Chapter Eleven
Simone stepped out of her tent in a makeshift running ensemble. She took a breath of dew-filled air, trying to restore a sense of calm and control that she’d lacked ever since Carlo had barged back into her life. After their aborted conversation, she’d gone to her tent, had a short chat with Sarah, and a longer one with Ruth. She’d questioned Ruth about her suitcase, and Ross having to get into her apartment to pick it up. Ruth had gone with Sarah to the music group they joined on Tuesday afternoons, expecting one of the pilots to come around early in the evening. Simone could have kicked herself. Between Carlo and everything else she’d forgotten about Sarah’s schedule.
At least Sarah had sounded happy to spend another few nights with Ruth, so she had nothing to worry about on that score. She was thankful for the prior few weeks together on vacation. They had given Sarah some time away from Ruth, and the two were playing catch-up.
She’d chickened out of giving Gabi a real account of what had been happening between her and Carlo and only sent her a message stating that all was panning out as planned. She was quietly grateful that university was back in full swing. Between classes, studying, and an attempt at a social life Gabi would let the report pass for another day.
She’d toyed with the idea of phoning her mom after she’d spoken to Sarah and Ruth, but she couldn’t do it, not yet. For the rest of the night she’d dozed off, waking up with a jolt every few hours, Carlo’s words loud in her mind as if he’d said them right into her ear in the silence of the night. Her next of kin contact had been a dead end.
At that time, there had only been one next of kin. Her mother.
With a sigh she gave a quick glance around the camp. There was no askari in sight, but some things were worth the risk. She hoped to exhaust herself to such an extent that she could manage to sleep. In the early morning light, she walked alone to the main guest areas.
The game drives had departed, and quiet had settled over Carlevaro Rufiji Camp. The dawn chorus had dispersed to find food, and when she got to the lodge’s entrance a ranger waited for her in his Land Rover.
She greeted the ranger and clambered into the row behind him. She’d hardly settled when Carlo stepped up and heaved himself into the seat next to her.
Her blood drained to her feet, numbness settling over her as her heartbeat lurched in panic. How could he? Couldn’t he just leave her alone? She couldn’t move; she couldn’t run. There was no eject button that would by magic launch her back to her tent.
“We’re good to go,” said the ranger as he switched on the ignition and pulled away.
“Slept well?” Carlo’s voice was soft, pleasant, and his gaze burned on her.
With her faux pas from the day before still fresh, she grimaced. “Of course, always.”
“Mind if I join you?” He was painfully polite.
She had no choice. “Not as long as you keep up.”
“I can keep it up, don’t you worry.” He grinned.
Blood rushed to her cheeks. Damn the man for teasing me.
“I do a kilometer under four minutes. The airstrip is four hundred and fifty meters, so we need to go up and down twenty-three times.”
“No problem.”
“In forty minutes.” She hoped he would pass out on the first round.
“Got it.”
He gazed into the bush and they fell silent as the vehicle hit the road to the airstrip. She glanced at him. Carlo had packed for running. He wore running shoes and shorts, exposing his well-toned calves and thighs. Dark stubble carpeted his cheeks. Her fingers itched to touch it, to feel the roughness of it under her fingertips, to explore his face and let her fingers wander to the smooth skin behind his ear and down his neck. A wave of desire engulfed her. She knew what was under those clothes, and she wanted every inch of it. She shifted closer to the edge of the seat, away from him.
When they arrived at the airstrip twenty minutes later they drove the length of it to make sure there were no animals on it or grazing nearby. Already adrenaline rushed through her. Lions lay so flat in the grass here that they could go unnoticed until they swished their tails or lifted their heads.
“All clear for now.” The ranger smiled as he stopped the vehicle so they could get out.
They stretched for a minute. The morning air was still cool, and she was thankful for it. Her gut told her she was about to be tortured.
He yawned and shrugged off a final stretch. “Shall we?”
She nodded and they took off at a moderate pace toward the airplane parked on the other side. The ranger drove in their wake, ready for them to jump in at any given moment should something come charging through the bush. They continued in silence, building up speed with each lap they took.
