She couldn’t. But thankfully, Julia let her off the hook by closing her eyes and drifting into sleep. The simple act of talking had exhausted her, and Olivia knew the time for all of them was running out fast.
“Why would you help me like this?”
Ama wiped her forehead with cool water. “Because that’s what I was put on this earth to do. No use arguing with the Lord.”
Olivia wanted to make some rude remark, about God not giving a fuck what happened to people, but she bit it back out of respect for the woman currently keeping her off the streets. Literally.
As if Ama sensed this, she smiled briefly. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe. I have more than enough faith for both of us.”
She had to, because Olivia had thought that escape from the clinic was the final move for her, wasn’t sure she could keep pushing ahead but knew there was no way to go back to what she’d had before the kidnapping.
“You hide behind your work,” Ama continued.
“You don’t?” she shot back.
Ama took a sip of her tea before answering. “Of course I do. How do you think I recognized it so easily in you?”
And when Olivia couldn’t stay anymore, when the community began to ripple with the rumor that a man was asking questions about an American doctor, Ama gave her the tools she’d need to survive day by day. Mapped out a route for Olivia to follow, gave her money. Got her a driver to take her to the first safe place.
Olivia had stayed there three and a half weeks, helped the women in the village and felt as if she could stay forever. Until she’d gotten word about Ama.
That’s when she’d begun to run in earnest and she couldn’t stop now, no matter how many promises Zane made to her.
She glanced at Julia again and then at Randy, a man who was losing the woman he loved, and she wished she could open herself up to love as easily as other people—though, in her heart, she knew that she somehow had. And that scared her more than DMH and her past combined.
Tristan was standing by the old car when Rowan left Julia and went back outside. For a second, she got the impression he was waiting for her and then she shoved that thought away as he pushed off the passenger’s side door and began to walk around the car away from her.
It was only then he called over his shoulder, “We’re burning daylight—let’s move.”
“Where?”
“Village a few miles down the road needs vaccines and antibiotics. You’ll come and do that. Let them meet you. Unless you were lying about wanting to stay, in which case I’ll take you to Freetown.”
It was more than part dare and she accepted it, got into the truck without a look back.
The windows were already rolled down, a rifle on the backseat. He had a pistol on him too. There was also a wicked-looking knife sticking out of the broken glove compartment and she was pretty sure he had other weapons on his person although he’d taken the knife off his arm—and put on a shirt—but she didn’t bother asking about them as he got in and gunned the old engine.
He drove out of the compound smoothly, the engine running better than she’d anticipated, but the roads themselves hadn’t changed since the other day. If anything, they seemed to be more treacherous, thanks to the recent rain. So she held on and tried not to think about his close proximity.
Tried, but didn’t succeed. She snuck a glance or two his way, his profile just as handsome, his big hands holding the wheel effortlessly—and how did she fall this far, this fast, in lust? “Are you sorry about last night?” she asked finally.
“No,” he answered tersely. “But I’m sorry about your husband. I meant to tell you that earlier.”
The way Tristan said it, she knew it was less about the death and more about the way he’d died—and the people behind the act. The familiar ire, tightness in the expression of the men and women in the military who wanted to make sure it never happened again, those who blamed themselves as if they should’ve seen it coming.
“It was a long time ago.” She noted the look of surprise in his eyes. “What? Did you think I’d fall apart when you brought it up? I may be screwed up, Tristan, but I don’t break down anymore. It took five years, but it stopped.”
“You cried last night,” he told her.
She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t. It came rushing back to her like a bad dream—how long had she been lying to herself that she was over it?
And last night, once the tears came, she’d feared they’d never stop, remembered trying to muffle them against the pillow, Tristan’s shoulder, but there had been no mistaking the sobs that made her throat ache.
God, Tristan must’ve thought … what? That she was a crying, drunken mess who slept with men hours after meeting them.
He should’ve rolled away, gotten off the cot and left her there.
Or taken her out of there, the way she’d insisted.
She was so confused, didn’t know what she wanted anymore. But instead of driving her out of camp, Tristan had simply folded his arms around her so her face was buried in his chest. He’d stroked her hair. Murmured something—her name maybe, and words she didn’t recognize.
But he hadn’t told her to stop or that it would all be okay or any of that crap people said when they didn’t know how to help.
“I came here to find peace—Doc J told me I could find peace. How can I do that with weapons? With danger?” she’d asked him finally, when the tears had dried and she’d been too tired to care about much more than the fact she’d found a safe place to land for the night.
“There’s always danger, Rowan. Even when you’re at peace, that doesn’t go away. Sometimes, it makes it better.”
God, she wanted to bury her head in her hands, didn’t want to look at him … didn’t want him to remember all of that. “Sorry,” she managed to mumble, her face heated.
“You were pretty wasted. I wasn’t sure if you’d remembered,” he explained.
