Short Fuse: Elite Operators, Book 2 (15 page)

He wasn’t certain, but he thought this unusual emotion just might be love.

Nicola stirred slightly, shifting to drape one of her smooth, creamy calves over his leg. “I had no idea a blackout could be so much fun. You get them often in South Africa, don’t you?”

He smiled, wrapping his arm more tightly across her back. “We do.”

“Excellent,” she purred, and snuggled closer. After another few minutes’ silence, she asked, “You really love living in South Africa, huh? Power cuts and all?”

“Of course. It’s got its problems, like any country, and it can be a little rough around the edges, but I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I know you’ve probably spent most of your time in Johannesburg high-rise offices or scrubby mines in the middle of nowhere, but you should visit the Transkei and walk along the wild coastline. Or rent a bike and cycle through the wine lands, stopping at so many vineyards you end up wobbling home. Or see the sunrise at Olifants camp in the Kruger and watch the light creep over the border with Mozambique. South Africa has some of the most beautiful places in the world.”

“I’d love to do all of that. I don’t get a lot of time off, but if I can ever grab a decent stopover in South Africa, maybe you’ll be my tour guide.”

His optimism faltered at the reminder that neither of them was likely to live within several thousand miles of each other in the near future, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He knew this was how it would be. He could handle it.

“Of course. Just say the word.”

She paused cryptically before asking her next question. “Is there anything else you would ever consider doing? Anything that would pry you out of the Special Task Force?”

He gave the notion the thought it deserved—and then gave her an honest answer. “I doubt it. Sometimes my colleagues are poached by private security companies, but the only tempting thing about that is the money, which I don’t care about. I guess if I ever left, it would be to join the SAS or the Israeli Special Forces. Something like that. But even that seems unlikely.” He shifted so he could see her face. “Why do you ask?”

“The Israeli Special Forces,” she repeated incredulously, shaking her head.

There it is. Goddammit.
His heart sank as he recognized the note that always crept into the tone of every woman he’d been with. The moment they understood exactly what he did, what he’d committed his life to doing. In that instant it was real. It stopped being a sexy Hollywood story and became a relationship deal-breaker.

He pulled false nonchalance around him like a Kevlar vest and shrugged. “Lots of bombs to defuse.”

“And Cape Town?” she pressed. “You’re happy there?”

“Definitely.” He trailed his fingers through her hair as he spoke. “I can see the ocean from the front of my apartment and the mountains from the back. The beaches are amazing. And I told you about my sailboat, the catamaran. I race it down in False Bay.”

“Is it fast?”

“Very.”

“Sounds like a great life.”

“I’ll take you out on it when you come to Cape Town.”

She stiffened in his grip, and as they fell into an unexpectedly awkward silence, the casual, slightly flirty offer crashed between them like a lead weight.

She propped herself on one elbow. “Anyway, we’re just having fun, right?”

He flinched. Her comment shouldn’t have been unexpected, but he felt like a two-ton nail bomb had just exploded in his face. He fought to keep his expression even.

“Sure,” he finally replied with hard-won breeziness.

“I mean, I may not even have a job after all this, if we don’t get Hambani squared away. And if I do, it’ll be back to globetrotting. I may be at headquarters in London, or on assignments at Garraway’s mines in Australia or Canada. I may not get back to Africa at all this year.”

“I know that,” he retorted, more snappishly than he’d intended. His heart seemed to have worked its way loose from its place in his chest and was sinking into his stomach, which was nauseated and unsettled.

“Good.” She nodded. “So we’re on the same page.”

On the same page.
What kind of stupid corporate speak was that? The room seemed smaller than it had a second ago, and his post-coital languor had given way to an itchy restlessness running through his limbs.

That old instinct was back. He had to get out.

As if on cue, there was the sound of a slight electric whirring, and then the room was flooded with bright artificial light as the power came back on. For the first time in his life, he felt overwhelming gratitude toward Africa’s unreliable national power grids.

“Right, so that’s that,” he muttered as he disentangled himself and slid off the bed, hastily yanking on his boxers and sweeping up the rest of his clothes from the floor. A cyclone of irrational anger, hurt and disgust at himself for being such a simpering fool was swirling within him, accelerating at such a speed that he was finding it hard to breathe.

“You’re going?” She sat up on the bed and pulled the sheet over her bare breasts.

