sweettale books--the magazine

SweetTale Books

Sweet Books With Character

www.SweetTaleBooks.com

November 2012 Volume 1, Issue 3

In this Issue:

Meet Heather Claus’ book, ‘Sewing & Fitting with Darts: Using Darts to Fit and Design Your Sewing Patterns Sew Far, Sew Good, Volume 1’

Free Book over Time! Chapters 13-21 of Get Me Out of Africa

Latest Release! BOOK #30! ‘A Guardian Angel’s Kiss’ by Eryn Grace

‘I Love To Eat’ Recipe: Fresh Apple Cake

Free Book Coupon for ‘A Dream to Share’ under the table of contents

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Table Of Contents

Latest Releases--page 2

Heather Claus’ Book!--page 4

Free Book Over Time 'Get Me Out of Africa' (ch 13-21)—page 7

I Love to Eat Recipe --page 65

About Me—page 66 SIGN UP FOR A NEWSLETTER! Get a newsletter announcing this magazine’s newest issue at http://tinyurl.com/9p94j92 (link also on the first page of http://www.sweettalebooks.com). Free book coupon! Get ‘A Dream to Share’ by Markee Anderson at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/105446 with coupon JM58Z! Good until Dec. 3, 2012.

Latest Release

Book #30 is out!!! YAY!!!

‘A Guardian Angel’s Kiss’ by Eryn Grace (Christian Romance) was just published on October 22. Here’s the blurb:

When Gina Russell learns she's pregnant from a rape, she loses all hope and contemplates the worst sin of all--suicide. God intervenes and sends her a guardian angel in the form of Dr. James Pierce, who gives her

the strength to fight the rapist's threats and hope through the word of God. However, with all her baggage, she knows she's not the one for James. When the rapist is finally behind bars, she'll be an unwed mother…without her guardian angel. Buy links and an excerpt found at http://eryngrace.com/aguardianangelskiss.html

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https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/105446

http://eryngrace.com/aguardianangelskiss.html

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Heather Claus’ Book!

Check out Heather’s book, ‘Sewing & Fitting with Darts: Using Darts to Fit and Design Your Sewing Patterns Sew Far, Sew Good, Volume 1’. It’s at http://tinyurl.com/8v5r3r8. This is a great book for me, because I can’t sew much at all without getting really frustrated. But this book has descriptive instructions so anyone can read it. Here’s the description from Amazon:

The first volume in the new "Sew Far, Sew Good!" series, Sewing & Fitting with Darts: Using Darts to Fit and Design Your Sewing Patterns, features over 20 critical dart fitting and design techniques that will improve your sewing, add insight and creativity to your pattern design, and increase your understanding of how clothing patterns are made to fit. Sewing & Fitting with Darts: Using Darts to Fit and Design Your Sewing Patterns focuses immediately on what sewers need to know about sewing with darts, fitting with darts and even designing with darts. If you have ever had issues with fitting, or wondered why fabrics wrinkled and bunched, this book is for you. If you have ever wanted to get started designing your own clothes, or dream of yourself as the next winner of Project Runway, this is the best place to start.

http://tinyurl.com/8v5r3r8

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All of these lessons have been taught to hundreds of women (and men) over 10 years. They have been tweaked and edited to provide clear materials for easy understanding, and the book includes online discussion forums and support for the book. Table Of Contents:

Introduction What Is A Sloper? What Is A Dart? The Seven Major Body Bulges Dart Rules Darts Experiment 1 Moving Darts Folding Darts Patternmaker VS. Fashion Darts 2 Darts to 1 and 1 Dart to 2 Darts Experiment 2 Princess Seams from Darts Parallel Darts Radiating Darts French Darts English Darts Darts Into Gathers Darts Into Yokes Darts Cure Gaposis Hiding Darts for Fit & Fashion Stitching Darts That Fit Pressing Darts Adding & Removing Dart Shaping Finding Hidden Darts Author's Note

FANTASTIC stuff here! Check out her book! I think you’ll love sewing

after you do.

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Free Book Over Time

'Get Me Out of Africa' (chapters 13-21): I'm giving you a book, but it'll take time to read it. With a few chapters in each issue, you'll have a free 'book over time.' Find more information about this book and the sequels at www.andiealexander.com/et1.html.

Blurb: *** Book 1 in the Extreme Travel Series *** An African business trip for Kes Madrid turns out to be a lot more exciting when she and her sexy-but-engaged boss fall into the Zambezi river after their raft tips over. Landing on the Zimbabwe side has Kes terrified. She wants to go home, but her boss has other plans, putting them smack-dab in the middle of a coup. The nation's rebels and the CIA are ready to take the country away from the dictatorial leader and give it to the people. In the meantime, Kes' life will be put on the line as the most wanted in the nation, which is definitely not on her 'bucket list.'

http://www.andiealexander.com/et1.html

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‘Get Me Out of Africa’ by Andie Alexander

(continued from last month…)

~~~~~

Chapter 13

Mr. Hamilton raised his hands the best he could to show we were

unarmed. “We’re not a threat to you. I need help. I’ve been shot.”

The woman lowered the gun and walked toward us. She examined

Mr. Hamilton’s wound, said a few words in French, and guided us inside.

The inside of her home was tiny, looking like she didn’t have much

money. The home contained one room, which held a small stove, a small

refrigerator, a sink, a couch, a small table, and a double bed. A tiny

bathroom sat beside the big room, and that was it.

The woman told me to take a seat, then helped Mr. Hamilton to the

sink, cleaned his wound and dressed it again. I needed to record

everything for my story, so I searched through my backpack for a pen and

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some paper, but couldn’t find any writing utensils or paper. So instead, I

sat back on the couch and sighed, watching her work on his arm.

As soon as the woman finished dressing his wound, she asked him to

sit down. He sat beside me on the couch—up against me, even though

there was plenty of space for him to sit on the other end. When I inched

away from him, closer to the edge on the far left, he moved right up

against me yet again. I shot him a nasty look and he returned it with a big

smile. Whatever she did to his arm seemed to have made him extra

happy. She probably used some sort of medicinal root that took away pain

and made him hallucinate.

“What are your names?” the woman asked.

“I’m James and this is Kes.” Mr. Hamilton seemed to trust this

woman more than he’d trusted Wally Beecher at the base of the tree full

of lions. “And you are…”

“My name is Marie. My husband is out hunting for our dinner. His

name is Pierre.”

Mr. Hamilton’s face registered something when he heard the names,

but I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“Where are you from?” I asked Marie.

“I’m from Abidjan, in Côte D’Ivoire.” I gave her a puzzled look and

she bit her lips. “The Ivory Coast.”

Having read that tourist book and an atlas of Africa, I knew exactly

where the country was located. The Ivory Coast was on the underside of

the west coast of Africa, a few countries west of Nigeria.

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When we’d started this adventure, I’d figured if our plane went down

and I needed to know where I was lost and whether cannibals infested the

area or not, I’d learn more about Africa. So I knew Africa like the back of

my hand.

The woman continued. “We came here when we were told there was

gold in the hills and we’ve been here ever since. That was over thirty

years ago. Our children have left this country, because it’s not safe here.

But for us, this is now our home. It’s not as hot as it was back on the

western coast of Africa, and the government and the police leave us

alone.”

“Did you say you’re Marie and your husband is Pierre?” Mr. Hamilton

asked.

The old woman nodded.

“Interesting,” he replied, but said no more. However, I could tell he

knew more than he was telling, almost acting as if he knew her. The

wheels turned in his brain and he was devising some sort of revelation to

her.

“How do you feel about the government these days, Marie?” He

crossed his ankle over his knee and bounced his leg, making the entire

couch shake. I reached over and stopped it, forcing another smile to his

face as he turned toward me.

Marie looked out the front of the house, then went throughout the

small home and shut all the windows and blinds and locked the door. She

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returned to us within a minute. “Are you a friend or foe of President

Mimwasa?”

“We’re from the United States and we’ve never met the man,” Mr.

Hamilton replied. “I don’t think we’re friends.”

He was acting very strangely, considering he’d told me he wasn’t

allowed in the country and the police were after him. As I watched him, I

knew I had to play it cool, too.

Marie narrowed her eyes, as if puzzled. “But you have an accent like

you’re from England.”

“That’s where I was born, but I’ve lived in the U.S. since I was

young.”

I’d always wondered why he had an accent. “I was born in

Colorado,” I said. “And I have no idea what the government is like here. I

don’t even know much about our own government back home.” Yes, I was

a journalist, but really didn’t know or care about our own government

since I did a lot of local fluff articles. I had enough problems with my own

family than to put other problems in my brain.

“Good,” Marie said. “Keep it that way, madam, but you might want

to get to know your own government, or you could end up like us. I don’t

trust the government here, and we keep to ourselves out here so the

police won’t burn our house to the ground. They don’t know who we are

and we like it that way.”

“What do you do here?” I asked, glancing around the small home.

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“We came here for gold. That’s all you need to know.” She turned

toward her tiny kitchen and picked up a wooden bowl of fruit.

“My mother was a missionary near here,” Mr. Hamilton almost yelled

so Marie could hear him. “You might remember her. Her name was Emma

Sinclair.”

The woman dropped the bowl and it hit the floor with a thud. The

mangoes and papayas rolled across the room as she spun toward us in

surprise.

“Mon Dieu!” She crossed herself as her eyes lifted toward the

ceiling. She closed her eyes, lifted a cross necklace from around her neck

and kissed it.

Whatever was going on was weird, to say the least. And he was right

to take his time to tell Marie, from her expression. She turned from

distrust to adoration in that split second.

The plot thickened.

