Enemy Mine (The Base Branch Series Book 1) (11 page)

S
loan fled
as though he’d pulled a knife and promised to spill her guts onto her stilettos. He called out to her, his deep voice rumbling in the granite and stone confines as she fumbled with the lock and doorknob. She didn’t look back. A backward glance would reveal the hurt in his eyes. She’d glimpsed a hint of it as she pulled away.

Her legs carried her quickly through the bedroom. Mindful of the cameras, she didn’t run, but the urge reared its head when she passed the balcony where they’d taken each other so completely. The doors still hung open and her panties lay in a ruined heap on the masonry floor. Sloan’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach and bile sloshed up her throat, threatening to escape. Gaze locked on the door, she marched on, swallowing the sickness back.

She refused to slow until she exited the room and made it down the service stairs. Glancing left and right, Sloan surveyed her surroundings, not wanting to be caught off guard by anyone else this evening, but all was quiet, almost eerily so. Or maybe that was only her twisted perception.

Once inside her bedroom Sloan slid down the door. The heel of her palms ground into her forehead as she tried to block the last two hours from her mind. It didn’t work. The quivers in her belly eased, but a soul-deep sadness eked in.

Sloan bit down hard against a sob. Her chest heaved with arid huffs. The metallic tang of blood tickled the end of her tongue, but she ignored it, caught in a hollow hell of her own making.

The last time she’d cried like this, she lay in a huddledball on the dirt floor of the servant’s hut with twelve other children the day after she watched her parents’ executions. At the time, she’d thought she would never stop crying. And now she felt the same way. Tears rained down her face, spattering on her chest. Her hand clamped over her mouth and her body shook with raw emotion. Then that stupid question began as a chant in her mind.

Why? Why? Why?

Logically she knew it was the single greatest waste of time to ask the inescapable query.
Why
, didn’t matter. Nothing would be solved by answering the
why.
Any of them. Why didn’t her parents take her to the States when unrest erupted in their backyard? Why hadn’t someone stopped Kendrick before he ordered her town massacred? Why had she believed in hope, when all life proved on a daily basis was treachery and despair?

Then suddenly the question changed.

What?

What hurt worse, that she could no longer trust herself, or that Baine had stirred that damn useless notion of hope with his declaration? Whether his words were honest or not, the effect had been the same. And the emptiness that was her life seared her broken heart. She pressed her hand against the ache.

If she died tomorrow, she could think of only one person who’d cry for her. Only one. And even Ryan would buck up given a little time. They were partners and pals when on mission, watching each other’s six and blabbing to pass the time, but in D.C. they led separate lives. He had friends, family, and plenty of late night entertainment. She had the job, her training, revenge, and nothing else. Sure, he’d invited her into his world time and again, but that son-of-a-bitch called
fear
always drew her back. Kept her huddled in her shell like a turtle. Fear of opening herself to anyone, depending on someone then losing them, having them reject her, or worse, be ripped away, imprisoned her.

Owen and Barbra Harris might shed a superficial tear or two. For the cameras. For those around them. Not for her. The couple held such promise for a terrorized little girl. With sweet smiles they’d welcomed her into their immaculate home. They’d given her a soft bed to sleep on, clean clothes to wear, and she got to shower daily. She still remembered Barbra’s care and concern for her. The way she’d combed her hair each morning and night. How she’d tucked her in and left the bathroom light on so she wouldn’t fear the dark. Her voice had been a soothing, even cadence when she read Sloan three books each night before bed.

The hope Baine’s friendship had ignited burned bright in her chest in the Harris home, until two little lines on a stick snuffed it out. They were having a baby. Sloan rejoiced over the notion of becoming a big sister. She looked forward to protecting and nurturing a life, and even having someone look up to her. But instead of being included in the tiny miracle, they cast her aside. The little African orphan.

She should have been grateful. She had the best tutors and handmaids money could buy. By age eight she spoke half as many languages. She expanded that knowledge base when she attended the best boarding school in all of North America and then graduated from Yale. Most of Devereaux’s child slaves were sold into the sex trade and became pawns for dirty old men. Sloan was never violated. She never longed for any material thing, but she’d have given them all up, she’d have slept on the dirt every night, for a hug or the soothing lull of a bedtime story.

Anger dissipated the sadness. There was only one reason Sloan’s life was as desolate as the Arctic shelf. There was one reason she was often compared to that cold isolated place. And she was about to decimate him once and for all.

Resolve shot through her veins like adrenaline and she pushed off the floor. Baine’s scent hung on her, a decadent ensemble too rich for her current state. That, plus the sticky between her legs and the overpriced undercover, and under-covered, outfit had Sloan restless for a shower and her sweats. More rational now, she didn’t freak about some seminal fluid. She took the strongest pill on the market and had been given two rounds of anti-STD drugs before leaving the States, which for women in her line of work was standard operating procedure. Never knew what you’d be forced—or willing—to do to complete a mission. It wasn’t a perk, but reality. And reality was a heartless bitch.

