think.”

“They’ve got a calling.”

“They shouldn’t drag children into it. That’s not fair.” Zane heard the fierce anger in his own voice.

Pull it back, man
. “Forget it. Look, I’ll take them to Morocco. Get the parents on board.” He turned to walk away, heard Doc J say behind him, “I’ll try, Zane. I’ll do my best.”

Zane nodded, stopped, but didn’t turn around. Trying their best was all anyone could damn do these days. Of course, doing his best wasn’t nearly enough to cover the debt of those kids who’d been left behind when he was rescued … but it was better than nothing.

“You have to let them know those kids could be in danger with us,” Zane told him.

“I’ll tell them.” Doc J paused. “I’ll also tell them you’re capable of combat, despite being Navy.”

As Zane finally walked away, he knew the only thing left to do was let his brother in on the plan.

Yeah, and let Liv know as well. Shit.

He had cell service here, since they were much closer to Freetown. Dylan answered on the second ring, sounding less than happy. To his credit, he managed a “How are you” before he lit into Zane about not calling sooner.

Zane let him run on for a few minutes, because there was no real way to stop him, and he wondered if both Dylan and Cael still saw him as that feral eleven-year-old who’d come to live with them.

“… not listening to me,” Dylan was saying when Zane refocused.

“I’ve got some extra cargo,” he said. “Two kids. Going to Morocco.”

“I’m not running a camp, Zane.”

“They’re kids of some missionaries who got in trouble.”

He heard Dylan blow out a sigh, and his brother’s voice was much less harsh when he said, “Fine. Just fucking get here. We can’t hang out at the docks forever.”

“I’ll be there tonight.”

More cursing. And then, “If I don’t see you by 0100, I’m coming in to look for you.”

Zane hung up without answering, wondered if he should just fucking stay here with Liv and see what played out. It would be easier than dealing with all the shit they both needed to face when they hit the real world again.

It was then he noticed Tristan was sitting behind him, not looking like he cared one way or the other about the conversation he’d just heard one side of.

Instead, he held up a bottle of beer in Zane’s direction, and Zane accepted it, saying, “It’s Happy Hour some where,” and sat down on the ground next to Tristan, put his back against the building.

Finally, Tristan said, “If she stays, we’ll take care of her.”

Zane was well aware of how hard his hand tightened around the bottle, kept his eyes straight ahead as he heard himself say through gritted teeth, “Olivia’s not military trained. And I don’t think she’s got a desire to become a mercenary, so what would she do if she stayed here, besides be in danger?”

“What are you planning on doing, dragging her out of here caveman-style?”