Proud Hearts (Wild Hearts Romance Book 2) (24 page)

It was Caesar we caught up to first, slow and stiff, but doggedly making a play to keep up with the rest of the pride. But for current circumstances, I would have thought,
Good on him
, and thrown him thoughts of silent support. Encouraging him and the others toward the hunters, though, wasn’t in any of our best interests, even if no respectable hunter would target a gravely injured youngster. These were men, however, who thought nothing of stranding Dee and me in the bush 50 miles from anywhere.

Portia paced the distance back and forth between her cub and the rest of the pride anxiously. I admired her loyalty and selflessness. Not only did I understand those qualities in my head, for the first time I felt them in my heart. It wasn’t about any one of us alone. Despite popular opinion, a pride wasn’t only as strong as its weakest member. Without the bonds of loyalty, love and trust, a pride was nothing more than a group of arrogant opportunists banded together only for personal safety and personal gain.

Without those deep interpersonal bonds, a pride lacked the heart of its success. It wasn’t a family.

I gripped the rifle tighter and set my teeth together. I had found my family. No one was going to mess with it now.

Dee nudged me and nodded toward a distant glint. The first rays of the rising sun haloed the helicopter settled like a great prehistoric beast on the veldt maybe half a mile away.

“Where’s Brutus?”

She gave a worried shake of her head. We both scanned the near shore where a herd of zebra gathered, stocking up on water before heading out for their morning graze. Beyond them was a small family of impala and beyond them a handful of straggling wildebeests catching a drink.

A sudden splashing drew my eye. A brace of impala leapt from the pond, a disappointed crocodile lunging impotently from the water after them. Dee’s words echoed in my head:
You choose a side—either predator or prey
. Because out here there was always a winner, always a loser.

By default, I had chosen predator. By design, I sure as hell knew I wasn’t going to be prey.

Then I saw the top of Brutus’ mane moving between the scrawny patches of tufted grass that ringed the circle of bare shore around the pond.

“Damn.”

The same frustration Dee voiced slammed into me. Brutus would choose today to do some active hunting on his own rather than hang back in the shadows letting the lionesses do the work. And if it was this easy for us to spot him…

Dee struck off, moving quickly from one brush thicket to the next along a drunken arc that spanned the distance between Brutus and the helicopter. Somewhere along that path she expected to find the hunters. I followed close behind, scanning the hectares of veldt that could hide two men as easily as it hid us.

As usual, Dee’s instincts were dead on.

I signaled her with a sharp slap to the back of her shoulder. Immediately she halted and dropped into a crouch beside me. A hundred yards to our right, our quarry was setting up his shot. Only one rifle was aimed at Brutus, more evidence he was a paying customer and the man standing next to him was his bush pilot and tracker.

Not that it mattered who pulled the trigger.

Dee pointed to a thicket angled just behind the men that was half again as close to them as we were now. We’d have to get that much closer for our weapons to have any hope of real threat.

Crouched low behind a fringe of brush, we ran.

Not just ears but every pore open for the sound of rifle shot, I prayed we’d be in position before Brutus charged his prey across the bare strip of shore between the sparse bit of sheltering grass he hid in now and the pond. That was the shot the hunter was setting up for, anticipating where Brutus would break free of the grass and he could get a clean kill.

At this distance, he’d have only one chance.

Like me.

Dropping to a knee, I took aim.

I couldn’t actually see his trigger finger, but I did see his body posture settle—resolved, ready. I
felt
him start to squeeze the trigger as Brutus lunged toward a zebra foal.

Dee jumped up, waving her arms and shouting. Distracting the hunters but more, I thought, hoping to distract Brutus.

I had no idea about the lion, but the hunter on the rifle hesitated just the split second I needed.

I fired, aiming high, knowing the dart would drop as it flew. It struck him in the side just below his ribs, burying deep. Nice and clean. At the same moment, not an eye blink in between, his rifle exploded, recoil and tranquilizer knocking the hunter to the ground.

I risked a glance Brutus’ way, saw him power down his targeted zebra, unfazed by Dee’s crazed-woman impression and unaware of the bullet’s aim that had just been spoiled.

The lionesses, however…

I blinked.

Sheba and Portia and Nana bounded our way, rushing our position, Cleo tailing behind.

The pilot raised his rifle, but Dee was already on him, her .38 aimed squarely at his chest.

I scrambled to load another dart.

Dee
whuffed
at the lions. They pulled up short, but their reluctance at that was plain. Nana snarled and Sheba’s low growl chilled even me. These were the same lions who had tracked down a leopard, dispatching it with extreme prejudice.