S
loan’s finger
tapped Morse code in super speed on the bedside table. Soon the incessant sound annoyed her so much she thought about her own digits. Instead she jumped up and paced the line again. Bathroom door to window and back. Determined to steer clear of Baine today, she’d holed up in the room for the last eight hours, ordering in breakfast and lunch trays. Now she had energy to burn. The thought of leaving the house and going to Kruger National Park for a run had lodged itself in her brain two hours earlier. It wasn’t like she had work to do. She couldn’t contact her people to confirm Baine’s story. All she had was a beacon to call in the cavalry laying low several clicks north, and it wasn’t time for that, yet.

The last drop of her patience hit the floor with a thud. She’d changed into running gear an hour ago. Who was she kidding? She needed out. An ounce of peace before the coming war. Sloan eased out the door and down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Lana asked, meeting Sloan head on at the rear foyer.

Sloan relaxed her stance and inclined her head toward the woman. “For a run,” she said with a smile. “Have to keep at it or these curves will take over. Want to come?”

Lana wrinkled her nose. “I do yoga. Running is too high impact. It’ll give you varicose veins, you know.”

“No way?” Yeah, she’d take spider veins over a bullet in the butt any day.

“You need to keep an eye out for those,” she said, shaking a finger at Sloan.

“I will.”

Sloan ducked into the garage not wanting to chance the higher traffic areas of the house. All three doors were up and she bounced twice on the bottom step before pushing off on the balls of her feet at an easy jog.

She saw Kobi step out from behind a Hummer only a half-second before she plowed into him.

His arms came around her greedy and tight. “Whoa, where you runnin’ off to so fast? We have some unfinished business.”

She played stupid. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. I was just headed out for a run.”

“Well, there’s been a change of plans.” His uneven teeth practically waved at her from behind his spread lips.

God, she wanted to kick the crap out of him. It’d be easy. And fun. But she couldn’t blow her cover over this slimebag. She’d have to find another way out because she’d kill him and hide his body before she’d sleep with him.

She’d slept with a man once for the job, and it wasn’t Baine. As much as she wanted to say it’d been for the mission, the fact was she’d slept with Baine for herself and no one else. In the light of day she could admit it. The mental exhaustion of trying to deny it had gained her a restless night’s sleep.

Kobi leaned in, flicking his tongue over her earlobe. Instead of sugarplums, images of his bloody nose and broken teeth danced in her head.

“I remember bringing you to my room the other night, but I don’t remember your sweet, hot pussy.”

Sloan tried not to vomit, or laugh in his face. “You were pretty wasted, but we had a hell of a time.”

His hands bit into her arms as he turned her around and shoved her against the trunk of some extravagant car. “It’s time I get a taste of what I missed.”

Since most guys couldn't get it up when pissed, Sloan swallowed the rage threatening to erupt from her chest and changed tactics. “Maybe tonight. I’m still pretty sore from last night. Baine’s cock is huge and he’s a very energetic lover.”

Kobi’s voice dropped a notch from whiny and annoyed to comically deep. “You’re a whore. You can’t deny me.”

His hands fumbled around the waistband of her athletic shorts. “Aww, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Smack!
His palm slapped across her face. Satisfaction and stinging fire diffused in Sloan’s mind.

He hit pretty well
for a bitch,
but
before she could tell him so, a roar quaked the garage. The impact of bodies followed and Kobi’s grip was ripped from her. His body soared through the air and landed with a crash. His steroid-enhanced upper half smashed into the garage door tracks securely fastened into the participant wall while his chicken legs skid out into the sunlight.

Baine stood behind her, his chest heaving. “You wanna hit somebody? I’m right here. First shot’s free. Fuck, I’ll give you five. All I need is one.”

Kobi scrambled off the concrete and swatted at the grit on the leg of his khakis. He snarled at the smudge of dirt marring his painted-on muscle tee. When his gaze bounced back and forth between her and Baine his face knotted tighter.

Sloan’s protector stepped forward, absorbing all of Kobi’s scowl. “Only chavs and pussies beat up women. So, come on. Prove yourself a man.”

A growl rumbled from Kobi’s throat as he rushed Baine, fists clenched to white knuckles. His right connected with Baine’s chin. The crack of bone meeting bone split her ears. Baine’s face kicked to the side, showing Sloan the barest hint of his scruffy jawline.

“One,” Baine said.

The second hit landed in Baine’s gut, hunching him, and called the slightest
umph
from his closed lips. Kobi laughed, sailing another gut punch as Baine straightened. Then another to the head.

