CHAPTER 6
“Are you as full as I am?” Nolan asked Teren as they slowly made their way back from Ameer and Farida’s home. It was eleven p.m. and he noticed her hand resting on her stomach as they walked.
“I feel like a proverbial Thanksgiving turkey,” she groaned. “Farida and Hadii make fabulous Sudanese food, and I always love getting an invite to come over and eat with their families. But afterward, I’m stuffed for a week.”
“Do you cook for yourself?”
“Yes, all the time. I love this country’s food, but I adore barbecue.”
“I saw the barbecue grills in the courtyard. Was it your influence to put them in?” he asked, suspecting he knew the answer.
“Yep,” she chuckled. “When Farida was hired after our last director retired, she’d just returned from the States. After being in California for six years, she’d fallenin love with love the cuisine there, but she also got hooked on good Southern-style barbecue.”
“And you, being from Kentucky, Southern by upbringing, just pushed that cart down the hill with her, right?” He saw faint laugh lines crinkle around her eyes.
“Oh, at a gallop, believe me. Now, the Sudanese, as you probably know, do have a form of barbecue, but our sauces are a whole lot better—at least, that’s my personal opinion. As a celebration gift to Kitra when she became director, Farida ordered six sturdy metal barbecues that we set in concrete in the courtyard. They’re permanent and very well made.”
“So are you the sauce maker?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“What kind of sauce? Mild?”
“Well,” Teren said, “the Sudanese were raised on red-hot peppers and hot, spicy foods.”
“Yes, I’ve burned the first layer of skin inside my mouth eating some of it at times,” Nolan admitted wryly.
“I like hot and spicy, but not the type that numbs your tongue and mouth so you can’t taste it.”
“Again, you’re a woman after my own heart. So?” He raised his brows. “When’s the next barbecue around here?”
“Well, Farida and I were talking about that before you arrived. This Saturday we’re celebrating twenty women and their children returning to the villages where their parents live to start their lives over. Farida thought it would be nice to hold a barbecue for them, and then they’ll be trucked back to their villages by our drivers afterward.”
“Sounds good. Are you making the sauce?”
“Yep, but Farida’s is just as good. She makes a green sauce that will burn your mouth off, but a lot of the Sudanese women and children love it. They call my sauce da’iff—weak.”
Her Sudanese Arabic was soft and melodic, rolling off her tongue. “I’ll definitely have to try your sauce,” Nolan promised, pressing his hand to his heart. He was rewarded with a wide smile, Teren’s teeth white and even against her full lips. “I heard you speaking Arabic half the night and the other half in English, Teren,” he continued, reflecting on the evening they’d just spent. “Your Arabic is excellent.”
“It’s so easy to slip between them, I don’t even realize when it’s happening,” she admitted. “Farida said I had an ear for languages. If you ever walk in on us in her office, you’ll hear us swinging back and forth between both languages. She loves American slang and uses it anytime she can.”
“It feels like you’ve got a really tight, cohesive team here,” Nolan noted as he continued looking around. Although there were three surveillance jeeps that slowly drove outside of the walled village at night, Nolan needed to remain alert. An enemy operator could time those jeep movements, waiting till the vehicle had driven around a corner of the village. Then, before another jeep’s lights could reveal his presence, the enemy could struggle to climb over that seven-foot wall and disappear.
Earlier tonight, after dinner, Ayman had taken Nolan to another room, where he’d handed him a Glock 18. The officer had given him enough magazines filled with bullets to do a very thorough job if needed. Tomorrow, he’d get other weapons from the armory. Nolan didn’t want to upset Teren by letting her see the pistol he’d pushed down into the back of his belt, hidden by his loose safari jacket.
He had to admit that he felt relieved to finally be carrying a weapon since a hit on Teren or on the enclosure could happen at any time. His team needed to find Uzan again, and Ayman had indicated that his three undercover soldiers were following his trail through the slums of Khartoum. He believed that soon they’d spot the bastard.
“Everyone who works here, Nolan, is fully committed to Delos and its objectives. It’s our passion,” Teren said, seeing his serious expression. Had she sensed his concern?
“Why did you choose to come here, Teren?” Nolan asked, changing the subject. He’d been curious about this since he’d met her. She looked down and became thoughtful, clearly wanting to give him a fair answer.