“The lights are back on now. You don’t need me.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he realized what an odd thing it was to say—although it did have the ring of truth. Anyway, he didn’t have time to worry about pleasantries. He pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on fleeing the room without stumbling. He flung himself out of the cabin, clutching his shirt and jeans and hurrying so blindly to his own door that he cracked his shin against the step.

“Dammit,” he grumbled, shoving into his cabin and slamming the door shut behind him. The hairline crack Nicola’s rejection had put in his newfound happiness was beginning an ugly, rapid spread, and he knew it was just moments away from shattering into jagged-edged pieces.

He locked the door and flopped onto the bed, staring at the paneled ceiling but straining to hear movement from her side of the wall. Would she follow him? Would she coax him back to her side, having overcome her moment of panic and deciding he was worth the stress and anxiety that went hand-in-hand with his job? Or would she simply slide into bed beside him, unspeaking, content to enjoy their time together and leave the future undetermined?

After half an hour he concluded she wasn’t coming. He turned onto his side and flipped off the bedside light, trying to ignore the scent of her that still lingered on his skin.

Chapter Twelve

Warren hadn’t slept well, and he hadn’t slept long, so when he heard the knock that followed the zip of a golf cart pulling up to his door, he didn’t hurry to answer it. He was sick of this job, sick of this place, and if it weren’t for Nicola and his need to get her out of here safely, he would’ve packed his bags last night and left at first light this morning.

Alex stood on the front step, looking like he’d spent a worse night than Warren.

“Roger’s dead.”

He swore under his breath. He hoped to hell Roger had gotten mixed up with some dodgy creditors; otherwise the situation at the mine had just gone from troublesome to really, really bad.

“What happened?”

“Some guys on the dawn shift found him propped up in that safe in the office.”

The one Warren had filled with weapons the day before. “What was in the safe?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t let anyone move the body.”

“That’ll be easy—no one wants to go near it. They carved some kind of symbol into his forehead that’s keeping all the locals away.”

“Symbol?”

Alex nodded. “Cedric says it’s a goat.”

“Of course it is.” He rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Have you told Nicola?”

“She’s on the phone to her boss now.”

“We’ll meet you at the office when she’s finished, so I can have a look at the body. Tell Cedric and Dan to stay with you in the canteen. Safety in numbers.”

Alex shifted uneasily. “This isn’t good, huh?”

“Not really. But I’ve seen worse.”

“I haven’t,” Alex muttered, turning to walk back to the golf cart. As he sped away Warren went inside his cabin long enough to put on socks and boots, then knocked on Nicola’s door.

She was wearing pajamas when she answered, and clutching her cell phone in her right hand. Her face was pale, punctuated by dark circles under her eyes.

“Did Alex tell you about Roger?”

He nodded. She spun on her heel and started pacing the perimeter of the room. He followed her inside, closed the door and took a seat in the desk chair.

“I just spoke to the CEO,” she began in a tone that suggested recounting this conversation was as much for her own benefit as his. “He’s completely freaked out. He’s worried that shutting down the mine without knowing more about what we’re up against would create needless panic. I told him about the Matsulu angle and that seemed to make sense. He’s contacting the Latadi Minister of Mining to let him know. He thinks the Kibangu government will—”

“Respond with a military guard,” he finished for her, the pieces suddenly falling into place. He shook his head, furious with himself at not having seen the answer before.

She stopped pacing to stare at him. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you? What is it? What do we do?”

“We have to evacuate the mine,” he muttered, already on his feet as his mind raced ahead of his ability to speak. “We have to get everyone out of here as soon as we can. Ourselves included.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Hambani was basically under siege during the civil conflict, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s the country’s biggest asset, and both sides shed a lot of blood trying to get hold of it.”

“And the Kibangu government will send the military to keep it under control. So why—”

“That’s what they want.” He spoke urgently, crossing the room to meet her. “The Matsulus, the rebels who chased us last night—they want the military to come. They want to lay siege to the mine again, and force the government to engage. They want to start the war all over again.”

Her eyes widened as she processed his words. “And the man you saw at the camp, in the car last night—”

“Is the rebel leader. That’s why he warned us to leave. Remember, he said it wasn’t our quarrel. He planned to pull this country back into conflict, and he gave us the chance to get out before that happened.”

She threw up her hands. “Well, he could’ve been a little less cryptic about it. So what do we do now?”