~~~~~

Chapter 14

“Our prayers have been answered!” Marie ran to Mr. Hamilton and

grabbed him off the couch, hugging him as much as she could. “Welcome

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to our home. I’m honored to have you as a guest. Your mother was one

of my best friends.”

He forced a strained smile on his face as she hugged him, looking

toward me for help. I wasn’t buying his act, because he hugged her back.

“Marie,” I said. “Can you tell me why you’re so happy to see Mr.

Hamilton?”

“He’s our savior—”

“Kes, she knew my mother,” Mr. Hamilton interrupted. “That’s all.”

Marie stared at him. “Why does she call you Mr. Hamilton? Doesn’t

she know your first name is Andrew?”

“Marie, you’re mistaken.” He stared at her. “My name is James

Hamilton. My mother kept her maiden name when she came here.”

She stared at him in confusion. “No, she didn’t. I saw pictures of

you and your father—”

“Now, Marie, you must be confused.” He was looking at her

strangely, and sudden understanding appeared on her face.

“Oh, you’re right. I must be confused.” She nodded in agreement.

“Kes is an employee of mine—,” Mr. Hamilton continued.

“Ex-employee,” I interrupted.

“That’s right,” he said with a grin. “She’s an ex-employee of mine

who’s here to document our safari in Zimbabwe. She doesn’t feel right

calling me by my first name of James because I used to be her boss.”

“I see.” Marie smiled and nodded profusely.

I got the feeling these two had some type of history together and

knew more than they were telling. For one thing, this ‘James Hamilton’

wasn’t being honest with anyone. His name was definitely not James, and

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it sounded like his first name was Andrew. If his mother’s last name was

Sinclair, chances were his last name was Sinclair, too.

I wondered what else he wasn’t telling me. Did being in this house

have something to do with the person he was supposed to meet? Could

be, but he didn’t want to send the first class ticket or call the man. Very

odd.

I looked directly at Mr. Hamilton, not sure what his name really was.

“Quit playing games. Are you going to level with me or not?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Mr. Hamilton sat down beside me again, in

the same spot right up next to me, while Marie went into the kitchen and

cleaned up the mess on the floor. After returning with a pitcher and some

glasses, she poured some lemonade into the glasses, then handed one to

each of us.

“Isn’t that right, Marie?” he said. “There’s nothing to tell.” He put

his hand on my leg and I threw it off with a frown.

“That’s right, ‘James.’” She winked at him with a smile, and sat,

facing us, at the other end of the couch, sipping her glass.

That clinched it. His name wasn’t James. What was going on here?

“You’re both bad liars,” I said, moving as far away from the closest

liar as I could, watching them both. “If I were in a poker game with either

of you, I’d win, hands down.” I paused while I stared at each of their

faces. “If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll play along. But it would be nice

to know what I’m here for and why I’m being kept in the dark.”

“For your own protection,” Marie answered. She was playing the

same game as Mr. Hamilton.

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The door to the small home opened and an older native man entered.

Marie’s face lit up. She put her glass on the small table in front of the

couch, hopped up, hugged the man, and then kissed his cheek. “Pierre,

Mr. Hamilton is here with his friend, Kes.”

Mr. Hamilton put his glass down then stood to shake the man’s hand.

“Mr. Hamilton?” The man looked confused as he shook my ex-boss’

hand.

“You know, Emma Sinclair’s son?” Marie said.

“Andrew!” he shouted, and hugged him with such force, I thought Mr.

Hamilton would pass out. I was sure his arm hurt more than ever.

“No, you’re mistaken, Mr. Adoya.” My ex-boss darted his eyes

toward me then back at the man. “My name is James Hamilton,

remember?”

So, he did have a history with this man. He even knew Pierre’s last

name. I don’t think he even realized he slipped, but I did.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re James Hamilton.” The old man winked at

Mr. Hamilton, and grinned, just like Marie had done. “So how was your

journey?”

“Go ahead. Play your games.” I put my glass on the small table in

front of me, crossed my arms, and pouted.

Pierre sat beside me with gentleness in his eyes. “What’s the

matter?”

“You both clearly know him well as a different name than I do, and I

don’t like it one bit. I feel left out, and don’t even know why I’m in this

country.” I fell against the back of the couch with a thud.

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“Miss,” Pierre said. “It’s a complicated problem, and as far as you

know, this is James Hamilton, no?”

“Yes, but you both called him Andrew and his mother’s last name

was Sinclair. It’s obvious you all know each other, because Andrew, as

you called him, even knew your last name before you told him. I’ve been

kept in the dark this whole trip, not even knowing we were going to end

up in this country. I didn’t even know to bring more than one outfit of

clean clothes with me.” I lifted the bottom of my shirt to show him.

“And now, I find out that the man I trusted as my boss, and trusted to

protect me, is a fake. For all I know, he’s going to feed me to the lions or

witchdoctors, just to protect himself.”

Marie, Pierre, and Mr. Hamilton all looked at each other. Pierre

finally turned toward me.

“What was your name again—Kes was it?”

“Yes. That’s the name I have on my birth certificate, and I use it,

unlike some of us here.” I shot dagger-eyes toward Mr. Hamilton, who

was almost laughing at me.

“Well, Kes,” Pierre said. “This is a delicate situation. We’ve been

waiting for your Mr. Hamilton to visit us for some time now.”

“I don’t believe it. He and Marie acted like they didn’t even know

each other.”

“We were making sure, that’s all,” Marie said. “It’s not every day

you get a visitor as important as your Mr. Hamilton.” She turned toward

my ex-boss. “You’re a day early, too.”

“You gave me good directions,” he said with a grin.

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“A day early?” I asked. “Good directions? So you did have an agenda

after all? Are we even here about your mother or the article

‘adventure’?” I used my quotey fingers so he’d know I was being

facetious.

Mr. Hamilton just smiled, but said nothing.

“You can’t be told anything more,” Pierre said. “If the government

finds out, they’ll torture and kill both of you in front of the entire country

as an example.”

I had to play along. “But I was told Mr. Hamilton wasn’t allowed to

visit your country,” I said. “Now you’re telling me the government wants

him dead and tortured as an example as well?” Even though I knew that

from what the cops had been saying. “What’s going on?”

“Kes, drop it,” Mr. Hamilton warned. “You have to trust me. I don’t

want to endanger you or these fine people anymore.”

It was time to do as he said and drop it—for now. At some point,

he’d better tell me, or I was going to high tail it back to the States by

myself. Why I didn’t do that right away was beyond me. However, I had

no idea how to get back to Zambia, unless I risked my life by swimming

with the crocodiles a few days hike back to the Zambezi River, but that

didn’t sound like fun to me.

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~~~~~

Chapter 15

I stood and slapped Mr. Hamilton’s good shoulder. “Tell you what, James,

Andrew, Mr. Hamilton, or whatever your name really is, I’ll drop this

subject for now. But when this is over, you owe me. Big time.” I moved

closer to his face. “And, I’m talking big time.”

“Sure, Kes. Whatever you want,” he said with a grin. “I’ll get rid of

Jason for you, get you a decent man to date, and set you up with a nice

cushy job somewhere.”

I made sure our eyes met so I could tell if he was just playing with

me. “That’s not enough. I want more.”

“Like what?” He was clearly amused with my demands. “Diamonds,

rubies, or emeralds? I didn’t take you for the jewel-type of girl.”

“I’m not. I, well, I don’t know what I want yet, but it’ll come to me

soon enough, and I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” He even winked at me.

Marie, Pierre and Mr. Hamilton laughed. Did I just hear him call me

sweetheart before he winked? What was going on? I shot him another

frustrated look. I hated when he toyed with me.

“Sweetheart?” I asked. “Why do you keep doing that?”

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He put his arm over my shoulders, leaning close to my ear. “To put

up a consolidated front. Go with it, please?”

I threw his arm off my shoulders. “No. You’re engaged, or did you

conveniently forget Miss Pink back there on the river?”

He sighed as he glanced at me, then sat back down on the couch and

crossed his arms.

I walked to the wall and leaned against it, staring him down with my

arms crossed as well. I wasn’t playing his game any longer. I wasn’t

about to be used.

Pierre left the house while Marie went back to her tiny kitchen and

started to prepare dinner. Pierre returned a few minutes later with some

type of meat in his hands, wrapped in a cloth. When he unwrapped it for

Marie to see, I noticed it was already skinned and ready for cooking.

Marie took it from him with a smile and a polite ‘merci.’ When Pierre and

Mr. Hamilton went outside to talk, I joined Marie in the kitchen.

“What kind of meat is that?” I asked.

“I have no idea. That’s our agreement. Pierre catches the food and

gets it ready so I don’t have to look it in the eye when I cook it. For all I

know, he bought this.”