“I’ve always loved Africa. I don’t know why—maybe I lived here in a past life. This continent holds a special place in my heart. I hate to see children and women suffer, and I know it’s really bad over here for some of them. I guess I just wanted to make a positive difference in their difficult lives.”
“In the file that Wyatt gave me, he said you’d worked at the UN camps in Darfur for a year.”
“Ugh, that was hell on earth. I handled it, but I didn’t have the internal fortitude to do it for more than a year. It burned me out emotionally.”
“Seeing victims die every day isn’t something most people can take, Teren,” he said gently, seeing a quick flush of shame on her face. Then it was gone. But at that moment, he realized that she did not see herself clearly. Rather, she rated herself by what others did for those poor Darfur survivors.
This raised Nolan’s concerns. For her height, she was a good fifteen pounds underweight, and he noticed she hadn’t eaten a lot tonight. Hadii was always verbally poking at her to eat more, and so was Farida. They were like two mother hens clucking over their little chick, Teren. He was pretty sure that she was more like their adopted daughter, and maybe that was a good thing. It was obvious that those three women clearly loved one another.
“I guess,” she said, halting on the walk near the burbling water fountain. “When you put it that way, it’s something to be proud of. I shouldn’t call myself a wimp because I couldn’t take it in Darfur longer than others did.”
Then Nolan did the unthinkable. There was a long, loose strand of Teren’s hair at her temple, the breeze moving it against her high cheekbone. He lifted his finger, grazing her warm, firm skin and easing it behind her ear. “You can never compare yourself to others.” He saw her eyes widen, her lips part, surprise in her expression. And then, Nolan saw her barely sway toward him. It wasn’t obvious, but he recognized that Teren liked his touch—and wanted more.
She stopped herself from stepping forward, and he gave her an apologetic look. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.” Sorry I can’t do it again, he thought. He wondered what she was thinking as she bent her head, as if to hide her reaction to his unexpected touch.
“I understand,” she whispered, turning, beginning her slow walk toward their duplexes, which were shadowed by the night. There was a small light above each door to chase away the darkness and make it easy to see where they were going.
Teren tried to push her regret away. Nolan’s gesture had been so natural between them, as if it were a familiar sign of affection. A small ache grew in her heart, her cheek still tingled where he’d barely brushed her with his index finger. Teren realized Nolan was just as drawn to her as she was to him.
She made such poor choices when it came to men, always leaping before she looked, too impatient, thinking she knew the man well enough when she really didn’t. And then, later, she’d regret her decision to get closer to him.
She wrestled with her curiosity about Nolan Steele, because he was not like any other man she’d run into during her lifetime. He was very different, a lone leopard. When a young male leopard is chased out of the territory where he was born, he moves off to find his own territory. He’d roam the red plains of Sudan in search of another family to make his own.
Now, with Nolan, even though she was powerfully attracted to him, she’d not flirted, not let on how she felt toward him, thinking it was one-sided. Well, judging by the burning, aroused look in his narrowed eyes, it was mutual. And the only thing Teren could celebrate was that she had not made the first move for once. Maybe things would turn out better this time.
She felt Nolan fall into step with her, felt the warmth of his male body close—but not too close to her. Teren felt that all-encompassing sense of safety he surrounded her with once again. She wanted to discuss that with him. She’d never felt anything like this before—only with Nolan.
“What does your schedule look like tomorrow?” Nolan wanted to get them back on a professional footing. He was afraid she’d been shaken by his spontaneous act of intimacy with her.
“I get up at five a.m., and then I go for my five-mile jog.”
“Where do you run?”
“Outside the gate on the grassy plain. Usually I jog close to the highway because the soil is more hard-packed than on the nearby grasslands. It’s five miles one way from Kitra to the turnoff from the highway to Khartoum. I go two and a half miles toward it and then turn around and come back. Then I shower and eat breakfast, and I’m in my office by eight a.m.”
“Do you get up a lot from your office and go various places?”
“Yes, I can’t stand sitting for too long. I leave my office between five to six p.m. and come home, fix a meal, and crash. I’m usually in bed by ten p.m. That’s my day in a nutshell.”
“Okay, sounds good. At 0900—I mean, nine a.m., I’ll be over at the security office, where Ayman is going to introduce me to the security system around here. It’s probably going to take at least until noon.”
