Chapter 14 #3
This time, she gave a full-on belly laugh, then rested her head back on his arm that hooked around behind her, the brush of her hair taunting him.
“I’m so glad we’ve had time together, that we could relax.
That I could find out you’re so funny.” She reached up and tousled his hair, which he felt to his core. “Handsome, despite the bleached hair.”
Hold up. “You do know that was only done so you wouldn’t recognize me when I walked into the palace, right?” he said quietly, still attentive to the operational security thing.
“What idiot thought bleached hair would do that?”
Owen nearly busted a stitch or two laughing. He had to remember to tell Pike she’d called him an idiot. But…was that a curled lip? Disgust? “You don’t like the bleached hair?”
She wrinkled her nose.
The simple gesture seemed as if dark storm clouds had hidden the sun from him. “I’ll shave it at first chance.”
She gave a disbelieving laugh, then straightened to look him head-on. Considered him. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Anything that gets in the way of you looking at me how you were a minute ago has to go.”
Sentimentality coiled through her pretty features. She touched his face. Eyed the stitches on his jaw. “You nearly died today protecting me… I did nothing to protect you—”
“Not your job. Besides, remember the elephants—” Owen jerked straight. “Elephant!”
Leighton eyed him as he dug in his pocket. “What—”
“I got you something. Completely forgot about it.” He tugged it out and let a necklace of braided black cords with a charm that had an elephant inside a ring dangle before her.
Her eyes went all melty as she reached for it. “The circle of protection,” she murmured, her words thick with emotion. She slipped the necklace on and touched the charm at the hollow of her throat. “How does it look?”
“Perfect.”
“This is so sweet,” she said, fingering the elephant. “Thank you—but how? You didn’t have time or money.”
“That time I fell into that vendor? I spotted it. Made a bargain the seller couldn’t refuse.”
“You are…” Her lips and chin quavered as she fell silent and studied him. It was as if she wanted to memorize him, his face.
When he spotted her eyes going glossy with unshed tears, he tensed. “Hey, what—”
“My life was so dark before you,” she croaked. “I thought the rest of my existence would be spent in that palace, being whatever they wanted me to be.” She managed a wan smile. “You have infuriated me and angered me. But you’ve also made me laugh. Protected me.”
“You already said that.” Her smiles were getting weaker, and it stressed him. What was going on in that pretty head of hers?
“You protected me, even when it meant Maaz or Nasir might kill you for it,” she said, a particular emphasis that hauled more tears with it.
“Nobody has ever done that for me. All my life, I’ve had to live the lie.
Be the lie. To protect Ummi. Protect her secret.
Be strong when I didn’t have any strength.
Lie to friends, hide from friends, avoid having friends.
It was so…dark. But with you…” Tears fell silently, gently.
“I come with the elephant—a circle of protection.” As if to emphasize his words, he wrapped his arms around her. “Rest, Leighton. Let me be strong for you. Even if it’s just for now.” Smoothing a hand along her spine, he stayed there with her, their breaths and hearts mingling.
“I’m so glad you came, Owen.”
Food forgotten, they sat on the floor in each other’s arms. Resting. Relaxing, existing. Eventually, they settled in and picked at the food, staying close.
When they finally called it a night, Owen felt more awkward than ever climbing into bed next to her.
This woman he could see a future with. That thought startled him as he settled in.
Sleeping on his side—which ensured he kept to his half of the bed—wasn’t an option because of the stitches and still-angry flesh sewn together.
So he was forced to lie on his back. More than once in the night, Leighton woke him up, saying he was snoring.
He grumbled an apology and fell back asleep.
Woke with the sudden realization that Dante had said no change in plans.
By staying at base camp, they were breaking plan.
He wrestled out of bed, his chest burning and angry as he hurried to the door, only to discover the royals were gone.
“What’s wrong?” Leighton asked, coming upright in the bed.
“We…he said no change in plans.”
She seemed suddenly awake, wary.
“By staying…”
She groaned. “We changed plans.” She climbed out of bed. “Should we hurry—”
“It’s too late. They’re gone.” He scratched a hand over the back of his thick skull. “We should try to stay in the open, stay visible in case they come here.” By dawn, he was a wreck.
They remained at the base camp, wandered out to the mess tent for lunch, watched as the workers prepped for the bonfire.
The anticipation that Omen might come hung over them all day, over him.
He tried to keep watch. Scanned the terrain for any sign of Rawlins or the others.
But night came and the royals returned without incident.
They joined the others for the bonfire, not for the camaraderie, but for the visibility.
“Mr. Apollo,” Maaz called from the other side. “Will you join us tomorrow? Both of you?”
Was there an insistence to his words? Or was that Owen’s imagination? Either way, sitting here wouldn’t be good. “Yeah. I think so.”
One more day, then the Serengeti.
Which meant tomorrow had to be the day Omen would interdict.
The anticipation forbade him from sleeping that night.
Nerves buzzed through him the next morning as he checked the stitches for any sign of infection.
Cursed when he saw the angry welts around the ones on his jaw.
Sweating yesterday hadn’t helped. He’d take antibiotics.
If he had any. But he’d traded them for the necklace.
