A Touch of Betrayal (5 page)

The thought of valuable stocks being sold off in order to bolster an account deficit she hadn’t even known was there sent another knot into her empty stomach. She would have no choice but to leave the lodge in the morning. The hotel personnel could help her find a travel agency and book a flight out of Nairobi. By the following day she’d be back in New York—back in charge.

Staring out into the black African night, she tried to form a prayer. God had given her this life, these responsibilities. She needed his advice.
Father, you’re the only one I can trust. Please, Lord, show me what to do about my dad’s money. Don’t let them sell off the stocks.

It seemed a little shallow to pray about money. All the same, she couldn’t make her dreams come true without it.
Her
dreams . . .

“Two ham and cheese sandwiches coming up. Fifteen minutes max,” Nick Jones said. He sauntered toward her, a slight smirk on his thin upper lip. “Come on, Alexandra. Let’s get you out into the moonlight. A walk will do you good. Clear your head.”

Alexandra considered protesting again. If he got ideas that this gallantry act of his appealed to her . . . still, she would be grateful for the sandwich. The other guests had apparently retired to their rooms or the hotel’s bar, and the place was deserted. A walk around the pool actually would give her time to think—assuming Nick didn’t start reciting iambic tetrameter again.

“Cooler than you’d think,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist. “Dumb, I guess, but I figured it’d be hot as blazes at the equator.”

“Maybe it’s the altitude.” She attempted to politely shrug him away.

His hand settled on her hip, holding her firmly in place at his side. “Snow at the equator. Kind of brings on the muse, doesn’t it?”

“I’m really not in the mood for poetry.”

“Me either.” He rubbed his free hand down her bare arm. “You got goose bumps, pretty lady. I bet you won’t have those when you get to the beach.”

Alexandra stiffened. How did he know she was going to the coast? She hadn’t told him her itinerary. “Nick, listen—”

“Hey, let’s walk over to the edge of the patio. Did you get a look at the water hole down below there this afternoon? I counted fifteen deer.”

“Antelope.” He was leading her determinedly toward the shadowed stone wall that rimmed the lodge enclosure just beyond the swimming pool. For some reason, the pressure of his hand on her waist sent a curl of panic through Alexandra. She didn’t like people coming so close. Especially someone she hardly knew. Again, she tried to push away. “Listen, Nick—”

His hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her words. “We’re outta here, baby,” he said. Half lifting her from her feet, he exited the pool area through an iron gate and started down the steep slope toward the water hole. Obviously a path used only by hotel staff, it was narrow and unlit. Terror poured through Alexandra. She stumbled over an exposed root as she tried vainly to push away from him. He left the trail and began dragging her through the tall grass away from the lodge, away from safety and reason and all that was civilized.

Horror mingling with determination to escape, Alexandra bit down hard on the man’s finger. He didn’t flinch. What could she do to stop him?

As he continued on, moving her farther and farther from the remnant of artificial light, she shuddered, nauseous. This couldn’t be happening. She had to get away. Had to fight.
God, give me strength!
She kicked his shin and rammed her elbow into his stomach.

He marched doggedly onward, his fingers and thumb crushing into her cheeks. “You don’t want to fight me, okay?”

Dragging her now, he moved toward a faintly moonlit outcrop of rock she had not noticed during the day. “You fight me . . . it’s only gonna hurt worse,” he continued. “I can make this nice and quick. Or not. It’s kind of up to you.”

Oh, God!
The prayer was wrenched from Alexandra’s heart.
God, help me! Help me!

“See, the thing is, you made a mistake.” He lugged her around the rock. “You trusted somebody you shouldn’t ought to have trusted. Never trust nobody, baby. That’s the rule I live by.”

Alexandra swallowed and tried to force herself upright. If she could somehow trip him. Or distract him. Or outsmart him.
Oh, Lord, he’s so much stronger than I am! You’ve got to save me!

Nick Jones continued to haul her out onto the open plain beyond the rock. By now, they were well away from the hotel. No one would hear her screams.

“This looks like a good spot,” he said.

Struggling to breathe, focus, concentrate, Alexandra searched her surroundings. A huge tree overhead. A strange pointed mound of dirt nearby. Grass. Lots of moonlit grass. A weapon? Anything?

Dear God! Give me something to fight him with!

“I never killed anybody in Africa before,” Nick said. “I did a guy in Mexico one time.”

Alexandra moaned as he threw her to the ground beside the tree. He stood over her, one leg on either side, pinning her in place.

“Nick!” Her mouth finally free, she sucked in a breath. Reason with him. Logic. “Nick, think about this. People saw us together. We’re the only Americans.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of this. I done it a hundred times.” He flexed his arms and began stretching his fingers. “Truth is, I like what I do. It moves me—kind of like an inspiration, you know? You ought to read the poems I got about it. This one is gonna be real different. Out here, see, the animals will finish off what’s left. That way I don’t get the blame. No fingerprints, no nothing.”

Oh, God, he’s going to kill me! Kill me!

He set his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “You wanna choose? A gun’s best, but I ain’t had time to acquire one. I got a little knife that’s quick across the throat. I got some wire. That way you black out before you go. Or I can just snap your neck. Kinda like a chicken. It’s fast.”

