Читать книгу Rare Breed - Connie Hall - Страница 11

Wynne gazed into Hellstrom’s face. For a nanosecond they stared at each other with a wrong-restroom look.

Hellstrom recovered first and waited for an explanation.

“Sorry, I—um, was looking for the party and somehow got lost.” Lame city. He’d never buy that.

“A lost ranger? Don’t you have a keen sense of direction?”

“Only outside. Give me the outdoors and I’m fine. You can always find your way by the sun or the lay of the land. But in closed quarters, forget it. All the walls and hallways look the same to me.” Could he tell she was lying? It didn’t show in his face.

“I thought this door was locked.” His golden eyes probed her face.

“It wasn’t. I just walked right in.” Wynne wanted to step past Hellstrom, but he was holding the doorknob and blocking her way. “Now that you’re here, can you show me the way back to the party?”

His gaze fell to the red dress. For a moment her body held his attention, then his expression softened. “You look so different in that gown. Quite stunning.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “I thought the red would look good on you.”

“Thank you for letting me borrow it.” Wynne felt trapped as she watched him close the door. “We really should get back.”

“You’ve caught me.” He stepped closer, his eyes taking on a strange dynamic glow.

“Caught you?” Wynne tried to sound surprised, while her insides churned. Was this it? A showdown? If he knew she was on to him, he might move the operation. Or worse, eliminate her before she could find proof against him. Every muscle in her body tensed as she waited for his answer.

“Yes, my wretched attempt at novel writing.” He motioned toward his desk, his gaze glued to the dress. Or her body in it. She wasn’t certain.

“Novel writing?” Relief flooded Wynne as she glanced toward the desk. That’s when she noticed the mask…hanging crooked. Just a tiny bit off kilter. But definitely not how he’d left it. Oh, God! Had he seen it? From his angle, the stack of books on his desk blocked the bottom of the mask. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

“I really just stumbled upon your office,” she said. “So I really didn’t see much.”

“It’s fortunate the door wasn’t locked.” He cocked a brow at her and grinned, but it was a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I believe in fate. There are no coincidences. I was meant to find you at this moment.”

And I was meant to find those bills of lading. “I have to disagree. I think man controls his own destiny.”

“You speak your mind, don’t you?”

“I am pretty direct.”

“You’re one of a kind.”

“Not really.”

“I must disagree. Most women of my acquaintance flatter and dissemble. But you, you know your mind and are incredibly honest. I admire that. I think I can trust you with my secret.”

“Your secret?” She wanted to look toward the mask, but held his gaze.

“My writing secret.” There was an intimate depth to his voice that she’d never heard before.

“Sure, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, his even white teeth gleaming. “At least not until I get it published.” He paused, his eyes dipping to her breasts. “Now that you know my secret, it’s only fitting I know one of yours.” He stepped closer, their bodies almost touching.

She could smell the starch in his white shirt, mixed with a musky aftershave and smoke from the party. A strand of straight black hair had fallen over his left brow, giving him a handsome, rakish look. If she didn’t know what a hypocrite and fraud he was, she might have been attracted to him. He was only a few inches taller than her and she was forced to look him straight in the eyes.

“I’m a pretty open book.” She shrugged and then pointed to his gun collection. When she did, she stepped to the side so that in order for him to face her, his back would be toward the mask. “I did notice your gun collection when I came in. It must be worth thousands.”

“It is, but you’re avoiding my question. You must have a secret.”

Wynne almost glanced at the mask, but forced her eyes back to his face. She had to give him something and make it sound convincing so she said, “Um, my mother and I are estranged.”

His expression turned inward. “My own dear mother is ill, I don’t see her as much as I would like.”

So the letters she had found from the mental institution must have been from his mother. She recalled his mother’s photo and the peculiar look in her eyes. Now Wynne knew the reason for it.

She really wanted to change the subject and get out of this office, but as long as it kept him occupied and not looking at the mask, she’d have to go with it. She sensed he didn’t want to talk yet and waited patiently.

After a moment, he came out of his musings, but dark shadows lingered in his eyes. “My father was a bloody bastard. He gambled away all of my mother’s inheritance. He died leaving her penniless. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother and I don’t mind aiding her now, but it all could have been avoided.”

She recalled the past due notices in his desk. How much aid could he afford to give his mother? He hadn’t paid his own bills or her mental hospital bills in months. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to sound sympathetic.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t the worst of my father’s contemptible qualities.”

“There’s more?” She really didn’t want to hear anymore, but she had to keep him talking.

“He had a wicked temper.” Hellstrom paused and appeared lost in bleak memories. After a moment, he said, “My mother stood up to him. Sometimes I wish she hadn’t.”

Wynne suddenly could see Hellstrom, a frightened little boy, cowering in the corner, while his mother protected him from a beating. This was getting way too deep for her, so she said, “I’m not that brave. I ran to the other side of the globe from my mother.” Wynne frowned at that self-realization.

“I’m sorry,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I digressed about my mother. Please, tell me about yours. Why are you estranged?”

“I committed a cardinal sin.”

“What was that?”

“I refused to go to law school and become a partner in her law firm. You don’t say no to my mother. She couldn’t understand I wasn’t cut out to work behind a desk. And she never understood why I came to Zambia.”

“Solicitors can make a difference. You could have worked in environmental law. What made you come to Africa to become a warden?”

“Partly my father. He’s a vet for the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. and used to let me go to work with him. He instilled in me a love for animals. But that isn’t exactly what brought me. I guess it was…” She paused.