He glanced down at her, admiring her profile, which was so beautiful, although right now her lips were compressed and her brow furrowed. Nolan thought he’d really done it this time by spontaneously touching her. She hadn’t been expecting such intimacy. He recognized that his feelings for her were growing quickly, whether he wanted them to or not. She must have sensed it, because she was giving off the vibe of a scared rabbit facing off with a predator. Him.
He walked her to her door and aiming again at a professional tone, instructed, “Listen, you need to start locking your home when you leave it.”
Turning to look up at him, she said, “You’re kidding me, right? We always leave our doors unlocked. I know you said there was a threat, but look at that seven-foot wall.” She gestured toward it.
“Wish I was,” Nolan said, using his most patient tone. “Tomorrow morning, how about if I join you for that jog. Then, after I finish with Ayman, I’d like to sit down with you in your office so we can discuss the ins and outs of working together. Being protected can get on the subject’s nerves pretty quickly, Teren. I’ll try to head off that possibility by telling you what to expect beforehand and what we can expect from each other. How’s your calendar look for tomorrow afternoon?”
“It’s free after two p.m. Will that work?” Nolan was so close she could breathe in his scent—strong and masculine. It was part desert, part sweat, and part something else so powerful that she felt her body respond with a sexual longing that rocked her.
“We need to keep you safe, Teren, so once you’re inside your home, lock that front door. Tomorrow, I’ll check out any weaknesses and we’ll remedy them.”
“I just hate the idea of having to do it, is all. I realize this isn’t your fault. You’re trying to help me, but it angers me that one man can change another person’s life so suddenly and dramatically.”
“One good thing about all this is it’s not going on forever, Teren. If you can work with me, this situation may be over sooner than later. What you don’t want is Uzan or one of his henchmen lying in wait for you inside your house.” He gestured toward the interior.
Teren felt herself tensing; she hadn’t even taken something like that into consideration. Could he be right about the need for extra security measures?
“Right now, I’ll go in ahead of you. I want you to remain out here, beside the door, but not standing in front of it. I need to clear every room before you go in.”
She moved to the other side of the door and waited. “Can you teach me what I need to know?”
“Tomorrow when we meet and talk in your office.” Nolan silently praised her teamwork attitude. He knew Teren had her own rhythm and fixed schedule. Every human being did. Now he was coming in and destroying it, then replacing it with a PSD routine instead. He opened the door slightly. It was dark inside and he reached behind him, taking the Glock out of his belt, unsafing it. There was already a bullet in the chamber. Pushing the door wide open, he reached inside and flipped on the overhead light switch. He heard Teren’s soft gasp as he revealed the weapon from beneath his jacket.
“It’s smart to always keep a light or two on in your home when you leave it.”
Teren watched in silence. He was putting himself in harm’s way for her. Nolan was all business, his focus suddenly like a laser, his eyes narrowed. In some ways, he made her think of a leopard, stalking a potential kill. He moved soundlessly. Her cheek tingled, reminding her of that molten, beautiful, and unexpected moment with him earlier. How close she’d come to stepping forward, leaning upward, and kissing that chiseled mouth of his.
Maybe Farida and Hadii had been right. Nolan was eye candy. For once could she not leap before she looked? Just appreciate him as a man? Give herself time around him so she really knew him? Confusion swept through her as she patiently waited. Finally, Nolan reemerged, sliding the Glock behind him into his belt. He gave her an apologetic look.
“It’s clear. Come on in.”
A faint smile lurked on her lips. “I’ve been living here for seven years, and the only thing I’ve ever run into was a scorpion in the middle of the living room one night.” She saw him tuck a smile away, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
“I understand.”
Sweeping into her home, Teren heard the door close. Turning, she said, “I’ll take all of this seriously, Nolan. I know you mean well, and so does Wyatt. It may look like I’m not grateful, but I am.”
“It’s tough to get used to a new routine.” Standing by the door, he said, “After you’re inside, you should check your windows to ensure they also remain locked. Check them every day. Does anyone else ever come in here? Like a cleaning woman?”
“No, I do my own cleaning. I’m the only one ever here, unless of course, I have friends over for dinner.” She walked to the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, opened her fridge, and pulled out a pitcher of cold water. “Do you want some?”
Nolan shook his head. “No, I’ll let you have your space.” He gestured to the inner door. “Mind if I go this way?” The expression on her face was one of concern. He understood why. It wasn’t easy to give up one’s privacy to a stranger, no matter what the reason or how important it was. “I’ll see you at five tomorrow morning, Teren. Good night.”
