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“How would you have ever coped alone?” She accepted a fresh bottle of water from the other woman to wash away the grit in her throat.

“I’d have probably paid some of the boys that hang around to help load.” Marianne nodded toward the children now kicking a ball against a battered brick wall. “Many of them are orphans from the last hurricane.”

Pity swelled in Rowena’s chest.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give them some meticais before I leave. Although they should be in school. At least they’ll eat tonight.”

Row wished she could help them, but it wasn’t her place, especially when she couldn’t even save herself.

She knew there were far too many people who found themselves in difficult situations— but it was hard, really hard, to imagine being an orphan with no home or food security in a place like this.

She’d been lucky, she realized. Sure, she had issues, but it had never been life or death, not until she’d begun this foolhardy quest. She’d always had a home and food on the table and love in her life.

Kurt tossed the shovels in the back of the truck and returned the barrows to where they’d found them.

“I’m glad we could repay your hospitality and kindness in a small way.” Kurt removed his own bandana and wiped his forehead and neck. He grabbed the water and took a swig. Row watched the line of his neck ripple as he swallowed before he splashed the rest over his face.

She shook herself out of her current obsession. The thought of losing him was starting to eat at her nerves, and she didn’t like it. They’d only known each other a few days, and she wasn’t the kind of woman to rely on a man.

“Thank you.” Row hugged the other woman even though she didn’t seem like the hugging type. Marianne surprised her by giving her a tight squeeze.

“Come visit again sometime, okay?”

“I would love to.” Assuming she was ever allowed back into Africa. “And you come see me in Shropshire. I’ll send my address to your website.”

Kurt stepped forward with his own hug. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re not bad for someone who sucks the life and soul out of people for a living.” She patted his cheek. “Don’t forget what I told you.”

“I won’t forget.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry you lost your husband.”

“But I had him.” Her voice broke. “I had him for all those years. I wouldn’t swap that for anything in the whole world.”

Marianne headed inside to pay the man for the fertilizer. She obviously did business here regularly.

“What did she tell you? ”

A thoughtful smile curved his lips. “Things I needed to hear.”

The sound of squealing tires had Row lifting her gaze in concern. Kurt reached into the backpack and pulled out the pistol. “Get in the truck. Quickly!”

She ran around to the other side, but the rat-a-tat of automatic gunfire and the spit of bullets in the ground near her feet made her freeze with her hand on the door handle.

The bullets stopped as soon as she stopped moving.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Her heart raced so fast she thought she might faint.

She didn’t want to get shot. Didn’t want to die.

A small army of men bristling with weapons leaned out of every window of a white SUV.

Her mouth turned to ash. Kurt and one measly pistol had no chance against such overwhelming firepower.

He seemed to realize the odds were not in their favor and stepped forward, raised his hand with the gun dangling uselessly from his fingertips.

“I’m not going to let them hurt you, Row. Whatever happens, whatever I say to them from now on, know you’re my priority.” He spoke quietly and urgently.

The men tumbled out of the car and pointed their weapons at him.

“Try to avoid gaining their attention. It’s me they want.”

Were they going to shoot him even as he surrendered?

Her heart banged in her chest.

The thought of losing this man…

“Joe?” Her voice wobbled even as she was proud of herself for not using his real name.

One tall lanky man ran toward Kurt in a loping gait, yelling at him in Portuguese.

“Stay absolutely still. Hopefully, they’ll leave you here. Go to the British or US Embassy and tell them what happened. Don’t trust anyone else.”

The man yelled some more and hit him with the butt of his weapon—straight into the arm that had been injured yesterday. Kurt staggered in pain.

“No!”

Kurt shot her a concerned look as the man started to frog march him to the car at gunpoint.

Marianne stepped outside the building, but a man pulled her back into the shadows. Row didn’t want the other woman to get involved. She couldn’t just let them take Kurt.

“You can’t do this!” She ran toward the SUV, unable to bear the thought of them hurting him and her doing nothing to stop them. If they took him now, she doubted she’d ever see him again. “Leave him alone!”

Another man ran over and grabbed her arm, fingers biting viciously into her skin.

“Leave her the fuck alone.” Kurt began to struggle then. “She has nothing to do with any of this. I don’t even know her. She’s some skirt I picked up along the way.”

But the man with the bloodshot eyes either didn’t believe him or didn’t care. He dragged her across the rutted ground and threw her into the back of the vehicle beside Kurt.

The look in Kurt’s eyes was pure fury.

“I couldn’t just let them take you,” she whispered.

His eyes shimmered, and he blinked away something that looked suspiciously like tears. “Whatever happens don’t fight them. I’ll get you out of this. I promise, but it might get hairy for a while. Don’t give up. Promise me you won’t give up.”

She nodded slowly, terror sinking into her lungs. He thought they might rape her. Her pulse tripped and stumbled. She took a couple of deep breaths. Nodded, wishing she hadn’t tried to stop them, knowing she couldn’t have done anything else and lived with herself.

Her hands shook as the men bound her wrists together with old rope. One of them punched Kurt again while she sat slack-mouthed in shock, unable to help him. Another pulled two black canvas bags out of somewhere and forced one over each of their heads.

The darkness was suffocating, the camphor smell cloying to the point of nausea. She started to hyperventilate.

“It’s okay, Row. It’s okay. Try not to panic.”

Try not to panic?

Tears formed even as she held back sobs. Everything they’d done. Every step they’d taken while running away from Harare was all for nothing. They could have saved themselves the trouble and gone straight to the Zimbabwean police.

She cried harder as Kurt’s bound hands found hers.

They’d been captured by these bandits with no one to save them. But why? By whom? And maybe more importantly, what did these gun-wielding maniacs intend to do with them now?