Chapter 15
Masai Mara National Reserve, Kenya
“Time to return to camp.”
At the bark of the crown prince, Leighton angled in that direction, secretly grateful for the interruption that afforded her a chance to slip away from the ever-hovering Rayan, who had done everything in his power to keep her apart from Owen.
About to duck around to the other side of the vehicle, she spotted Maaz stalking toward them, trailed by Owen.
What was going on? Why did the crown prince look so angry?
“What? We have hours left,” complained Daria, turning to her brother. “We still haven’t even seen—”
“Do it,” Maaz hissed as he stalked back toward the Cruiser trailed by Owen. “Now!”
Leighton moved toward Owen, who said nothing. Face red from the heat and sweat pouring down his face and neck left his shirt drenched. “What—”
“Not now.”
Starting at his terse tone, she faltered.
“Sorry.” He slowed and touched her arm. “Let’s just get back.”
They sat in silence the entire forty minutes back to the base camp. When they climbed out, Maaz gathered them up. “Return to your tents. Food will be delivered there.”
“Why?” Daria complained again. “This is the last—”
“It seems,” Crown Prince Maaz said, “Mr. Apollo is not the only American to learn a hard lesson out here. A ranger has arrested several more on the reserve.”
“Poachers?” Aliyah asked.
Several? Several…Americans?
Standing rigidly, Apollo balled his fists.
Wait. Leighton’s heart tripped over the facts. Over Apollo’s reaction. Americans. Arrested. Omen… Oh sweet mercies of heaven… Had they tried to intercept her and gotten caught?
“So, Mugo must go into the city with his men to make a full report, and we will fly to Tanzania in the morning as planned.”
Daria gave a growl. “I cannot believe my adventure is ruined by American poachers!” She stomped off to her tent.
Hassan chased her up the path. “We will make it up to you, my princess.”
“C’mon,” Apollo rasped to Leighton and headed toward their tent.
Ready to find out what was going on, Leighton started after him. But she was inexplicably yanked backwards, a vise on her wrist.
“Stay,” Prince Rayan said. “I insist.”
“Too bad,” came Apollo’s acidic response as he appeared at her side. “She’s my charge, and I’m not leaving her alone.” When the prince’s jaw tightened visibly, Apollo indicated for her to proceed to their tent.
Leighton wasted no time separating herself from the royals.
Once inside their tent, Owen immediately went to work lowering flaps, even though it made it hotter.
“What on earth happened out there?” Leighton whispered, unable to take it any longer. “Was that about your—”
Apollo rushed her, planting a hand to her mouth as he gave a grave shake of his head.
Leighton widened her eyes, heart drumming at the raw intensity and what she saw in his eyes—fear. She’d never seen that in him before.
Apollo pressed his mouth to her ear. “They know,” he breathed against her. “Maaz found my lost comms piece.”
Panicked, she drew back, looking into his eyes. Searching them. Hoping this was just a really bad joke.
He guided her into the bathroom, shut the door, turned on the water in the sink, then the shower as well. He again huddled close to her. “I played dumb, but—”
“So it was Omen they arrested…”
Owen tightened his jaw and looked aside. “Maaz wants me to believe that.”
“But why would he want that unless he knows about them?”
“I don’t think he does—he’s assuming. It makes sense if he believes we were escaping in town—he would assume I had friends helping.” He touched his jaw and flinched.
Hope shoved its rebellious head past her doubts and terror.
Owen scowled as he thought, then shook his head. “Even if they caught one of the team, there’s no way they caught all of them. And he never mentioned how many.”
Nerves flailing, she studied him. Saw his own uncertainty. “How can you know?”
“Tactics. The MO for extraction,” he said. “Those guys are the best, much better than I am.”
She wanted to believe him, but that seemed like a lot of guessing. Even if educated ones, they were still guesses.
Owen nodded, as if convincing himself. “I call bull that one reserve ranger took down an elite unit like Omen.”
“I see your point, but…can you be sure?”
“The only thing I can be sure of is us.”
That pushed a smile into her face.
He smiled too, then looked aside, expression weighted. “Just wish I could figure out Maaz’s game.”
It was then she noticed the yellowish-green pus around his stitches. “It’s infected.”
Apollo exhaled heavily. “I know.”
She grabbed a washcloth and dipped it in the water, then raised it to his face.
“I’m good.”
“You’re not,” she countered, catching his stubbled jaw with a firm hand.
“Leigh—”
“Let me do this for you.” She tried to shoot daggers at him but she was pretty sure it came out wooden. “Keep still.”
Surprise widened his eyes a fraction, then a smirk slid into his expression.
