Four Relentless Days
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Elle James
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18,3K
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15
Chapter One
First night back at the All Things Wild Safari and Resort in Kenya, Africa, and Harmon “Harm” Payne had trouble sleeping. Their commander had granted the team a bonus week of vacation. After a particularly difficult mission in South Sudan, cleaning up the damage done by a ruthless warlord bent on wreaking havoc with the locals and stealing their children for his army, the SEAL team deserved this time to unwind.
Though his week of rest and relaxation had begun, he couldn’t rest or relax and paced the sleek wooden floors of his cabin, hoping to get sleepy, but so far, nothing was working.
As a US Navy SEAL, he was used to snatching some shut-eye whenever he had fifteen minutes to spare. Why couldn’t he do it now?
He stood by the window, staring out into the darkness of night, studying the myriad of stars twinkling in the heavens. The setting was perfect, the mission had been a success, but he couldn’t calm his racing pulse. Harm felt on edge, as if he teetered on the precipice of something.
He lay on the bed, forced his eyes to close and counted bullets, hoping the monotony of the numbers would lull him to sleep. Around fifty, he must have slipped into a troubled sleep. The numbers became the beat of a drum; the sleek bullets became gyrating bodies, shiny with sweat and paint, dancing in the flames of a bonfire. The rhythm grew stronger, the dancing more erratic, and a voice called out words in a language he could not understand. A flowing red scarf drifted through the dancers and into the fire, becoming part of the dancing flames.
What did it mean? Why was he there?
A movement in the shadows surrounding the fire caught his attention. The face of a coyote, wolf or jackal appeared, its golden eyes reflecting the glow of the burning embers.
For a moment, Harm’s attention remained riveted on the jackal, his heart beating fast and furious, slamming against his ribs, as if eager to escape the jackal and the confines of his ribs.
Harm swayed with the drumbeat, his body drawn like a moth to the flames, his gaze captivated by the jackal’s eyes, mesmerized in the effect of the dancing flames. His feet moved as if of their own volition, taking him to within reach of the blaze. He would have fallen in had an owl not swooped low, screeching loudly at just that moment.
The sound jerked him back from the fire. The jackal disappeared and Harm sat up in the bed, his heart racing at the close call in the dream. He rubbed his eyes, swung his feet over the side and stood, letting the night air cool his sweating body.
Obviously, sleep wasn’t coming any time soon. At least, not the restful kind he sorely needed.
Closing his eyes now would only bring on a recurrence of the freaky nightmare. Harm pulled on a T-shirt, jeans and boots and left his cabin for the main house, hoping to find a sandwich or a beer. Maybe that would help settle his nerves and let him sleep...dream-free.
In the distance, he heard the scream of something that sounded like a big cat. The night sounds of the savanna were enough to make anyone a little nervous. He was glad he wasn’t sleeping in a tent, exposed to whatever wild animal sniffed him out as a potential meal.
His buddy Buck had been on a recon mission with his doctor lady for a couple days, sleeping in the open, exposed to the elements and wild creatures of South Sudan. They’d managed to survive, with the worst threat being from the warlord they were determined to find and nail.
Surely Harm would be okay walking by himself between the cabin and the main lodge without being stalked by a hungry beast.
Talia had mentioned walking in pairs to discourage the wildlife from singling them out, but he didn’t want to wake any of his teammates. They didn’t have problems with insomnia, apparently.
Harm followed the starlit path to the lodge and climbed the stairs to the front door. As he reached for the door handle, a high-pitched scream pierced the night air, followed by a long wailing cry.
His hand jerked backward and he spun toward the sound.
“It’s just a jackal,” a feminine voice said from the shadows on the wide veranda. “They like to yodel at night.”
Harm turned toward the sound.
Talia Ryan, the resort owner, rose from a porch swing and leaned against the railing, the starlight glinting off her blue-black hair. Beside her lay the resort mascot, Mr. Wiggins, the long, sleek leopard they’d met on their previous visit.
The animal lay stretched out across the decking, completely relaxed and asleep.
“You get used to the sound of the jackals after a while,” Talia said.
“Apparently Mr. Wiggins is unconcerned.”
Talia laughed. “He feels safe here.”
The jackals screamed again, making Harm start.
Talia looked out into the night. “And if it’s not the jackals, it’s the lions chuffing or the elephants trumpeting. There really isn’t such a thing as a quiet night on the savanna.” She turned toward him. “Are the natives keeping you awake?”
