Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,14
principal.
His big mistake had been falling for Carla all those years ago. And because he’d become vested, because he’d lost focus, she’d died the most horrible death one could imagine.
He took Dalilah’s good arm, helped her to her feet. They began to move down the rest of the rock slope, carefully this time, him holding her by the elbow and steadying her around the waist, rain drenching them.
“Do you think there’ll be people at the camp?” she asked as they neared the prehistoric-looking trees with branches that resembled roots upturned to the sky.
“It’s a satellite bush camp. I know the outfit that runs it—I’ve flown for them before. They might have a party of guests there,” he said. “If not, there might be someone sleeping there to guard the place.”
“They could help us.”
“No, they can’t. We don’t know who’s heard of the bounty on your head and this is a hungry country—life is cheap. I’m not trusting anyone. We’ve got to look after ourselves.”
They reached the grove, the ancient trees dwarfing them, and Brandt was relieved to find they were in the lee of the cliff and protected from the real teeth of the wind.
“How much is this bounty on me, Brandt?”
“One million dollars. For your head. Five million if you’re brought to Amal alive.”
He felt the spark of shock run through her body.
“My head?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed, staring at him.
“How...can he promise so much?”
“Omair expects that Amal will try to extract a large ransom from your family, and he’s intending to use this to pay the bounty if need be.”
“They won’t do it—my brothers will not pay that bastard. They will not negotiate with the devil!” A sudden defiant anger crackled through her words and Brandt felt a spurt of relief. Anger was good. It would keep her sharp, ward off the real shock he figured was yet to fully hit her.
“I know your brother, Dalilah. Omair will do anything to save you.” He gave a dry laugh. “Including trust me.”
“You say that like it was a mistake.”
“His options were limited. Come, we need to get you up onto that fork between the trees, off the ground, out of the worst of the rain.”
Brandt lifted Dalilah up by the hips and set her into the crook where two baobabs joined. He chambered a round into the rifle and held the gun out to her. “You know how to use one of these?”
“Probably better than you do.”
“How so?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Brandt.”
He laughed, then quieted at the seriousness in her features, the air of mystery deepening around her, his prejudices tumbling one by one, hour by hour. “Any other surprises up your sleeve?”
She gave a weak smile, her almond eyes huge black pools. She looked frightened, vulnerable, brave and even more beautiful. It twisted some unused muscle in Brandt’s chest. He gave her his flashlight and spare rounds. “Use the torch only if necessary—we might need to conserve the battery.”
She nodded.
“Sit tight, okay? I won’t be long.” As he withdrew his hand, the backs of his fingers brushed against her ring. He glanced down at the rock.
“Engagement?” he said—couldn’t help himself.
Her mouth flattened, and she nodded. He caught something strange in her eyes as she met his gaze, and it made him hesitate. “You’ll be fine,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers. Then Brandt turned suddenly, and disappeared into the storm.
Dalilah watched the darkness swallow him, wondering if part of Brandt Stryker’s bluntness was his way of keeping focus, or if his jabs were actually designed to make her angry so she’d keep hers. Because it had worked.
Thunder exploded right above her head and she winced, crouching farther back into the crook of the trunks. Rain splattered into a sheet of water collecting on the packed earth below the trees. It began to run like a river.
After what seemed like an hour, she grew stiff, and fear began to sink deep and cold into her chest. The night seemed to grow even darker, the pain in her arm more intense. She thought of Amal wanting her head, and her pulse quickened.
What would she do if Brandt didn’t come back? Try to make it to that bush camp on her own? She had no idea where, or how, to find it. And he was right about the bounty—anyone in the country could turn on her, law enforcement and military included. It was a starving and denuded nation under a long, corrupt and brutal regime. Her mouth