Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

Biting my lip, I glance at my phone. Should I call him? No. What if he’s busy with something dangerous? I don’t want to distract him. I pick up a slice of toast. It’s still warm. He couldn’t have left long ago. Not wanting to waste such a considerate effort, I eat the delicious meal and drink the coffee on the deck.

After breakfast, I shower and dress in a new pair of jeans and a tank top. With nothing else to do, I page through the catalog on the deck. It doesn’t take my mind off my worries, but I circle a few items I like, practical clothes like jeans, T-shirts, sandals, and a bikini. I’m not planning on ordering any of it. I’m just trying to distract myself.

A purple, velvet dress catches my eye. It’s a classic design, almost old-fashioned, but I love it. I play a game of creating an outfit with matching shoes and a bag, but my mind has its own ideas. It imagines wearing the outfit for Ian, drawing my attention back to my nagging concern.

Dumping the catalog on the desk in the room, I take the two-way radio from the dresser drawer and dial reception.

Shona’s voice comes onto the line. “Do you need anything?”

“Dumêla,” I say, addressing her in Tswana. “Where’s Ian?”

“He’ll be back in a couple of days.”

A couple of days! My stomach flips over. I can’t sit here and bite my nails for one more minute. “Can you please send someone to fetch me?”

“I’ll bring lunch over by twelve.”

“I’d like to see Banga.”

“He’s busy.”

“Fine. I’ll just take my chances.”

She must think I’m bluffing, because the line goes dead.

Most wild animals will only attack to protect themselves if they feel threatened. I know not to cut off an elephant’s path and not to run when a lion charges. A cobra will spit before it bites, and a rinkhals will play dead.

After applying a generous amount of sunblock and mosquito repellent, I grab my phone, close the door, and set off on the path. I keep vigilant as I walk. Being out here is invigorating. The rush of the water is a pleasant noise, and the early sun on my back feels good. I inhale the clean air. Despite my problems and concerns, my lungs expand in an easier way. I cross the bridge and make the last stretch without any incidents. Wataida, who is trimming the grass around the trees, throws down the shears when he sees me.

“Aikona!” He jumps from kneeling to his feet. “Missus Cas!”

Shona rushes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishcloth. Her eyes grow huge when she sees me.

“Are you mad?” she exclaims, running after me as I make my way inside. “Do you know what Ian will do to us if anything happens to you?”

I walk into the office and hold out my palm at a shocked Banga. “I want the key for the Jeep.”

He glances behind him to where the keys for the vehicles hang on hooks on a wooden board.

Flicking my fingers, I say, “Now.”

He looks at Shona who’s stormed in behind me.

“Miss Cas,” Shona says. “What’s going on?”

“Just Cas will do.” I flick my fingers again. “Key.”

It takes another moment before Banga finds his voice. “The gates are locked. They work with an access code and the mesh is electrified.” He stutters. “There are guards on duty.”

“Don’t worry. I know it’s impossible to escape. I just want to visit the village.”

He frowns. “Why?”

I prop my hands on my hips. “Why not? I live here now, don’t I?”

“I…” He scratches his head, shooting another pleading glance at Shona.

“Bring a rifle and get the key,” she says.

He gapes at her. “What?”

She takes off her apron and drapes it with the dishcloth over the back of the chair. “You heard me.”

In a short while, the three of us are making our way to the other side of the property in the Jeep. Banga drives, and I’m seated next to him. Shona sits in the back, holding the rifle. Instead of turning toward the village, Banga takes the road to the gates. He parks short of them. The two guards armed with automatic rifles who sit in the shade of a tree get to their feet.

“You see?” Banga says, waving at the three-meter-high metal gates with an electrical danger sign on the front and barbed wire on the top. “Locked, electrified, and guarded.”

I cross my arms. “I said I believed you, but thanks for the tour. Ian already showed me yesterday when he took me to town. Village. Now.”

He regards me with skepticism. “You still want to go there?”

“That’s what I said.”

Shaking his head, he reverses and takes the turn-off.

After a long, bumpy ride, we cross the cattle bridge and enter the enclosed fields with fences keeping the animals out. He takes the dirt track and drives into the heart of the settlement, parking in front of the white building in the center.