“Nick . . . Nick . . . please . . .”

“I’d pick the knife if I was you.”

“Please!”
Give me time, Lord God; give me time. Help me!

“Just don’t fight me. I hate that. Wears me out, and then I got to walk all the way back to the hotel.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of curled electrical wire. Looming over her, he tested it, snapping it taut twice and then winding one end around the meat of his hand.

“Okay, baby. Just relax.” He squatted over her and slipped his hand behind her head. “Pretty hair. Good thing it’s short. Now, I’m going to wrap this wire around your neck—”

“In the tree!” she shrieked, pointing up into the branches, where a dark spotted shape crouched. “It—it’s . . . it’s a l-l-leopard!”

“Huh?” He straightened quickly, looking up into the tree.

“Move!” She threw her body sideways, fearing the lurking creature as much as the man.

Knocked off-balance, Nick grabbed at her. “You little—!”

“It’s going to pounce!” She wrenched herself out from under him and scrambled on her knees around the tree trunk. As she rose and started through the tall grass, she suddenly knew she could never outrun the man, never hide from the leopard. She ducked her head down and sank to all fours again.
Dear God, dear God.
Sliding, staying low, she crawled toward the pointed mound.
Hide me, Lord! Hide me in the darkness!

“Where’d you go, you crazy chick?” he roared. “I told you not to try nothing, didn’t I?”

She slipped behind the hillock and clung to it for a moment, breathing hard, arms stretched wide, fingers digging into the soil. The warmth from the dirt soaked into her skin. Why hadn’t the leopard followed? What should she do?

Go, Alexandra. Go again. Run.

Moonbeams silvered the long grasses. A soft breeze barely ruffled their tips, like waves on a sheltered lake. If she kept low . . . stayed down . . . maybe she could crawl away from the human monster, crawl to . . . to what? At the lodge, Nick would find her again. She couldn’t go there, and this place was a leopard’s territory. Where to hide?

She started off again, sliding along on her belly like a snake, hardly rustling the grass. Where could she go? So many animals lived out here. Leopards. Lions. Cheetahs.

In the midst of her panic, the face of the wise old Mama Hannah suddenly shone like a beacon before her. As Alexandra crawled through the brush, she could hear Nick Jones nearby, calling her name, cursing her, swearing he’d find her and kill her. Sometimes he moved closer, and she stopped. She curled into a ball, hiding herself in the darkness like a hunted animal.

When his voice sounded from farther away, she crept on. Thorns pricked her palms; sharp grass scraped her bare arms; stones cut into her knees.
Father God, help me. Help me get away. Keep me safe. Show me where to go.

The answer floated always just ahead of her. Mama Hannah. Somehow, she must find Mama Hannah.

T
HREE

When the lights of the luxury lodge were no more than pinpricks in the distance, and when she could no longer hear the voice of the demon who wanted to kill her, Alexandra stood and began to run.

As she ran, a thousand questions tumbled through her mind.
Why me? Why now?
Had Nick Jones focused on her, planned his attack, stalked her to the lodge? All the way to Africa? Or was it just a terrible coincidence that had put her in the path of a psychopathic murderer? Should she return to the safety of the lodge? Could anyone there protect her from him? What if she stayed in the wilderness? Would that leopard attack her?

Mama Hannah.
Maybe Alexandra was delirious in her fixation on an old woman she barely knew. But Mama Hannah— the embodiment of kindness, security, faith—seemed the only answer to her questions. So she simply ran on in the direction of Mount Kilimanjaro. The great mountain loomed over her, its snowy peak bathed in moonlight. Dr. Thornton had said his camp lay near the foothills. But how could she find a single tent in the midst of this wilderness? Were there roads out here? People? This was nothing like New York, of course. Even Texas, with its wide-open spaces, couldn’t compare with the vast emptiness surrounding her.

Lungs bursting, she finally slowed to a trot. Reality sank in. She had survived. God had brought her through! It suddenly hit her that he had heard her prayer for help, and that maybe—just maybe—it was her heavenly Father who had provided the mysterious leopard. Relief sent tears streaming down her cheeks. She continued walking, crying, praying, through the darkness. The moon rose high overhead, silver and bright like a new coin. The image brought her previous concerns to mind—an account deficit, an absentee stockbroker, the threat of losing everything. How paltry her worries seemed now. It hardly mattered if she lost her money. She had almost lost her life.

As her pace slowed, fear again crept over her. She spotted a moonlit tree in the distance. Climbing into its branches would not offer much protection in a country known for its big cats. She had half convinced herself that God had sent the leopard when she thought she heard a sound behind her. Her spine prickled as she swung around and searched the darkness. Was that a rustle in the grass? The leopard? A lion? Or Nick Jones?

She began to run toward the tree. She reached it, scanned the upper limbs, and then grabbed the first branch. Thorns tore into her palms. Gasping in pain, she huddled at the base of the trunk. A dead branch covered with thorns lay nearby. She gingerly picked it up and propped it beside her.
Her weapon.

Determined to fight fatigue, she leaned against the tree and stared into the darkness. What was out there? What lay ahead of her? Whom could she trust?