Lord of the Grrr's (29 page)

He bit back a groan as he walked to the Land Rover, sliding into the driver’s seat in an awkward step up, careful to keep pressure from his wounded arm. He mentally thanked Manu for having at least one automatic vehicle on the preserve as he put the key in the ignition and fired the engine. Shifting would have been impossible in his current state, making escape that much harder.

Grant tried to ignore the voice in the back of his mind calling him cowardly as he drove down the lane, hoping to have an easy time finding the impala herd. After checking on the baby he had injured in his wild state, he would try to figure out what to do about Zinsa. Telling her the truth was an option that didn’t even enter into his brain.

* * * * *

After his strange behavior the night before, she wasn’t taken aback by waking alone, but was surprised he had taken time to write a brief note. The explanation was terse, and he hadn’t bothered to sign his name, but she supposed she should feel grateful he had acknowledged she would wonder about his whereabouts.

Zinsa wasn’t feeling particularly grateful when she left the bed and padded to the shower, immersing herself in a tepid spray as her anger simmered, slowly reaching a boil. Was it silly to feel used when he was the one who hadn’t climaxed? All the pleasure had been directed toward her, but in the cold light of day, it all seemed clinical and detached on his part, as if he had deliberately seduced her to forestall talking.

The rough towel left marks on her skin from her rubbing so hard, caught in the grip of her annoyance. For lack of a better target, she tossed it on the floor and kicked it away once her skin was dry. Glaring into the small mirror, Zinsa saw Grant’s face the way it had been last night, instead of her own. There hadn’t been any mistaking his withdrawal from her, despite the close physical proximity he had maintained until she fell asleep. After that, who knew? She had rested more deeply than she could recall in recent months, but any sense of peace she had garnered from the sleep had fled upon waking alone.

She dressed without paying much attention to clothing choices, her hands automatically opting for comfortable favorites, while her mind whirled with confusion. What was she going to do about Grant? Chances were good she would soon be able to return to her clinic, since the news was reporting the guerillas were withdrawing from the area, with the army in pursuit. Should she pretend that nothing had happened between them, that she hadn’t inherited the family “curse” of instantly recognizing her soul mate? Was that even possible?

Taking several deep breaths, Zinsa calmed herself, knowing she couldn’t be an emotional wreck and give optimal care to her patients. The simple truth was, she couldn’t make any decisions on her own, at least not yet. First, she had to talk to Grant, really talk to him, to see how he felt. If he didn’t share her emotions, she would have no choice but to withdraw. But if he did, he better have a damned good reason for the way he was acting.

* * * * *

The patients made it easier for Zinsa to forget her angst, and she immersed herself in their care, doing her best to juggle all the tasks single-handedly. About an hour after opening the clinic for the day, Amani, the mother of the only child among her patients, offered her services in a quiet voice. Although she had no formal medical training, she wasn’t afraid to help lift patients, clean messes, or fetch supplies.

As they worked together, Zinsa made a mental note to offer Amani a position when she reopened the clinic, knowing the woman had no other source of income. Her husband had been one of the men killed in a village raid by the national army a few miles away. During the attack, a stray bullet had caught her daughter in the thigh. By the time Amani had carried her to the clinic the next day, a serious infection had set in, requiring massive doses of IV antibiotics and constant care.

While Hasina was being treated, Amani had found little time to worry about the future, but Zinsa knew it weighed heavily on her and hoped the offer of employment would ease her mind a bit.

The stream of patients slowed to a trickle abruptly. One moment, there were twenty or more people in line, and when she looked up a couple of minutes later, there was only a young man left, waiting for her to finish with the boy on the table. A deep gash across his cheek wept blood, and she gestured him forward as Amani lifted the boy from the table and passed him to his anxious mother. In a flash, the woman propped him on her hip and rushed out the door.

“What in the world?” Zinsa shook her head, exchanging a concerned glance with Amani.