He chuckled, though the sound was strained, even to his own ears. Her comment hit far too close to home for comfort. He shrugged it off. “I wish I could blame it on the animal noises, but I just couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
She shrugged, the slight movement unaffected yet graceful. “Some nights I don’t sleep well. There just happen to be more of them lately.”
Harm admired the curvy silhouette of the beautiful woman, glad for something besides flames, dancing bodies and jackals swirling through his mind. “What would keep a pretty lady like you up at night?”
She stiffened, her gaze turned toward the night and the savanna where the jackal sang. “Nothing my guests need to worry about.”
Harm should have left the conversation there and entered the main lodge in search of that snack, but something kept him on the veranda with Talia.
He liked the woman who owned and managed the resort single-handedly in a country where native women were often treated worse than cattle. “I imagine you have a lot of responsibilities, running a resort by yourself. Is this something you’ve always wanted to do?”
She laughed. “It wasn’t my dream.”
“No? Then whose dream was it?”
She hesitated for a long moment before finally answering, “It was my husband’s.”
“Husband?” Harm hadn’t heard anything about a husband in connection with Talia during the several days they’d spent at the resort a couple weeks before.
“Michael was a freelance photographer. We spent so much of our time here in Africa, we decided to buy the resort and make it permanent.”
“Where is he now?” Harm asked.
“He was killed by a rhinoceros over a year ago.” Her voice was soft, quiet, almost a whisper. But the tone said it all.
The catch in her voice tugged at Harm’s heart. “You miss him still?”
She nodded. “For the first few months, I could barely breathe. I knew life on the savanna could be dangerous, but I never thought I’d lose Michael to the animals he fought so hard to save. He always seemed so good with them. And they were tolerant and accepting of him.”
“They don’t call them wild for nothing,” Harm pointed out.
She nodded. “Still, it was so sudden. One day he was here, the next he was gone. We’d been together since we were teenagers. I really had no idea how to go on without him.”
“You seem to be doing fine now.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t take reservations for over six months, and when I did, I only invited a few guests at a time. My heart wasn’t into it. Not without Michael.”
“You always seem so upbeat around us.”
“I never stopped missing him, but it’s easier to get through the days now than it was after it first happened. The guests keep me from getting sad.” She turned to him. “So thank you.”
The starlight shined down on her face, illuminating her bright eyes, making them sparkle despite the melancholy droop to her lips.
Harm had the sudden urge to pull the woman into his arms, to hold her and make the hurt go away. But she was still grieving for her husband. It wouldn’t be right for him to embrace her.
She dipped her chin. “I guess I miss him more at night, when I slow down from the day’s activities. The past week has been particularly difficult with everything happening at once.”
Harm couldn’t resist. He opened his arms. “I’m not your husband, but I have strong arms.”
She gave him a wobbly smile and stepped into his embrace. “Thanks.” Talia rested her hands on his chest and pressed her forehead to his breastbone. “I didn’t realize how much I missed having a hug.”
“My pleasure,” he said, his tone soft, gentle, as calming as he could make it. The moment she’d stepped into his arms, he realized his mistake. He’d gone a while without female companionship. Her body pressed to his made him hyperaware of that neglect.
She was the perfect height, the top of her head coming up to just beneath his chin. He rested his hands at the small of her back, amazed at how narrow her waist was in comparison to the swell of her luscious hips and breasts. His blood heated and his groin tightened automatically.
Yeah, holding this woman, who still grieved her husband, might not be his smartest move.
For a long moment, Talia stood in his arms. Eventually, she turned her head and laid her cheek against his heart.
He pressed her closer, fully cognizant of even her slightest move. Conscious of his own proximity and desires, he fought to hold himself back from making an idiot of himself.
“Why are you still here at the resort? Why didn’t you leave when your husband passed?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I loved Michael. Leaving here would have been like leaving him all over again. I thought about selling, but I just couldn’t. This was his dream. He saw beauty in every living creature. For the most part, so did I. But when one of his beautiful creatures killed him, I had a hard time seeing them as purely beautiful.”
Finally, he set her at arm’s length and brushed a strand of her dark hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “Are you okay for now?”
She nodded and then looked up into his eyes. “You’re kind. Thank you.”
“For what? I should be thanking you. It’s been a long time since I’ve held a beautiful woman in my arms.” He clasped his hands together to keep from pulling her back against him.
“Look at us. All this talk about me and my lost love...what about you?” Talia asked.
Harm stiffened. “What about me?”
“You say you haven’t held a woman in your arms for a long time.” Talia pinned him with her wide-eyed stare. “Why not?”
His jaw tightened. “I have a job to do. Women aren’t part of it.”
