Close Quarters

by Lucy Monroe

  Roman didn’t want to know what favors his boss had had to call in to manage that one.

  The appointment went without incident, Mbari getting his photo identification and traveling papers at the end of about a hundred signatures. Roman didn’t like paperwork.

  Afterward, the young boy looked up at Roman with wide brown eyes. “I am you son now?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t correct Mbari’s speech. That would come soon enough. Roman would have baba work with his new son. She would be thrilled. If she could teach him Ukrainian, even the good words, she could teach proper English to the Bantu youth.

  Tears filled those still disbelieving eyes. “This is a sleeping picture.”

  Roman pulled the boy into a fierce hug. “No, it’s not a dream. We are a family now.”

  This assignment had changed his life in important and irrevocable ways. And the funny thing was, he didn’t mind. Roman had thought he would never have a family, but he’d been wrong. He’d believed he would never fall in love either, but Tanya had destroyed his illusions of solitude.

  It had taken him more time than it should have to figure that out, but last night when she’d told him she loved him from behind the gag, he’d realized how very much he wanted those to be the words she said and how much he needed her to mean them. The Atrati had been his life for so long, recognizing the change hadn’t come naturally to him.

  But he saw it now. Tanya was as unaware as he had been of his love for her, but he’d convince her they were meant to be together. Even if he had to buy her a whole herd of cattle.

  Ben watched with only slight surprise as the government official Fleur disliked so much met with the security guard. The small scanner, as well as some money, passed hands. Ben informed Drew of the handoff through the small communication ear-buds Neil had left behind.

  “We’ll watch him for further contact with the PA, but they spent over twenty-four hours together in Harare.”

  “I’ll arrange his pickup after he leaves the compound. He doesn’t strike me as a brave man. How about you?”

  “I would concur.”

  “I think we can get him to roll on his partners.”

  “Agreed. I’ll handle the interrogation.”

  “I bet you’re good at that.”

  Drew just laughed.

  Ben looked around the compound and realized his job here was done. He went back to Fleur’s hut and called the Old Man.

  “So, you think he’ll name the others involved?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your report on the mine was read with interest.”

  “Enough interest to take action?”

  “Diplomatic talks will start next week. What they will result in is anybody’s guess.”

  “Our government wants the minerals.”

  “But our President isn’t the type to close his eyes to human rights violations like some in the past have been.”

  “I hate politics,” Ben grumbled.

  “You ready for a new assignment?”

  “About that…”

  “Dr. Andikan is going to change your life, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, sir, I do think she is.”

  “You sound pretty happy about that.”

  “I am.”

  “I can minimize the travel for your assignments.”

  “I don’t want to have to leave the agency—that would be a good compromise.” He was sure Fleur would agree.

  Roman started his campaign with Tanya that evening in the shower. They made love and he tried to elicit the words she’d hidden behind the gag the night before, but she was stubbornly mute. Or if not silent, at least unwilling to vocalize the love he was pretty sure she returned.

  A woman like her would not have let him back into her body without powerful emotional motivation, but it might be time for the cows.

  When he told Mbari what he planned, the boy was ecstatic. He wanted Tanya in their family too.

  Tanya dressed for dinner in a new sari she had bought at the market the day before. Roman had invited her to share a special dinner with him and Mbari in the suite. She couldn’t believe they had less than a day left together. The night before had been filled with passion, every moment of which she’d recorded in her memory for later.

  They’d spent the day doing touristy things around the city with the others. Mbari had been incandescent with joy as he held his new father’s hand and pointed out the treasures of his former homeland’s capital.

  He and Roman were dressing in the suite’s other bedroom, though Tanya and Roman were sharing this one for their mini-vacation.

  Tanya brushed her hair until it settled silkily against her head. She rubbed lip-gloss on, but she hadn’t worn any other makeup since Beau’s wedding. Her sandals had a small wedge heel, making her calves look pretty good, even if it was her thinking so. The green blouse and complementary sari flattered her figure of modest curves and brought out the emerald flecks in her eyes.

  Well, she wasn’t going to get more ready than this.

  She went into the main room of the suite and stopped short at the sight that met her. There were pictures of cows covering all the flat surfaces. Some were pretty unique, done in purples, oranges and even teal.

  In the center of the room, a table set to the nines took pride of place with gleaming silver domes over the food. Standing behind it, Roman and Mbari faced her with matching Cheshire cat grins.

  “There are a lot of cows in here,” she observed.

  Mbari’s grin grew bigger, if that was possible. “I drew them all.”

  “Each one represents a cow purchased through World Vision for a different village in their network.”

  “You bought cows?” she asked faintly, her brain making an instant connection she just as quickly dismissed as impossible.

  “There are thirty of them,” Mbari said in awe. “That is bride price bigger than village chief pays.”

  “Bride price?” she asked in a weak voice.

