by Lucy Monroe
“I’ll find you there when I’m ready for the tour.”
And then he walked away, dismissing her pretty darn effectively.
CHAPTER TWO
“So, this soldier is related to you in some way?” Fleur asked as she walked back into the office they shared, twenty minutes after Tanya had returned to the despised paperwork.
“Technically he’s related by marriage to my brother.” She certainly never thought of Roman as family. When she thought of him at all (which was more often than she was comfortable with since the wedding), she thought of Roman as the sexy embodiment of feminine dreams she preferred to think she’d outgrown. Tall, dark and uber-gorgeous. Not to mention scary smart and mysterious in the way only a top military scientist could be.
She wasn’t sure what she thought of him now that she knew he wasn’t the man his family had told her he was. He was still plenty mysterious. This Roman Chernichenko was a true soldier and, in a totally unforeseen turn of events, that made him even more attractive to her.
Africa was rampant with the best and the worst that the military had to offer. She was far more likely to look at a soldier with wariness than desire. But she definitely wanted Roman and the man was every inch the warrior he’d been nicknamed for.
He had too much knowledge in his eyes to have spent the last few years in a lab. “I don’t know how I missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“The look in his eyes. His family told me he was an Army scientist and I took him at face value.”
“Why should you not, if his family said it?”
“Because one thing I’ve learned during my years in Africa is that people are not always what they seem, or what others say they are.”
“Is that not the truth?”
“Speaking of, did you feed our local government official tea?”
“Hospitality demanded I do so.”
“You kept it short.”
“I had to offer him refreshment.” Fleur’s lips twisted in distaste. “I did not have to offer him my afternoon.”
“I bet he was disappointed.”
“I fear Mr. Ibeamaka is destined always to be disappointed where I am concerned,” Fleur said dryly.
“I don’t understand why he’s fixated on you. He so obviously wants a traditional wife who will follow her husband’s lead in all things, which would make her the direct opposite of you.”
“He believes he can train me.” The disgust in Fleur’s voice when she said the word train left no doubt what she thought of that possibility. “You know I do not intend to marry.”
Tanya understood her friend’s decision, even if it saddened her to think of Fleur going through her life alone. Should she choose to marry, her husband would have the power to stop her from pursuing her work for Sympa-Med. He would control their finances and most Zimbabweans still saw no problem with that reality, or the country’s archaic land rights and inheritance laws.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons Fleur had taken in Johari when the young girl managed to survive the Congolese Wars, but her parents didn’t. Johari was Fleur’s chance at a family without the complication of a husband.
“So, has Ibeamaka left the compound?”
“Yes. I do not believe he likes the Americans. He thinks he has shown them some sort of petty slight by not offering to stay and take the evening meal with them.”
Tanya laughed. “I’m sure they’ll be horribly disappointed.”
“Without doubt.” Fleur’s voice dripped with a sarcasm that more than matched Tanya’s.
Both women smiled in understanding.
“Disappointed is not the word I would use,” a deep male voice said from the doorway.
Tanya jerked her head around to look. “I didn’t hear you come in.” The wood floor in the medical hut did not make for silent entry into the building.
“I walk quietly.”
“Don’t tell me, you’re not just a soldier, you’re some kind of dark-ops-trained assassin,” she joked.
For a fraction of a second, a strange expression showed on Roman’s face before his features slipped back into impassivity. “Soldiers are all trained for a certain level of stealth.”
Maybe he’d been offended by her little tease. His words were right, but she felt something was missing from his explanation. No surprise there, not with Mr. Congenial Communication.
“Even lab rats?”
“I think it’s obvious I don’t spend all my time in a lab.” He stepped back into the hall. “The tour?”
Arrogant, much?
“Sure.” She turned to Fleur. “I’ll finish this up later.”
“I will have our newest med-tech finish them for you, but you’ll have to check them over for accuracy.”
Sympa-Med sent them new interns every six months to be trained before being assigned elsewhere. Fleur wasn’t just the compound director and lead doctor, she also ran the training program for workers stationed all over Africa and the Middle East.
“No problem.”
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. We all know how much you hate paperwork. Maybe Mr. Taylor will turn out to enjoy the chore.”
The trainees never got on a first-name basis with Fleur. Tanya hadn’t either, until a good three months after she’d been assigned permanently to the Zimbabwe team.
“Sounds like a plan.” Six months with truncated amounts of paperwork sounded more like heaven than a plan, but Fleur would understand that without Tanya having to say it.
“Go on, show the soldier around.” Fleur waved her hand in dismissal.
Tanya smirked at Fleur’s less than awed description of Roman as she led him out of the medical hut. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out, but this is the main building in the compound. It houses our exam rooms, the clean room for procedures, the office Fleur and I share and inventory storage for medical supplies.”
“I did not notice a guard on the premises.”
