Lexi frowned. Full time security? Was she underestimating how dangerous things were?
“Is the situation that serious, Mac?”
“As I said, we’re just being careful. One of the KWS patrols used a thermal imager to sweep the area. They didn’t pick up any suspicious heat signatures in a three-kilometer radius of the clinic, so for now, you can stay put. All we’re saying is keep your radar up.”
Lexi was able to breathe again.
“Okay, then. He’ll find someone to help keep the place secure, for everyone’s peace of mind, and everything will be fine,” she said, looking at both Jacey and Taj, but she really needed to hear the words to reassure herself.
“You’ll know soon if they find someone. Hope told me she’s planning to fly out Friday. I’ll be dropping her off.”
“Then I can get a ride back with you on Friday instead of driving the jeep?” Taj asked. “This news about the poacher makes me want to stay here, but the hospital will be expecting me. Maybe things will have settled by then.”
“Sure, I can fly you out. The rest remains to be seen,” Mac said. “I’m out of here for now. I’d like to make it to Jamba-Walker before dusk. Be on alert.”
Taj folded his arms and Lexi almost missed the subtle nod and silent exchange between him and Mac.
She had to admit, she admired their sense of honor and appreciated their desire to protect. She really did. But she’d looked out for herself her entire life. She didn’t need rescuing now. Her maternal instincts only made her tougher—after all, her baby came first. But there were other children here whose lives and well-being depended on her and this clinic. She couldn’t abandon them. She owed them the same care she’d want for her child. Taj glanced at her and pressed his lips together. He understood. She knew he did.
“Lexi’s right,” he said. “We may be in the middle of nowhere, but we have Masai enkangs in all directions and other tribal villages. There are eyes everywhere. The poacher won’t risk it.”
“Let’s hope that’s the case. I didn’t mean to come down hard on you guys. I’ve just lived here a long time and I’ve seen things I’ll never be able to unsee,” Mac said, looking pointedly at Lexi.
“I get it. Thanks, Mac. For the heads-up on everything. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that this clinic is important,” Lexi said.
“No worries. I’ll let Ben know things are okay here for now. I’ll be in touch.” He waved and turned for his chopper.
Taj put his arm out to usher Lexi and Jacey back to the camp and a safe distance from the helicopter. They watched as Mac’s chopper lifted and disappeared over a copse of fig and mango trees.
“Time to cook,” Taj said, scrubbing at his jaw and scowling at the ground as he headed toward the bungalow.
But Lexi put a hand on his arm. “You can’t fool me. I know that look. Do. Not. Worry. Like he said, poachers have plagued the region forever and have never bothered the clinic. These spottings are no different from ones we’ve heard before. Like you said, we’re surrounded by Masai enkangs and farmland. We essentially have an army of warriors with spears around us. What more protection could you want?” Lexi said.
“You haven’t been here long enough,” Taj replied.
“I’m an army veteran, Taj. I can shoot better than you, I’m sure, and I’ve been known to take down men twice my size,” Jacey reminded him. With her gorgeous features and long hair, it was easy to forget that Jacey was a highly trained fighter.
Lexi looped her arm in Jacey’s.
“See, Taj? We women have ourselves covered. Think Amazon warriors,” Lexi said.
Taj raised a brow at her and glanced at her very pregnant belly.
“This isn’t the Amazon.”
No, it wasn’t. This was Africa. Kenya’s Serengeti region. And even if fighting poachers was a war unto itself, at least it wasn’t a military war zone in the traditional sense. This wasn’t the front lines of Afghanistan or Iraq or any other war-torn country. Her child would grow up—at least during his or her younger years—without being bombarded by depressing, heart-wrenching news from television and every form of social media, including phones.
It had seemed impossible to escape from it all when she was back in the States. She didn’t want her kid influenced by combat video games or pressure to serve. She needed to protect her child...to keep him or her from ending up like Tony.
He’d been counting the days until his service ended so that they could get on with their plans in Kenya. She believed in her gut that he wouldn’t have wanted his child enlisting, as he had. He’d mentioned once that if they ever had kids, he’d want to make sure they were connected to both sides of their heritage. That they would understand and respect their heritage.
Lexi wanted to stay at the clinic for him...for their child. And she didn’t need to draw strength from anyone else to get it done. She’d spent her entire life proving she was capable. A survivor. She laid a hand on her belly, squared her shoulders and looked pointedly at Taj.
“I’m tougher than you think I am,” she said. The baby fisted her side, as if in protest. She cupped the tiny fist in her hand as if silencing any argument.
I am more than fine. You will be, too. You’ll see.
But the image of the orphaned elephant standing beside its mother’s remains had struck a nerve. And, for the first time in a long time, a tiny, buried part of her felt almost vulnerable...and made her wonder just how strong she really was.
VIOLENT PAIN SEARED Chad’s right arm like a branding iron burning its way clear to the bone. Instinct had him grasping for his arm, desperate to stop the agony, but his left hand rammed against his right rib cage. He reached again, squeezing his eyes against the pain and swatting air before hitting his shoulder.
“No!” He fisted his hair and cursed a stream of words he only ever used around fellow marines on the battlefield—never in his parents’ home.
He forced himself to look at his side...to remind him that a wrapped stump was all that was left of his right arm. This time, the visual didn’t help to bring him under control.
He covered his face with his one hand and took deep breaths until the phantom pain subsided enough for him to stand. He walked across his old bedroom to where a half-empty glass of water sat on his wooden dresser. He took a long drink, a ritual he’d adopted to train his mind to stay grounded in the here and now. Pain like that had a way of weakening even the toughest warrior. It coaxed his mind into dark places. Sometimes it took him back to that day.
He walked over to the window, pressed his forehead against the cool glass, and looked out at the yard below. The flowering vines climbing the garden walls were more lush and dense than he remembered. Even the fig tree that flanked that far side of the grassy area had grown since he’d last been in Nairobi. A beautiful, serene and deceptively safe haven. That’s what “home” was now. An illusion. A false sense of security. There was nothing safe or beautiful about the world. War and evil were insidious.
They’d left a permanent mark on him—and taken him out of the fight.
They’d neutralized him and the realization that there was nothing he could do about it drove him mad. He would never fight again and that made him feel like a man trapped behind bars, unable to do anything but watch and scream while criminals tortured helpless people. He wasn’t supposed to be the helpless one.
He’d heard of injured vets, even minor amputees, getting permission to reenlist, though they were often reassigned to more “appropriate” jobs. But first they had