“If you want your client alive enough to pay you, you’d better get him out of here now.” The unveiled threat in Dee’s voice was nearly as chilling as Sheba’s.

The lionesses crowded around Dee and me, anxious, protective. The pilot’s rifle wavered, but he didn’t drop it, more frightened of the lions than Dee’s pistol.

By then I had another dart loaded. “Wonder what it would feel like to wake up half-eaten,” I mused.

The pilot eyed the tranq gun. “You wouldn’t.”

If he understood English, I was pretty sure he understood I would.

I shrugged. “Don’t much care if I have to shoot you or the lions with it.” I gestured and, eyes still locked on the lions milling at our feet, he lowered his rifle.

Dee moved in, Sheba at her side, step for step, and took the rifle from the pilot’s numb fingers. “I
do
care. And I can promise you I’m not shooting my lions.” Holstering her .38, she picked the unconscious hunter’s rifle up off the ground. “Listen carefully. If you think I have any sort of control over these lions, that could be the last mistaken thought you’ll ever have. Because honestly, I have no idea what they’ll do next.”

Nor did I, which is why I wasn’t letting down my guard even though the hunters’ weapons were secured. The pilot hesitated, still eying Sheba, not five feet away. “Like the lady suggested, get your friend out of here. Now. And if you’re thinking of coming back, I guarantee this place will be swarming with police and media—because we’re That. Big. A. Deal.”

I could have helped the pilot pack the unconscious man the half mile to the chopper, but I wasn’t feeling in a generous mood. In fact, I rather hoped one of the lionesses would follow them. They stayed with us, though, as we watched until the helicopter lifted off and sped away. This time, through the air rifle’s binocular sight, I memorized the numbers on its side.

“Dammit!”

I raised my eyebrows Dee’s way.

“I bet they had a radio.”

I grinned. “That would have brought a rescue team out here today instead of some time next week after I don’t get on my flight back to the States. I think I can stand a few more days out here marooned with you.”

“Yeah? I don’t know how long our batteries will last.” She looked pointedly at the handheld tethered to her chest. Only then did I realize our heroics had been caught on video. Shaky, frantic
Blair Witch
-style vidoegraphy no doubt, but caught. Could I love Dee any more than at that moment?

“You better not need batteries for what I have planned.” I winked, shut the camera off, then leaned down and kissed her.

Kissing Chris was intoxicating. He tasted like Africa—strong, hot and exotic—and felt like…family.

At the touch of his arms around me, I began to shake, an uncontrollable trembling that was part Chris, part lions, part delayed reaction to the stress of contemplating shooting another human being. I would have done it, too, had he given me cause. No matter how much more that might have made me shake afterward.

Safe in the shelter and security of Chris’ arms, I allowed myself to be weak. Allowed him to play my White Knight, my Prince Charming. For two full minutes I surrendered to the screen image of Chris Corsair. It felt good—amazingly and phenomenally good, in fact.

More so, even, when Chris lavished praise on me. “You were stunning,” he breathed as we parted from our kiss, my trembling soothed by his heat and strength and the close comfort of his arms.

“You were pretty awesome out there yourself,” I said.

“Well, it takes a real man to stay pretty in the face of danger.”

Always with the snarky comebacks. Though, as I thought about it, most of them were either innuendo or self-effacing. Innuendo I put down simply to learned play between the sexes. The self-effacing ones—they pointed to a more interesting and more complex personality. The arrogant Chris Corsair would never demean himself. The more affable Christopher Darnelle, however, had no reservations about making fun of his screen self. A true meta experience.

The first step, I thought, in changing a pride and arrogance issue was self-awareness, admitting that it was a problem. The second step was playing to it. The third step, making fun of it. The fourth step…

The fourth step was making others proud of you by becoming a person worthy of the merit you assumed you deserved. All this week, Chris had been doing just that—living up to an incredibly idealistic image, proving to me the level of extreme substance behind that self-confidence.

All he had left now was to embrace step five: humility.

It was going to be hard to show that humility, walking as he now did in the company of lions.

The pride gorged themselves on the feast Brutus had provided. Caesar was steadier now as he took a place beside them, the corner to his recovery turned.

“He’s looking strong again,” Chris said. “They all are. Safe and happy and content.”

I nodded.

“Then why are you looking so sad?”

“Because I can’t stay. Because wild hearts should never be tamed.”

“Is that your choice to make for them?”