“Bought it? There’s civilization near here?”

“Oui. There’s a market a few miles down the road. There’s not a lot

of food there, but we manage.”

“How do you make your living, if I might ask?”

Marie smiled. “I want you to guess.”

“Farming?”

“No. Neither of us is good with that.”

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“Making crafts?”

She held out her old hands for me to see. “With these hands?”

“Why not?”

“Not quite. Keep guessing.” She grinned, stirring the browning meat

in the pan. Marie put water on to boil and removed a bag of greens and a

huge container of some type of white mush from the refrigerator. The

aroma from the meat was amazing, making me even hungrier.

“I got it,” I said after a minute. “You’re a cook.”

Marie chuckled. “You’re so funny. Not quite, because I can’t cook

worth a darn. You’re getting my whole repertoire of meal ideas tonight.

I’m surprised Pierre and I aren’t dead from starvation.”

“But I was being serious.”

“Nope. Guess again. I promise you’ll never get it.”

“Well, then give me a hint.”

“We need electricity to do this business,” she said.

I glanced around the room. They had one lamp, a refrigerator, and a

stove. That was it for electrical appliances. “How do you get electricity

way out here?”

She smiled. “We have a few generators. We also have a well, and

we’re completely self-sufficient.”

“So the government doesn’t know about you?”

“No, and we prefer it that way. Did you guess yet?”

I couldn’t even guess, because the place was so sparse. “I give up. I

have no idea what you could do here requiring electricity.”

“Come with me. Pierre won’t like this, but I want to show you

something.”

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She lowered the heat on the stove then led me outside to the back of

the house. Two small doors were locked shut on a small slant up against

the house in the ground. Removing a necklace hanging under her blouse,

she produced a key. She unlocked the small doors and opened them,

looking around to make sure no one was nearby.

Behind the small doors was a fake doorway about a foot away from

the entrance. She unlocked that door, opening it to a concrete stairway.

After helping me climb down the narrow stairs to their basement, she

closed the doors behind us. She flipped on the lights to a huge fully

furnished room with four state-of-the-art computers, a big-screen

television, and three couches with reclining chairs. Everything looked

brand new. I couldn’t believe it. I could even feel air conditioning, which

felt incredible.

“Computers?” I asked.

Marie turned on a light in a room off the main living area, and I saw a

huge chef’s kitchen with a stove, a high-tech convection oven, a

microwave, a side-by-side refrigerator, and an oversized table big enough

to seat eight in the middle. Beside that room was a gigantic bathroom

with a sunken hot tub, a shower, and built-in closets. Off that room was a

bedroom with a king-sized bed and another huge television sitting on a

large dresser. They had some sort of phone service, too, because a

telephone sat on the nightstand beside the bed. It was probably a

satellite phone.

“Holy smokes,” I said. “This is amazing. You must have one great

business to be able to do all of this.”

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“It puts food on the table,” she replied. “Now, we have to go before

Pierre sees us down here.”

“Too late,” he said from the doorway. Mr. Hamilton was with him,

admiring the furniture and computers before him.

“Did you see this?” I asked Mr. Hamilton.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?”

Typical British comment—or in this case, ex-British. I didn’t see any

blinding lights anywhere to make it bright or brilliant.

“Do you mean amazing or cool?” I asked him.

“Yeah. That was Dad’s favorite saying and I picked it up.”

“Why did you bring her down here?” Pierre grumbled.

“She wanted to know how we made a living. I wanted to show her.”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Hamilton said. “She can be trusted. We did a

thorough background check on her.”

I spun toward him. “We did? I thought you just talked to my friends

and family.”

“I did, and more. Don’t worry about it. You check out.”

“And more? What are you talking about?”

His arm went over my shoulder and he leaned toward my ear.

“You’re fine and let it go. Be cool about it.”

“You should’ve said brilliant instead.” Even though it didn’t make

much sense, I had to put that little dig into his brain. He shot me a dirty

look. I smiled, just keeping him on his toes.

“In that case,” Marie said. “Let’s eat down here. There’s more

space, and it’s so new.” She was delighted with her new underground

home and I couldn’t blame her.

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Pierre didn’t look too happy, addressing her. “No, we can’t. What if

someone knocks at the front door?”

“We have that security system,” Marie answered. “Please?”

He sighed. “Fine. We’ll eat down here.”

While mumbling between themselves, Marie and Pierre left the

basement to get the dinner and bring it back downstairs.

“This is amazing…I mean brilliant.” I chuckled, touching the new

couch. “I love the colors. Red, brown, and light yellow go well together

and all the furniture matches.”

“Sure is amazing,” Mr. Hamilton said, chuckling. “Did Marie tell you

what they did for a living?”

“Not yet. Do you know?”

“Sort of, but I’m not completely clear on it. Let’s have her tell us.”

He moved behind me, put his hands on my shoulders, and moved his

mouth close to my ear. “This is a secret, right?”

“I guess so, why?”

“We wouldn’t want anyone to know this place exists, now would

we?”

“No, why?”

His hands moved to surround my waist from behind, holding on

tightly. He started to kiss my neck and I melted. What was happening?

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~~~~~

Chapter 16

“Mr. Hamilton, what are you doing?” My eyes were shut, because it just

felt good.

His mouth was right beside my ear as he nibbled on it. “I can’t keep

my hands off you. You’re beautiful, even though we’ve both been out in

the wild.”

“What about Tara?” I asked.

“She’s…well…” He removed his hands and backed away. “I don’t

know.”

I spun toward him. “You better start to know. I don’t like the idea

that you’re sending me all these signals when you’re devoted to someone

else.” I crossed my arms. “Why are you doing this to me, anyway? Are

you playing with me, just ready to throw me out later? Besides, you

committed yourself to Tara, and I’m going to make sure you remember

that commitment. I believe in commitment and that’s sacred.”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re right.” He backed away, leaned against the

wall, and crossed his arms.

“And you’re not going to explain this to me?”

“Not until I sort it out myself. I’d like to know if it’s reciprocated,

though. I got the feeling it was.”

“From me?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat up.

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“Of course. Who else?”

I lowered my eyes, took a deep breath, and faced him. “It doesn’t

matter, because you’re engaged. It’s important that you keep the

commitment to her.”

“I understand. But I want to have this conversation at some point,

because I’m really drawn to you. I feel really comfortable around you,

unlike anyone else I’ve ever known. I’ve never been able to open up to

someone like I can to you, because you don’t judge people for their

thoughts. I want you to know that.”

I heard the door open, so I kept quiet. Marie and Pierre returned

with the food from the stove and walked into the kitchen. I shot Mr.

Hamilton a dirty look and then joined them while Mr. Hamilton stayed in

the living room. As soon as Pierre set all the things on the counter, he

kissed her cheek and walked out of the kitchen.

Marie flipped the heat on the new stove and worked on the meal.

“May I help you?” I asked.

“No. You’re my guest and there’s a method to this cooking. You

need to rest.”

“I’m a terrible cook, too,” I muttered. “I bet that fact traveled the

whole way over here and you already knew that.”

“No, but you’re hilarious.” She chuckled and kept working. I sat at

the kitchen table and waited until she was at a stopping point.

“Are you going to tell me what you do for a living, or should I be kept

in suspense to my dying day?” I asked.

Marie laughed at me. “We write computer programs and work of

that nature.”

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“For whom? The local lions?”

“No, silly. For people all over the world. We’ve done many of them,

and with each one, we get one step closer to retirement.”

“Don’t the neighbors ask how you keep afloat?”

“No. The closest neighbor is about a mile away. We’re near the

National Park, so no one bothers us.”

“The Hwange National Park?” I asked, remembering what Mr.

Hamilton had showed me on the map.

“Yes. It’s a few miles southwest of here.”

“We’re that far away? Why did we see animals up here, then?”

“They go up to the Zambezi River for water when the waterholes get

low. They risk their lives to get a drink, because that’s where the

poachers hang out.”

“We saw one of those guys when we were near the Zambezi,” I said.

Marie crossed herself before turning to look at me. “You saw a

poacher?”

“Yes. His name was…something Beecher.”

Mr. Hamilton entered the room and sat in the chair beside me,

moving it right up against me. I moved away, but he raised his eyebrows

at me, as if he was offended.

“You didn’t get the hint, did you?” I asked.

“Nope. We need to have a consolidated front, and this is practice. I

like it, just like I said before.” He moved up against me again. “Just

relax and go with it. I won’t bite. Much.”

“So you made your decision about Tara?”

“Not yet. But I like being with you and want to see where it goes.”

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I rolled my eyes and put my head in my hands with my elbows on the

table. He just laughed. Some comedian.

Pierre entered the room, sitting down across from me.

“Pierre, they saw a poacher,” Marie said.

Pierre’s expression turned concerned. “Where and when?”

I turned toward Mr. Hamilton. “Yesterday, right?”

“It was about four miles from the river,” Mr. Hamilton replied. “He

was wearing one of those silly pith helmets that said ‘Gentle Hunter’s

Club’ and said his name was…” He took a small notebook from his pocket,

then flipped several pages and read off the name. “Wally Beecher.”