“Soldiers are coming, Mrs. Doctor,” said the young man, surely no older than fifteen, as he stepped forward. “I saw them a mile or so back and ran away.” A visible shudder racked his body. “I do not want to fight for them.”

Zinsa nodded, changing her gloves as the boy climbed onto the table. It didn’t matter if the boy had seen guerilla warriors or national military. Either group was as likely to co-opt him into service, with or without his consent. “What happened to your face?” The wound bled copiously, but didn’t look as deep as she first thought upon closer examination.

A sheepish expression crossed his face. “I ran so fast I fell.” She chuckled. “Good thing you found your way here.”

His eyes reflected his fear. “I came to warn everyone. Batonga’s forces are sweeping all the buildings in search of guerillas and sympathizers. The president is determined to eradicate all of them.” His voice lowered an octave, and his eyes skittered around the room before he said, “My father is a soldier fighting for Batonga’s displacement. Early yesterday, he and his regiment pulled out of the area. Do you think he will be all right?”

A sigh escaped Zinsa as she searched for an answer to placate the boy without offering false hope. “As a soldier, I’m sure he knows how to take care of himself.”

The boy nodded, looking thoughtful. His expression changed to a grimace when Zinsa daubed the wound with antiseptic. “The stinging eases in a second.”

“I don’t feel anything,” he said with transparent bravado.

She barely smothered a grin at his typical teenage male attitude. “Good. Are you afraid of needles?”

His dark complexion seemed grayer when he said, “Of course not,” in a higher pitch.

“Amani, could you hand me that tray?” Zinsa took it from her, selecting a syringe with a small needle. “I’m going to numb the area, and then I’ll get you stitched up.”

He didn’t protest, although Zinsa thought he might pass out when she brought the needle closer to his face. Once past that hurdle, he seemed fine, and she had him lie back while she stitched up the wound. A few minutes later she affixed a bandage and stepped back, peeling off her gloves. “All done.”

“Thank you.” His voice was reed-thin, but he sat up and stood without falling. Appearing a bit shaky, the boy reached into his pocket. “This is all I have, Mrs. Doctor. Will it be enough?”

A lump clogged Zinsa’s throat when she took the delicate locket from the young boy. The gold was tarnished, and it was obviously cheap, but the way he held it indicated it was of great value to him. She turned it over, and the weak latch popped open, displaying a picture of a young African woman with a beautiful smile. She held a little boy on her lap.

“It was my mother’s.”

She cleared her throat to speak. “I can’t take this.”

His mouth firmed. “I must pay my debts, Mrs. Doctor.”

Zinsa forced her emotions in check, nodding firmly. “Absolutely, but the locket is too valuable to cover a paltry stitching.” Seeing the hope shining in his eyes, she extended the locket while searching for a way to allow the young man to settle his debt. “If you’re agreeable, the clinic needs cleaning. If you will mop the floors, that will be sufficient.”

“I would be happy to.” His eagerness dimmed when his eyes moved to the door. “What about the soldiers, Mrs. Doctor?”

She patted his arm, forcing herself to sound confident. “If they come to the preserve, they will look in the buildings and be gone as soon as they realize there is no rebel army here.”

“Yes, Mrs. Doctor.”

“Zinsa.”

Looking uncertain, he nodded. “I am Kumi.”

“Come along, Kumi, and I’ll show you where to find the mop.” Zinsa led him to the cleaning supply closet and set the boy to work before going to the door of the clinic to put up her handwritten sign, informing prospective patients she would be closed the rest of the afternoon. Surely by tomorrow the soldiers would be out of the area, and business would again be brisk.

Unspoken fear of the soldiers hung in the air and it was almost a relief to see them march into the complex an hour later. Zinsa watched through the window as the group of approximately thirty broke off into six smaller units to search each building in the complex. Her stomach curled with dread when a cluster of five men, all wearing the red and gray militia uniform, headed toward the clinic. Each man had a sidearm in his hip holster, and two carried machine guns. Knowing the damage any of their weapons could do, she wanted to get them in and out as quickly as possible.