“Good night, Nolan. Thank you…” She watched him walk to the door and disappear. He quietly closed it behind him. After gulping down the cold water, she set the glass in the white tile sink, feeling vaguely disturbed. Why? Walking over to the door, Teren wanted to lock it.
Nolan was taking her control away from her. Normally, she was the one who was in charge—here at Kitra, she was the number three person. She turned, leaving the door unlocked, and went to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, she rubbed her face with her hands, making a muffled sound of frustration.
What was this really all about? Nolan was only doing his job. He cared enough for her life to educate her.
She knew exactly why she was reacting like this. It had happened years ago, when she was eighteen. She had been so naïve and trusting, and smiling, handsome Tony had taken advantage of it. After inviting her to a motel room, he had drugged and raped her, then left. She’d awakened alone and naked hours later.
With a growl, Teren pushed off her sandals, her feet against the coolness of the pale orange tiles. The sensation felt steadying to her roiling emotions as the past was brought into the present once more. Why couldn’t she just get over the fact that she’d been drugged and raped? Of course, that wasn’t the worst part. That came when she’d found out she was pregnant. She had been too ashamed and frightened to tell anyone, especially her family, about it. Humiliation, that sense of being a failure to her family, struck her strongly as it always did. Her innocence had been destroyed at eighteen. And her family, who cherished strong morals, had disconnected from her as a result of her traumatic experience. Consequently, Teren learned to live on her own without their support because they were embarrassed by her behavior.
Her life had changed forever when she’d left home after high school and gone to a neighboring town that had a community college. She found it wonderful to live in the scintillating, exciting, and unknown world instead of at her family’s large dairy farm. She was the only girl, the baby of the family. She had three stout, hardworking brothers who coddled her, protected her, and chased away any boy who might be interested in her during her high school years. Her family had filled her head with the fear of getting pregnant. Of having sex before marriage. Of being called a slut like so many other girls at her high school. They all vowed she’d be a virgin when she graduated, and she had been.
Her social skills were less well-honed as a result of their over-protectiveness. At a school dance, her tall, brawny brothers would glare down at any boy who asked her to dance. If the boy moved his hand from the small of her back, one of her brothers would come over, forcibly separate them, and tell the boy to get lost. It was so embarrassing to Teren. And then there were the constant, daily fights with her stern mother over the kind of clothes Teren wanted to wear. Her mother accused her of looking like a biblical harlot if she deemed a dress too tight or too short. Teren remembered those years of high school and indeed felt as if she’d had three bodyguards, plus her mother checking her out thoroughly before she went to catch the school bus. Her three brothers had been protective and watched out for her since the first grade until the day of her high school graduation.
Frowning, Teren sat down in the living room, placing her feet on her carved wooden trunk with leather straps for hinges. It was her idea of a coffee table. Inside the chest were all the personal belongings she rarely shared with anyone. Her mind bounced from her past to what Nolan had just done tonight. It made her feel as if she had a big brother lording over her once more, telling her what to do, controlling her every movement. Only Nolan wasn’t looking at her clothes, perceiving she was a slut like her family, her friends, and the people in her town thought she was. No, when he’d first come to the door to pick her up at seven p.m., she’d seen pleasure come to his eyes as his gaze moved slowly from her head down to her sandaled feet and back. She’d felt his approval of what she wore, saw that slight, boyish smile curving one corner of his well-shaped mouth. If anything, he made her feel beautiful.
But she was a harlot of the worst kind in the eyes of her family and community. Tipping her head back against the butter-colored leather couch, sinking against it in surrender as her past unwound within her like an ugly story with a bad ending, Teren closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. God knew, she’d cried buckets of tears over the years because of her drugging and rape by Tony. After her best girlfriend, Erin, listened to Teren list what she thought were digestive symptoms three months after the rape, it changed Teren’s life forever. Teren had been nauseous all the time, vomiting, her stomach roiling off and on for no reason. Erin became very somber and suggested she pick up a pregnancy test at the drugstore. She said that from the symptoms Teren was describing, she might be pregnant.
