Page 36

R ow yawned widely and shifted position. The box was disconcertingly like a metal coffin and the idea of being shut in completely freaked her out—not that she’d admit it. She kept up a series of stretches to stop herself from stiffening up. The cushions helped.

Kurt seemed a hundred times better than he had last night.

The fever had gone, and his wound was healing nicely.

Marianne handed out egg salad rolls, and they were some of the best things Row had ever tasted.

She seemed to be obsessed with food right now.

Food and sex. Fighting for survival seemed to have triggered hunger on several levels.

She and Marianne had spent a little time talking last night about their lives in general, and Marianne’s struggles since her husband had died.

Row had felt like the worst kind of liar not telling the other woman the truth about the situation she and Kurt found themselves in, but their lives were at stake.

And possibly something more. She’d figure out a way to make it up to her later.

It was also possible that knowing too much would put a target on Marianne’s back, and Row didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting killed .

Her nerves were fraught, but at the same time, the long drive made her drowsy. She took another sip of water but didn’t want to drink too much in case she needed another trip to the non-existent bathroom. Seven hours in the truck with the constant motion wasn’t helping.

The side and rear windows were tinted so she could safely look out from her low perch. They were passing through areas that were becoming more and more built up as they neared their destination, the city of Beira, and hopefully an escape from this nightmare.

“Would you mind helping load the fertilizer onto the truck before I drop you at the hotel? Then I can get back on the road faster.”

“You’re still planning to drive back tonight?” Kurt turned in his seat.

His voice was deep and lovely. Row shivered as it flowed over her.

Marianne shrugged. “I’m used to the drive, and I can stop for dinner in Chimoio on the way home. Row can get out and help too if she wants. I doubt people down at the ports are going to ask about her passport. Not unless she tries to get on a boat.” She snorted.

Ha .

“I wouldn’t mind having a couple extra pairs of hands down there. And eyes. A lot of thieves and rough characters about. They don’t usually bother me, but in the past, I’d have Newt or Henry or my dad with me.”

Row watched Marianne lick her lips as a flicker of unease crossed her features.

“Not a problem,” Kurt assured her.

He’d never leave someone in danger. Row knew that about him now.

“Of course we’ll help,” she added.

Without Marianne, she wasn’t sure where they’d be, but Kurt would be in bad shape. She’d noticed he’d been popping the antibiotics at a faster rate than the label suggested, but he was doing okay, so she wasn’t about to mention it. They had other things to worry about.

Anticipation competed with worry as they drove into the city.

If it hadn’t been for the men chasing them with guns yesterday morning and the grim memory of Bjorn’s tortured body, she’d think they were on some sort of Amazing Race adventure.

But people were dead, and they could have been too.

It was sobering how a near-death experience could alter your perspective on life and make you reconsider what was really important.

The need to discover who her father was would always be a tug, but perhaps the search through open DNA channels would provide all the closure she needed. She didn’t even need a direct hit. Any hint of a family tree, and she’d have a good idea of whether or not Dougie Cavanagh was related.

They pulled up in front of a large warehouse beside a wide-open space filled with various ginormous piles of grit, gravel, and presumably fertilizer.

Marianne got out and marched off to the big, wide-open warehouse door.

Kurt leaned over the seat, dark brows pulled low as he peered over cheap sunshades that sat lopsided on his nose.

The hat looked equally ridiculous, but he somehow managed to make her stomach quiver with something that was definitely not laughter.

“You want to help? It’s going to be dirty. ”

“You think it’s safe?”

One side of his mouth twitched. “I think we need to act natural. From what I saw on the news, your name and face weren’t mentioned publicly.

I’m listed as dead from the air crash, but we know whoever is after us also knows that’s not true.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent the mercs.

They might know about you now too.” He reached out and touched her hand.

Squeezed gently then let go. “I’m going to use the ‘loo’ and call my contact on the burner.

See if he arranged transport to the ship yet. ”

She felt her heartbeat flutter. They were so close to safety. It was nearly over. It was nearly done. As soon as they were rescued everything was going to change. They wouldn’t have to pretend to be together anymore.

He wouldn’t need to protect her.