I stared down at his notebook. “Why didn’t you tell me you were

taking notes?” I wasn’t about to tell him I’d lost my pen and had no paper

for the article. I’d just have to make things up or something, but didn’t

want him to know what kind of loser I was.

Mr. Hamilton shot me a dirty look, but didn’t answer me.

“Hmmm…I don’t know that name,” Pierre said. “What did he look

like?”

Mr. Hamilton glanced at me then checked his notes. “White man

with white hair, white moustache, early 60s, and a definite limp.”

“How did you see all of that and when did you write it all down?” I

asked, looking at the small paper in front of him. “I’m the reporter and I

didn’t see all of that.”

Mr. Hamilton studied my face. “Practice.”

“Practice doing what?”

“This and that.” He smiled and winked at me, then put his arm on

the back of my chair. He was driving me crazy with his flirting. It had

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better stop, or else those future karate lessons were going to come in

handy. I wasn’t about to do the ‘consolidated front’ or ‘see where it

goes’ thing for him, either. Commitment meant something in my book.

Pierre brought out a huge plain black scrapbook from the living room.

He kept it to himself while turning page after page. He stopped, grinned,

and laid the book on the table. “Is this the man?”

“That’s him.” I jumped up slightly, then sat back down, confused.

“Wait. How did you have a picture of the poacher in a book?”

Pierre closed the book abruptly and left the room. Marie turned and

kept cooking, but no one answered my question.

“Mr. Hamilton,” I whispered. “This is getting stranger and stranger.

What’s going on here?”

He shifted his seat closer to me on my left, moved his arm to rest on

my shoulders, and stroked my right arm. “Don’t worry, Kes,” he

whispered into my ear. “It’s under control. Listen to what these people

say. They’re more connected than you think.”

I scooted my chair away from him and his octopus hands, more

certain than ever that this wasn’t his normal behavior. Why did he feel

like he had to put his arm around me and massage my arm? Was he under

some sort of spell?

While Mr. Hamilton laughed at me, Pierre returned after a few

minutes and sat back at the table.

“Did you take care of it?” Marie asked Pierre.

“Yes.”

“Was he—?” Mr. Hamilton asked.

“Yes,” Pierre answered.

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“That’s how they knew I was here,” Mr. Hamilton said.

I was dying to know what they were talking about. “Who knew? Who

was he?”

All of them replied in the same tone, as if rehearsed. “It’s on a

need-to-know basis.”

Everything was becoming clear to me. I’d heard that before on many

television programs when they dealt with the FBI or some other

governmental agency. I was in way over my head, and they were right. If

I wanted to stay alive, the less I knew, the better.

~~~~~

Chapter 17

We stayed in two of the guestrooms of the Adoya home located in yet

another section of the underground basement. We played games, talked,

and watched television until the wee hours of the morning. It felt good to

have a full stomach, get a shower, and sleep alone in a cool, wonderful

bed without mosquito netting surrounding me. The security alarm went

off once in the middle of the night, but it was just a large animal prowling

by.

The next morning, I awoke to muted voices in the kitchen. I threw

on my one change of clothing that I’d rinsed out the night before, and

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tiptoed into the living room, hiding around the corner of the kitchen as I

listened.

“Don’t tell her anything. She’s an innocent,” Mr. Hamilton said. “I

brought her along for documentation purposes and a cover story. The U.S.

government approved it. She’s totally above board and not affiliated with

any subversive groups.”

Subversive groups? Was he talking about me?

“I’m afraid for her safety,” Pierre replied. “We need to send her

back before…” and he whispered something I couldn’t hear. Marie wasn’t

with them, I could tell, so I had to make my move before she caught me.

She could be anywhere.

“Good morning,” I announced as I entered the kitchen. I stretched

my arms for effect and forced myself to yawn.

“Good morning,” Mr. Hamilton said with a smile. “Did you sleep

well?”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s ten in the morning.”

I looked at my watch. “Ten? I’m always up by six.”

He stood from the table and got me a cup of coffee. He came to

where I was standing, put his arm around me, kissed my cheek, and

walked me to a chair. I was ready to smack him upside the head. Didn’t

he remember he was engaged? I shot him a dirty look, hoping he’d get the

message, but he just laughed at me. So now I was a laughing stock?

“I know this coffee isn’t as good as the instant I made,” Mr. Hamilton

said. “But, it’s the best we’ve got.” He turned and winked at Pierre who

was stifling his laughter.

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I sipped the coffee and grinned. “Uh-huh. Your instant, Mr.

Hamilton, is definitely better than this fresh coffee, undoubtedly picked

very recently. I can surely tell the difference, and this is inferior, fresh-

roasted, aromatic coffee, grown right here in Africa.”

“Smart-aleck,” he murmured.

Pierre just laughed.

“Actually, Mr. Adoya—” I said.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Pierre, please?”

“About a thousand. Anyway, this is by far the best coffee I’ve ever

tasted.” I looked over at Mr. Hamilton. “No offense.”

“None taken. I agree with you.”

“Where’s Marie?” I asked after I took another sip.

“See?” Pierre asked. “You call her by her first name, but not us.

Why is that?”

“I’ve been taught to respect my elders. Marie seems about my age.”

The men both chuckled. Marie could’ve been my mother or maybe

even my grandmother, if you added two or three years to her age.

“Marie is out gathering eggs for breakfast,” Pierre said.

I glanced behind me. “Where?”

“She’s out at the chicken coop, behind the fence. If we didn’t keep

it fenced in with a fence over the top, the lions and hyenas would eat the

chickens. She should be back any minute.”

A loud scream from behind the house had all of us racing toward the

door, with a rifle in Mr. Hamilton’s hands. I’m not sure where he’d gotten

it, because it happened so fast.

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We got outside and I saw Marie on the path to the house. She was

terrified, cowering against a small shed with a basket of eggs in her

hands.

“Marie, are you okay?” Pierre asked.

“No,” she whispered. “That lion is back.”

Pierre grabbed the gun from Mr. Hamilton and stood beside Marie.

He glanced around the corner and backed up against the side of the

building. “You all go back inside and I’ll take care of this.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Mr. Hamilton whispered to Pierre.

Marie and I returned to the underground home and waited in the

living room. Within a minute, we heard the crack of a gunshot then loud

laughter. The men returned downstairs trying not to laugh.

“Did you get him?” Marie asked.

“No,” Pierre said. “He ran off like he was hit, but the shot missed

him by a mile. He’s scared. I don’t think he’ll be back.”

Marie’s face was still terrified. “Was it the same one?”

Pierre nodded. “Yes. It was the one with the big brown patch on its

side. Once the rains come, it’ll go back to the National Park.”

“Why don’t you put a fence around your property?” I asked.

“It would draw too much attention from the police,” he said. “We

want to stay below the radar.”

Marie carried the basket to the kitchen, where we cracked the eggs

and she beat them into a beautiful light yellow cream. She proceeded to

make omelets with vegetables and something resembling ham. I made

toast and we had a delicious brunch.

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After cleaning up the table, Mr. Hamilton and Pierre went into the

living room to work on the computer, while Marie and I sat at the table

and talked about her past and her move to Zimbabwe.

“When I was in my late teens,” she said. “My parents fled the Ivory

Coast because they didn’t agree with the government. We escaped to this

area because there was a promise of gold. Pierre’s family fled the Ivory

Coast for the same reason mine did. He and I met at church and talked of

the old times in Abidjan. We got to know each other, and before I knew

it, he asked my father for my hand in marriage.”

“And the rest is history, right?” I asked.

“Oh no. My father didn’t agree at all. Pierre didn’t have a stable

job, and he was in with a bad crowd. His family didn’t go to church

either, and my parents didn’t like that.”

“So what happened?”

“Even though he was friends with some bad people, he kept going to

church just to see me. That’s where we met James’ mother.”

This interested me more than ever. “Really? Tell me more.”

“Miss Emma—that’s what we called her—was a skilled surgeon. She’d

decided after Andrew—I mean your James—was born that she wanted to

help the people in this area. She came here with a mission group to help

the people who didn’t have proper medical care.”

I looked into the living room to make sure Mr. Hamilton wasn’t within

earshot, and then I faced her to hear more.

Marie continued. “One night, Pierre got in the middle of a fight and

was stabbed in the stomach. He came to my house because he knew his

parents would let him die. His family would’ve thought the devil stabbed

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him, because they believed in black magic. So, he showed up on my

parent’s doorstep, bleeding and dying.”

I couldn’t even imagine what Edsel the eulogist would do with that

funeral.

“Go on,” I whispered.

“My father ran to the church to get Miss Emma. They were having a

meeting to expand the church and get a school up and running, and my

father knew it. He brought Miss Emma to our house and she stitched up

Pierre’s injury and saved his life. It changed him. We nursed him back to

health for a week, and when he was able, he went to the church and

asked what he could do to repay the favor. He helped build the school

and learned many skills. He started working for a local carpenter, and

after that, since my father was impressed with his dedication, my father

asked Pierre to marry me.”

“What an amazing story.”

Marie went to the bookcase and returned with scrapbooks

overflowing with pictures. She showed me a few pages of her family, and

showed me a picture of Mr. Hamilton’s mother. Emma Sinclair looked

very similar to her son, with the same glint in their light blue eyes and the

same brown hair.

“After a year of marriage,” she said. “We had a daughter named

Emma, named after James’ mother. Miss Emma helped in the birth of our

daughter. A year after Emma was born we had twin boys named Jacques

and Jon. And, two years after that, our baby Monique was born.”

“Where are your children now?”

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“They’ve all moved away. Monique is in England with her husband

and their two children, Emma is in Florida with her husband and their

three children, and the twins are working in Monaco. They have a

business together and they’re looking for wives.” She grinned, seeming to

be proud of each of her children.

“What happened to Mr. Hamilton’s mother?”

“She died about six months after Emma was born, I think. We were

all sad when she was shot. She didn’t deserve to die, and I miss her

greatly.” Marie was suddenly silent, and I was sure it was because she

missed Emma.

“She was shot?” I whispered.

“Yes. Didn’t James tell you?”

“No. He told me he was coming to meet someone who knew his

mother.”

Her lips formed a tight line. “Then that’s all you know. I told you

nothing.”

“Got it.” We continued to look at pictures of her wedding, her

children and their families, and went through other photo albums to see

pictures of her relatives on the Ivory Coast and in France.

After we closed the last of the photo albums, I knew I could change

the subject. “I have a question that’s been really bothering me.”

“Go on.”

“Yesterday—actually early yesterday morning—we were kidnapped by

some bad men who wanted to kill us,” I whispered.

“What?” she yelled.

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“Shhhh!” I put my finger to my lips. “That’s not what I wanted to

ask and I don’t want Mr. Hamilton to know I’m asking this. Anyway, we

were tied to a pole in a tent, and a woman dressed in all black came in

and rescued us.”

Marie crossed herself and kissed the cross around her neck again,

lifting her head to the heavens before addressing me again. “What did

she look like?”

“She was a white woman, but very dirty. She had on a black dress,

black makeup and never, ever brushed her hair or teeth. Her name was

Zu…something. She said she was a witch doctor’s apprentice, I think.”

“Zuwarah.”

“That’s the name.” I tried to keep my voice low.

Marie did her religious ceremony of crossing herself, kissing the cross,

and saying a prayer again. “I thought she was just a myth. It sounds like

she exists.”

“Who is she? She saved our lives, but needs fashion sense and a

toothbrush or something.”

I could see the concern in her eyes. “She’s kind of new to these

parts, but has a bad reputation. Did she do any chanting near you?”

“Yes. She held both of our hands and chanted something.”

“Did she say anything else to you?” Marie asked.

“She told us to save the land from evil and to meet our people. Does

that make any sense at all?”

“Sure does. She must’ve heard Mr. Hamilton is in Zimbabwe. We’re

hoping he’ll save us from the evil that plagues our leadership. At least

she’s doing something good this time.”

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“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“She practices black magic. It’s pure evil. They drink blood to

survive and take people’s internal organs for magic and medicinal

purposes. She’s a scary woman, so I’m worried about what she might

have chanted over both of you.”

“Me too. Ever since she did that, Mr. Hamilton’s been acting

strangely. He calls me sweetheart, pinches me on the cheek, and does

weird things. He’s engaged to someone else, and has no business flirting

with me.”

Marie sighed. “I know all about Tara, and between you and me, I

don’t think she’s very good wife material for him. It sounds like Zuwarah

gave him a love curse or something.”

“Love curse?” I hated the thought.

“Like a love potion. It’s rare for her to do something nice like that,

but she must have seen you’re a good person and didn’t want him to lose

you.”

“What can I do to remove it?” I was getting desperate. A love curse

was all I needed on top of everything else.

“Zuwarah has to remove it. The next time you see her—”

“Next time? I hope never to see her again.”

Marie kept her eyes on mine while nodding. “You’ll see her again.

Rumor has it that once she has a mission, she never quits until the

mission’s over. It sounds like she’s going to be following you throughout

your journey here.”

“Great.” I was stuck in an awful country overflowing with hungry

wildlife and evil men, a lovesick ex-boss was fawning over me, a crazy

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Goth witch was stalking us, and I was participating in an unknown journey

against my will.

I was ready to go home, develop my money shots, and make a bundle

so I could retire to a beautiful resort with that gorgeous man waiting on

me hand and foot from my daydream. I needed to make sure the gorgeous

man wasn’t Mr. Hamilton, especially since he was now cursed to love me.