Simone had to give it to Carlo. Not only was he keeping up, he was outpacing her. At the end of forty minutes they stopped by the DHC Twin Otter, which was parked off the runway. She felt sick from the exertion, lightheaded from forcing herself to continue on an empty stomach. Sweat trickled down her back; her hair was wet at the base of her neck. Carlo had seen her like this before, for they’d run together in the past. Facing him again like this—tomato red with wilted hair—was liberating. There was no more pretense—except that she was trying not to collapse.
Thank God he didn’t seem to notice that she was about to die.
“You still give a good chase, Mona,” he said, grinning as he bent down to stretch.
Hearing him call her by his nickname for her didn’t help the churn in her stomach. Surprised by the rush of heat to her cheeks, she stretched down to hide her raw emotions. To hear him call her Mona, his voice endearing with just that dusting of an Italian accent, was a pure pleasure.
She dropped her head lower, aiming to get her nausea under control, but she had to blink several times to stop the welling of tears. It was just this sick feeling, she told herself, but it was much more than that.
She might have signed up for a lot, but she hadn’t signed up for this. Carlo was turning on the charm and it would weaken her defenses. Worst of all, she only had her cocky self to blame, spitting out some random running data for him to chew on.
“You’re not slow yourself,” she murmured eventually, wishing she could lie down on the dirt of the runway to catch her breath. There was no way she could admit she’d had to work to keep up, and that she’d ran herself to death’s door the past half hour, repeating Sarah in her head with every step she’d taken. She’d never gotten her fitness level back to what it had been pre-Sarah.
Slowing down during the run would have given Carlo food for thought. She had, after all, run marathons before pregnancy and motherhood interfered. She didn’t want to tell him a tall tale about why she didn’t run like she used to; one lie usually led to another and she had no intention of getting entangled with them. She might just as well show him the C-section scar, which graced her pubic hairline, and make him prod the wobble of skin that wouldn’t go away.
He walked off, stretching his arms, and she let out a shaky breath, relieved that he was no longer staring at her. A few meters from the airplane he stopped abruptly. She straightened up as he went down on his haunches, staring at something on the ground.
“Look at this, Simone,” he called and indicated to the ranger that he must join them.
Simone stepped closer and saw shoe tracks in the sand.
“How old do you think these are?” Carlo pointed them out to the ranger as he joined them.
“They’re fresh, from last night or early this morning,” the ranger said without hesitation.
Simone frowned. “That can’t be possible, I parked the plane two days ago. Nobody—”
She looked down at Carlo, shaking her head. He straightened, eyebrows knitted.
“Are you sure these are from last night?” Carlo asked the ranger.
“Yes,” he said. Squatting, he pointed with his finger. “They can’t be more than, say, three or four hours old. See, the silhouette is still sharp and nothing walked here since. The sand hasn’t crumbled or blown in. No evidence of wind movement. These are fresh. If it were a leopard’s prints we could’ve tracked it down.”
Carlo muttered something indiscernible as he walked around, following the tracks but not stepping on them.
The ranger walked with him, deciphering. “There are two sets of footprints here, see.” He pointed to a different type of sole imprinted in the sand. It was smaller than the other. “This was a skinny guy. The other one, well, heavier boot, heavier man, deeper groove in the sand.”
Simone followed the men, not sure what to make of it. Someone had been here, stalking around her plane. A pang of dread shot through her.
The ranger strode to the edge of the airstrip and followed the tracks from there. “They came from this corner, someone waited here.” He pointed to another track, which was barely perceptible except for a soft ridge in the sand. “But the other two went here. Something was lying in the grass here where the one waited. See how flat it is? Then two walked here to the plane, and there was a scuffle. Notice how the tracks overlap each other?”
Simone followed the tracks with Carlo; now that the ranger pointed it out it was clear. Feet crisscrossed over each other, indecisive in their movement. It was right at the hold of the DHC Twin Otter. She locked eyes with Carlo. The poachers? She mouthed to him, but Carlo, with the smallest shake of his head, indicated she shouldn’t say anything.
“And what happened then?” he asked the ranger.
“Well, they walked back into the bush. Going around the plane. Why, I don’t know.”