“He must be on his meal break. We do keep a guard on the premises at all times, and Mabu sleeps in a room beside the storage area.”
“He does not have anyone cover the guard’s meal breaks?”
“No.”
“That is sloppy security.”
“We’re safer here than we are on most of our routes.”
“That isn’t saying much.”
She agreed, but you either learned to live with that condition, or you gave up and went home. She wasn’t leaving the people who needed her, so that left learning to live with the constant danger from thieves, human traffickers and the violence always on the verge of erupting in some of the places their traveling clinic took them.
“I find it hard to believe you spend any time at all in a lab.” It didn’t make sense for a scientist to be called in on a protection detail. Nor did his attitude about and knowledge of security protocols coincide with that of a man who worked as a scientist, even part-time.
Roman shrugged. “It pleases my family to believe that is where I spend my time.”
So, at least her new sister-in-law hadn’t lied to Tanya. Unfortunately, for their family anyway, Roman was clearly lying to the other Chernichenkos.
“Do any of your siblings know what you really do?”
“Myk.”
“He’s the only one?” she asked as they walked by the hut that housed the rest of Mabu’s staff and his office.
“Yes, and I would prefer it stay that way.”
She pointed out the security hut before asking, “Is that why you didn’t tell Elle you were going to be seeing me?”
“What is that building?” he asked, pointing to one of the larger structures in the compound. Once again he was asking a question rather than answering hers.
That could get really annoying after a while. “Do you always ignore questions you don’t want to answer?”
“Yes.”
“That’s rude.”
“Yes.”
And clearly he didn’t care.
“All right then.
This building was the original clinic. We now use it as sort of a long-stay building for people who cannot make it to the hospital in Harare, but who absolutely require supervised care.”
“Is there anyone in there now?”
“The better question would be if it is ever empty. Most of the beds are full, which is pretty common despite Sympa-Med’s policy on the matter.” Which wasn’t all that tolerant of long-term treatment of the locals. “It’s less crowded than last week when we had a local village chieftain staying with his entourage.”
“He couldn’t go to Harare?”
“More like he refused.”
“What was wrong with him?”
“Migraines. He feared he had a brain tumor, but it turned out he was allergic to expensive French cologne a trader had given as a thank-you gift for being allowed to peddle his wares in the village.”
“I bet he doesn’t get that opportunity again.”
“If he shows up in the village again, he’ll be lucky to leave with his life.”
“Harsh justice.” Roman gave her a cynical smile. “The government doesn’t mention that in their tourism brochures.”
“They do their best to keep information about the rampant human trafficking going on in Zimbabwe out of the media as well, but it’s a big and growing problem in this part of Africa despite what P.R. people for tourism want you to believe.”
“I’m surprised you’d be willing to work in such a risky location.”
Sympa-Med took measures to protect their employees, but it wasn’t something she was supposed to talk about. “Medical workers aren’t as at risk as the tens of thousands of displaced and poverty-stricken Zimbabweans.”
“Being less at risk is not the same as not being at risk at all.”
“Some things are worth it.”
“Things like?”
“Helping people who need it.”
“There are plenty of people who need help in the U.S.”
“Yes, there are, but there are also a lot more people trained to do the helping back home.”
“So, you’re here because you think the Zimbabweans need you more than anyone back in the States?”
“There’s that, and then there’s having half a world between me and my parents.”
“Ouch.”
It was her turn to shrug. “They’re not bad people. They just define success and happiness really differently than either Beau or I do.”
“I bet they just love your current occupation.”
“Is that sarcasm, Roman?”
“Could be. Is that the mess hall?”
“Yes. Meals are served twice a day, but there is always something in the pot for people who can’t make it to official mealtimes and who get hungry in between them.” Positions within the compound were highly coveted because living conditions were so much better than outside. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the cook and her helper.”
They spent a short time in the dining hall introducing Roman to the kitchen staff, who did most of their cooking in an open-air lean-to situated behind the one-room hut where everyone in the compound took their meals. The rest of the cooking happened in and on fire pits situated far enough from the buildings to minimize the risk of an errant spark sending the compound up in flames.
“The fence does not look too hard to breach,” Roman said as they walked past the staff living quarters, where Tanya made no effort to point out where she slept.
No matter how she was tempted by the thought of his joining her there.
“It’s meant to discourage small animals and petty thieves. Serious threats wouldn’t be deterred by anything less than an electric fence with barbed wire. We can’t afford the power to run one, much less get Sympa-Med to fund the cost.”
“Where do you and Dr. Andikan sleep?”
“We share that hut with her daughter, Johari.”
“She has a daughter?” he asked, sounding both annoyed and suprised.
“Yes.”
“There is no record of that.”
“You read our personnel records?” Tanya asked, taking her own turn to be shocked.
“Bennet Vincent’s safety is in our hands. His job is not popular with the Zimbabwean government, no matter how much they pretend to be glad he is here. Assessing any potential threats in his domicile is standard procedure.”