“Don’t,” she warned, knowing him well enough to expect some smart-aleck comment. Gently, she dabbed along his jaw. When he twitched, her stomach squeezed, hating that she’d hurt him. “Sorry.”
But she was not going to lie—this was gross. “It’s a mess.” With as much care as she could manage, she wiped it with a little more pressure she knew it needed to cleanse it. “Have you been taking your antibiotic?”
He broke eye contact.
“Apollo…”
His hand found her waist, sending a swarm of jellies through her gut. “I said to call me Owen.”
She searched his face, moved by the request. Touched that he wanted that…intimacy. But she wasn’t born yesterday. At the moment, he was using this intimacy as a distraction, and she wasn’t falling for it, regardless of his blue eyes. “Nice try. This isn’t a kissing moment.”
“You sure?” He pushed upward, aiming straight for her mouth.
“No!” She planted her hands on his chest before she realized how much that would hurt.
Breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he dropped back, wincing. Palming his chest.
“Serves you right,” she chided, despite the twinge of pain she felt at hurting him. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he grunted around a ragged breath. “Deserved that.”
“Where are your antibiotics?” she repeated, tossing the washcloth on the edge of the sink. “I’ll get them.” She reached for the doorknob.
“Gone.”
Leighton stopped. “Do what? You had a whole bottle.”
Owen shrugged. “Now, I don’t.”
“Did you take them all?”
He said nothing.
“What, did you lose those too?”
“Can we please let it go?”
“It’s not like I’m asking for life secrets here. Why won’t you tell me what happened to the antibiotics? Are you embarrassed that you lost them?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then sliced his hand up. “I didn’t lose them.” He grabbed the knob and flung open the door. Stalked out.
“What? Then what is going on here?” she balked, bewildered. “Why are you being so obstinate about telling me the location of something you clearly need to keep your face from rotting off?”
He whirled on her. “I traded them, all right?”
“Traded?” She frowned, recoiling. “Traded with whom? For what?” Even as she asked it, she recalled him saying he’d had made a bargain with the vendor outside the clinic. The necklace… Her hand flew to the elephant charm.
He winced.
“Oh, Owen…”
“I’ve had stitches before,” he muttered. “Never got an infection. When I saw it on the table, I just really wanted you to have that. To remember…us.”
Moved beyond belief, she went to him. “You silly fool.” This time, before she followed through on the idea to hug him, she remembered the chest stitches.
“Trust me,” she said, touching the side of his uninjured cheek.
“I will never forget that night. Being saved by elephants…watching you nearly die…that kiss…”
A mischievous glint hit his blue eyes. “That memorable, huh?”
She was very much in danger of losing her heart to this man. “You’re adorable.” It was possibly the stupidest thing she could’ve said, and made her cringe.
He considered for a second, looking as if he might object, but then he shrugged. “I’ll take it.” And he also took a kiss, which she coiled into, albeit clumsily, afraid to again aggravate his stitches.
When had life been this good, this…full? Happy? It was as if one long, perpetual brooding storm had been her life…until Owen Metcalfe. And yet—was the storm not raging again? Threatening his plan to get her away?
Knocking came from the front porch of the tent.
Owen pivoted toward it, instinctively tucking her behind himself. “I’ll get it.” He tugged back the tent flap and found Rayan standing there.
The prince held up a tube of ointment. “His Highness said you needed this.”
Owen grunted. “Thanks.” He did not sound grateful as he took the ointment.
Rayan focused on Leighton. “The plane comes at first light for the airport.”
While Leighton did not want to be rude, she was also growing weary of his near-aggressive insistence on inserting himself into her awareness and movements. She eyed Owen, wondering if he’d noticed it too. “Yes—”
“We’re aware,” Owen bit out, then dropped the flap, which thumped softly against the wood. He sniffed and turned, a smile brightening his eyes.
“You look smug or satisfied with yourself.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “Smug works.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “All this time, they only wanted you to be humiliated, possibly punished—the whole one-bed thing is ripe.”
“Stoned,” she corrected with an arched brow. “At least, that’s what Sharia law would demand as punishment for being alone with a man.”
“But that didn’t happen. In fact, you’ve sort of had a biblical Esther moment here where you’re the sought-after one.”
“Esther had the king’s favor.”
Owen held her gaze. “I’m starting to think you do too. That maybe it’s his hand staying any retaliation by Maaz or the others.”
“But he doled it out to me.”
“Couldn’t look weak…” He waved noncommittally. “Anyway, my point is that their motivation was to see you condemned or punished. That hasn’t happened, and now Rayan wants you.”
“What?”