She didn’t have time to respond before Tristan cursed. One look in the side mirror showed the soldiers coming up fast behind them, faster than they had yesterday, and she braced herself as Tristan sped up so they could drive into the main part of the village and then he braked hard.
“Got to keep it business as usual—can’t arouse suspicion,” he told her, and her belly tightened. “Let’s go—just get out and walk to the back of the truck like all of this is normal.”
She hesitated. He leaned across the seat to grab his rifle, his voice brushing her cheek. “I’ll protect you, baby.”
“I’m not your baby,” she said through gritted teeth right before she slammed her way out of the car—and then realized, dammit, he’d gotten her pissed off on purpose. Show no fear and all that shit.
It was better than crying all over him, she supposed.
She grabbed the antibiotics from the back of the truck even as the soldiers approached, telling her to halt. Tristan stepped in easily between her and the men. “We’re going in.”
“We must inspect your packages first,” one of the soldiers said.
She turned in time to see Tristan’s hand curl into a fist and then unclench.
“Maybe we can avoid that?” He held out his hand for the soldier to shake, and she caught a flash of paper hidden in his palm before the dark hand clasped Tristan’s.
The soldier turned his eyes to hers. “Do you know what we call him? Padi. Friend.” The man laughed, his teeth white against the darkness of his skin, and if he hadn’t just called Tristan a friend, she might consider him handsome. But there was a cruelty behind his eyes, something she had yet to see from the Tristan.
The soldiers backed off then, got into their car, and Rowan was grateful to see them leaving in the opposite direction of Doc J’s camp as this tiny village they’d entered began to come back to life.
“Why do they call you friend?”
“He thinks we’re the same,” he said.
“Are you?” she asked, and waited, but he
didn’t answer that question. “Do you always pay them?”
“It’s their way of life. It’s how they survive. It’s going to take a hell of a lot to change that,” he said as they were suddenly surrounded by children—and women—all of whom seemed to be talking at once to both her and Tristan.
“Wetin yu nem?” A few of the children asked and Tristan told them, “Her name’s Rowan.”
One of the women smiled as she looked between Rowan and Tristan. Said something that made the other women giggle and Tristan simply shake his head.
It was obvious they believed she and Tristan were together.
She thought about protesting, but what would be the point? There were worse things than being the subject of local gossip and, if anything, it seemed to make the women flock to her more easily. That was a plus. And as she gloved up and doled out shots to crying children and their parents, she took in bits of information. Watched the men crowd around Tristan as he helped them with their cars and various other pieces of equipment.
He seemed to know them all, which made sense since his permanent residence had been in the area for the past few years.
“You like him,” one of the women said, smiling, and Rowan tried to keep the flush off her cheeks as she said simply, “He’s very nice.”
The women spoke fast to one another in Krio and Rowan barely caught any of the words, but she was pretty sure they were talking about Tristan. “Do you know him well? Tristan?”
Two of the women nodded, and the one who appeared to be the leader of the group said, “He’s been here a long time. He’s very respectful. Are you his girlfriend?”
“Me? No.” She avoided the woman’s eyes as she prepped another syringe. “Does he have a lot of girlfriends?”
The woman smiled and shook her head.
“Does he help you here a lot?” Rowan tried to ask casually, not sure why she was going this route with women she just met.
“He’s here all the time. He helps us when he can.”
“Does he talk to you, about his past?” she asked, and the woman simply looked at her, and Rowan knew she’d crossed a line. “Sorry, it’s just … he doesn’t talk about himself much.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
The women rounded up the rest of the children for the vaccines, and after Rowan was done, she caught sight of the woman she’d spoken with talking to Tristan. She wanted to tell herself that she’d just been making conversation, but she’d been stupid asking about him. Especially when he didn’t appear to fully trust her as yet … This would no doubt make things worse. But she wasn’t used to working in the field with people she didn’t know much about—combat made bonds happen fast.
What happened last night had bonded her to Tristan. She wasn’t sure if he felt the same way at all.
Zane found Olivia sitting in the doorway of their quarters, staring into the mess of jungle the camp was carved into, her posture tense.
He made sure not to sneak up on her, which he would’ve been able to do easily, because she wasn’t paying attention, and because he was damned good at it. So he cleared his throat, and she turned her head.
When she did that, he crouched next to her, staring into the thick foliage. She didn’t move, turn to him or say anything.
Shit. Seeing Julia must’ve gotten to her. Coupled with not knowing what Julia had been talking about at first, well, no doubt she was back to being shocked.
One step forward, two steps back …
“You didn’t know about the family, why they’re here,” he said after a few moments of silence between them.
“No. I only knew Julia was sick. When she asked you to take the kids, that’s when I realized there was something much bigger at stake.”
“Yeah, Doc J’s housing a lot of danger in his clinic right now.” Zane shook his head. “If they don’t get out of here soon, they could be found and arrested. Nothing good will come of that, and that’s why I agreed to take the kids with us to Freetown.”
She nodded, turned to him, and he saw her eyes were red. “I hate that there’s nothing I can do for her. She’s too far gone.”