“Oh. Well, Johari isn’t Fleur’s natural child. She adopted the girl when she was orphaned in the Congolese Wars.”
“That is commendable.”
“Yes, it is. And Johari is a wonderful child.”
“You sound wistful.”
“Part of me longs to do the same thing.”
“But you haven’t.”
“I’m on the road a lot more than Fleur. Since my arrival, she’s pretty much limited herself to running the stationary clinic.”
“I imagine it’s a big enough job.”
“Yes, and I don’t mind taking team lead with the traveling clinic, but being gone for weeks at a time doesn’t lend itself to good parenting.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She stopped outside the medical hut as they finished their tour. “You sound like it’s something you’ve thought about too.”
“Not being a parent, but relationships require time that constant and prolonged travel does not allow.”
“Is that why you’re single? You travel too much for your job, the one that isn’t in a lab?” As the words left her mouth, she felt heat climb her skin, unable to believe she’d asked something so personal of the standoffish man.
“Yes.”
“Wow, you actually answered.”
He gave her a look that probably should have chastised her, but instead just made her toes curl.
“You’re certainly not single because you’re ugly.”
“You sound like Myk’s new wife.”
“She thinks you’re hot too?” She couldn’t see that going over well with a Chernichenko male.
“No. She doesn’t have any filters between her brain and her mouth either.”
“Oh, I have filters. I just don’t choose to exercise them all the time. I don’t see a reason to pretend an indifference I’ll never be able to sustain for the length of your stay.”
“We’re only supposed to be here a couple of weeks.”
“Exactly.”
“I was wrong. You’re not like Lana, you’re a lot like your brother, Beau. Very forthright.”
“Yep.” She blew out a noisy breath. “Most of the time, I don’t see a reason for being any other way.”
“But you do make exceptions.”
“Of course. I’m not about to tell Mr. Ibeamaka I think he’s a slimy toad and that he has more chance with Paris Hilton than he does with Fleur.”
“He did seem taken with her.”
“Much to her disgust.”
“What about you?”
“Me and Ibeamaka?”
“You and anyone.”
“There’s no one.” And hadn’t been since before she started working with Sympa-Med.
When Roman returned to his team’s quarters, he found Lieutenant Neil Kennedy, otherwise known as Spazz, installing technical security measures in the communal room. “Where is everyone?”
Neil finished securing a micro-cam in one corner. “Trigger is walking the perimeter.” The camera was so tiny that unless someone knew to look, it would be virtually undetectable.
“I didn’t see him.”
Neil squatted down and tucked unused equipment into the black duffel at his feet. “He’d be embarrassed if you had.”
True. Of all the members on their team, Kadin’s training and skillset most closely matched Roman’s. “The others?”
“One of the baby grunts is getting some shuteye before his patrol duty tonight. The other is with Vincent at the mess.”
“Good.” They’d brought two Marine privates to work the majority of the actual physical security detail with Vincent.
“Face is in our room getting
his beauty rest.”
Captain Drew Peterson came from Army Special Forces Psych Operations. His official title had been Social Engineer. Unofficially, he was the ultimate con man with government sanction. Despite being African–American, his teammates had dubbed him “Face,” from a character in an old eighties sitcom who had the reputation for being able to lie his way into or out of any situation.
Spazz was their computer and communications expert. He’d been turned down for the SEALs, but the Atrati didn’t limit themselves to super-soldiers. They simply looked for the best of the best. Neil was no wimp, but he wasn’t your typical Special Forces soldier either.
His IQ? Off the charts, but he wasn’t the type of guy to be happy in a lab any more than Roman was. And when it came to computers, Neil was the best of the best. He could hack into Microsoft, never mind the Pentagon, and if there was a communications product on the market, he knew specs, availability and limitations.
The sound of soft footfalls had Roman turning.
Trigger pulled the door shut behind him. “So, what did you think, chief?”
“Security isn’t anything to write home about. I’m surprised Sympa-Med doesn’t do more to protect their investment here. The medical supplies alone would bring in top dollar on the black market, not to mention the trained medical personnel.”
“I wasn’t talking about the compound,” Kadin said with a verbal eye roll. “I meant the target. She seem like a spy to you?”
Roman looked toward the bedroom that housed the sleeping Marine, but the door was closed. He flicked a glance out the screen-covered window for signs of anyone near enough to overhear them, but all was clear. Not that he would expect anything else. His men knew better than to compromise their assignment with loose lips.
Roman hadn’t survived this long being sloppy, though. “She’s a hell of an actress.”
“Or she’s not guilty. The Army brass want to cover their asses a little too much on this one,” Kadin replied.
Roman leaned back against the wall with a peripheral view out the window. “You think they ordered the assassination of an innocent woman to cover their own mistakes?”
“Don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