“But you have to have someone to come home to.”
“Why?” He waved his hand. “Don’t answer that. My job precludes relationships. Besides, unlike you, I don’t believe in true love. It doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, but it does.” She touched his shoulder. “It’s that feeling that you can’t live without that person, that your life is better for having him in it.”
“And when he leaves, sends you a Dear John letter, just walks out of your life or dies?”
She smiled. “You thank God you had him for the time you did.”
“But you said you couldn’t live without him. Yet, here you are.” He raked her with his gaze. “You appear to be very much alive to me.”
She chuckled. “I am. And I had to learn how to live without him, but I wouldn’t trade my time with Michael for anything.”
“If you believe in love, are you going to fall in love again? Knowing what could happen?”
“I don’t know if love can happen for me again, but if it does, I’m not going to pass it up because I’m afraid of losing him. I’d be stupid to walk away when there is so much happiness to be gained.”
“And so much sorrow...” he reminded her.
Talia nodded. “True, but feeling so deeply is a sign that we’re very much alive. If I push past the sorrow, I remember the happiness and it’s all worth it.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re a guest. I shouldn’t be bringing you down with my troubles.”
“You didn’t. I’m just curious. If you’re finally getting over the sorrow, what’s keeping you up at night? When we were here a couple weeks ago, other than the poachers, I didn’t get the feeling you were unhappy.”
“I wasn’t.” She stared out at the night again. “Everything seemed to be getting back on track. And then...strange things started happening.”
He studied her silhouette, noting the frown pulling her brow lower. Normally Harm avoided deep conversations, preferring to remain uninvolved. But Talia had been through so much, and she seemed like a genuinely nice lady. He wanted to get to the bottom of her troubles. “Strange? Like strangers showing up? Or hinky strange?”
She laughed. “Hinky?” Her smile soon faded. “Actually, hinky kind of describes it.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around her middle. “As the locals would say, the resort has some bad juju going on.”
Harm crossed to the swing and sat. He patted the space beside him. “Tell me about this bad juju.” If it was anything like what he’d been dreaming a few minutes ago, he could understand her concern.
She hesitated before joining him. As she settled, her movement set the swing in motion, gently swaying in the dark.
Again, Harm might have been better off going into the kitchen alone.
Talia’s warm thigh rested against his, and with every sway of the swing, he caught a whiff of her perfume.
“Yesterday, we found native paintings on the doors of the cabins.”
“Graffiti?” Harm asked.
“In a way. Only the content was threatening.”
“How so?”
“They’d painted an owl swooping down over several people.” She snorted. “Stick figures, nothing too dramatic, but enough to scare away the guests who’d been staying in the cabins.”
“Why?”
“I had hired new guards to protect the perimeter. They swear they saw no one sneak past them into the compound. They got to the guests before I did and spooked them by telling them about what omen the images foretold.”
“And what does an owl mean in the local folklore?”
She stopped the swing with a foot on the board of the veranda and stood. “It doesn’t matter.”
Harm stood and rested an arm over her shoulder, cupping her arm with his hand. “You can’t scare me. I’m a crusty old SEAL. I don’t believe in bad juju. But I do believe in bad people who like to frighten women and children.”
She squared her shoulders, shrugging off his grip. “I’m not easily frightened, either, but when it scares my guests, it threatens me and my livelihood.” She lifted her chin and faced Harm. “Around here, if an owl flies close to you or a loved one, it means someone is going to die.”
“You don’t believe that hooey, do you?”
“Normally I don’t.” She looked back over her shoulder toward him. “I believe people painted the signs over the doors. But it’s hard to discount the omens when they happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“The night before my husband died, an owl swooped over my head.” She sighed. “I shrugged it off as coincidence...until they brought Michael back to the lodge the next day. Then I went through everything I could have done to keep him from dying that day.”
“But you couldn’t undo what was done,” Harm said softly.
“No.”
“And you think it’s happening again?”
“I haven’t seen an owl this time around, but someone is planting those superstitions in the heads of my staff and my guests. I can’t run this place by myself. If the juju threats continue, I won’t have staff to take care of the guests and the guests will leave, like the ones who left the day your team arrived. I’ll be out of business.” Talia’s voice lowered to a whisper. “My husband’s dream will be lost.”
Once again, Harm fought the urge to pull Talia into his arms. She had been so very upbeat and friendly from the day she’d first welcomed the SEALs to her resort.
Harm was a fixer. He liked to make things right. But he wasn’t sure he could fix Talia’s problems. He didn’t have any experience with black magic and bad juju.
