Diamond Mine

by Felicia Rogers

  She shuddered and a blanket floated atop her. How did he always know what she needed before she did?

  Tears threatened to well and spill down her cheeks. She was tired of crying. Considering herself a strong, independent woman, she didn’t like this response.

  She didn’t need a real man. The only ones she needed were the heroes from her novels. But wouldn’t it be nice, if just once…

  “Hannah, are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  “You might stay warmer if we were closer together.”

  “Yes, I might.”

  “I have set up a shelter if you are interested.”

  Let me think. Am I interested in snuggling up to the only man I’ve ever loved? Maybe it’s a trick question. Perhaps my brain is playing a cruel joke.

  Even while Hannah thought these things, her body led her to Rory. She rose from the back seat and stretched her tense muscles. She walked toward the erected shelter and studied the area. He’d found a place buried underneath a tree with long, full limbs. The stars winked through the spread. Settled on a thick pallet of blankets, she didn’t flinch as his body made contact. He scooted in behind her and covered them.

  His lips rested like a whisper against her neck. “I remember a book I read where a dashing young Brit rescued an American girl, and to keep her from freezing, they cuddled together in a cave.”

  Shock coursed through her body. He’d read her books? But if he’d read her books, then he knew where she was. And if he’d known all along where she was, then why hadn’t he tried to contact her?

  She rose on one arm and distanced herself from Rory’s imposing form. “You mean to tell me you’ve read my novels? Which means you’ve known where I was this whole time, and you couldn’t take two seconds to pick up a phone and contact me and at least let me know you were alive?”

  A long whoosh of breath escaped his parted lips. “Hannah, I can explain.”

  “Okay, lover boy, go ahead.”

  “Well, hmm…”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You don’t have a reason. What was I, a one-summer fling? Did you just need a girl on your British arm, so when you were done, you could cast me away like old trash?”

  Rory reached out and she shied away. He sighed. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Sure, it wasn’t,” she muttered angrily. To get up from her position, her hand fell on his leg, and she pushed. It felt odd, hard, and cold. Before she thought, she said, “What in the world?”

  Nimble fingers reached for his pant leg and lifted. Her eyes widened in shock. No longer was there flesh and bone; instead, several inches below the knee was a false leg, a prosthetic. He opened his mouth to explain, but she didn’t give him a chance. Her mouth moved faster than her brain. She blurted, “What happened to your leg?”

  His mouth formed a grim line.

  Sitting down beside him, all her thoughts bubbled out. “I knew something happened to you! I called every hospital in the state. Perhaps I should have expanded my radius. I told my mom you wouldn’t just leave me. And now I get it. You were in the hospital, recovering from the accident that took your leg. You couldn’t call me. You were probably in a coma, right? Then, when you woke up, you had amnesia and you didn’t remember me. You have probably been recovering in the monastery this whole time, and when the little boy told you of a woman who matched my description, suddenly you remembered everything. That’s it, right?’

  He still didn’t answer. He pulled her to his side, covered both of them, and said gruffly, “Go to sleep.”

  Hannah felt much better now that she’d figured out why he’d gone missing. His lack of a leg from an accident meant nothing to her. He was still the same man inside, and that was all that mattered.

  Together they would rescue Melanie, and when it was all over, she would tell him how her feelings hadn’t changed. Then they could be a couple, just like in one of her novels. She would be the heroine in need of a rescue, and he would be her hero.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hannah settled and used his chest as a pillow. Rory stroked her long brown hair, and even in her sleep, she purred like a contented kitten.

  Laying on the hard South African soil, he stared at the starry sky. He was in trouble. Big trouble.

  Eight years ago he’d held deep feelings for Hannah, but time changes things. He’d changed.

  If it was possible, Hannah was more beautiful. The seventeen-year-old girl he had met that summer had morphed into a beautiful twenty-five-year-old goddess. Her body had continued to fill out in all the right places. And her legs! He couldn’t even begin to describe how slender, toned, and… he had to stop this!

  To get his mind off her looks, he reflected on some of the things she’d said. His sudden disappearance from her life must have affected her mental stability, because half the time when she spoke, she sounded like a raving lunatic. The poor thing had lived most of her life like it was a romance novel.

  Surely in the light of day, she would realize he hadn’t been in a coma in some hospital for eight years, just waiting for her name to be mentioned. The idea was preposterous.

  None of his musings meant anything. The fact was, he would have to tell her the truth, and sooner rather than later. When he did, the question would be could she ever forgive him?

  ****

  When he woke, his arms felt empty. Rolling onto his side, he looked at the jeep. It was still where he’d left it.

  He struggled to a standing position, stretched, and walked over to the rusting metal vehicle. The monastery really needed better transportation. Imagine this being one’s only mode of movement. When he returned, he would talk to them about updating their equipment. Perhaps he could give some funds to help with the purchase.

  A sigh parted his lips as he drew closer. He narrowed his gaze and focused on the open chest lid. Gingerly he walked forward; a curse left his lips.

  The box was empty. Hannah had taken all the supplies!