~~~~~

Chapter 18

After Mr. Hamilton and Pierre finished whatever they were doing, they

entered the kitchen. Mr. Hamilton put his hand on my shoulder. “We

need to leave.”

I threw his hand off my shoulder. “Now?”

He grinned as he put his hand back on my shoulder. “Yes. We have a

few other stops to make.”

I ignored his hand. “No problem.” I wondered what his hurry was,

but let it go.

We ate a quick snack, filled our water bottles, said thank you and

goodbye, and searched the area around us as we left. The traveling

seemed tougher than before because I’d been able to relax. I also knew

that there were bad elements out to get us. I wasn’t sure, before. This

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time, though, we had a GPS, a satellite phone and a detailed map, so at

least we knew where we were and could call for help.

We kept to the trees as much as possible, watching for any signs of

the police, witch doctors, ferocious animals, or any other threat.

“Did you get any information I should know about?” Mr. Hamilton

asked. We kept walking by the road, but behind the shrubs and trees.

“No, why?”

“Does that mean you have information and you don’t want me to

know about it, or does it mean you didn’t get any information?”

“Now you’re trying to confuse me. I’m not keeping any important

secrets from you, if that’s what you want to know.”

He stopped walking and faced me, putting his hands on my shoulders

so I couldn’t squirm out of it. “That’s not what I’m asking. Do you know

anything that might get us killed? You know exactly what I’m asking.”

I stared him in his eyes to make sure he knew I wasn’t lying. “I know

nothing.” I wasn’t even sure if any information I had would get us killed

or not, but I had to convince him.

“Good,” he said, even though I could tell he didn’t believe me.

We walked for another hundred feet and took a small path to the left

on a dirt road lined with vines and tall grass, continuing to the small

forest at the end of it. Birds and monkeys made various noises as we

headed into the forest, so I looked up, trying to see if one of the devils

was wearing Mr. Hamilton’s red hat. I knew it was a long shot and I didn’t

see it, but I just had to look.

In the small forest was a huge object covered in branches, leaves and

a blue tarp. Mr. Hamilton pulled off the tarp and uncovered a brand new

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black Mercedes. My mouth flew open in shock, inhaling at least a hundred

bugs. He watched my surprise and tried to close my open mouth while

suppressing his laughter.

“You act like you’ve never seen a Mercedes before,” he said, still

trying to close my mouth. “Those bugs are going to kill you from the

inside.”

I ignored his attempt to scare me. After what I’d been through, I

wasn’t scared any more. “I’ve never seen a Mercedes out in the middle of

a wilderness. No one in these parts could ever afford anything like this.

What am I saying? I could never afford a beautiful car like this.”

“Relax, Kes. It’s all paid for and under the radar.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.”

I ran my hand over the trunk. “Don’t you think everyone will notice

a new Mercedes out in the open?”

He thought for a moment. “Not at all. Consider it a rental since

we’re from the States.”

I couldn’t believe it. “You can rent a Mercedes in this country?”

“With enough money you can rent anything.” He unlocked the back

door and threw our things inside. “You’re driving,” he said, throwing me

the keys. “I’ll be in the trunk. You can talk to me through the walkie-

talkie.”

“I’m driving…a Mercedes?” I whispered. I must’ve sounded like a kid

on Christmas waiting to open my presents.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

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“No, sir, I don’t think so. But you won’t be able to breathe in the

trunk.”

“It has air conditioning pumped into the back. It’s even cozy, but it’s

just a shame you couldn’t join me. I think getting cozy with you would be

fun.”

I glared at his smirk and opened the trunk. Inside were a few

necessities—a flashlight, a few guns, lots of room, and air holes

professionally created from the trunk to the back seat. There was also a

walkie-talkie mounted to the trunk door.

Mr. Hamilton crawled inside and I slammed the trunk lid on him.

After opening the driver’s door—which was on the right side of the car—I

got inside and proceeded to start the car. A Mercedes. Running my hand

over the dash, I noticed it was so new, there wasn’t even any dust on the

leather.

I flipped the switch on an identical walkie-talkie beside me on the

seat, and cranked up the air conditioning.

“Thank you,” said the voice from the walkie-talkie.

“You’re welcome. Now, can you tell me which side of the street I

should be driving on?”

“You drive on the left in Zimbabwe, and please obey the speed

limits. I don’t want you to get in trouble, because you probably don’t

have experience driving on the left side of the road.”

“You’re right,” I answered. “Or sitting on the right for the driver’s

seat.”

“Now, as soon as we get out of this area, I want you to take a left.

About 200 yards down the road, you’ll be stopped by a roadblock. Please

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be nice to the officer, and don’t mention me. Turn off your walkie-talkie

until you get past him, which shouldn’t take long at all. I can hear

everything you say, but you can’t hear me with your walkie-talkie off.”

