Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,17

now—” he clicked his fingers under the old man’s nose “—she’s gone, like that! We’ve searched the lodge, the grounds, everywhere. How can a woman like her disappear, Jacob? Do you think she ran into the bush by herself, in those shoes? In that dress?”

Jacob said nothing.

“She had help, that’s what! My tracker found sign in the dry sand under the trees next to the lapa. A man was waiting there. A big man. Do you know who he was, Jacob?”

Sweat glistened down the old man’s face. “No.”

“Are you certain? Because you do know what happened to the lodge owners and the rest of the staff when they didn’t cooperate with us—they’re all dead.”

The old man swallowed. “I don’t know who this man is, sir.”

“But you’re the best tracker—you can help me find him.”

“Sir, I have a wife—”

Amal glanced at Mbogo. “We know.”

Sweat trickled down the old man’s brow and he began to shake.

“Now, listen to me carefully, Jacob,” Amal said, leaning forward. “You find this man and princess for us, and your wife will be safe. You’ll be my lead tracker. My own guy will work as your flanker. You’ll both go ahead of the horses and jeeps, understand?”

Thunder boomed overhead. The lights inside the thatched bungalow flickered and the masks on the wall seemed to come alive in the shadows. Outside, monkeys screamed.

But before the old tracker could answer, there was another sound right outside the door. A snarling and clacking of teeth—a human scream. Yelling. A thud. A whimper.

Jacob’s gaze shot to the door.

Through the door came one of Amal’s men, his arm dripping with blood. With him he dragged a reddish-brown dog by a rope tied tightly around its muzzle and neck. The dog frothed at the jowls and its tail was tucked in tight. Jacob went wire tense, his eyes narrowing.

“You know this dog, Jacob?”

“Jock. He’s the master’s dog. I’ve been using him to track game.”

A slow smile curved over Amal’s face.

“Kill it.”

“No!” barked Jacob.

All stilled. Pearls of sweat trickled down from Jacob’s sideburns, his face a sheen of perspiration.

“That...is a good dog. He can track. He’s fought a lion.”

“Are you lying to me, Jacob?”

“Jacob doesn’t lie, sir.”

“Give him the animal,” Amal said quietly to Mbogo while watching Jacob’s face. “You start now—use the dog.”

* * *

“Dalilah!” Brandt yelled as he ran through the rain. Lightning cracked overhead, sharply silhouetting baobab branches that clawed up to the sky. His mind twisted in on itself as he registered that she was sprawled over the leopard, not under it, her long wet hair trailing in the river of mud. Neither she nor the animal moved.

He dropped to his haunches at her side, fear choking him as he felt for a pulse. But as he touched her skin, she raised her head. Haunted eyes met his, mascara trailing a harlequin’s black tears down her cheeks.

“Brandt?”

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I killed her.” Her voice came out in a cracked whisper. “I shot her.”

He touched the animal. Its fur was warm.

“She was above me, in the branches, coming down, hissing...I shot her before she could kill me. I... There was a... I didn’t... I...” She began to shake, unable to form words.

“Hey,” he whispered, gathering Dalilah into his arms. “It’s okay.” She folded into him, resting her wet head against his chest. Brandt just held her for a moment as she sobbed with great big wrenching heaves. A reciprocal emotion swelled hot through his chest and he put his face up to the rain, the enormity of his responsibility suddenly overwhelming. He knew that failing this woman would be the end of him.

Inhaling deeply, he smoothed her wet hair back off her cheek. “Dalilah,” he whispered, looking deep into her eyes. “We can talk about it later, but now we need to move.”

He picked up the rifle lying in the mud and lifted her to her feet. Leading her to the jeep, he helped her into the passenger seat, the canopy protecting her from rain. Brandt quickly rustled through the pile of gear he’d loaded in the backseat, found a heavy gray blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her eyes caught his, held, then she looked away, drawing the blanket tighter around her shoulders, shivering, her face bloodless.

Brandt was fully aware that the physical and mental effects of shock were often underestimated. It was a medical condition that could become dangerous, and fast. He needed to watch her closely, make sure she stayed warm. But their immediate priority was crossing