Sloan’s hand ached to join in and her lips twitched to demand a stop to this madness, but she stayed put. No good would come from interfering.

Before Kobi’s knuckles had even left Baine’s forehead on his final punch, Baine rammed an upper cut into Kobi’s jaw. Teeth jarred teeth and his head flew backward. Kobi stumbled to the side then wobbled a few feet on jelly legs before meeting the grass in an unconscious heap.

“Ponce,” Baine spat. Then he turned to Sloan. Fury squinted his bloody brow. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. He hits like a preschooler,” she said, taking a deliberate step back and bumping into the car. “I didn’t need you to rescue me.”

Baine patted the cut above his jaw with the inside hem of his shirt. “I’d say primary schooler when he’s really pissed.”

For a moment the carved muscle of his abdomen, bronze of his smooth skin, and V of his happy trail mesmerized her. Sloan’s mouth dried and her palms sweat. When he caught her staring, warmth flooded her cheeks.

“Did it ever occur to you,” he whispered, “that
I
needed to rescue
you
?”

Sloan’s breath paused. She didn’t answer. Slowly she stepped around him and turned out into the day.

“Where are you going?”

“For a run.”

He trailed her for the first three miles or so, hanging back about twenty yards. Not hiding and also not pushing. Baine maintained the comfortable distance and pace until Sloan stopped.

The mass of carved rock piqued her curiosity. In the shape of an angel, wings spread and face turned toward the sky, it stood beside the small dirt foot trail among the thigh-high grass. Sloan ran her finger over the rough tip of the wing.

Baine joined her in front of the statue. They shared a reverent moment in peace before she walked on.

When he sidled up to her, she asked, “Why is there a statue in the middle of the grassland?”

“A man from a local village was mauled here by a leopard nearly two years ago, just before I arrived at the compound. His family placed the statue as a memorial.” He waited a beat. Then added, “This really isn’t the safest place to run.”

“It’s safer than being locked in that house full of lions.”

“You have a point.”

Together they took off toward a tiny rock outcropping in the distance. No words were exchanged. They simply ran. But this time Baine stayed close, only a few feet back.

As each footfall brought them closer to the mass of bedrock surrounded by earth and springy brown grass, the hunk of rock seemingly grew. Sloan pushed her muscles, increasing the pace to a dead sprint. She wanted to leave it all behind for a minute. All the pain. All the fear. And just be.

The warm breeze kissed her cheeks and cooled the droplets of sweat beaded on her skin. Her quads simmered with the fire of her effort. A smile spread as she reached the base and leapt onto the cracked monolith. With careful footholds and finger placements, Sloan scaled the swell without hesitation. As if sensing her need for peace, Baine stayed below. At the top she stood only twenty feet from the ground, but in her heart she was one hundred feet tall. Nothing hurt and everything came into crystalline focus.

A large breeding herd of Cape buffalo dotted the horizon with black. The earth’s light brunette hair stood on end as far as Sloan’s eyes could see. A few fat-trunked baobab trees and rangy bushes speckled in between. Sloan kicked her chin up and stretched her fingers to the sky, letting the sun heat her skin. Life-giving breaths heaved in and out of her chest. Calm settled over her. She sank in pure gratitude and pulled her knees into her, hugging them lightly while she watched the simplicity of nature.

After what seemed like ten minutes, but was probably more like thirty or forty, Baine eased down behind her, putting his back to hers.

“Lean on me,” he offered quietly.

She sank back into him and he pressed a fraction of his weight into her. Surprisingly so, the contact grounded her further in the serenity.

Together they breathed in the untainted air and watched the herd move lazily across the land. They’d been quiet for so long his voice made her heart jump.

“I used to play under a tree like that,” he said, raising his arm to a stand of three scraggy, leafless barks, “with my best friend, for hours and hours at a time. The thing was base for tag, a fort, a castle, the bad guy we slew.”

Sloan smiled even as tears fell hot on her cheeks.

He continued. “Every time I see a tree like that I smile and wonder where in the world she is? How she’s doing? If I’ll ever see her again?”

Baine coughed and his voice wavered. “It was nearly twenty-two years ago. That’s stupid right, to think about someone from your youth when you’ve both probably changed so much?”

She pulled in a ragged breath. “No. Not if they made you happy. Not if the memory of them still does.”

Sloan laid her hand over Baine’s where it rested on the limestone next to her and weaved her finger between his. She longed to tell him that little girl was hidden somewhere inside her, still hoping to see his bright smile and kind eyes. But the wall around her heart wouldn’t allow it.

“Yeah,” he said in an almost wistful tone.

He held tight to her hand, caressing the side of her hand with his thumb.

As the sun kicked toward the horizon Baine stood and pulled her up. His lips brushed over her forehead quickly then he stepped back. “We need to get back. The big cats like to hunt at dusk. And tonight, so do we.”