“Okee dokee!” I sang back to him.

I revved the beautiful machine’s engine and turned off the walkie-

talkie, then hid it under my seat. After easing the gearshift into drive, I

took the small path to the paved road, made a left, and sure enough,

there were two police officers patrolling a roadblock. I pulled up to them

with a smile as they waved for me to stop, moving to the middle of the

road to talk to me.

“Hello, officers,” I said, winding down my window.

“Do you have anything to declare?” one of the men said in a strong

accent. He had a big wide mouth, and the other had a flat forehead.

I had to play stupid. “Huh?”

“Are you carrying any poached animals or anything else illegal?” Flat

Head said. His accent was somewhat hard to understand, but I did my

best.

“No. I’m here on a vacation, taking pictures of the animals.” I

picked up the camera on the seat beside me. They tried to take it from

me, but I pulled it away from them at the last minute.

“Why do you want my camera?” I asked.

“We don’t think we like what you’ve been taking pictures of,” Big

Mouth said. They both chuckled.

“Yes. You’re pretty.” Flat Head studied the car. “And rich, too.”

“It’s a rental,” I said. “Like I said, I’m on vacation.”

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Flat Head played with a small section of my hair and wound it around

his finger. The only way I could think of getting his hand away from my

hair was to pull my hair from my head, which would’ve hurt, and I didn’t

like pain as an option. I locked the doors with the automatic door lock

and tried to think of a better solution than going bald.

Big Mouth reached in and caressed my face, forcing me to scowl. “As

a matter of fact,” he said. “I think we want you to get out of the car so

we can search you for evidence.” They both chuckled at their transparent

humor.

Like that was going to happen. I pushed their huge, groping hands

away from me, because they had them everywhere. I then pulled Flat

Head’s finger from my hair, yanking out a few strands in the process. I

pushed their arms out of the car, put my window over halfway up, and

moved slightly away from the door and the window. Note to self—sign up

for karate lessons as soon as I get home.

“Gentlemen,” I said in my most professional voice. “Do you know

who I am?”

Big Mouth moved his hand to his gun. I was sure he wanted to rape

me at gunpoint. “You’re the pretty green-eyed lady with the beautiful

dark red hair,”

Flat Head, on the other hand, was trying to undo the dead strands of

my hair from around his finger, which was a challenge for him. I doubted

he had the brains or energy to do anything to me, but he’d be the type to

urge Big Mouth on.

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“My name is Jane Vanderbilt,” I said. “My father is a 4-star General

with the United States Army and reports directly to the Secretary of

Defense. Have you ever heard of the Secretary of Defense?”

“No,” they both said, listening intently.

“The Secretary of Defense is the guy with his hand in all the wars

around the world.”

I hoped I was right. My high school civics and history classes had a lot

to be desired. I got most of my detailed information from television

shows.

I continued. “The Secretary of Defense can advise the President

where to bomb and when. He and my father meet every morning with the

President of the United States.”

The car rocked a little bit, and I was sure Mr. Hamilton wasn’t too

happy about the current situation. I could barely make out mumbling in

the back, and cranked up the air conditioning so no one would know he

was there. I was glad the trunk was soundproof. I just had to figure out

how to fool these guys to get out of the area, and then I could deal with

the grouch in the trunk.

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~~~~~

Chapter 19

I took a breath, examined these two lackeys, and kept babbling because I

had their full attention, further drowning out Mr. Hamilton. “Now, I’m

here on a vacation. If my father hears about two police officers in the

Zimbabwean police force that gave me a hard time, don’t you think the

entire United States military might want to bomb you and your families as

you sleep? If I don’t make a call to my father before a certain time every

day, he said he was going to call the Army to come and find me. Do you

want it on your conscience that you started a war with the United States

just because you couldn’t keep your hands off me and my hair?”

Big Mouth and Flat Head glanced at each other and backed away.

“You’re free to pass,” Flat Head said. “No hard feelings, then?”

“Not at all, gentlemen.” I edged the car away from them and kept

driving, even though my hands were shaking.

As soon as we were out of sight of the roadblock, I reached down,

grabbed the walkie-talkie, and switched it on. Mr. Hamilton was

screaming at the top of his lungs and kicking the back seat.

“Kes! What’s going on?” From the sound of his voice, it sounded like

he’d been screaming for some time, because he almost sounded hoarse.

“Kes! Are you okay? Answer me!”

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“I’m fine.” I kept my tone unwavering, even though I was shaking on

the inside. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“What did they do to you? Did they touch you?”

“Nothing happened that I couldn’t handle. Get a grip.”

“I won’t get a grip!” he screamed. “I’m worried about you. You

need to pull over so I can come up there to see for myself that you’re

okay. I’ll be driving from now on.”

I pondered this for a minute. I could do one of three things. I could

let him sit up front in the car, I could keep things as they were, or I could

turn off the walkie-talkie and not hear him argue and try to teach me a

lesson. Hmmm—tough call.

He screamed at the top of his lungs and I thought he’d explode.

“Kes! I’m talking to you. Pull this car over right now, or I’ll put a bullet

through the windshield.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll pull over as soon as we’re not in the open.” I blew

out a breath. “Touchy,” I whispered to myself.

“I heard that,” he barked over the walkie-talkie.

I saw a dirt road to the right and turned off to hide in the bushes.

Upon searching the area, I saw no one, so I got out of the car, unlocked

the trunk, and peered into two upset light blue eyes. Mr. Hamilton

hopped out of the trunk, grabbed the car keys from my hand, and

proceeded to take hold of both of my arms from behind, leading me to the

front passenger’s seat. He placed me inside and buckled me into the

seatbelt. I let him do it, because at least then, I didn’t have to hear him

berate me about the benefits of staying out of danger or something.

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He got into the driver’s seat and we drove away, back over the dusty

path and onto the main road. When we’d driven a few miles, he finally

spoke.

“Do you know what you were playing with back there?” he asked.

“Yep. Two psycho cops.”

“They could have shot you right there. I couldn’t have gotten to you

in time.”

“Look, Mr. ‘I have to protect Kes.’ I’m a big girl. I may not be as big

and tough as a man, but I can handle myself. I dealt with the two horny

toads, and they let me alone, didn’t they?” I was good.

“When they find out you were lying, you’re going to be hunted

down.”

“I doubt it. I’ll just tell their superiors what they were doing to me.”

“You don’t get it!” he screamed while talking with his hands. “Their

superiors taught them how to rape women for submission. There are

training camps designed exactly for that.”

“Huh?”

“You were playing with more fire than you thought. Just thank

heavens you didn’t get burned. If I’d known they were going to do that, I

never would’ve put you in that situation. There was only supposed to be

one cop and he was to wave you on with little interaction. From now on, I

can’t let you out of my sight. I have to protect you.”

I kept quiet. I had no idea. What a rotten place for a vacation.

We drove south on the main highway until the road forked to the

right. Mr. Hamilton took the less-used road until it became a dirt path.

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He pulled off in the middle of nowhere, with not a tree or a building in

sight.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“You know nothing about any of this, but I need to do something to

help some people out. You have to hide in the trunk for your own safety.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. I was going to be a stowaway?

He put his hand on my arm and I knew he meant business. “Please

trust me. This is dangerous, and I don’t want my adorable Kes to get hurt,

okay?”

“Your adorable Kes? Listen to yourself –you’re insane.”

“I don’t have time for this. Get in the trunk and go to sleep or

something.”

“Go to sleep? I slept until ten.”

He pulled a traveler’s guide of southern Africa out of his backpack.

“Okay, take a flashlight and read this, then. It’ll keep you busy.”

I crossed my arms in defiance. “What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll force you out of the car and make you wait for me here.”

He glanced around the area, looking angrier than ever. “You’ll be

wonderful food for whatever wildlife wanders by.”

“You’re so nice and caring. I wonder if you’d do that for Tara, if she

were here.”

“She wouldn’t be here. I’d have left her back with Pierre and

Marie.”

I studied his determined expression weighing my options. None of

them looked too good, but the trunk outweighed the being eaten thing. I

removed my seatbelt, got out of the car and sighed for effect. Mr.

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Hamilton popped the trunk and joined me at the back. I stared at him

with dagger eyes, and he knew he was in trouble, because he pulled me

toward him and stared back, looking like he was going to kiss me or

something. If he even tried, I’d deck him, and hoped he got the message

from my set jaw and narrowed eyes. He kissed my forehead instead, then

literally picked me up and put me in the trunk.

“Don’t worry, little Kessie. I’ll be done in less than four hours.”

“Don’t call me Kessie.” Just as he was slamming the lid shut, I put

my hand up to hold it open. “Four hours? What if I have to go to the

bathroom?”

“Hold it,” he said and the lid shut me in total darkness. I felt around

and found the flashlight.

“Are you comfy?” he said into the speaker as the car started to move.

I pushed the button on the walkie-talkie. “Just peachy. You were

kidding about the four hours, weren’t you?”

No reply.

“Could you at least crank up the air conditioning?”

A blast of cold air hit me and it started to cool off, making me feel

very comfortable. I just hoped no carbon monoxide leaked into the trunk.

