Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

My quick steps aren’t driven by the need to inhale the fresh air or let the peace of homecoming settle over me. It’s the woman waiting for me. I considered calling her at least a hundred times since I left, but I couldn’t risk leading a trail to her. Now that we’re wanted for murder, the police tripled their allocation both in staff and budget to our case. Interpol is involved, making it more difficult to slip unnoticed across borders. Leon is on the case, trying to find out what he can about the imposters by hacking into the police records and paying our informants for information. I’m not inclined to do the police’s work for them, but it’s in our interest that the fuckers who pretended to be us are exposed.

It’s early morning, but Banga and Shona are already in. Banga discreetly makes himself scarce, leaving the office to me. I’m eager as fuck to see Cas, but when weapons and crime are involved, duty comes first. The cleanup is imperative. Carelessness leads to getting arrested. Leon and Ruben clean and pack away the weapons while I put half of the cash we made on the sale in the safe. The other half of the payment was made upfront into my offshore bank account.

I work fast. When I’m done, I send a text message to Oliver, our contact in Zambia, to set up a meeting. I don’t like keeping large amounts of money in the safe. I prefer to disperse the millions in electronic currency as soon as possible. Oliver replies promptly. After discretion, it’s the trait I like most about him. He never makes me wait.

Shona brings a tray with coffee and rusks, which she leaves by the door for Ruben to collect. She knows when not to disturb us. We drink the coffee while we go over the details of the meeting with Oliver. After checking the security system to make sure everything works smoothly, I’m finally free to get out of there.

We each grab a rifle from the closet. Leon and Ruben head for their bungalows for a shower while I take the path to mine, but a shower can wait. I have other ideas. My heart pounds as I cross the bridge. When I finally push the door to my bedroom open, my chest is about to explode. I’m hard even before I step over the threshold, and then everything falls flat.

Empty.

The room is tidy. The bed is made and the mosquito net tied back. No sign of Cas.

My heart starts thumping for a different reason. I already know with a deep-seated, instinctive knowledge she isn’t in the bathroom. Verifying it by stomping over the deck and throwing the door open is merely a formality. The towels hang over the rails. No drops of condensation run down the mirror. The bathroom is dry and clean.

I rush back into the room and check the closet. Cas’s clothes are there. Only her handbag is gone, meaning she took the most important essentials—her phone, money, and pills. Yanking my phone from my pocket, I dial her number. When the line connects, relief floods me. At least she hasn’t destroyed her phone. By now, she must’ve guessed that’s how I tracked her in Pretoria. Her phone rings for ten long seconds and goes onto voicemail.

“Call me,” I all but growl.

In my haste, I fumble with the touch buttons to open the tracker app on my phone. My fingers are too big, fear making me clumsy. I have to swipe the on button twice before I get the app to work. Three seconds tick pass as I wait for the map to load. She can’t get out of the property, but there are a million-and-one places to hide and none that are safe for a man not carrying a weapon, let alone for a vulnerable woman who can’t defend herself against lions, rhinos, elephants, and hippos. A baboon will rip her to pieces. She can step on a scorpion or get bitten by a snake.

A trickle of sweat runs over my temple. I pace to the door, thanking every god in existence I had cell phone towers installed on the property. It feels like forever before a red dot appears on my screen. My adrenaline spike drops. The relief is so great I feel weak. She makes me fucking weak. I place the location as I rush back to the main building. She’s inside the fenced area, close to the river. Thank fuck.

I jog the last few hundred meters and skid to a halt in the office. The key for the Jeep is missing. Banga is still out to wherever he’s disappeared. I don’t run around to find staff and pose questions. Cas plus the key gone can only mean she left with the Jeep. My frustration mounting, I grab the Hummer key and climb into the old military model that’s still parked in front of the main entrance.