“What?” He stood there transfixed on her face, his golden eyes glowing with a rapt yellow light.

He seemed totally absorbed by the conversation, so she continued. “I guess I was about twelve. And I was watching this National Geographic special on the plight of African elephants. I can’t even remember where it was in Africa, all I remember seeing was this herd of females with their calves. The local government declared they had to be killed because they were destroying crops. Hunters had cornered the herd and circled them. As you must know, when you kill a herd of female elephants, the oldest alpha female turns to protect the calves and younger elephants with her body. Then the other females join her. They make a circle around the calves. The shooting started, and I’ll never forget watching them go down. One by one. Then the calves. The look in their eyes. The fear…the pathetic resolve, as if man had failed them. I somehow felt the bullets enter my own heart. I knew in that moment that I had to fight to protect them, to protect all the wildlife here.” Wynne had overemphasized her last words, still feeling the painful impact of the memory.

She glanced at Hellstrom. She’d told the story partially to make him feel guilty and to see how he’d react. But his eyes gave away nothing.

“Would you have them destroy the crops?” Hellstrom asked, his voice terse.

“No, but they could have been moved. They could have been taken to zoos, or other wildlife parks. They could have done something, anything, other than the easy way out. Wildlife is a gift to man. He should be a steward of that gift. The answer is rarely a bullet.”

“I agree.” His voice softened slightly. “Conservation is always the better choice.”

“I know you feel that way or you wouldn’t be chairman of the LZCG.” Wynne searched his eyes for the deception behind his words, but his expression remained inscrutable, hidden by a mask of what looked like sincere concern.

“Quite right. We can help the animals together.” His gaze moved over her lips as he stepped close again and touched her jaw, tracing it with his fingers. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Wynne? I like seeing the fire alight in you. Your eyes a moment ago were like torches when you spoke about the elephants, brilliant defiant hazel torches….”

Oh, God! His fingers felt like a spider crawling along her skin, and yet a part of her felt an undeniable magnetism in his touch. Every nerve in her body grew aware of him. She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t risk him seeing the mask.

He gently wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face toward his. He leaned in to kiss her.

Abruptly, the door opened.

Hellstrom stepped back, but not before Jacqueline walked inside. Relief washed over Wynne.

Jacqueline stood there, her gaze shooting fire at Wynne. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I came to see if I could offer some makeup or anything, but—” she cut her eyes at Hellstrom, tears gleaming in them “—I see you don’t need any help.” She turned and swept out the door.

“Jackie, love, wait!” Hellstrom paused long enough to say, “I fear she’ll pout all night. I’d better go after her. We’ll continue this later.”

“I look forward to it.” She would play along if it meant finding concrete evidence against him.

He waited for Wynne to step outside the office, then turned to close the door.

That’s when he saw the mask.

His gaze held for just a split second, but long enough. His expression changed right before her eyes. The charismatic public pretense melted, and the emotion in his face turned raw and ugly. His gaze dissected her, piece by piece. She felt like a specimen under his microscope.

In that instant she realized he fed off the weakness of others, like animals of prey. It hadn’t been the fire in her eyes as she’d spoken of the elephants that had turned him on, but the pain he’d seen in her face. As she did with any animal of prey she met his gaze squarely and showed no signs of vulnerability.

Briefly they mentally circled each other in a he-knew-that-she-knew moment. An old African legend said that true enemies shared their souls, their strengths and their blood. Wynne felt that connection with Hellstrom like a blow to her gut, and she sensed that when it came down to the final battle, only one of them would survive.

He broke the momentary trance and slammed the door and locked it. Now that there was no need for pretense between them, he wasn’t smiling, nor did he glance at her. He hurried past, yelling, “Jackie, wait!”

Wynne followed in his wake, wondering if she had the strength to take Hellstrom on.

Wynne found the bedroom Tungana had taken her to and slipped inside. She went to the bathroom, put her hair back in a ponytail, then changed into her working clothes. Hellstrom had given orders to Tungana for her to wear the red dress. It was just another avenue of his manipulation, and she had to let Hellstrom know she wouldn’t be controlled by him.

If she was going to face Hellstrom, she’d do it in her own clothes, battle clothes. She retied the slingshot around her waist, then secured the dagger at her ankle. Next came her combat boots. As she stared at the ranger in the mirror, she felt ready to face Hellstrom again. This time on her terms.

The thought of leaving occurred to her, but she needed to question MacKay and probe him for information about his involvement with Hellstrom.

A few moments later, she left the room and strode down the steps, toward the dining room, avoiding several servants whose arms were laden with crates. A girl trailed behind them, a basket loaded with food and canned goods balanced on her head. Wynne knew this hallway led directly to the house’s kitchen and back exit, close to the garages. Hellstrom’s party preparations certainly had to have been done by now. So where were these provisions going? And for what?

“Someone moving?” Wynne casually asked the girl, blocking her way.

The girl looked maybe fifteen, with beautiful bronze skin and eyes that appeared shy and frightened of everything. “Don’t know, miss. Please, I’m behind.” She nodded to the men in front of her.

Wynne knew this girl wouldn’t talk, so she let her pass. She started to follow them, but someone tapped her on the back. She wheeled around and saw Tungana looking up at her.

His lips pursed with suppressed fury, and she realized she was seeing another side of Tungana that he kept well hidden. The voices she’d heard outside of Hellstrom’s office must have been Tungana and Hellstrom looking for her.