The travel guide was still in my hands, so I opened it and started to read.

Four hours with nothing but a travel guide. This should be interesting.

We stopped after about ten minutes and Mr. Hamilton turned off the

engine. He opened the driver’s side door and the car lifted slightly. The

door slammed shut, and I heard muffled voices. I couldn’t catch all of the

conversation outside the car because they weren’t close enough, so I just

stayed still and listened. I heard some foreign language and the word

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‘guns.’ I didn’t like it, but I was stuck. Since I might need to defend

myself, I searched around me, finding a gun. I wanted to check to see if it

was loaded in case I might need to use it, but was scared I might shoot

myself when I pulled out the clip. I put the gun back down, deciding my

fictional karate skills would be more useful anyway.

Another vehicle approached, sounding like a huge truck with a sliding

door and lots of people inside. Our car must’ve been surrounded by

people all talking different languages, because I heard at least ten

different voices all talking at once. A whole bunch of heavy things were

dropped or thrown or something, and within fifteen minutes, the truck

left. Someone opened the car door. I was thankful, because it was

getting hot in the trunk.

“Thank you so much,” Mr. Hamilton said. I was sure it was him, but I

couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. “Yes, it’ll be very

helpful to the cause. You have no idea how much my people appreciate

this.”

Then, mumble, mumble, mumble from the other person.

“Yes,” Mr. Hamilton said. “You’ll get your payment today. Someone

will be here to pay you handsomely.” I could almost hear him smiling. “If

you’re nice to them, I’ll make sure you get a bonus.”

I tried to put this all together. Guns, payment, bonus. What the

heck was going on in this country? Was Mr. Hamilton a gunrunner? He

certainly had an agenda and didn’t want me knowing about it.

But he really knew nothing about Kes Madrid. When I wanted

information, I got it, regardless of the consequences.

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~~~~~

Chapter 20

As soon as the air conditioning hit me, I felt myself nodding off. The jolt

of the car stopping woke me. I felt the car door slam shut and within a

few seconds, Mr. Hamilton opened the trunk.

“Do you feel okay?” he asked as I looked up.

I shielded my eyes from the hot sun. “Why?”

He felt my forehead. “I want you to walk around with me. That

trunk wasn’t designed for anyone to stay in it that long.” He lifted me out

of the trunk and put my feet on the ground. My legs felt like rubber and I

could hardly stand.

“How long was I in there, anyway?” I asked.

He checked his watch while holding me up. “About two hours. We

were being tailed and I had to take some evasive maneuvers to get away

from them.”

“Tailed?” I yawned and fell onto his chest. “I must’ve fallen asleep

because I had no idea we took any strange turns.”

He moved me back from him and looked deeply into my eyes, like he

was a doctor examining me. I had problems focusing on him and keeping

my eyes open, my head falling back before I could catch it.

“Kes, I want you to breathe deeply,” he said. “I’m afraid you may

have inhaled some carbon monoxide.”

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“Great.” He helped me walk around a grassy area for a while.

“I promise you won’t be in the trunk ever again,” he said. “Risking

your life like that isn’t worth it.”

“What are you talking about, anyway? What did you do when I was in

there?”

“It’s not for you to know right now. Soon, I promise. I’ll tell you as

much as I can, but right now, we may be under surveillance. Every second

we’re out in the open, we’re risking our lives.”

“But you can put me in a trunk to kill me.”

“Something like that,” he replied with a grin.

After walking for what seemed like an hour with sweat dripping

everywhere, we walked back to the car and drank some water while

standing outside the passenger’s door.

“I’m so sorry you had to stay in the trunk,” he said. “Do you feel any

better now?”

“I’m tough and I’m not pink.”

He laughed at me. “You’re feeling better. I can tell just from that

comment.”

We got back into the front seat of the car and drove farther south.

“Where are we headed now?” I asked.

“To meet someone for a two minute conversation.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it. I have to meet them face-to-face to give

them something.”

I sighed my frustration. “You aren’t going to put me in the trunk

again, are you?”

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“No way. You can sit right here while I take care of business.”

After another hour of driving, the sun began to set. We took a few

wrong turns and I had to open a map to find the way. He backtracked for

a few miles, then turned off onto a one-lane road hidden by vines and

overgrown trees. The road was long, but ended in a huge farmhouse made

of brick. A tire swing hung on a tree in the front yard, and children’s toys

lay on the front sidewalk. The front porch light was on, as if they were

expecting someone.

A Caucasian woman wearing an apron came out of the front door,

looking worried. “Where have you been? We’ve been expecting you for

hours.” She sounded British, so she was probably from either Europe or

South Africa.

“We got lost,” Mr. Hamilton said.

The woman nodded at me. “Who’s your friend?”

“An employee of mine. Don’t worry about it. The job’s done, and

they’re expecting payment today.”

Ex-employee, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut.

She glanced at her watch. “That’s going to be tough.”

“I know.” He opened his backpack and took out a huge wad of

money. My mouth hung open as he handed it to the woman. “There’s an

extra five hundred in there for you, and an extra three hundred for the

man you’re to meet, if he’s nice to you.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, grinning. “We’ll make sure he gets

his payment today.”

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“I’d appreciate it,” Mr. Hamilton said. “Someone’s on to us. I was

tailed as I left the drop-off today. Do you know if everything arrived

safely?”

She appeared to be frustrated. “Yep. It’s all hidden.”

“Great. Be careful when you go over there. Watch for people

following you.”

“Thank you, Andrew. God-speed.”

He waved and she walked away. Something wasn’t right, but I knew

better than to ask.

We started to drive back down the driveway, but Mr. Hamilton

stopped when a car pulled out of the garage. Mr. Hamilton left them go

first, and we followed them to the main road. Once on the highway, the

car took off, leaving us in the dust. We turned north and headed back

toward Hwange.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what that was about?” he asked.

“No, because I know I’m going to get the standard answer.”

“What did you hear when you were in the trunk?”

“Nothing.” I wasn’t about to tell him what I thought or he might

shoot me. What he was doing didn’t exactly sound legal.

“You’re lying. Tell me the truth.”

I faced him with my jaw set. “The truth is I’m sticky with sweat, I

smell to high heavens, and I have a killer headache.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He reached into his backpack and removed the water and medicine,

handing them both to me. “Take two of these and call me in the

morning.”

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“Very funny. You’re no doctor, so don’t even kid about that.” I

tried to open the bottle, but couldn’t concentrate. Tears poured from my

eyes and I started to sob.

“What’s the matter?” He touched my head, feeling like a million

needles puncturing my skull.

I backed away from him, grimacing in pain. “Don’t touch. That

really hurts.” I sobbed and gasped for air, making my headache worse. “I

can’t open the bottle.”

He pulled over to the side of the road, took the container, popped

the top, and shoved two capsules between my lips. He grabbed the bottle

of water, opened it, and put it into my mouth, even though I tried to do it

myself. Within minutes, I’d swallowed the medicine and he’d taken the

two bottles away from me.

He stared at me while I covered my eyes. “Maybe I should take you

to the hospital.”

I hated being taken care of, but at that very moment, I just wanted

to die. “No hospital. My health insurance isn’t good and won’t cover

headaches.”

He tried not to laugh as he pulled back onto the road. “It’s the same

health insurance policy I have, and you do have coverage for carbon

monoxide poisoning.”

“I’m not employed by you any more, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” he almost whispered.

I tried to close my eyes but I couldn’t sleep. I watched the night sky

out the side window instead, remembering all the stars Mr. Hamilton had

described two nights earlier. It seemed like an eternity ago and such an

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innocent time, compared to now. I don’t know if I’d have stayed with him

if I’d known what I now knew. It made me wonder what was keeping me

with him now, because I could bail out at any time.

After thinking it through, I knew the answer was two-fold. I wanted

to know more, making me an adrenaline junkie, and I wanted to stay with

Mr. Hamilton. I’d been through a lot with him already, and he was

growing on me. I also needed to keep him safe.

