Umoja. Unity. Hugh had chosen to give himself to the ranch rather than to his family. Was he one of the people Elliot described, who had learned the value of emotional ties too late?
Otieno would say so.
And what about himself? It was a strange, unstable feeling to turn the focus around to his own life, and Ross suddenly didn’t like what he saw. He had, like his father, built a life centered on his work. He was, as his father had been, alone. Did that mean that he, too, would realize one day that he had made terrible mistakes as he shaped his life?
He pushed back the chair and stood up, running his palms over the smooth wood of the desktop. He could see the glimmer of his reflection on the polished mahogany surface. The desk, once cluttered with the miscellany of his father’s life, was clean for the first time in years.
Ross felt the symbolism keenly. His own soul felt chaotic, crammed with fragments of memories and emotions. Somewhere in the clutter was the pale gleam of his own underlying self, and it felt imperative that he uncover it soon.
“Denise?”
“Mmm?”
Lilah pushed aside the canvas flap and peered into the dim interior of her friend’s tent. “How are you feeling?”
“Don’t ask.”
“I guess that means you don’t want any lunch?”
“Lunch?” Denise rolled over on her cot and groaned. “I remember lunch. We don’t get along well. The last time I ran into lunch it ran out of me.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah, no kidding. The bug has me bad.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Eventually. This is my punishment for being the only one in my Mexico tour group who didn’t get Montezuma’s revenge. I gloated, and now I’m paying for it. How’s it going down at the site?”
It was lunch break, and Lilah had come up to check on Denise, who had been sick since the night they all had gone to Nairobi.
“It’s going well,” she said. “You heard the results of the potassium-argon dating?”
“Lilah, that’s old news. I heard about it days ago.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Denise raised her head to peer at Lilah. “You know,” she said, “you seem really out of it lately. Am I just sick and crazy or is there something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
Denise was too sick to notice that Lilah’s wan voice belied her words. “Good. So, how’s Ross?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Lilah said. “I really should go. You need to sleep.”
“Sleep,” her friend grumbled. “That’s all I’ve been doing. I feel like hell. A few more days of this and I’ll have Frankenstein and Godzilla fighting over who gets to marry me.”
Lilah smiled. “I’d better get back to work—”
“Don’t,” Denise said suddenly. “Take the afternoon off.”
“Why?”
“So you can go see Ross. Work isn’t the only important thing in life. Carpe diem, Lilah, remember? Seize the day. Don’t get cold feet now, girl. We don’t have that much time left.”
Carpe diem, indeed. Denise’s inspirational mottoes only worked in the short term, Lilah had to admit. She had been sitting in the Land Rover for fifteen minutes, keys in the ignition, trying to find the courage to drive up to the ranch house.
Was it stupidity or masochism that made her ache to go find Ross? Her mind had been tormenting her with replays of their last encounter, his awful, telling silence in the wake of her confession of love. But the worst part, more agonizing even than those memories of pain and humiliation, was the simple fact that she missed him desperately. In spite of his not loving her, in spite of his rejection, having him suddenly vanish from her life was like losing a chunk of her soul.
Maybe she could just go up to say hello, to show him with a confident smile that she was doing fine, thank you. Let him think that she had already moved on; that her passionate declaration of love had been more a result of that night’s emotional overload than of any deep, lasting feelings. Maybe, if she could at least recover her pride, she could bury the heart-pain deep inside herself until it slowly healed over. It was the best thing to do.
But her resolve had deserted her again by the time she arrived at the ranch house. She knocked on the front door, her heart in her throat and her carefully confident smile cracking at the edges. Maybe Ross wouldn’t even be home, and she could turn around and pretend that she had never—
“Lilah?”
His voice came from behind her, and just the sound of it made her quiver. She turned slowly, stretching her tight smile.
He had come around the side of the house, car keys dangling from his hand. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it.
“Were you looking for me? I was out back.”
“Hi,” she said in a rush. “I brought your box. You know, the one with all the papers that I took down to camp? I thought you might want it back, so I just stopped by. It’s in the car. I’ll get it.”
“Wait.” Ross moved forward, blocking her path to the car, and Lilah gulped. Yes, this had been a bad idea. Seeing him made her want to scream, to cry, to throw herself at him and demand that he love her. Her own desperation frightened her.
“You came to bring me the box,” he said. “I see.”
She nodded. “And...and I wanted to say hello. See how you were. It’s been a little while, and I just wondered...”
“I’m fine,” he said quietly, looking at her with unreadable eyes. “How are you?”
He didn’t look fine, Lilah thought. He looked exhausted, as if only ragged willpower and momentum were keeping him on his feet.
His gaze burned hot on her face as he waited for an answer.
“Me?” she said. “Oh, great. Fine. We’ve been working hard down at the site. You...should come by sometime.”
“Yes, I’ve been hearing that I should,” he said, with a strange half smile.
She swallowed hard. “I...noticed that you’ve been staying away, and I hope it’s not...because of me.”
“It is,” he said. “I thought it would be better that way.”