The one that had seemed to tip the tide between them. He didn’t want to lose that. Or her.
God, help me, but I think I’m falling in love with her.
There was this strange symmetry to life when she looked at him, like everything was aligning.
Hours in the heat and sun aggravated his injuries and mood.
Tension radiated through every limb because he expected both to get ambushed and for Omen to interdict.
Before he knew it, his jaw and neck were on fire.
Maybe from the heat and sweat slipping into the stitched flesh, but the very real possibility existed that it was from the tension of clenching his teeth as he searched for the team.
It’s your own stupid fault for losing the comms. For not telling Dante when he had a chance.
A herd of zebras came bolting around them, darting to a water source, he guessed. Or maybe away from a predator.
Huh. Had Mufasa come to finish the job?
Or… His gaze snapped in the direction of the zebras. Was Omen out there? He shifted forward in his seat, peering around the side of the doorless vehicle to get a better view. Squinted through the pluming dust blocking his view. Hand fisted, he clenched his jaw, frustrated.
Where were they? What was taking them so long?
A gentle hand on his drew his gaze. Leighton’s expression was thick with concern. Then with wariness, silently asking if he saw them. He gave a quick shake of his head.
Her brow furrowed. “Your jaw looks like it’s irritated.”
“Not the only part of me irritated right now.”
“You took the antibiotics?”
“It’s fine.”
Her gaze darted over his face, tightening, and her intelligence shone again as she tilted her head.
“I didn’t see the medicine bottle in our tent.
Where…?” Her brows lifted, then knotted again.
“Please tell me you didn’t leave the antibiotics at the clinic.
” Now she frowned. “No, you had them when we left. I saw them in your hand…”
Owen caught her hand. “Nouri,” he said, using her Arabic name to remind her there were a lot of ears listening. “I’m fine.” Besides, the team was out there. He’d get Dade to give him a shot of something once they were safely away. “It’ll be fine.”
Hours droned by, his muscles straining with each tick of the proverbial clock. He got out of the Cruiser every chance he had. They hiked for a while to a secluded location where giraffes glided and plucked vegetation from cliff walls.
This…surely this was it.
Surreptitiously, he paced the little inlet, a sanctuary from the rest of the preserve, searching high and low for any sign of the team.
Watching the grass for Rawlins. His heart climbed into his throat when he noticed a discoloration a dozen paces off.
He made his way over and toed the area. “Crow?” he rasped.
When no answer came, he tried again. “Crow!” His boot pushed to the ground, and he grunted. Where on earth were th—
“Your stitches do not look well.”
The voice of the crown prince whipped Owen around and jammed his heart in his throat. Had Maaz heard him calling for Crow? Belatedly, he recalled the prince’s words, which pushed his thoughts to the subtle throb of the stitches. “Yeah, sweat’s irritating them.”
The six-one crown prince considered him. “Did they not give you medicine?”
That look of concern was almost convincing. “The kidnappers interrupted check-out.” Though certain this location was the perfect spot for the extraction, the last thing Owen wanted was for the crown prince to discover the team. Or vice versa.
He tried to go around the prince, but the royal blocked his path with a slight shift to the side. That’s when he noticed Maaz’s inscrutable expression. “Something wrong?”
“My cousin wants Nouri.”
Holy fields of fire and nuclear bombs. “Rayan.” There was no way in this world Owen would let that happen. When Maaz nodded an affirmation of the name, Owen did not have a response save for clenched fists. “Why are you telling me? I’m just her bodyguard.”
“You are in the way.”
A sick sense of satisfaction coursed through Owen. Being in the way was not something he would alter. At least, not willingly. Thank goodness he had a trump card to overrule anything the princes put to him. “The king hired me to protect her. I’m not going anywhere without his command.”
“I know,” Maaz said quietly, and then…there was something in his dark eyes and the twitch of his black beard that gave pause as he edged closer.
Was he threatening him? Owen had pretty solid close-quarters skills, but it wasn’t just the crown prince he’d have to face—there would also be the other princes and whatever wildlife got lured in by the chaos.
“The driver,” the prince said, glancing to the side, as if making sure they were not being watched or overheard, “I believe he was paid to leave you.”
The driver who left them on the side of the road…
Was the crown prince confessing? “What makes you think that?”
Narrowing his eyes, Maaz stared at him with near-black irises that were a bottomless pit. “You already suspect that.”
“I said as much when we returned to camp, but you didn’t answer my question.” Owen had nothing to lose. Someone was already trying to kill him and Leighton.
The crown prince never broke eye contact in the seconds that took on the weight of minutes, if not hours, before he finally lifted his palm and showed him something.
Owen glanced down. Horror clawed up his spine at what he saw—the comms piece!
Unable to take a breath, to swallow, or even speak, Owen stared at it. Son of a freak-fried biscuit. Was this the prince’s way of calling him out? Trying to see how he’d react? Was this a trap laid for him to careen into?
There was something in the prince’s eyes—a knowing. No, not just a knowing, but a promise of violence. “I found this in camp.” Neutrality drenched deceptively calm words. “Do you recognize it?”
Ka-booom! That was the sound of Owen’s entire world imploding.