  His superiors would never have allowed him to live this down. Imagine allowing Hannah, a bare wisp of a thing, to slip out from under his nose and steal everything in sight. Rory smiled, impressed by her ability to outwit him.

  Moving rapidly, he pulled keys from his pocket and started the engine. Surely Hannah wouldn’t be silly enough to travel on the road? But for his sake, he hoped she was. If she’d decided to sneak around through the small sections of undergrowth, he might never find her.

  The jeep in gear, Rory backed out of the hiding spot and pulled onto the road. Looking toward the direction of Tapiwa’s camp, he saw very little. The sun shone upon the tree tops and reflected off the dirt floor. The area appeared deserted.

  He stood in the open jeep. In the opposite direction, he thought he spotted a lone figure. Turning the wheel, he headed that way.

  Rory kept his eyes glued to the moving form. What in the world was that person doing? They appeared to be sitting beside the road.

  His pulse quickened as he slowed. Hannah sat cross-legged with her face lifted to the sky. Her lips moved but no sound came out. She looked like a Middle Eastern guru in the middle of meditating.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked.

  The unexpected sound of her voice startled him. Able to answer, he said, “You.”

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she replied in a huffy manner.

  “Are you always this moody first thing in the morning?” he asked.

  Eyelids still closed, she arched a brow.

  “I mean, you are the most hot, cold, I’m angry, I’m not angry person I’ve ever met. I don’t remember you being like this before.”

  Through clinched teeth, she said, “Well, time and circumstances change things, don’t they?”

  He swallowed.

  She opened her eyes and glared. “Just look at you. Reader of romance novels, world traveler, living in a monastery, and buying humans.”

  His jaw tensed. If he bit down any harder, his teeth would snap.

 
Hannah dusted off her pants and walked to the jeep. She climbed in and adjusted herself. He gunned the engine and continued in the direction she’d been walking, which was away from the traffickers. Once he delivered her safely to the monastery, he would think of a way to rescue her friend.

  Half the night, he debated this dilemma. No way could he walk back into the camp and purchase Melanie and the children; it would be too suspicious. And suspicious people didn’t live long. Maybe he could get a team to—

  “Where are we going?” she questioned.

  Looking forward, he said, “The same direction you were headed.”

  Anger tinged her tone. “Then turn around.”

  “Why?”

  Her arms crossed over her chest. “Because this is the wrong way.”

  “Are you sure?” he questioned, fighting to control his mirth.

  “Rory, you know full well this is the wrong way. I have to rescue Melanie. So turn around!”

  He slammed on the brakes, and she lurched forward. Her knuckles whitened on the dashboard, and she sent him an angry glare.

  Placing his arm across the seat behind her, he looked into her eyes, imploring her to listen. “Hannah, you’re tired, cold, and hungry. You need a good night’s rest—”

  She interrupted. “What I need is to help…”

  He placed his finger over her lips. Doing so reminded him of the brief kiss from the day before. She’d been so passionate, so happy to see him. He’d wanted to shelter her in his arms forever, but he knew it couldn’t be. He didn’t deserve a second chance. He hadn’t earned it.

  Shrugging away the thoughts, Rory removed his finger and tried again. “I know you want to help your friend but rushing back into the compound without a plan could get you killed. You need to rest and think. I’m sure we can come up with something, if we work together.”

  Arms still crossed, she leaned back in the seat. He placed his hands on the steering wheel; a slight tingle remained in his finger where her lips had been. Sighing deeply, he put the jeep in gear, hoping everything he’d told her was true.

  Chapter Twenty

  The scenery flashed by, but Hannah refused to enjoy it. Instead she sat like a stubbed-up child: rigid spine, pouty lips, folded arms, the works. A breeze graced her face, and she relaxed her posture and attempted to enjoy the countryside.

  South Africa was a beautiful place. Right now at the end of January, her home in America was in the throes of winter. At times it wasn’t uncommon to see snow fall. But here, their autumn season was about to begin.

  That morning she’d awakened and gone through all the supplies in the jeep. Running across a pack filled with women’s clothing, she’d smiled. A water bottle in hand, she’d hidden behind a large bush and attempted to clean. Wearing a brown t-shirt and thin khaki pants, she struggled to get comfortable as the air warmed and the clothes stuck to her sweaty frame.

  Chance glances at Rory showed him biting the inside of his cheek as the vehicle moved along the dirt road toward their destination.

  She fisted her hands in her lap. Earlier Rory had been right about a few things. One — she was moody. How could she not be! She’d only been in this country for a few hours when she’d been taken hostage.

  Two — she hadn’t had a real bath in what felt like forever. She sorely needed a decent tub. At least if she had adequate soap and water, she might be able to wash off the smell of the trafficker’s camp, and then maybe she could think more clearly.

  Three — she hadn’t rested since arriving in the country. If she sat still for any length of time, she fought a battle with sleep. She really did need a comfortable bed and a safe place to lay her head, even if for just one night.

  Thoughts of Melanie and the children as captives ran through her mind. What were they doing to them? Would they sell them or dispose of them before she had time to mount a rescue? Would it be prudent to contact the U.S. Embassy?