She was on her way to unlock the clinic door when the men reached the porch. Their boots thundered over the solid frame as they rushed forward, and something solid slammed into the door seconds later. Zinsa opened it, barely concealing her fear when she saw a tall man standing before her, the butt of his gun inches from her. That must have been what he pounded against the door. “Yes?” To her credit, her voice emerged steadily, sounding only mildly interested, not terrified.

“By order of President Batonga, we are here to search the premises for any insurrectionists.” His eyes gleamed when he scanned her. “They will be executed on sight.”

She stepped back, holding open the door to let them enter. “You won’t find any here.”

He made a gruff sound in his throat, one that might have been an expression of disappointment. With terse hand movements, he directed the others with him to enter and fan out. As they did so, he went to the main room, throwing back the sheets she had arranged for the privacy of the patients to separate them from the treatment area. “Who are these people?”

Zinsa stepped in front of him. “They’re my patients.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you have human patients on an animal preserve, vet?”

“I’m a doctor. Until the fighting got too close, I ran a clinic a few miles down the road. My friend offered me a place to treat people. There is never a shortage, thanks to the war.” Zinsa bit her tongue to quell the tirade she wanted to launch. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would accept a dressing-down from anyone, especially a woman.

A grunt left him, and he pushed her aside, approaching the beds. His finger stayed on the trigger of the machine gun as he examined each patient in turn, starting with the old man incapacitated by pneumonia. His eyes dismissed him and the older women, but sparked with interest when lighting on Amani, who had curled onto the bed beside her daughter, holding her close. He uttered an ambiguous sound, but was distracted from whatever he was thinking by the arrival of his troops.

Zinsa barely caught back a gasp of horror when she saw one of the men dragging Kumi forward, shoving him to the floor at the leader’s feet.

“I found this one in the bathroom, Major Natufa.”

Natufa nodded, eyeing Kumi with cold eyes. “Why were you hiding, boy?” Kumi shook his head, his eyes staying glued to the floor.

“Speak.” His boot tried to provide motivation by connecting with Kumi’s thigh. “Stop it.” Without thought, Zinsa surged forward, placing herself between Natufa and Kumi. “He’s frightened.”

“What does he have to be frightened of? We are the military of the people.” He spat in Kumi’s direction. “Only the dissenters need fear us, the cowardly lot.”

“They aren’t cowards,” Kumi burst out, lifting his head. His eyes gleamed with anger. “They fight for the people, while your president cares for nothing but himself.”

“Kumi—” Any words of caution she might have issued were lost when Natufa shoved her aside so he could lift Kumi to his feet. She tried to get between them, but one of the other soldiers came forward to hold her arms. “Don’t hurt him. He’s just a child.”

“He’s plenty old enough to fight. Meleche, we have a new recruit.” Natufa drew the boy closer, pressing his face against Kumi’s. “You will soon learn to respect the president. We will teach you everything you need to know.” With a laugh, he pushed Kumi toward the soldier Zinsa presumed was Meleche.

“You can’t take him.”

Natufa turned to her, and she shivered under the intensity of his gaze, fearing she was now the center of his attention and knowing she was better off when he had ignored her.

“I may take anything I want.” His words were arrogant, and his eyes were lustful when they settled on her breasts.

“Your unit is leaving,” said Amani from the window, where she was pointing to the men assembling in the clearing.

“We’ll catch up.” Natufa nodded to one of his men. “Secure the door.”

“What about the men?” Meleche asked.

A hearty laugh left Natufa, giving a glimpse of his yellowed teeth. “What men? A boy and an old man? They will be no problem.”

Kumi had been struggling in Meleche’s arms, but now he renewed his efforts, breaking away with a surprising kick into the soldier’s knee. He stood uncertainly for a moment, eyeing the door.