“Do you have your mobile with you?” Carlo asked.
“Me? No.” Simone shook her head.
Carlo checked his watch. “We better get going, it’s already quarter past seven.”
“I think we should—” she started, but Carlo stopped her by taking hold of her arm with a warning squeeze.
“Get back for a shower and breakfast. We’re running late.” He smiled at the ranger, but didn’t let go of her arm; instead, his hand reached for her elbow where it nestled in a possessive clasp. They walked to the vehicle, and as much as she wanted to shrug him off, she couldn’t. His sure touch calmed her as much as the idea of someone sneaking around her plane in the dead of night freaked her out.
When the ranger stopped in front of the lodge’s entrance they both got out and rushed down the path. At the split toward the staff quarters and the guest areas, they stopped. There was a new energy between them and they both spoke at the same time. Carlo stopped and let her talk.
“I’m going to have to do a very thorough pre-flight inspection. If anybody tampered with our aircraft—”
He nodded. “We’ll go earlier. I want to take some photos of those footprints before they get trampled.”
“I can’t believe it. They are risking their lives walking around the bush in the dead of night.”
“These poachers grew up in the bush. They know what they’re doing.” Carlo raked his hands through his hair. “I’m sure they wanted to plant the tusks of the elephant we saw yesterday.”
Simone shook her head. “I’d be surprised if they got into the aircraft. I’ve got the key.”
He searched her face before he looked toward the path leading to the guest areas. “I’ll meet you on the deck in thirty minutes.”
“Sure,” she said, glad that she wasn’t one for elaborate morning routines.
Back at her tent she took a quick shower and then tossed all her things into her cabin bag and backpack. She carried her luggage to the deck. Natalia and Dino were already eating breakfast and she greeted them. She hovered; her stomach yelled that it needed to be fed, especially after her exercise.
“Do join us, please, Simone,” Natalia said, waving for her to sit down.
“I’m waiting for Carlo,” Simone said. “We need to do some paperwork before we can fly out.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Dino said. “It’s unusual for him to be late. Please have something to eat.”
“We went running this morning—” Simone clamped her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to elaborate.
Dino stood and pulled out a chair. She caved in, sat down with a murmured thank you and took a croissant to busy her mouth.
“A run?” Natalia sounded surprised. “I hoped that Carlo would leave his running shoes behind for a bit of downtime.”
Dino sighed, gesturing with his hands. “You know that’s how he deals with the stress, Talia. It’s either running or flying or working. There’s nothing in between.”
Simone digested this tidbit. Did this mean he had no partner? He’d told her once that sex with her was his favorite workout. She’d always been the one to drag him out for a run. Maybe the lack of action would explain why he ran like a demon.
She forced her mind away from the thought and the glowing heat that had settled in her core since seeing him again and focused on her croissant. It tasted so good, the buttery, feather-light consistency melting in her mouth. She could eat a mountain of those.
She took in the empty chairs around the table. “Where’s Angelo?” she asked between bites.
There was a brief exchange of glances between Natalia and Dino.
“He’ll be here soon, he tends to be a late riser,” Natalia said.
“We’re behind schedule too.” She smiled, wanting to reassure them. “If our pre-flight checks are fine we should be leaving at around eight forty-five.”
They ate in silence.
When Carlo walked in a couple of minutes later his lips were set in a straight line, cutting deep brackets around his mouth. He was so thoroughly pissed off, her pulse quickened. At first he seemed too deep in thought to acknowledge the others, but when he sat down at the table, he gave Dino and Natalia a curt nod. He stared at her for a long moment. Heat rose to her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to avoid his open scrutiny. Why was he this angry? He studied her as if she fisted all the answers in her hand, if only she would unfurl her fingers and show him. She dropped her gaze. Half of that was true.
Dino and Natalia sipped at their coffees and ignored Carlo. Simone had never seen him angry. Unsure of what to do she busied herself with her own breakfast, eating at double speed and wishing she were in the staff mess. She felt uncomfortable eating with the Carlevaro clan, not because of Natalia and Dino, but because of Carlo.
“Are you ready, Simone?” Carlo asked. He took a tentative sip of his double espresso.