  Since she was an American citizen, could she press charges for her kidnapping? These were all good questions with no ready answers.

  Rory narrowed his gaze, his knuckles white and his hands tense. She touched her lips. They tingled where his finger had rested.

  Even though he hadn’t contacted her in the last eight years, she was still glad to see him. She didn’t know how it had happened, how God had placed him here, but she was happy He had. Otherwise, she might not be alive.

  ****

  “So what do you think?” asked Hannah.

  “I think she’ll love them. And Hannah?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks. I could never have made them look this good without you,” said Rory, his mouth spread wide.

  “You’re welcome, but I don’t think I did that much. Look at you, covered in dirt and sweat. I’ve done nothing but command.”

  His deep-timbered laugh filled the yard. “And you’re very good at it! Perhaps you have a military career as a drill sergeant in your future.”

  Hannah slapped him playfully on the arm. “Oh, get out of town.”

  He cocked a brow, grabbed hold of her, and pulled her close. Looking into her eyes, he whispered, “Really? Do you want me to get out of town?”

  Taking a deep breath and focusing on a speck of dirt on his white shirt, all she could manage was the shake of her head.

  “Good,” he said, but he didn’t release her right away. His arms wrapped a little tighter around her. “So, what should we do now?”

  “Uh?” There was no way she could speak while he touched her.

  “Well, I mean, I’ve made this rosebush project span over two weeks, just so you’d have a reason to come and see me, and now it’s finished. I guess I need a new excuse.”

  “You did what?” asked Hannah.

  Rory grinned, picked up a piece of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “Surely love, you didn’t think it took me that long to dig a few holes.”

  “Well, I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

  “Hmm, what have you been thinking about, Sparkles?”

  “Well, I wasn’t thinking about digging holes for rosebushes.”

  He laughed under his breath, his blue eyes twinkled. “Would you have come over even without the rosebushes?”

  “Yes,” she answered shyly.

  “Why?” he said.

  Rory looked so vulnerable. Could he have no idea of his animal magnetism?

  She placed her hand on his cheek, and he turned his head and kissed her palm. Gulping, she said, “Because I like being around you.”

  His eyes widened and his mouth opened to say more but his mother opened the door. “Rory?” she yelled.

  His arms dropped to his sides and he backed up. “Coming,” he replied. He shifted his gaze back to her. “Hannah, would you like to go for a swim later?”

  “Yes,” escaped her breathless answer.

  “Good,” he smiled. “Meet me here in an hour and be ready.”

  Hannah left on cloud nine. She had no idea where he meant to go, and she didn’t care. She was falling head over heels in love with Rory Chance, and she’d follow him to the moon if he asked.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rory hit a hole in the road. Asleep sitting straight up, Hannah moaned in protest like it had disrupted a dream.

  Hannah’s visage had always been expressive. Right now her face was a myriad of emotions. Happiness dominated. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t realized until now how much he missed her smile. One day, that smile would be directed toward him.

  What was he thinking? He could never have love again. Who would want what he’d become?

  Rory’s wayward thoughts distracted him from the rut. He hit a deep one. Hannah lost her seat and slammed into the gearshift.

  “Hannah, hold on!” he shouted. The vehicle swerved.

  Hannah’s eyes flickered open. Disoriented, she lay back in the seat, bracing her hand against the dashboard. The gear stuck, and his prosthetic wedged against the clutch. Fear lodged in his throat as he worked to remove
the obstacle.

  Their current trajectory had them headed for a curve with no way to stop.

  ****

  They always talk about how a person’s life flashes before his eyes when death comes, but never once did they mention trees and bushes.

  Hannah lifted her hands to protect her face as Rory ran the jeep into a shallow ravine. The jeep sputtered to a stop. She jumped out of the shuddering vehicle and pushed at limbs and brush. Bugs and other creepy crawlers surrounded her ankles, and she squealed and slapped them away.

  All the emotions that she’d held back burst forth. “What a stupid, ignorant thing to do! Where you trying to kill us? You shouldn’t be driving if your bum foot doesn’t allow you to brake.”

  Her chest heaved up and down. An anguished expression crossed Rory’s face, and guilt assailed her. Before she could apologize, she experienced a feeling of sudden weakness. She grabbed her head. Her vision blurred, and she placed her hand in front of her for balance. She looked at her fingers and gasped. They were covered in blood.

  Weakness assailed her and she collapsed. Before the darkness, the last thing she saw was Rory dislodging himself from the jeep and hobbling toward her.

  ****

  “No!”

  Why did he have to be a cripple? It was taking too long to reach her.

  Rory dropped to the ground and checked her wound. The gash on her forehead didn’t appear too deep.

  He struggled to a standing position and returned to the jeep to retrieve the first aid kit. Next to Hannah, he placed her head on his lap and tenderly cleaned the wound. The cold antiseptic hit her forehead and her lids fluttered open.

  Done, Rory didn’t move. He picked up a stray hair and placed it behind her ear.

  In the stillness of their location, her words came back to him. “Stupid, ignorant bum foot.”

  She was right, of course. Why had he thought he could help anyone?