“Run, Kumi,” Zinsa urged. “Get out—ouch!” Her advice to escape faded to a cry of pain when Natufa jerked her against him, his fingers biting into her upper arms.

“Run, boy, and I will have you shot.”

For a second longer, Kumi hesitated, looking to Zinsa for guidance. Her stomach heaved when she had to shake her head to counsel him not to run. His thin shoulders sagged with defeat, and he relaxed his posture from one poised for flight. Meleche shoved him across the room, forcing the boy to stand there with his palms flat against the wall, his back turned on the rest of them. He kept his pistol against the back of the boy’s head, ensuring Kumi wouldn’t try anything rash.

Zinsa was briefly grateful for that as Natufa’s eyes stripped her bare, not wanting the boy to witness her humiliation and feel like he should have acted. His hands weren’t far behind, tugging at the neck of her T-shirt. She struggled against his hold, elbowing him in the stomach. Other than a grunt as his breath escaped, he gave no indication it affected him. He was almost as tall as Grant, with bulky muscles, and he had little trouble lifting her into his arms.

From her precarious position, with her head pointing toward his heavy boots, Zinsa saw the other two soldiers not assigned a duty by Natufa turn their attentions to Amani. The first reached for her, and she slapped away his hand, earning a cuffing from the other one. Upon witnessing that, Hasina began wailing loudly, while the old women shouted at the men to release Amani and Zinsa.

She lost her vantage point when Natufa dropped her on the exam table, pinning her down with his elbow pressing into the small of her back. Zinsa sat up as far as possible, lunging forward to bite his biceps as hard as she could.

Curses accompanied his hand against the side of her head, forcing her to let go. His aim hadn’t been true, or she would have been knocked unconscious, judging from the size of his hands. As it was, she saw stars and couldn’t muster the ability to continue struggling even though her brain urged her to. The only motion she managed was to crane her neck to see Amani and the patients.

“Enough.” Natufa rounded on the patients, pointing the machine gun at them. “Not another sound, or I’ll silence you all permanently.”

Immediately, the older women broke off their haranguing, but Hasina continued crying noisily. Natufa’s rifle zeroed in on her, and he jerked his head at Amani. “Shut her up, or I will.”

The men holding Amani released her with obvious reluctance. Zinsa was so proud of her newfound friend, watching her walk proudly while modestly covering her exposed breasts with the shreds of her shirt. She knelt by Hasina’s bed, stroked the girl’s forehead, and whispered softly to her.

After a moment, she stopped crying. Amani hugged her tightly, looking for all the world as if it would be her last chance. It probably was, Zinsa acknowledged grimly, having seen the worst these soldiers could do to the civilians caught in the middle of their conflict.

With utmost composure, Amani stood up, drew the makeshift curtain to shield her daughter, and walked back to the men. Quiet defiance emanated from her, but she seemed to have accepted her fate in order to protect Hasina. Zinsa drew courage from her and vowed not to scream. It was vital the little girl not become upset again.

As Natufa started to turn back to her, Zinsa’s eyes fell on the tray holding the supplies she had used to treat Kumi’s wound. As of yet, she hadn’t disposed of the syringe and needle. She judged the distance, determining she couldn’t reach it in her current position, on her stomach. Only on her back would she be able to reach it.

Considering her options took a millisecond, and she decided the instant Natufa’s hand settled on her buttocks, caressing them. “I want to be on my back.”

His hand froze in its quest downward, and he regarded her with cold eyes. “What?”

She swallowed to clear her throat and aimed for a seductive purr, finding a measure of success. “I want to see you.”

“Why?”

Zinsa lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I clearly have no choice, and I don’t want it to hurt. If I’m not going to fight you, I might as well enjoy it.”