  Roman came around the table and dropped to one knee in front of her. He took her hand and met her gaze, his a swirling molten silver. “I love you, Tanya. I believe you love me too. I fu—screwed up really badly by not admitting my feelings to myself or anyone else. I hurt you and made you think I was using you, when the truth was, I can’t resist you and I don’t want to. Not anymore. Will you be my wife and Mbari’s new mom? Help us make the kind of family every kid deserves.”

  Oh, he knew the buttons to push. Even if she didn’t love the man to distraction, she’d want to marry him after that speech. But she did love him. With everything in her heart, and she forgave him too.

  “Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I forgive you. Yes, I will marry you.”

  Mbari let out a whoop of delight and Roman surged to his feet, pulling her into his arms for a kiss that more than sealed the deal.

  They broke apart and he looked down at her. “You forgive me? You’re sure?”

  “Positive. We had a really untraditional courtship, but I think we weathered the storm pretty nicely. That gives me lots of hope and peace about our future.”

  “You’re right. You’re everything I could ever want in a woman. I can’t believe I didn’t see that right away.”

  “You weren’t looking for someone to share your life with.”

  “But I still found you. And Mbari.” He turned and opened one arm to the boy, who came and joined in their hug.

  Tanya smiled down at Mbari, holding him tightly to her side. “You are a matchmaker, you know that?”

  “Is this a good thing?”

  “It is. This time, anyway.”

  “Then I like to be this matchmaker.”

  “My mother is going to love you,” she said.

  Maybe even as much as Tanya did. She couldn’t believe how all the old dreams of her heart had come true, with the one man she’d thought she could never have. Africa was a land of miracles, but she looked forward to going home again and making a life of love and joy with the two males who held her in suc
h a loving, family embrace.

  EPILOGUE

  Tanya was right. Her parents both adored the Bantu youth, declaring Mbari a wonderful addition to their family. The Rustons were equally pleased that Tanya had decided to move back to the States with Roman.

  The director of the Atrati needed a new assignment assessor and coordinator. Wanting to spend more time with his family, especially his new son and soon-to-be wife, Roman took the position.

  Kadin was promoted to team lead; Neil and Drew took him out and got him drunk to celebrate.

  Ibeamaka did roll on his partners and the espionage ring was disbanded. The risk to the U.S. military technology wasn’t going to disappear though, not while it was still being used as a bartering chip for petroleum and access to raw minerals. France refused to extradite the board member and the personal assistant identified as part of the espionage ring, though they were both banned from any further connection to Sympa-Med, which also changed its supplier for GPS locator chips.

  Unfortunately, the former Sympa-Med board member died of a heart attack in his sleep two months later. The PA he’d had an affair with and who had facilitated the use of medical relief workers as unwitting information mules discovered it was impossible to get another job. Rumors swirled about her, though the source of the rumors could not be discovered.

  Ibeamaka traded detailed information on his partners for his freedom, but it did him little good. He was found floating in the river near his home. Local authorities speculated his clients suspected him of giving their secrets away as well.

  With help from fellow agent Alan Hyatt, Ben found Fleur’s brother living in America already. The reunion of brother and sister was both emotional and heartwarming. The young man was thrilled a member of his family still lived; he had believed Fleur dead for the past fifteen years. He was even happier to find out he would be an uncle in less than a year’s time.

  He accepted Johari with open arms, though treating her more like a treasured friend than a niece.

  Keep an eye out for THE BEAST WITHIN, with stories from Erin McCarthy, Bianca D’Arc, and Jennifer Lyon, in stores now. Turn the page for a preview of Erin’s story, “The Howling.”

  The first howl off in the distance barely registered to the bride, since she was so filled with joy and flushed anticipation as the sleigh sailed forth over the light dusting of snow.

  The second mournful cry was closer, causing a small pause in the laughter of the six people crammed in together among the furs and robes.

  The third voice, a response to the first two, was more feral than sorrowful, more aggressive than beautiful, and the bride reached for the arm of her new husband as the horses threw back their heads nervously and pranced, disrupting the sleigh’s rhythm.

  Uneasiness crept over the party as the driver whipped the horses, and the sleigh leapt forward, the crisp wind tossing the ribbons in the bride’s hair and sending an unpleasant shiver through her. The groom squeezed her hand in reassurance but the group had quieted as the sound reached all of their ears, the unmistakable bounding footsteps of the wolves falling into line behind them in pursuit.

  Her fingers dug into the lace of her wedding dress beneath the fur laid so tenderly across her lap by the groom, as the faces in front of her reflected unease, fear. They all knew how fierce the wolves were, they all knew the stories of those who traveled these woods and disappeared, their sleighs overturned, bodies mutilated beyond recognition. She pressed her eyes closed and swallowed hard, trying to gauge how far the pack was from them.

  Close. So close that she could hear the snarls and snaps of at least three wolves, maybe more, and she opened her eyes again in panic, head whirling around.

  She wished she hadn’t.

  And don’t miss THE DEADLIEST SIN

  by Caroline Richards, out now from Brava!

  The air was like a heavy linen sheet pressed against Julia’s face, yet a cold sweat plastered her chemise and dress to her body. It was peculiar, this ability to retreat into herself, away from the pain numbing her leg and away from the threat that lay outside this suffocating room.

