Billionaire's Ultimate Acquisition. Melanie Milburne
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not it.”
His powers of observation worked great when they were tracking a subject, but at times like this he made her want to scream. “Then what is it?”
“Listen.”
Sasha stood up and focused her attention outward. Straining her ears, she concentrated on putting aside the white noise of the forest. And the same moment, she picked up the whirring noise; every animal alongside the stream seemed to freeze. Sasha’s heart stuttered to a stop and then jerked into high speed.
“Damn,” she swore. “That sounds like…”
“A plane,” he stated simply.
“What would it be doing way out here?”
He shrugged and stood up. “Maybe poachers?”
“Not likely,” she growled. “They’d come over land. From the sound of it, I think the plane is headed toward us.”
Sasha’s gaze narrowed on the milling animals. This deep into the tropical forest, most of the animals had not been exposed to humans or machines. It suddenly occurred to her that the sound of the plane would inevitably trigger the “fight or flight” instinct inherent in most living things. “We need to gather everything we can and get behind the trees.”
“They may run the other way.” Thorne came to stand alongside her.
“Do you want to put your life and our equipment at risk?’
“So now you’re the rhinoceros expert, too?” Thorne said sarcastically. The twang of his cockney accent came out in full force. “You think they’re going to stampede.”
“I know they will.” Sasha drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
She moved quickly to pick up the equipment and dump it in the travel bags. The entire episode reminded her of why she preferred the company of animals to humans. She’d had her pick of group expeditions, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize she’d inherited her parents’ solitary nature.
Sasha didn’t look at Thorne. If she didn’t need his talent, she would have stopped using his services long ago. She’d learned from her parents how to take care of herself in any environment. But what she hadn’t learned, and it would irritate her for life, was how to deal with people. And that undeniable fact made it easy for her to work and live in undeveloped countries and remote locales around the world on a moment’s notice.
“Move it,” she ordered, stuffing the GPS system, radio, laptop and video set into another bag. “Or someone’s going to find your trampled corpse.”
She grabbed her backpack and pushed through the tent flap. Her eyes scanned the horizon even as her ears could more easily detect the whirring sound. Sasha took off in the direction of more heavily wooded area with Thorne right behind her. Only when they’d gotten deep enough into the overgrown thicket of trees and underbrush did she slow down. A few minutes later when she was sure that they would safe, she stopped and dropped her bags onto the floor.
“We’ll wait here for at least a half hour.”
Breathing heavily, Thorne just nodded his head and slowly collapsed under the weight of his equipment bags. Turning her face towards the sky, her eyes strained to catch a glimpse of the horizon through the thick foliage. Failing to see anything, she used her ears and hands instead. Sasha crouched and out her hand against the ground. Sure enough, she could feel the slight trembling that had nothing to do with earthquakes and more to do with large stampeding herds.
Not this way, she prayed silently. The Lord must have been listening as the plane approached along with the animals because, as she’d hoped, the thick brush and trees forced them to go around their location.
“Good thinking,” Thorne whispered.
Sasha noticed the beads of sweat rolling off his forehead, and didn’t say a word.
An hour later after having returned to their campsite and discovered it intact, Sasha leaned down next to the abandoned lagoon and lifted a black plastic cylinder from the rocky shore. She held the object far from her body and stared at it. Her name had been stenciled in bold white letters on the side. Whatever it contained was important enough to have someone hire a plane to deliver it. A shiver raced down her spine with a shadow of foreboding. Drawing in a calm breath, she unscrewed the top and pulled out three sheets of heavy paper.
Several heartbeats passed as she read through the missive, and uncaring of the muddy water seeping between her toes, she dropped the container. Clutching the papers to her chest, Sasha walked back toward the undisturbed campsite and stopped as her knees threatened to buckle. She caught sight of Thorne just as he finished taking a drink of water from one of the many canteens. “We need to pack up,” she said in a low voice.
“What?”
She avoided eye contact by looking over his shoulder. “We’re leaving,”
“What did you just say?” he questioned. “I swear you just said that we were leaving.”
“I did.”
“Just like that? A little stampede has scared the unflappable Sasha Clayton?”
“I have to go back to the States.”
“What the hell is so bloody important that someone sent a plane into the middle of a tropical forest?”
“That’s my business.” Careful not to look Thorne in the face, her eyes went from his ear to his neck. Grief welled in the center of her throat and tears threatened to overflow from her eyes at any moment. And just looking at him might set her off.
“It’s my livelihood and reputation. If you’re going to bail out the least you can do is tell me why.”
Sasha lowered her eyes to the ground as dozens of should haves and could haves crowded into her head all at once.
“He’s dead.”
“Good God,” Thorne rushed. “Your father’s passed away?”
Instinctually, she pushed the thought of her father’s mortality away. “No, my godfather.”
“I’m sorry, love.”
From the corners of her eyes, Sasha glimpsed the photographer shift back and forth with indecision. He didn’t know whether to comfort her with a hug or take another step back. Although they came from separate continents and had radically different experiences growing up, it hadn’t taken Sasha long to notice the big similarity: neither of them dealt well with the human species in emotional situations.
In a somber voice, he said, “Sasha, there’s no way you can make it back to the States for the funeral.”
The uncharacteristically strained tone in his voice derailed her train of thought. She simply nodded her head. “I know.”
Sasha’s knees could no longer bear the weight of her sorrow. Her knees gave out and she collapsed back against a tree. Ignoring Thorne completely, she lost herself with precious memories of Uncle Camden. Eight months ago, he had surprised her by showing up in England on the very day of her acceptance into the Zoological Academy. Just last month, she’d called to wish him happy birthday. She’d begun to end the conversation with “I love you.” But he hadn’t heard it because the line had been disconnected.
Only with the sudden loss did she come to grips with the depth of emotions for her sixty-year-old godfather. Grief consumed her. She wanted to share more time with him. She wanted Uncle Camden to be her guide again like he was years ago, as they explored the rainforests and Mayan ruins of Belize; when they ran from alligators, camped on barges and tracked black howler monkeys for two weeks. She wanted to eat peanut butter sandwiches and drink coffee so strong that it doubled as an insect repellant. Her sorrow deepened and memories gave way to tears.
“I’ll start packing,” Thorne volunteered.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The finality of the moment