Although Natufa still appeared suspicious, he lifted his elbow from her back, clearly poised to grab her if she tried to run. She had to fight the compulsion to try, forcing calmness she didn’t feel while shifting onto her back. Her smile felt shaky, but he didn’t seem to realize when he loomed over her, his eyes on her lips. She licked them

to entice him, even as her stomach churned with nausea. “Do you have a big cock?” Ignoring the roiling waves in her gut, Zinsa stroked his arm. “You’re such a big man. You must be well endowed everywhere, right?”

A smile of pure delight flashed across his sharp features. It might have made him less threatening if it hadn’t emphasized the cruel set of his eyes and grotesqueness of his stained teeth. “You can be assured.”

Somehow, she managed to sound excited when she said, “Will you show me soon, Major?”

“Very, my sweet.” His large hand cupped her breast, squeezing roughly. “First, I want to taste you.”

Again, Zinsa licked her lips, holding her breath as his head descended. She squeezed shut her eyes when his mouth settled over hers, his halitosis nearly overwhelming her. When his tongue violated her mouth, she lifted her hand from his arm, stretching for the syringe. He didn’t seem to notice the movements, and she ensured he remained distracted by caressing his tongue with hers, barely suppressing the gag reflex.

Her fingers fumbled with the plunger though she had used a hypodermic countless times. Carefully, she pulled on the plunger, hoping the syringe would roll toward her. It did, and she nearly sobbed with relief when it was in her hand. Suddenly infused with dexterity, she flipped the syringe so the needle was pointed aloft. With all of her strength, she drove the hypodermic upward, forcing it deep into Natufa’s carotid artery.

A strangled gasp escaped him, and he reeled away from her, allowing Zinsa a chance to gain her feet. He ripped the needle from his neck, clamping his hand over the injury as blood poured from the hole. “Bitch.”

If he was trying to use anger to hide his fear, it wasn’t working. Unfortunately, she knew it probably wouldn’t kill him. The blood would clot before he could possibly bleed out from the small hole. It had seemed like a great plan at the time, but now that she stood facing an enraged man outweighing her by one hundred pounds, with only a metal exam table between herself and his machine gun, she saw the flaws in the idea.

Apparently, Natufa realized he wasn’t going to die from the injury. Either that, or he decided to take her out with him. With a roar, he lifted and tossed aside the exam table, storming toward her. Zinsa turned to run, only to encounter one of the two soldiers who had been abusing Amani. His gun rested between her eyes, and the cold steel of the barrel made her freeze. She could almost feel the bullet entering her head, and could definitely picture the damage it would do to her brain.

Natufa was behind her all too soon, his gun against the base of her neck. He must have abandoned rape in favor of going straight to murder. Racking her brain produced no ideas, and she was struggling so hard for even a glimmer of an idea that she was hallucinating. She must be, because there couldn’t be a tiger tackling the man with his gun pressed between her eyes.

Blinking, Zinsa watched in frozen surprise as a white tiger mauled the man who was threatening her. Everyone in the room seemed equally frozen with shock, as none of the soldiers moved to shoot him.

As if her thought had prompted Natufa, he swung the rifle from her neck to the tiger. With a cry, she launched herself at him, angling the gun away from the tiger and the dying man. Natufa squeezed the trigger as he threw her off, and one of his bullets passed through the soldier who had been holding Amani. Crimson blossomed on his chest, and he wore an almost comical look of surprise as he fell backward.

Amani rushed to her daughter and Zinsa lunged toward Natufa again from where she had fallen, hoping to knock him to the floor. He grunted under the impact as she hit his knees, stumbling, but not falling. However, he dropped the gun, and her heart lurched with excitement.

The machine gun spun toward the tiger, and it batted the rifle back toward Zinsa. Shaking her head as she lunged for it, dismissing the fanciful thought, she grasped the butt and pulled it into her hands. As she swung around, Meleche fired his handgun at her, missing her by just inches. Forced to swallow her squeamishness, she aimed the gun in his direction. Although not certain she could shoot him in self-defense, she definitely couldn’t shoot him with Kumi in the way. “Drop it.”