“Send all the workers home and get out of the way.”

“And leave Hambani to be fought over?”

“I know it’ll sting when your shareholders see the loss in the annual report, but they’ll just have to wait until next year for that new Ferrari,” he remarked dryly.

“Do you really think that’s what I care about?” she demanded, eyes bright with fury. “Roger may not have been my favorite person, but he was my colleague—he had a family and friends and people who’ll miss him. And then there are the thousands of people in Namaza and the settlement over the fence. Some of them have bankrupted themselves and left everything behind to come here, looking for work. What will happen to them if the mine closes? If war breaks out? And I suppose the Matsulu rebels will take a forgiving approach to all the people who worked the mine while it was under Kibangu control, is that it? You’re right, nothing to worry about. Let’s just haul ass back to our pampered lives and leave these people to it.”

“That’s not what I said,” he seethed. “Of course I care, but that doesn’t mean I can do anything about it—or that I should if I could. Hasn’t this country had enough interference already? If Garraway had left well enough alone in the first place, Hambani wouldn’t exist to fight over. A few bits of gold would’ve floated up in the water supply every so often, maybe a few amateur prospectors would make a little money and Latadi would be stable and quiet.”

“And dirt poor.”

“And peaceful,” he retorted. “Or do people’s lives only matter when you’re around to see them?”

“There’s never an excuse not to help,” she insisted. “I’m not leaving Hambani until I know I’ve done everything in my power to protect the people in this community.”

Something in her posture, in the stiffly held shoulders, the defiant lift of her chin, the betraying wet shine in her eyes, drained the fight out of him like a sail going limp as the wind trails off.

“No one’s going anywhere just yet,” he assured her. “We have to see what more we can do before we leave. But keeping you safe is my first priority. At most we have forty-eight hours to get out of Latadi, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I told you otherwise.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, still staring at him with lips thinned by stubborn disagreement. “Your job, huh? Of course, I nearly forgot. You’re the hired gun.”

She was trying to rile him, and he had no intention of letting her. “I’m the security consultant. And in my professional opinion, the situation is deteriorating.”

Her arms were pulled so tightly he worried about the circulation in her fingers, but her fierce expression broadcast quite clearly that this was no time for levity. Her face was a storm cloud, brow furrowed in indignation, jaw clamped shut as if she was bracing herself for confrontation.

Then she started to cry.

“Why didn’t you stay last night?” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as tears streaked her cheeks.

“Dammit, Nicola,” he muttered, closing the distance between them and scooping her into his chest.

“Did I do something wrong? You know I’d love to visit you in Cape Town, I was just trying to be realistic, and—”

He hushed her, combing his fingers through her hair, her small frame trembling in his arms. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Be honest with me.” She pulled back in his grip, tilting her chin so she could meet his eyes. “Did I offend you somehow? Say something I shouldn’t have?”

He shifted under her gaze, irritated by his compulsion to give her the truth she’d asked for. Considering he had one of the steadiest pairs of hands in the business, she had an uncanny ability to knock him off balance.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault. I got carried away.”

“With what?”

“A stupid idea.”

She squeezed his arms. “Tell me.”

His smile was bitter. “The idea of us.”

Her expression changed, as though something behind her eyes fell shut like a steel door. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He released her and turned away, determined not to let her see the disappointment on his face. “You should get dressed. We need to get to the office.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

Her tone was meek, surrendering. And just like he had the night before, he left and retreated to his own cabin. Only this time he had no expectation she would follow.

When Nicola returned to her cabin twelve hours after she’d left it that morning, it felt more like it had been twelve days. The starchy, reheated meal she’d eaten in silence with the rest of the corporate staff sat in her stomach like a brick, and she dropped onto the bed with a weary sigh.

It had been a productive day, all things considered. With Garraway’s CEO’s approval to close the site, Cedric had communicated evacuation orders to all of the miners and support staff, except for a skeleton security crew. Warren supervised the mass departure, then sealed the site, prowling through each building and along every fence like the leopard she always thought of when he demonstrated his quiet, deadly capabilities. Dan spent most of the morning on the phone, eventually managing to arrange their transportation out of the country on a charter flight they would meet at the August Town airfield late the following evening. Alex had phoned all the government connections he had to get information on the planned installation of military troops, and she’d spoken to just about every member of Garraway Gold’s board, assuring them she was fine, the situation would be fine, and she’d file a full report as soon as she got to Johannesburg.