It made me wonder what my friends would say if they heard me talk

about him. Was I falling for this guy? My stomach fell at the thought.

~~~~~

Chapter 21

I had to consider the thought that I was falling for this guy. He was finally

nice to me, was adorable, and bright. Brains were my main criteria for

really dating—not pseudo-dating like with Jason—as well as the ability to

take control in bad situations. Mr. Hamilton had it all, and except for a

few drawbacks like his fiancée, he’d be a possibility to date.

What was I thinking? Did that make me any better than him, not

honoring his commitment to Tara? I did have Jason at home, sort of, and I

did owe him as well.

Within thirty minutes, my head started to feel better, so I sat up and

watched the road.

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“Feel better?” he asked.

“Much, thanks. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I should’ve left you with Marie and Pierre

instead of putting you in the trunk.”

“Like you would’ve done with Tara, right?”

“Yes.”

“You know I wouldn’t have stayed, but would’ve hunted you down

and threatened you with bodily harm for leaving me in this terrible

country.”

He nodded, glancing toward me. “I’m sure you would have. That

was the dilemma.”

I watched as we took some side roads toward the Hwange National

Park. Mr. Hamilton was quiet, so I pulled out my day planner and turned

on an overhead light, reading what I was missing in my life back home. It

was Friday. I was to get that huge award that evening, which would’ve

put me on the map as a journalist. I sighed audibly.

“Missing your life already?” I swear the guy had eyes at the side of

his head.

“Why?” I asked.

“From what I gathered, it was a scheduled life and you couldn’t live

without your planner. Am I right?”

“Maybe.” I looked at the schedule for that day. Given we were

about nine hours ahead of Denver time, I could almost make it back for

the evening events if there were no layovers in any cities and the plane

flew at incredible speeds.

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I looked at the next evening’s schedule, then flipped off the light and

gazed at the stars out the window again. A date with Jason and that

award seemed so laid back and calm compared to what I was now facing.

Did I miss Jason? Was he someone I’d ever miss? Would I look back

on my current life in my old age and say ‘those were the good old days’?

I glanced at Mr. Hamilton because he was looking at me frequently

from the side. Was he someone I’d remember after this trip, or was he

someone I’d think was a jerk for practically kidnapping me? I glanced at

him again in the darkness.

Yes, he was handsome, but decided he wasn’t for me. As much as I

was certainly interested, and wished he were single, he was engaged and

the love of his life was somewhere in Zambia. Every time I saw her, she

was wearing a different shade of pink. I wondered if he thought about her

very often, or if the love curse was stronger than his love for Tara.

I turned my thoughts to my own life. I had to decide what to do with

my future. Did I want to continue pseudo-dating Jason, or consider

someone like Mr. Hamilton, who was a lot more attentive to me and nicer

to me than Jason could ever be? I felt better about myself with Mr.

Hamilton than I ever felt with Jason or any other man. He treated me like

a person and I just couldn’t throw him away. I wished I could consider

him as a potential date.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Mr. Hamilton said.

I sighed and looked out the side window again. “I’m at a crossroads

and I’m not sure which way to go.”

“Maybe I can help. What do the crossroads represent?”

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I glanced toward him, and then looked out the window again,

weighing my options. Did I want to talk to him about it or not? Would it

help or possibly hinder my relationship with him?

I made up my mind, deciding he had no idea what I’d be talking

about anyway, and it was better than the silence. “I’d rather not talk

details, but more general terms.”

“Okay.” He shifted his hands on the wheel. “In general terms, what

do they represent?”

“I have two paths to choose from,” I explained. “One is safe and

narrow, with a predictable yet boring future. The other is wild and I’ll

never know what’s around the next corner.”

“You know, a crossroads has four different paths. You’re only

describing two of them.”

“I know. I’ve already come from one of the sides, and the other one

hasn’t been defined yet.”

“Got it. Which one have you already come from?”

“A boring, predictable, and scheduled one.” That pretty much

described my life in Denver.

“I see. So, you’re wondering if you should keep things status quo, or

become more of a risk taker. I wish I knew what these roads meant in

your life.” The grin on his face was evident, even in the darkness.

“I doubt you ever will.”

“In that case, let’s think about this. The safe and narrow one sounds

boring, with little risk.” He glanced toward me often, but at least he was

nice about it. “It’s a sure bet, but knowing your personality, you’ll get

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tired of it, look back on your life when you’re old, and kick yourself. You

don’t seem to be the type to let life just pass you buy.”

“I thought so. There’s only one problem with the other path. It’s

very worn, and I’d be an innocent on it, not having much experience.

There are many nasty people on that path, and the other one, the safe

one, reminds me of home. I’ve never been on this risky path before and

I’m afraid I’ll have to turn back and take the first road after all.”

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “I know what the two roads are. Hmmm…let

me think about this.”

I turned toward him and lowered my eyebrows in frustration.

“There’s no way you know what the two roads are. I haven’t given you

enough information.”

“Sure you have. You want to know if you should stay in your current

profession or become a lion tamer. Considering your recent experience

with dealing with lions, it’s obvious to me.”

Men. Everything had to be so literal with them. He’d missed the

point, but I didn’t want him to know the two roads were Jason and him.

Jason was the boring road, and he was the wild road.

I put my hands up to surrender. “Oh, wise one, you figured me out.

What’s a girl to do?”

He became serious, glancing at me with angry eyes. “Don’t lie to

me. I know what the two roads really are. I’m not going to forget it.

Ever.”

I swallowed hard. He might be smarter than I thought. I didn’t like

it one bit, and didn’t want to ask what he knew. It could be the truth and

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he’d know if I tipped my hand. I moved further down in my seat, crossed

my arms, and continued to gaze at the stars.

“So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“Not talk to you.”

“Why not?” He reached over and touched my hand, but I yanked it

away.

“Because I don’t have you figured out yet. I need to think this

through a little bit better.”

“I thought I was the rich guy who stepped on the little workers to get

ahead. I think you do have me figured out, but I’m not that rich guy. I’m

enjoying seeing how you’re handling your crossroads.”

“That sounds like psycho mumbo jumbo. You’re just saying words

with no meaning.”

“Not at all, and you know it. I see you straddling a line you don’t

know how to handle. Did you date anyone other than Jason in your life?

Anita wasn’t sure.”

“I’m not talking.”

“So the answer is no.” He shifted in his seat as he chuckled. “This is

getting even better. I like how this is playing out, because you’re so

confused, it’s hilarious. I just have one piece of advice to you.”

“What would that be, not that I’m going to take it. I’m not an elitist

like you are.”

“An elitist now? That’s not the same thing as someone who steps on

little people. I guess I’ve come up in the world.” He laughed even

harder, making me just sigh. “Do you want my advice? It’s really

simple.”

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“Sure, tell me so you can get it out of your system and feel

superior.”

As he bit his lips, a chuckle escaped his mouth. He reached over and

took my hand, holding it in my lap. “Kes, be true to your heart. If your

heart’s telling you something, listen. Don’t let your head confuse you

with the facts, because if you’re not true to your heart, you’ll always be

frustrated.”

“Words. That’s all it is.” I yanked my hand from his.

“I want those words to actually sink in.” He pulled into the Hwange

National Park and turned down a long winding driveway in front of a

swank hotel. A man approached the car dressed in formal safari attire,

but I doubted he was on the same strange safari as we were. I checked

my watch and saw it was already nine o’clock.

“We’re Mr. and Mrs. Adams,” Mr. Hamilton said.

I kept my thoughts to myself because this seemed to have been

arranged without me knowing about it.

“Yes, sir,” the man said in a broken British accent. “I’ll take your

bags and park your car for you.” He looked at me and grimaced as he

covered his nose politely. “You can freshen up in your room as soon as

you get your keys.”

I pulled down the vanity mirror. Oh yeah, he was right. I definitely

needed to freshen up. I wondered what Big Mouth and Flat Head had seen

in the sweaty faced, stinky clothed woman I saw in the mirror. I’d

changed into my other outfit that morning, but it still reeked of the

Zambezi and whatever else was in my backpack, even though I’d washed

it out. Time to become a human being again.

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‘I Love To Eat’ Recipe

Fresh Apple Cake (given to me by my Aunt Doris) (see http://www.sweettalebooks.com/applecake.html)

Ingredients needed:

1 cup vegetable oil 2 cups sugar 2 eggs ~~~~~~~~~ 2 cups flour 1 tsp. baking powder 1 tsp. cinnamon 1 tsp. salt 1 tsp. baking soda 1 tsp. vanilla ~~~~~~~~~ 3 cups chopped and peeled apples 6-ounce package of butterscotch morsels

Directions:

Set oven to 350 degrees. Grease 9x13” pan.

In a big mixing bowl, beat eggs until creamy. Mix with vegetable oil and sugar.

In another bowl, measure out flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon. Mix with first bowl. Add vanilla and mix. Add 3 cups of chopped apples.

Pour into pan. Sprinkle 6-ounce package of butterscotch morsels on top.

Bake 45-50 minutes at 350 degrees.

http://www.sweettalebooks.com/applecake.html

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About Me

I write as the following people: All my emails are on these pages, under ‘contact.’ My main email is for Markee Anderson (listed below).

Markee Anderson (contemporary romances) Website: www.markeeanderson.com FB fan page: http://on.fb.me/IB8LXz Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkeeAnderson

Email: [email protected]

Andie Alexander (mystery/adventure/romance) Website: www.andiealexander.com FB: http://on.fb.me/nCTE0b Twitter: https://twitter.com/andiealexander

Eryn Grace (Christian romances) Website: www.eryngrace.com FB: http://on.fb.me/Mq4oAR Twitter: https://twitter.com/eryn_grace

Kyra Myles (YA paranormal and sci-fi) Website: www.kyramyles.com FB: http://on.fb.me/Mq4mcp Twitter: https://twitter.com/KyraMyles

SweetTale Books brings all my personalities together under one roof. Website: www.sweettalebooks.com. FB: http://on.fb.me/Mq4qsy Twitter: https://twitter.com/SweetTaleBooks

http://www.markeeanderson.com/

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https://twitter.com/MarkeeAnderson

mailto:[email protected]

http://www.andiealexander.com/

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http://www.kyramyles.com/

http://on.fb.me/Mq4mcp

https://twitter.com/KyraMyles


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