Teren didn’t want to believe Erin, but the test had verified her suspicions. Finally, she told Tony the test results, and the earth fell out from beneath her feet, her life never to be the same again after that horrifying night. He’d beaten her unconscious, and she’d miscarried and woken up in the hospital with her parents, who had shame in their eyes, at her side. Later, after recovering sufficiently, she went on to complete her two-year computer science degree. Coming to Africa had been good for her. Teren had time to grieve, mature, and deal with the tragic choices she’d made when she was so young.
Now, opening her eyes, Teren stared up at the handmade metal and glass light above her. She wanted to focus on something positive. The light had been made by women here who wanted to learn the art of working with metal and stained glass in order to create beautiful lamps. These lamps usually carried oil in them and were designed to be used by villagers. This one worked on electricity, but it was still beautiful, and Teren appreciated the rainbow colors of the hand-cut glass throughout it.
Slowly rising, she rubbed her brow, a headache coming on. It always did when she refused to cry. If she cried, she could avoid the headaches. Maybe a warm shower would help to wash the old memories away. At least she hoped so. She felt her throat closing, the tears right there, aching to be shed for so much of herself that she’d lost that awful, life-changing night.
Undressing in her bedroom, she carefully laid her clothes out on the white chenille bedspread and moved to the bathroom, naked. She turned on the faucets, grateful that each duplex apartment had a hot water heater, so she could enjoy such a luxury in this struggling African country. Most people in Sudan didn’t even have a shower, and one with hot water was unheard of.
She unclipped her hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders, placing her favorite comb on the counter. Picking up a washcloth and cinnamon-scented soap, she stepped into the steamy enclosure. Just the soft, warm spray splashing across her head, the water soaking swiftly into her hair and darkening it, running in trickling rivulets across her upturned face, made the past begin to slowly dissolve. Water always helped Teren.
With her eyes closed, she saw Nolan’s dark, shadowed face once more as they walked across the village and back to their duplex. He had a kind face, not a judgmental one like her father’s. And Nolan had extended his patience to her tonight, even though she’d been somewhat reluctant about allowing him to protect her.
Nolan had inadvertently struck a deep wound that had never healed. Her three brothers, to this day, barely spoke to her because of what had happened. When the police found her in the motel, unconscious with a concussion, nose broken, cheek fractured, several teeth on one side of her jaw loosened, her family came to her aid. But they never understood why she’d gone to that motel room, although she’d tried to explain it. She’d been too emotional, too charged with grief and guilt, to share why she’d done it.
Teren would always be grateful that her family had not abandoned her in her hour of need. She’d lain in a coma for three weeks, miscarrying but not knowing about it until later. After she opened her eyes, disoriented, not knowing where she was or how she’d gotten there, she saw that her family had stood watch and prayed for her. Their church pastor and the parishioners had prayed for her as well. And there was always someone, either family or friends, who remained faithfully at her bedside in that hospital, twenty-four hours a day. Teren believed to this day it was the power of their prayers that had pulled her through.
Lifting her face to the water once more, she allowed those gutting memories to wash away, at least for now. Teren could only remember so much. It became too painful to remember it all at once. Her reaction to Nolan’s trying to control her had brought back her parents’ and her brothers’ attempts to control her. It wasn’t the same, but that’s how she’d started to take it until she caught herself and separated her past from her present.
As she soaped up her shoulders and arms, washing away the perspiration and fine grit that was always carried on the desert breeze, she felt guilty over not being a more willing PSD. But he didn’t know her past and she hadn’t been aware of why she was balking until just now.
Teren was sure this wasn’t the first PSD he’d ever been on. She knew very little about Nolan and his life as an undercover military operative and longed to sit down and really talk to him. How badly she wanted him to open up to her.
Of course, Nolan didn’t know about her ugly past, and his impression of her would surely change if he ever found out. Her lips tightened as she washed her breasts, torso, and belly. Grateful that Wyatt had left her sordid past out of her file, Teren knew she needed to apologize to Nolan. He was doing his job, and Delos was paying him a lot of money to guard her and keep her safe.
Tomorrow morning when they went for a jog, she would tell him she was sorry and would try to be a better student, a better partner in this PSD dance that had landed at her doorstep. And most of all, Teren had to push aside the memory of that caring touch across her cheek, the way the heat had tunneled downward, her breasts firming up, her nipples puckering beneath her blouse. All the man had to do was lightly touch her, give her that smoldering look of wanting her, and she was already melting and wanting him, too. What was she going to do?