Lilah stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean? I know I came on a little strong the other night, but you certainly don’t have to worry about it happening again.”
Ross frowned, and Lilah bit her lip. This wasn’t going well at all. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t come up here to pick a fight. Mostly I wanted to remind you that we have unfinished business together. Jake Wyatt is still waiting for those maps.”
He measured her with a look. “I didn’t forget. But I didn’t expect you to want to help me anymore, considering what happened between us.”
“Then you haven’t been listening to me. Ross, I tried to tell you that I don’t put conditions on friendship. Of course I still want to help you. I care about you. Whatever else happened is beside the point.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Lilah could feel frustration welling up in her. “I don’t think so. You have this don’t-touch-me detachment that won’t let you believe me. I get hung without a trial, because you won’t even give me a chance to prove that I won’t disappoint you or hurt you.”
Ross didn’t answer, so Lilah jammed her hands in her pockets and stared at the ground, misery sitting like a swollen lump in her chest.
Why had she come here? What had she expected anyway? The man didn’t love her, and here she was again, practically begging for something she couldn’t have.
“Let’s get that box,” she said, moving forward to step around him. But Ross moved, too, intercepting her, and she found herself chest-to-chest with him.
He stared down into her eyes as if trying to see into her soul, and Lilah met his gaze, her insides curling and dying with longing for him. She knew every inch of his face by now, and the familiarity of it tore her heart.
“Ross...” she whispered. “Why can’t you just let yourself trust me?”
Pain flashed rawly across his face
, and his hands rose haltingly, then dropped before he touched her. He closed his eyes, drawing an uneven breath.
“Why?” she demanded. “What more can I do?”
He opened his eyes, and she was shocked by how old they suddenly seemed, full of a loneliness that she wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“This is what I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “All along, I never promised you anything. I took everything you offered me, and gave you damn little in return. I hurt you. But here you are, telling me that you care about me, that you want to help me. I don’t deserve this. I didn’t ask for this. Lilah, what the hell are you doing here?”
It took her a minute to find her voice. “How can you even ask me that?” she said finally.
“After everything that’s happened, you came back to find me, instead of writing me off. Why haven’t you given up? Why do you still want to help me? Don’t you see that I’m offering you nothing?”
“Oh, I see that very clearly,” she said in a choked voice, and suddenly, the cotton-wool feeling in her throat gave way and tears flooded her eyes. She sobbed as she faced him, and felt something else break loose within her. It was too much to stand there, loving this man, wanting him, facing down his demons again and again.
Lilah launched herself at him, seized two fistfuls of his shirt, and shook him, feeling buttons and cloth give way under the force of her anger and frustration.
“Damn you, Ross Bradford!” she shouted into his stunned face. “You’re too much of a coward to see what’s right in front of you! What did you think I meant when I told you that I love you?”
Chapter 17
The Land Rover jolted over the rough road as Lilah hurtled back toward camp, cursing Ross, cursing herself, trying to replace anguish with rage.
How could she have been such a fool? Ross Bradford wasn’t capable of falling in love, and indulging stupid romantic fantasies about him was the worst thing she could do to herself. No more, she vowed. No more hoping, no more longing, no more thinking. There was only one way to get through this, one way to keep herself sane and functioning, and that was action.
After work tomorrow, she was going to take those maps to Jake Wyatt. That would give Ross something to mull over. He could spurn her love if he wanted to, but even in the face of rejection, Lilah Evans still kept her promises. So there, Ross, she thought fiercely. That should throw you and your stubborn, cynical world view into a tailspin. Maybe someday you’ll wake up and understand what it means to be in love, but by then I’ll be long gone and you’ll be alone, wondering what you missed.
Unfortunately, Jake wasn’t at home when Lilah arrived the next day. There was no answer when she knocked, and even from the porch, she could sense the stillness of an empty house.
She squinted into the distance, listening for the sound of an engine, but the silence of the savanna was broken only by the faint cries of birds. Heat waves rippled the air over the empty road, and not far away, Jake’s mysterious storage building shimmered like a mirage.
Storage building...
What a convenient accident of timing, Lilah thought with rising excitement. Here she was, all alone, with no one but the birds to notice if she just happened to take a peek in there to get a closer look at those crates of “building materials” Jake had had delivered. Ross might think that they weren’t worth investigating, but he hadn’t been the one to see the look on Jake’s face that day. There was something strange going on, Lilah was sure of it, and this was her chance to prove it.
On closer inspection, the storage building turned out to be an ugly, utilitarian structure of gray cinder block. Two padlocked garage doors were the only entrances, unless one counted the row of narrow ventilation windows just below the roof, twelve feet from the ground.
Lilah pulled the Land Rover around to the far side, and killed the engine. Scrambling quickly over the warm hood, she climbed onto the car’s roof and rose unsteadily to her feet, her fingers scraping against the rough concrete wall.
The windows were encrusted with dirt and cobwebs, and rusted into their metal frames. Lilah squinted through one, reaching up to try to rub away some of the grime, then gasped as the entire plate of glass pushed away from the crumbling metal to fall inside with a crash.