She caught his hand. “When this is all over, I’d like to see you again.”

A smile lit his eyes as he looked at her over those wonky glasses, but his mouth stayed stern. “That was supposed to be my line.”

She bit her lip. “Sorry. I get the feeling that if I hadn’t pushed that night, we’d never have…”

He looked away. “Not because I didn’t want you, Row. Just because of all the other stuff.”

“The age difference.”

He looked at her. Removed the glasses. “I’ve never allowed myself to even think about hooking up with a woman twenty years my junior.”

“Eighteen.”

“What?”

She allowed herself a little quirk of a smile as she knelt up so they were eye level. “The age difference is only eighteen years.”

“A generation.” He drew a thumb over her bottom lip. “Not a bridge I ever thought I’d cross, but we did, and maybe the numbers are less important than I always believed. You might have figured out by now I’m a little stuck in my ways.”

She hiked her brows. A little?

“So perhaps I could come visit you in your ‘boring little town’ sometime? When I’ve sorted everything out with my daughter and work.”

She felt her eyes bug wide. “Oh, I’d love that. You’d love Shropshire. It’s the UK’s best kept secret for history and beauty.”

He laughed softly. “You sound like a tour guide.”

“I love it.” She had the horrible feeling she loved something else too, but him agreeing to them maybe seeing each other again made her pull back on any wild declarations. She couldn’t be the only one pushing for them. It had to be both of them, or else it simply wouldn’t be worth it.

She was quite capable of living alone and dealing with loneliness—she thrived on it even.

She hadn’t been single all this time because she had no other choices.

What she wanted was a man who made giving up all the perks of being a single woman worth the downside of sharing a life together.

Of making compromises. Someone worthy of the pain of missing them when they were gone.

Someone who loved her the same way she might be starting to love them.

He leaned over and kissed her, igniting flames that built into passion despite everything. It was still dangerous, but as she grabbed onto him and pulled him to her, none of that seemed to matter. He made a low groan that made the kiss all the hotter.

They broke apart as the need for oxygen overcame them.

The heat in his gaze made her fingers tighten on his shirt. She wanted to drag him into the cramped back seat right here and now. She swallowed because he looked like he might let her.

Marianne tapped on the window, and they both jumped apart.

“Shit. Head in the game, Joe. Head in the fucking game.” Kurt picked up the knapsack and got out of the truck, speaking with Marianne for a brief second before heading into the building.

Row climbed over the front seat and got out the driver’s door.

“What do you need?” She was blushing and hyperaware of the gazes of the men working in the area. Boys no older than ten ran around playing football barefoot, in dirty, ragged clothes, in the large dusty clearing between mountains of potash.

Marianne raised a brow. “Joe seems better.”

Row smiled at her, coyly. “Seems to be getting his strength back.”

“Uh huh.” She handed Row a shovel. “Fill that wheelbarrow with the white stuff over there. You want a bandana for the dust? I’ve got more sunglasses around here somewhere too.”

“Yes, please.” Row nodded and rolled her shoulders. She was used to lugging heavy stacks of books and digging the heavy clay soil from home so hopefully this would be easy.

She tied the green bandana over her nose and mouth like a bandit out of a Spaghetti Western and slid the too big glasses up her nose.

She rolled up her sleeves and felt pretty badass as she pushed the barrow to the pile and began scooping shovelfuls of cream-colored fertilizer into the barrow where it landed with a dry whoosh against the metal.

Pale dust floated off on the breeze to mix with the industrial smells of coal, petroleum, and sulphur.

Row grimaced at the thought of the chemicals that surrounded her and what those growing children were exposed to daily.

She filled the barrow, then tested the weight and pushed it back to the truck where Marianne had set up a sturdy ramp.

Thankfully, Kurt arrived back at that moment and ran the barrow up into the bed of the truck and dumped it.

She grabbed a second empty barrow and began the process of filling it again.

It took a while. Almost an hour before they were done, and the bed of the truck was full. Kurt carefully secured a blue tarp over the mound, so it didn’t all blow away on the drive back. Or wash away in the oncoming monsoon.

Sweat dripped down her back as she eyed the ominous clouds forming overhead.