It was almost too hard to do, but I nodded. “Because that’s what love is—the ability to make the hardest choice for the welfare of those you care about.”

“Is love always so hard?”

“Maybe not in the movies, but what I’ve known of it in real life, yes.”

“If it hurts so much, maybe you aren’t doing it right.”

I glared at him. “What do you know about love?”

“Only what I’m learning as I go along.” He smiled at me—not that sinfully sexy grin that always seemed a little predatory and a lot agenda-driven, but a real smile that came from the heart.

I looked away, not trusting that smile, but he took my hand to hold in the comfort of his own. “So what will you do?”

I shrugged, not because it was a trivial question, but because it was too overwhelming. “Leave when you do, whenever they come out to find us.” I had no idea who
they
might be, but I had faith someone would come for Chris.

“And go where?”

“Mozambique, maybe. Or Madagascar. I haven’t really had time to decide.”

“How about California—Los Angeles, Hollywood?”

I sucked in breath. What exactly was he asking?

“For a couple of weeks anyway. You can help edit your video, maybe pick up a few tips from the pros.”

Ah, business, he meant.

“After that…”

“After?”

“Maybe tool around on set with me. New places. New adventures.”

Was Chris Corsair actually asking me to run away with him? Or— “Do you mean with Chris Corsair or Christopher Darnelle?”

He chuckled, the low, throaty sound reverberating down to my toes. How did he manage to be so seductive without even trying? “I was thinking more ménage—you, Chris and Christopher. I’m not sure it would be possible to separate Mr. Corsair and Mr. Darnelle anyway.”

“I don’t know. That’s a commitment to a lifestyle I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with.” Hollywood. Production teams. The Chrises.

He read my mind. “The lifestyle—or me?”

Both.

Neither.

In reality, it was fear I was grappling with. My body certainly knew what it wanted. My heart…my heart was being swayed. No. It had been swayed. Had been from the moment he’d stepped off the plane, if I was honest with myself.

“We can always come back to Africa whenever the shooting schedule allows.”

“Back here, to our pride?”

He nodded. “To watch Caesar and Cleo grow up. To see Cleo’s cubs. And grandcubs.”

He was talking about a future.

Our future.

A future where the lions who’d brought us together could be a part of our lives forever.

Not only on film, but in our hearts as well.

“And later, when we’re old and retired,” he whispered, “we can sit on our porch in the African dawn and watch the lions parade on by.”

Sinking down in the tall veldt grass, our lions keeping guard nearby, we pledged ourselves not once, not twice, but three times to the heart of Africa, to the hearts of our pride, and to the single heart that beat now between us.

Look for
NOBLE HEARTS
(Book 3 in the Wild Hearts Romance Series)
Coming Summer 2016

Kayla has always been a sucker for strays—baby gorillas, okapis, even rhinos—so when an American doctor shows up wounded at her door, with a story of being pressed into service as medic to a local militia unit, Mark LeSabre is just another stray to be taken in and taken care of.

Then Ushindi's controversial election tips the tiny nation into civil war, and Kayla’s beloved ancestral coffee plantation becomes a casualty of the escalating conflict. Forced to flee, Kayla’s determined not to leave any of her workers—or her strays—behind, including Mark, who's found his way into her heart...and her bed.

But a rich American doctor is too valuable a prize to let escape. Thwarted at every border access, with the militia hot on their tail, Kayla and Mark’s only option for freedom is to brave a treacherous jungle route across the Mountains of the Moon. Alone, they might make it to Uganda and safety, but their ragtag group of strays will surely perish if they’re abandoned.

How far will Mark and Kayla risk their lives—and their hearts—in the service of love?

BRAVE HEARTS
(Book 1 in the Wild Hearts Romance Series)

Lose your heart to Wild Romance!

Running from the memories of his devastated heart, ex-special ops veteran Peter Lawson hires on as a ranger at a Tanzanian animal sanctuary owned by Nicky Tarentino, a disillusioned Illinois veterinarian recently relocated to Africa.

The physical attraction is instant, the sex easy, but it will take the grief of a ‘problem’ elephant—who, shattered by the loss of her family, is as broken and wounded on the inside as Peter—along with the heartbreak of an orphaned elephant calf before Nicky and Peter will be able face the sorrow of their pasts and, just maybe, learn to trust and love again.

Know the minute
NOBLE HEARTS
, Book 3 in the Wild Hearts Romance series, is available! Sign up for my mailing list today. You’ll ONLY receive a newsletter when I have something new on offer, and your email will
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