“Yes, all packed and ready to go.”
“Good,” he said as he stood. He drained his cup and took a croissant from the basket on the table. “Let’s go. We’ll meet you at the airstrip,” he said to Natalia and Dino. “I’ve tried to wake Angelo up. Make sure he’s there or we leave without him.”
There was an awkward silence around the table, and Natalia nodded. Dino didn’t respond. Simone fell in next to Carlo as he strode to the entrance.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Besides the obvious?” She hoped he understood that she referred to the poaching issues.
“Angelo has never graduated from his teenage years,” he said shortly. “Allowing him to take over this branch is probably the biggest mistake. Maybe it’s the kick in the butt he needs. Time will tell.”
“I see.” There was nothing else to say, as Carlo fell back into contemplation, his brow dark and furrowed.
As they passed the kitchen she mumbled a soft excuse to say goodbye to Liz.
She peeked in past the swinging door. “We’re off, I’ll see you soon.”
Liz looked up from where she was discussing a menu with her staff. “Sure, let’s hope we have more time to catch up next time.”
“Take care and don’t overdo it.”
“What a laugh,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I have sleepless nights already and it’s only the beginning of high season.”
She caught up with Carlo at the entrance, where the Land Rover waited for them. Noel sat in the driver’s seat with one of the Kenyan rangers next to him. Carlo must have arranged for Noel to drive them to the airstrip.
When they got to the runway, Noel got out with his camera. The ranger inspected the tracks, going on his haunches. After a few minutes he came back, interpreting the tracks to Carlo, who listened attentively. The two different rangers’ stories were the same.
Simone waited for Noel to take pictures of the tracks. When he was finished she unlocked the pilot’s door of the plane and pulled herself into the pilot’s seat. For a moment she stared at the cockpit. Everything looked normal, just as she’d left it. Carlo came to stand next to her and she looked down at him. “Everything seems fine. Is Noel finished with the photos? Can we start?” she asked.
He shook his head and stroked through his hair in frustration. “There are fingerprints on the hold’s door.”
“They could be anybody’s. Mine, or the staff loading the luggage.” But they could also belong to those who’d stalked around the plane earlier.
“I know.” He scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Either way I won’t get the police involved. We can’t afford to have this leak.”
“It’s going to get out at some point, Carlo. People talk. Employees talk even more.” They were talking about the poaching, but it applied equally to her inherent fear of him finding out about Sarah. A mere slip of the tongue by someone who knew about Sarah could reveal everything. If Carlo discovered her secret via the grapevine… If he’d been angry this morning… She swallowed but forced herself to hold his gaze as a cold shiver shot down her spine.
He pursed his lips, seeming to struggle to contain his frustration. “Unlock the hold, please.”
“Sure.” She hadn’t forgotten about the possibility of elephant tusks being in the hold. She climbed down the small protruding step and Carlo stepped aside to allow her to get down.
Noel and the ranger stood close as she walked underneath the wing to the hold. As she pushed the key into the hole she paused. The area around the lock was newly scratched. “Look at these,” she said, tracing the fresh scratches with her fingers.
“I’ve noticed,” Carlo said, his gaze lingering on her hand. His eyes darted to hers and the tips of her fingers burned, as if she’d pressed them to a hot stove. She snatched her hand away. God, he would be thinking she was trying to press fresh prints over the old ones, ruining evidence.
Her hands trembled now, but she managed to swing the door open and everybody drew closer to peek into the dark space.
It was empty.
“Let me get inside.” Carlo nudged her aside with a soft squeeze on her shoulder.
He jumped and clambered in and on all fours to inspect the whole space.
“There’s nothing,” he said, sighing.
“I think they tried to stow the tusks last night, but for some reason they were unsuccessful,” Noel said. “I’ll send a team out to see how far they can follow these tracks and where they lead.”
“They failed last night, but they’ll try again soon enough. When will the cameras be up?” Carlo asked.
“We’re rigging them. This location is the problem. We don’t want animals to trample the expensive equipment.” Noel looked around at the airstrip. “We camouflage the cameras and will use the trees we have here, though the good ones are a bit far off. We know what to do. We’ll catch them sooner or later, don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t care about the expense. Just get me some footage of what’s happening here,” Carlo said.
