tear at his innards while he was still alive. He’d make him watch what he was going to do to the Al Arif woman.
“There’s a bridge,” the old tracker was saying quietly at his side.
Amal spun to glare at him. “How far?”
“North, maybe half a day or more in the jeeps. But sometimes the first flood of the wet season washes parts of the bridge out. And there’s border control there, on the Botswana side.”
Amal glowered at the old man. He hated Jacob’s eyes, the way they seemed to harbour a quiet, secret knowledge. Amal didn’t trust him, but he needed him. Once he sighted his quarry, he’d kill the old man and that dog in a flash.
“Screw border patrol,” he snapped. “It’ll be sundown soon. We drive through the night, fast.” He marched over to Mbogo.
“Mark that spot over the river on the GPS,” he said, pointing to the high bank on the Botswana side. “If we make good speed we can be there by dawn tomorrow. We’ll pick up their tracks there. They won’t get away.”
* * *
Halfway up, Dalilah looked down. Mistake. Far below, the plain stretched—brown and gold, grasses, acacia scrub, stunted Mopani. Dizziness swirled, heat and dehydration taking their toll. Her muscles began to shake and sweat dripped from under her hat.
She slipped, rope digging into her skin as she jerked out and crashed back into rock, breath slamming out of her chest. Above her, Brandt braced, taking the brunt of her drop with the rope. He held still for a moment as she hung there, small stones skittering out from under his boot heel as it began to slip. A shower of stones clattered down on top of her.
“Grab that branch near your face!” he yelled. “Dig your toes into that crevice above your knees—just feel your way. And don’t look down!”
She groped for a piece of twisted old root. Grasping it, she found purchase with her boots, dug her toes in, and took some of the weight off Brandt. He hauled her up as she helped by pulling on bits of bush and roots. Once over the ledge of the rock, Brandt grabbed her and held her body tightly against his. Dalilah’s heart jackhammered. She could feel his heart, too, pounding against his ribs. Their bodies were drenched with perspiration.
“I got you,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. “Take it easy, okay? Calm down. Just relax. If anything kills a person out here it’s panic, got that? You’re in control of your own mind.”
She nodded, mouth tight, trying to tamp down the wild fear rampaging through her, blinding her focus, narrowing her vision. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.
“Did I mention,” she whispered against his neck, “that I really do hate heights?”
“And did I mention,” he whispered in return, his breath feathering her cheek, “that you never cease to surprise me, Princess?”
“I hope you mean that in a good way.”
She felt him smile. It made her feel better. Calmer. As if she had a partner.
“We’re a team, remember? No man left behind.”
She nodded, and it felt good to know that this guy had her back—the kind of guy who could be hard on her when she needed to push herself, but tender when she needed a soft touch. A man who’d push her to follow her passion and be the best woman she could be.
And as Dalilah held on to this scarred lion of a man, she realized that’s what she wanted out of a marriage. And it sunk like a cold knife deep into her chest—she’d never get that with Haroun.
I’m not seeing a clear picture here...
Neither was she. Not anymore.
He held her steady until her heart rate lowered, until she could focus and think properly again. Then he cupped the side of her face and made her look up into his eyes.
“Remember,” he said firmly, “looking backward serves zero purpose, understand? Only think of the future.”
“Is that what you do, Brandt?” she whispered. “Never look back?”
Surprise flickered through his eyes. Then his lips twisted into a slow, wry smile. “Touché, Princess. But let’s keep this about the cliff, all right? We’ll save my past for later.”
She held his gaze, his lips so close, his arms so strong. A team suspended between sky and earth, and for an upside-down moment Dalilah was oddly grateful to be here right now, with him, to have been afforded this tiny window of reprieve, even under these circumstances. A