Shortly before dinner Warren pulled her aside. He’d spoken to his Special Task Force colleagues. They’d already flown from Cape Town to Johannesburg, and would be on the first—and probably last, if the situation deteriorated—commercial flight to August Town tomorrow morning.

“They’ll be here by four o’clock,” he’d concluded.

“But what’s the point? We’ll be on our way to August Town by then.”

“I thought Dan told you.” When she shook her head he continued, “The logistics contractor who runs the weekly helicopter airlift to move gold out of the mine won’t make another trip. Dan wanted to bring the gold out when you leave, but I told him it’d be safer with us. Also—” he glanced at Alex and Dan over his shoulder, then lowered his voice, “—I’ve been through all of Roger’s paperwork, and there’s still a huge amount of explosives left unaccounted for. If the rebels get hold of them, they could flatten this whole area and August Town. They’ll help me find and dispose of what’s left, and then we’ll make our own way out of Latadi.”

“That’s insane,” she hissed. “Your friends will be lucky if they can even get on a flight tomorrow. Everyone Alex has spoken to says this country is going on lockdown, the government is planning to impose curfews and the army is already mobilizing. How the hell do you think you’re going to get all that gold out of here? It’s a suicide mission.”

“We’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I can call my sister to send a Copley Ventures plane, or we’ll drive over the border. We’re tactical operators, remember? We can take care of ourselves.”

That rare, cheeky half-smile was so unexpected she completely forgot her indignant retort.

“Anyway, you’re the one who wanted to do anything we could to help the community before we leave. We’ll do our best with the gold, but making sure the people who live here aren’t left in the hands of guerrillas with enough explosives to gut the country is my top priority.”

“As long as you’re sure,” she’d muttered unhappily. “And you’re confident you’re not putting your friends in harm’s way for no reason.”

He’d looked out the window at the fence, which stood out stark and skeletal under the full-power floodlights.

“Did you see the crowd gathered near the gate when the miners were leaving? Some of them might have been curious, some of them might have been worried and some of them might have been guilty as hell. We have no idea. But we do know we’re alone out here, outnumbered, trying to protect ourselves with flimsy locks and security guards we hope haven’t been bought by the rebels.” He faced her fully then, dove-gray eyes soft and warm despite his chilling words.

“As far as I’m concerned, my friends can’t get here a moment too soon.”

There was still plenty of the day’s heat left in the evening, but Nicola shivered as she remembered that conversation.

She tried to shake off her unease as she changed into her pajamas and packed her suitcase, forcing herself to stop dwelling on all the horrors she’d seen in the last few days, to stop ruminating on what worse events lay ahead.

Instead she thought about tomorrow, and everything she had to do before they left the site—take as much paperwork as possible from the office, pay out the last of the petty cash to the gate guards and pick up the security logbook from the main entrance. She thought about the day after—if the charter flight took off at midnight, as planned, the time difference meant they’d land in Johannesburg around six o’clock in the morning. She’d take a taxi to the Garraway office in Sandton and work nonstop until eight o’clock that evening, filing reports and answering e-mails and updating everyone in the London office, then repeating it all when the New York staff got to work later on. Finally there’d be no one in the building but her and the lady pushing a vacuum. She’d call one of the company drivers to take her to one of Johannesburg’s best hotels, where she’d order five-star room service, drink half a bottle of top-quality South African wine in the huge bathtub and fall gratefully asleep in a bed big enough for three.

More than big enough for her and Warren.

She sagged onto the bed, remembering the time they’d spent together last night, the difference in the warm, open man she’d shared her bed with last night and the distant, formal officer who’d updated her throughout the day, disinterestedly sat across from her at dinner and escorted her to her cabin with the polite stillness of an indifferent contractor.

Which she supposed he was.

Her heart sank at that thought, even though she knew full well the situation was of her own creation. When he’d started to talk about the future, his eyes lighting up with boyish hope, so blatantly on the verge of admitting exactly the emotion growing in her own chest—it was too much. She shut down, a defense mechanism she hadn’t realized she possessed. Things between them had gotten too complicated too quickly, the days ahead were too uncertain and the thoughts swirling around her mind too scary and unfamiliar. It was easier to make an all-or-nothing choice. She chose nothing.