“Can’t you put someone on guard at night to watch the planes?” Simone asked. Didn’t that make the most sense? She didn’t want to fly a plane that had been tampered with.
“That would defeat the purpose. We want to catch them, not just put their little project on hold.” Carlo shook his head.
“The poachers won’t come close if they think there is a welcoming party.” Noel added. “We catch them on camera and we’ll have a legal foot to stand on.”
The men shook hands. Noel and the anti-poaching ranger got in the Land Rover to return to the lodge. Simone retrieved the checklist she had left on her seat. As the dust cloud from the vehicle settled she joined Carlo. He stood by the hold, arms folded, staring into the dark space.
“They left us alone in the middle of nowhere without a ranger.” Simone liked the bush, but had spent enough time in it to have a healthy respect for it. If she’d been alone she would’ve waited in the plane until the rest arrived. That Carlo was there didn’t help; it wasn’t exactly safe to be alone with him either.
He shook his head. “Best we get cracking then. The others will be here soon enough.”
Simone scanned the bush but couldn’t see or sense anything dangerous. She blindly stared at her checklist, her hands still trembling slightly. She had to keep it business, and with what had passed that morning nothing could be simpler. There was no need to return to their unfinished conversation from last night. “I call and you check?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In twenty minutes they checked the fuel, oil, lights, doors and wheels, and made sure that nothing was dripping or dangling. Carlo was polite and efficient, acting like a star colleague instead of her ex-lover turned boss. It was confusing, and a superficial calm settled over them.
Simone laughed when Carlo swung the propeller then hung on the wing strut to make sure it was solid. “Still attached or must I get the duct tape?” she quizzed.
He chuckled, having relaxed a bit after the morning’s upheaval. He came to stand next to her. “That’s all for the exterior of the plane, let’s get inside before that lion strolls too close.”
Her head jerked up and she glanced to where he nodded. There was nothing but an empty dirt runway, lined with a swath of short grass and a flock of guinea fowl scuffling through it.
He laughed. “Got you there, Mona.”
She exhaled a raspy breath but her heart drummed in her chest. “Don’t do that! Hell.” She burst out laughing. “You might have forgotten Joshua and his stalking leopard stories, but I haven’t.”
His gray eyes, still bright with laughter, turned serious. “You’re right. I forgot about Josh…buon Dio, it’s been so long.”
The atmosphere had changed between them. He stood too close; his scent teased her. His shirt fell open at the collar and the thatch of dark hair on his muscled chest tempted her to caress his skin. This was more dangerous than any leopard that could ambush them.
“Sign this.” She shoved the checklist out to him.
As he took it from her his fingers brushed against hers and her breath hitched. He took the pen from her and she made sure he couldn’t touch her again.
Carlo signed the checklist and when he passed the document back to her didn’t let go immediately. “I regret many things, Mona. But I never regretted those six weeks.”
Simone looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze. She hadn’t regretted them either. Not until later.
Him being sweet was hard to stomach. If he continued to carry on like this she would crumble into a heap, begging him to make love to her. Her body craved his touch with an intensity she could not subdue. It was a need that became more overpowering with each passing hour in his presence. The tension of their unresolved past was layered, at times rather thinly, between pure sexual lust and the need to start with a blank page.
Her love for him had been real four years ago but she was no longer the naïve girl who had fallen in love with him. Her younger self had been so desperate for a man’s unconditional love that she’d given him everything without thinking ahead. She sighed, a deep, silent sigh that made the stone in her stomach feel heavier. She had to put Sarah first. She couldn’t subject her daughter to the same upbringing she’d had. If Carlo learned about Sarah and laid a claim to their daughter, his would be a whimsical presence, in and out, off and on. It would be gratifying to tell him about Sarah, have a good head-butting with him for leaving her, but it would not lead to a happy ending for anybody, least of all her daughter.
“Please don’t call me Mona,” she whispered. She took the papers and turned away from him. “The others are coming. Let’s wrap up.”