Authors: Susan Sey
Kiss the Girl
KISS THE GIRL
by
Susan
Sey
Copyright 2012 Susan Seyfarth
ISBN: 978-1-938580-01-7
Kindle
edition
Cover art by
Lyndsey
Lewellen
Other titles by Susan
Sey
MONEY, HONEY
MONEY SHOT
Dedication
For Inara Scott, who's been with me every step of the way.
For Ann and Katrina
, who know how to keep calm and carry on.
F
or Claudia and Greta, who do like to see their names in my books.
And
for Bryan
, whose faith in me is big enough for the both of us.
And because he has never once suggested that we eat out too much.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER
ONE
Nixie Leighton-Brace wasn’t afraid to die.
She’d been in the humanitarian business long enough to know
that
death was hardly the worst thing
that could happen to a girl
.
She just didn’t want to
go
before knocking
Dr.
James Harper
--
her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend
--
on his cheating ass.
The hard blue sky wheeled
around the bubble window of
her helicopter
. A yellow line of drought-stricken horizon
veered
crazily into view every so often while the pilot fought the controls
, the wind, and the bucking helicopter
. He kept up a terse commentary over his headset to
whatever authority
governed Kenya’s air traffic.
Well, that caps it
, Nixie
thought as a bubble of hysterical laughter lodged in her th
roat. Every single second of her life had
been documented by some form of media, and now this.
Somebody was going to narrate
her
death
via radio
.
But it wouldn’t end here. She knew that.
I
f she died today,
James
would sell
exclusive
photo
rights to
t
he funeral
to
Chat Magazine
for millions
. He’d cry
crocodile tears for the cameras
then continue
to fuck his way through the entire Peace Corps.
She and
God
had had their differences over the years, but
Nixie refused to believe He’d stoop so low.
As if in direct response to this inner conviction, the shearing cross-wind died. The helicopter wobbled, spun, then steadied. The pilot’s grin broke like dawn over his dark, sweat-
sheened
face, and he gave Nixie the thumbs
up. Nixie
thought
hey, both hands on the stick there, pal
, but smiled back anyway
. She was going to live
. Long enough to deliver James’ beat-down, anyway
. Nixie’s faith, such as it was, remained intact.
The pilot lowered the chopper lightly to the ground. Nixie watched from her protective glass bubble as the rotor wash blasted
the thirsty earth, stripping away
yet another layer of Kenya’s precious topsoil. She unbuckled her harness and pulled the headset gingerly out of the wild bramble of her hair. The desert was not kind to the naturally curly.
She muscled open the door of the chopper just as
Karl
Dettreich
, Leighton-Brace
Charitable Giving
’s long time political advisor and Nixie’
s de facto parental figure
,
rolled up in a
white
Land Rover
.
Nixie hopped out, and turned to catch the canvas bag the pilot tossed her. “
Asante
,” Nixie thanked him. “I wasn’t looking to die today.”
“
God
is good,” the pilot said, grinning. He adjusted his headset and waited for Nixie to duck-walk her way out of the danger zone, then lifted off. He executed a neat little pivot and
bulleted into the sharp blue dome of the cloudless sky. Nixie trotted over to the Land Rover.
“Hey, Nixie,”
Karl bellowed. He was the only person Nixie knew who habitually spoke at a roar.
The top of his head rose bald and sweaty from
a bushy ring of
salt and pepper
hair
.
He
swabbed it with a
red bandana,
which he
then stuffed into the drooping pocket of his cargo shorts. “How was Nairobi?”
“Huge. Hot. Crowded.” Nixie patted the canvas duffel at her side. “Successful.”
“You got them signed?” Karl’s eyes were black and bright behind his glasses. “All of them?”
“Our
clinic
is now
fully accredited by
the Minister of Public Health, and our standards of care will be posted in every
rural
hospital in the country.”
Karl shook his shaggy head. “How do you do that voodoo you do so well?”
Nixie smiled. Karl liked his Frank Sinatra. “I bribe quite lavishly. It’s Leighton-Brace policy.”
“I know. I wrote the guidelines. You must bribe exceptionally well
, even by our standards
.”
“I was in a hurry to get back.” Nixie handed over the canvas bag with the documents and wrenched open the Land Rover’s passenger door.
Hot
air
blasted
out of the cab and she tossed a towel from the floorboards over the blistered vinyl seat so it wouldn’t barbecue her thighs.
Karl rounded the hood
,
squ
eezed his bulk into the cab and took the wheel.
He fired up the
Land
Rover and laid the accelerator on the floor. The truck leapt forward, and
they both
sighed in relief at the air circulation.
“Listen, Nixie,” he said. He cut his eyes at her, but the lenses of his glasses went opaque in the sun
.
Nixie’s chest tightened. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Okay.”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Okay.” She put her hands together, tucked them between her knees. “What is it?”
“You’re
really
not going to like this.”