Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,15
turned dry and she began to shiver. Images slammed through her mind—men in balaclavas, shooting, screaming, the sound of breaking glass, cutlery.
Dalilah squeezed her eyes tight, but she couldn’t shut out the memory of the dead man under the table, blood welling from the small black hole in his neck. His blank, dead gaze. She opened her eyes and fingered the rifle trigger, drawing some resolve from the feel of the weapon in her hands. Then she heard a noise, somewhere above in the tree.
Her nerves twitched and she peered up into the darkness. Dalilah couldn’t see anything, but she could feel it—a presence, something close, watching. She flicked on the flashlight, panned the branches above. A pair of green eyes glowed back—the forward-facing eyes of a predator. Heart jackhammering, she panned the flashlight farther to the left.
Ice slid through her veins as she registered what was sharing her tree.
* * *
Brandt crouched in the shadows, assessing the camp, oblivious to rain washing over his face and soaking through his clothes. A covered game-viewing jeep had been backed in beside five Meru-style tents. That meant there were guests here, a fully equipped camp. And if there was one good thing about this weather it was keeping both guests and guides battened down inside those tents.
This deluge would also wash away most of the tracks he and Dalilah had made from the safari lodge. But if Amal did have a skilled combat tracker on his team, Brandt had no doubt that come daylight they’d still find enough trace to pursue them.
His gaze went to the food-storage shed—it was constructed of metal, a padlock on the door. The padlock hung open.
Brandt had already checked out the jeep. The keys were inside, and it was equipped with GPS, radio, four-wheel drive, first-aid kit, blankets for night game drives. There were emergency flares in the glove compartment, along with a lighter and waterproof matches and map. A jack and spare tire were secured in a compartment at the rear. There was also a spare can of diesel fuel and a large water container that had been freshly filled. Brandt ran in a low crouch toward the shed, ducking around the side wall. He waited, his hand hovering near the hilt of his panga.
No one stirred.
From this vantage point he could see a pair of hiking boots behind the mosquito netting in the enclosed entrance area of one tent. They looked as if they might fit Dalilah. Even if they were too big they were better than the getup she was in now.
Quickly he edged round the front of the shed, unhooked the padlock, pushed the door open. Metal creaked loudly. He stilled, muscles taut. But the rain drumming on the tin roof was loud, and branches creaked and moaned in the wind.
He moved fast, filling a plastic cooler with food—tinned goods, dried meat, stuff that would last. He found a box of ammunition, then he reached up, snagged a large bottle of whiskey off the top shelf, tossed it into the cooler. Might take some edge off this mission.
Brandt hefted the chest into the backseat of the jeep. The vehicle had three rows of pew-style seats, the last one slightly higher than the others. The roll bars were topped with canvas but the sides of the jeep were open. The vehicle was far bigger than they needed, and it was going to be a little cumbersome, but a godsend given the loss of his Cessna. He was still bitter about that.
He jogged quietly back and hunkered down next to the tent that contained the boots. He listened for sounds inside, heard someone snoring. Rain pattered loudly on canvas.
Slowly, he unzipped and opened the mosquito flap, reached in for the boots. That’s when he saw a backpack with a sleeping bag tied to the bottom leaning against the back of a camping chair.
Brandt snagged the pack, slowly edging it toward himself. He opened the flap and saw shirts, pants, socks, bush hat, bug repellent, headlamps. He almost smiled. Some poor bugger was all set for a safari hike tomorrow. Feeling in the side pocket, he pulled out a wallet. Inside was a German driver’s license and wad of greenbacks. The cash might come in handy.
Gathering up the gear, Brandt jogged back through the rain to the jeep. The vehicle had been parked facing a sloped dirt track that quickly turned into a steep decline.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, geared into neutral, released the brake,