Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

The Hummer wasn’t made for speed, but I floor the gas. The vehicle bounces over the rocks and gross polls, its sturdy frame and shock absorbers taking the punch out of the rough ride. I make it to the cattle bridge in the longest forty-five minutes of my life, all the while checking my phone that lies on the seat next to me to make sure the red dot isn’t moving.

When the village comes into sight, I slow down. Kids cross the path to the river and play in the tall grass. I park on the outcrop where the road gives way to fields and hop from the vehicle, shading my face with a palm from the glare of the early morning sun as I search the riverbank.

It doesn’t take me long to spot her. With her platinum locks and pale skin she stands out. Cas is crouching in a row of cabbage, digging with a hand shovel. Her head is bent over the green head of the cabbage, her brow furrowed in concentration and her lip caught between her teeth. She’s wearing the denim shorts we bought in town that are two sizes too big for her and one of the tank tops. Her hair is tied into a high ponytail, the curls spilling down her back. Her knees are stained with dirt and her hiking shoes caked with mud. She’s a knockout in skinny jeans and lacy camisoles, but crouching there in baggy shorts, digging in the soil with dirty knees, she’s the most beautiful sight I’ve seen.

What the hell is she doing?

Reassured at her presence, I scout the area. The Jeep is parked under the tree by the river. The usual rotating team of three men from the village armed with rifles guards the women, watching out for hippos and crocodiles. The women work the fields like they always do. The only activity that’s new is a grinding stone used for maize that’s set up under the tree. Two women with knob-ended canes are crushing something on the stone. After every few beats, they stop to brush the white meal with a grass broom into a bucket.

I make my way over with long strides. Cas is so engrossed in digging out the cabbage, she doesn’t notice me until I stop with my boots in her line of vision. Tilting her head, she squints up at me. The moment suspends as our eyes lock. The earth stops turning. Time stretches fragile between us. Unresolved issues dangle like glass bubbles in the air. I don’t breathe. A mere exhale can make the delicate strings holding those bubbles snap and pave our way with dangerous shards of broken glass.

Then she smiles.

A smile. For me. So much more. It’s not a coy or a simple smile. It’s a complicated gesture layered with pleasant surprise, genuine joy, and uncertain shyness. It’s a beautiful gesture, and with that single, complicated smile, she snatches my heart.

It’s hers.

I lay it down in the dirt by her feet. It’s hers to take or trample. I wanted her from the moment I saw her, and I knew from the minute I took her I was going to keep her. I knew she was going to wrap me around her finger, and I accepted the fact gladly. I even looked forward to it. I just couldn’t foresee how completely she’d own me.

The realization simmers in my chest. It brews and threatens to explode like steam from a pressure cooker. Of the million things I want to say to her, the words I push through my lips are, “What are you doing?”

Apprehension steals over her features. Dusting her hands, she straightens. “I’m working.”

I lower the rifle, letting it rest against the water drum standing next to her. “I can see that. Why?”

Her tone is defensive. “You can’t carry on living your life, leave me here, and expect me to sit and do nothing in your room all day.”

I tilt my head in the direction of the Jeep. My voice lowers in warning. “You drove here?”

She lifts her chin. “Yes, and you can’t blame Banga or Shona. They accompanied me the first day, but since I proved to them I’m not going to run, they let me drive on my own.”

On her fucking own. I’m going to have their hides for letting her risk it out with no protection. “The first day, huh? How many days have you been doing this?”

“Since you left. I asked them to bring me here.”

“Why?”

“To ask at the clinic for the morning-after pill.”

“I see.” They wouldn’t have given it to her. I left them with strict instructions. “What else did you get up to while I was gone?”

“We had lunch in the village, and I decided to get involved.”

I drag my gaze over her, barely resisting grabbing her and making her lock those dirty knees around my waist. My level voice doesn’t betray the heat in my veins. “Involved?”