  A few moments, an hour, or a day passed. She found herself sitting, her limbs trembling against the effort. Guilt choked her, a tide of nausea threatening to sweep away the tattered edges of her self-regard. Why had she ignored Meredith’s warnings and accepted Wadsworth’s invitation to photograph his country estate? Julia felt for the ground beneath her, flexing stiff fingers, a film of dust gathering under her nails. If she could push herself higher, lean against a wall, allow the blood to flow…

  The pain in her leg was a strange solace. As were thoughts of Montfort, her refuge, the splendid seclusion where her life with her sister and her aunt had begun. She could remember nothing else, her early childhood an empty canvas, bleached of memories. Lady Meredith Woolcott had offered a universe onto itself. Protected, guarded, secure—for a reason.

  Julia’s mouth was dry. She longed for water to wash away her remorse. New images crowded her thoughts, taking over the darkness in bright bursts of light. Meredith and Rowena waving to her from the green expanse of lawn at Montfort. The sun dancing on the tranquil pond in the east gardens. Meredith’s eyes, clouded with worry, that last afternoon in the library. Wise counsel from her aunt that Julia had chosen, in her defiance, to ignore, warnings that were meant to be heeded. Secrets that were meant to be kept.

  She ran a shaking hand through the shambles of her hair, her bonnet long discarded somewhere in the dark. She pieced together her shattered thoughts. When had she arrived? Last evening or days ago? A picture began to form. Her carriage had clattered up to a house, a daunting silhouette, all crenellations and peaks, chandeliers glittering coldly into the gathering dust. The entryway had been brightly lit, the air infused with the perfume of decadence, sultry and heavy. That much she could remember before her mind clamped shut.

  The world tilted and she ground her nails into the stone beneath her palms for balance. She should be sobbing by now but her eyes were sandpaper dry. Voices echoed in the dark, or were they footsteps, corporeal and real? Her ears strained and she craned her neck upwards peering into the thick darkness. There was a sense of vibration more than sounds themselves, hearing as the deaf hear. Footsteps, actual or imagined, would do her no good. She felt the floor around her, imagining a prison of rotted wood and broken stone, even though logic told her there had to be an entrance-way. Taking a deep breath, she twisted onto her left hip, arms flailing to find purchase, to heave herself into a standing position. Not for the first time in her life, she cursed the heavy skirts, entangled now in her legs, the painful fire burning higher.

  No wall. Nothing to lean upon. If she could at least stand—She pushed herself up on her right elbow, wrestling aside her skirts with an impatient hand. The fabric tore, the sound muffled in the darkness. The white-hot pain no longer mattered, nor did the bile flooding her throat. Pulling her legs beneath her, she dragged herself up, swaying like a mad marionette without the security of strings.

  The silence was complete because she’d stopped breathing. Arms outstretched, her hands clutched at air. Just one small step, one after the other, and she would encounter a wall, a door, something. She bit back a silent plea. Hadn’t Meredith taught them long ago about the uselessness of prayer?

  And then it happened. Her palms halted by the sensation of solid stone. Instinctively, she was still convinced that she was losing her mind. The sensation of breath, the barely perceptible rise and fall of a chest beneath her opened palms. Where there had been black there was now a shower of stars in front of her eyes, a humming in her head.

  And then she saw him, without the benefit of light or the quick trace of her fingers, but behind her unseeing eyes.

  She took a step back in the darkness, away from him. The man who wanted her dead.

  Everyone likes to be on THE NAUGHTY LIST now and again. Don’t miss this sexy anthology featuring Donna Kauffman, Cynthia Eden and Susan Fox, coming next month. Here’s a sneak peek of
Donna’s story, “Naughty but Nice.”

  Griff’s train of thought was abruptly broken by a loud yelp coming from somewhere in the rear of the small shop, followed by a ringing crash of what sounded like metal on metal.

  He gritted his teeth against the renewed ringing inside his own head, even as he called out in the ensuing silence. “Hullo? Are you in need of some assistance?”

  What followed was a stream of very…colorful language that surprised a quick smile from him. He’d found Americans, at least the ones of his immediate acquaintance, to be a bit obsessed with political correctness, always worrying what others might think. So it was somewhat refreshing, to hear such an…uncensored reaction. He assumed the string of epithets wasn’t a response to his query, but then he’d never met the proprietor.

  He debated heading around the counter to see if, in fact, she might need help, then checked the action. “No need to engage an angry female unless absolutely required,” he murmured, then tipped up onto his toes and looked behind the counter, on the off chance he might spy the pot of coffee. “Ah,” he said, upon seing a double burner positioned beside an empty, tiered glass case.

  He fished out his wallet and put a ten note on the counter, more than enough to cover the cost of a single cup, then ducked under the counter and scanned the surface for a stack of insulated cups. Oversized, sky blue mugs with the shop’s white and pink cupcake logo printed on one side and the name on the other, were lined up next to the machine. He didn’t think she’d take too kindly to him leaving with one of those.