She froze, panicking, as if the sound of breaking glass would bring Jake running.
But aside from the steady, gentle hiss of the breeze, everything was quiet and still under the afternoon sun. Lilah took a deep breath, and poked her head through the open space where the window had been.
The building was dim and musty, and streaks of afternoon sunlight cut through the haze of dust in the air, illuminating the shapes of stored equipment piled along the concrete walls. Directly below her was a workbench, cluttered with tools and scraps of wood. Three rusty bicycles leaned up against the bench, and a wooden rocking chair with a shredded seat gathered cobwebs in the corner.
What she didn’t see was even one large wooden crate.
Frowning, Lilah leaned farther in, trying to see to the back of the long building. But everything there was shadowy and indistinct. She needed a closer look.
The window was tight, and she gripped the slight overhang of the roof as she eased herself through, grateful for her jeans as the rusty metal frame scraped against her legs. It wasn’t much of a drop to the workbench below, and suddenly she was inside, kicked-up dust tickling her nose.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that the back of the building was filled with construction supplies: boards, bricks and bags of cement stacked against the far wall. The clutter was considerable, and if she hadn’t been looking for them, she never would have noticed the hulking canvas-draped forms hidden in the shadows behind a bin of scrap lumber.
The crates! Adrenaline raced through her, and she rubbed her damp palms on her jeans. Now, to find out what was inside.
She pulled off the canvas, and discovered a sheet of paper attached to the top crate. It was a carbon copy of a shipping document, decorated with official-looking stamps and signatures. The smudged script was almost illegible, but she was able to decipher a few words: school furnishings and St. Luke’s Mission, Meru District.
School furnishings? A Catholic mission? Lilah’s skin began to prickle. This was getting stranger by the minute, and she would have bet money that it wasn’t textbooks and chalk that Jake Wyatt had locked up in his storage building.
There was only one way to find out. She retrieved a screwdriver from the workbench, and eyed the rough wood. There was no subtle way to open the crate. It would have to be all or nothing.
She wedged the screwdriver blade under the first slat. The wood snapped off with a crack that made her jump, and she tossed it aside. If only it weren’t so dark in here! She could see something pale inside the crate.
Lilah pried off another slat, looked again, and gasped.
The blunt tip of a milky-white tusk jutted out at her, its luminous length widening as it curved back into the shadows of the long box. The crate was full of tusks, gleaming faintly at her in the dim light.
Ivory. Jake was smuggling ivory. Of course.
“My God,” she whispered. Judging from the size and number of the tusks, the four crates had to hold more than a thousand pounds of the stuff. She calculated quickly, remembering Ross’s remark that black-market ivory sold for several hundred dollars a pound, then sucked in an awed breath. There was almost a million dollars’ worth of ivory here. No wonder Jake had been tense.
The seriousness of her discovery came crashing over Lilah like a wave, and her sense of adventure suddenly fled, leaving her cold, scared and fighting a rising feeling of panic. This was not a game, and it never had been, in spite of her jokes to Ross about espionage and spies. The flat blue ruthlessness in Jake’s eyes, the chill that she had sensed from the beginning...all were warnings that the man was far more dangerous than she or Ross had ever guessed.
She forced herself to calm down and breathe evenly. A report of what she had found would n
ot be enough. She’d carried her cheap handheld camera in with her, and she only hoped that the tiny flash would be bright enough to get a few clear pictures. She stuffed the forged shipping document into her jeans pocket and paused, hands shaking, just long enough to click away the roll of film. Fear was burning through her, rushing her as she turned to go. There was no time to waste. That broken-out window was a clear sign that someone had been in here, and she didn’t even want to imagine what Jake might do if he caught her here now.
The phone on Ross’s desk shrilled, insistent in the quiet office. It was late afternoon, and the construction crews downstairs had quit for the day, giving him welcome relief from the incessant banging and sawing noises that had been echoing up through the floor.
The phone rang again, and he put down his pen to reach for it.
“Yes?”
Silence.
“Hello,” he said impatiently, and there was a quick, sharp click on the other end.
Ross frowned and replaced the receiver. He focused back on his work, trying to recapture his train of thought, but the brief interruption made him aware of the ache in his back from sitting in the creaky chair all day.
He pushed back from the desk, stood up, and stretched, walking over to the window.
Yesterday’s encounter with Lilah had left him reeling, and spending last night alone at the ranch house had made things worse. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so he had wandered through the dark rooms, lost among real and imagined shadows.
Lilah’s face lingered in his mind, taunting him with how much he missed her. God, how he missed her. Last night, he’d felt an old, familiar ache spreading through him, hollowing him out from the center. He recognized it, helplessly, feeling as if a forgotten enemy from a long time past had suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and waved.
The air around him was cold and empty. He was alone, and he was lonely. Desperately, screamingly lonely, and last night he had wanted to pound his fists on the pillow with frustration. He’d thought he was beyond that, but now he wondered if the feeling had been there all along, quietly gathering strength.
A Hard-Hearted Man Page 19