“What if we got her out right now?”
“She wouldn’t make the drive—never mind a boat ride.”
“Helo?”
“I’m assuming that would bring the soldiers.”
“I’d stay behind to deal with them.” He sounded defensive, stubborn, even to his own ears, but if this could help Liv, he’d do it.
“It wouldn’t matter, Zane. If it could I’d be fighting like crazy to find a way to save her. You know that.”
He didn’t answer. Did he not believe her, maybe? Did he doubt her skills, the way she’d been doubting everything about her training, her oath. “I wish I could make it work.”
“I know.”
“I can’t do it, Zane. I can’t go with you and Randy and the kids.”
“Because you don’t want to save them?”
“Because I do.” She paused, caught her breath, the vehemence of her statement. “If they’re with me, they could …”
“I’m with you and I’m still alive. Maybe you’re not as cursed as you think. Or maybe it’s just a convenient excuse you use to keep everyone at arm’s length.”
“So what’s yours?” she shot back. “I haven’t heard you mention anything about past relationships. Or do you only fall in love with photographs?”
She regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth, but there was no taking them back.
He stared at her for a minute, hurt flashing in his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’ve never been in love before, that’s true. I didn’t think I was capable of it. And then I heard your voice. I just felt something when I heard your phone message to Skylar. When I went to your apartment, that sealed it.”
“Why?”
“You were alone, like me. Like you were waiting for someone to come along before you fixed things up. And then I found you, and you’re right—you weren’t just like your photo. You were so much better. And you don’t think I understand that you worry about your past coming back to haunt you? Trust me, I know what that’s like—more than you think.”
“So tell me, then,” she challenged.
“You already know more about me than most.”
“I’m sure that’s supposed to make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it doesn’t.”
“I’m getting the kids out of here. You want to come, you come. If not, I’m sure Doc J will help you work your way around Africa and let you run in circles all you want.” He turned to walk away, his shoulders set, and she wanted to go after him, to tell him not to leave her behind.
But he would. He’d cut the rope and let her hang herself and she deserved it. “We’re not exactly the safest port in the storm,” she called out after him.
“We’re all those kids have. Randy’s not going. They think the kids have a better shot traveling away from them,” Zane explained. “And I agreed.”
He was no doubt right, knew far more about smuggling people to safety than she did. The past months, she’d relied on her instincts and they hadn’t always been in her own best interest.
But being able to help the kids brought her back to where she needed to be, took the focus off her and put it onto the kids. And still, her stomach ached from stress. No matter how much she resisted, she was slowly being pulled back into the reality of what happened to her, and what lay ahead.
She was pretty sure the blood had rushed from her face, but Zane ignored that, continued laying out the plan. “Tristan will get me and the kids to town and on the boat. To Morocco. Julia’s sister is waiting there to take them to safety. Randy will join them as soon as he can.”
It was too much, but she would do it, despite the sickening pit in her stomach. But if they failed …
You will not fail.
Zane didn’t think in terms of failure—she was pretty sure of that, would tell her not to let her past affect her future.
“Talk to me, Liv. Lay it
on me,” he urged.
She did. “I’m going with you, okay? I couldn’t make the promise to Julia, couldn’t say it out loud. But I can’t refuse a dying woman.”
“So you’re doing it for her, then?”
She shrugged, didn’t know if she would’ve ever gone with Zane as willingly, no matter how badly she did want to follow him. He knew … everything. And part of that horrified her. “I’m scared. Scared to go back, because that means moving forward—again. I don’t know how to. I don’t know if I can put it all back together again, Zane.” The words poured out, a hot rush of confession, but surprisingly there were no tears this time. No, she could almost hear the resolve in her own voice … yet she wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything.
Maybe Zane’s strength was just rubbing off on her. And when he left …
Who says he’s going anywhere?
“So it’s not all about DMH, then.”
“No. It’s about me … about how things will change. How people will treat me. Never mind the possibility of witness protection.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“I don’t need a crutch,” she said, and instantly regretted it.
“The last thing I want to be to you is a crutch, Liv,” he said tightly. “If that’s how you see me, I guess it’s better that I know now. But it doesn’t change the fact that you need to go someplace safe and deal with all of this. I’ll be there while you explain to the government what you did, what you know, and then I’ll leave you the hell alone.”
That was the last thing she wanted, but her pride—stupid, stupid pride—wouldn’t let her say anything except “okay.”
But he wasn’t done. He pulled her close, told her, “You didn’t come this far in your life not to make it all the way. You and I both know you won’t quit now, no matter how badly you want to,” before releasing her and starting to walk away.
He was right. Damn him for knowing that—for knowing anything about her at all.
Damn him for possibly being the best thing that ever happened to her.
Anger and fear balled into a small, vicious pit that burned inside her belly until she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d lived with it for six months already—had lived with it once before as well and wondered if it would ever go away.
Promises in the Dark Page 22
