Four Relentless Days. Elle James
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before I did and spooked them by telling them about what omen the images foretold.”
“And what does an owl mean in the local folklore?”
She stopped the swing with a foot on the board of the veranda and stood. “It doesn’t matter.”
Harm stood and rested an arm over her shoulder, cupping her arm with his hand. “You can’t scare me. I’m a crusty old SEAL. I don’t believe in bad juju. But I do believe in bad people who like to frighten women and children.”
She squared her shoulders, shrugging off his grip. “I’m not easily frightened, either, but when it scares my guests, it threatens me and my livelihood.” She lifted her chin and faced Harm. “Around here, if an owl flies close to you or a loved one, it means someone is going to die.”
“You don’t believe that hooey, do you?”
“Normally I don’t.” She looked back over her shoulder toward him. “I believe people painted the signs over the doors. But it’s hard to discount the omens when they happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“The night before my husband died, an owl swooped over my head.” She sighed. “I shrugged it off as coincidence...until they brought Michael back to the lodge the next day. Then I went through everything I could have done to keep him from dying that day.”
“But you couldn’t undo what was done,” Harm said softly.
“No.”
“And you think it’s happening again?”
“I haven’t seen an owl this time around, but someone is planting those superstitions in the heads of my staff and my guests. I can’t run this place by myself. If the juju threats continue, I won’t have staff to take care of the guests and the guests will leave, like the ones who left the day your team arrived. I’ll be out of business.” Talia’s voice lowered to a whisper. “My husband’s dream will be lost.”
Once again, Harm fought the urge to pull Talia into his arms. She had been so very upbeat and friendly from the day she’d first welcomed the SEALs to her resort.
Harm was a fixer. He liked to make things right. But he wasn’t sure he could fix Talia’s problems. He didn’t have any experience with black magic and bad juju.
Talia hadn’t wanted to bring her new guest into the superstitious world of the locals. Granted, the SEALs seemed of stronger constitutions than her rich guests who’d left the day before, hurrying away because of a painting on their doors.
She stared up at the tall, broad-shouldered SEAL and wanted to laugh.
Harm would not be as easily frightened. Hell, he’d frighten those trespassers who’d dared to draw the omens on the doors. Perhaps having the SEALS there would keep the saboteurs from spreading their portents of bad juju on her property.
“Enough about my troubles.” She pasted a smile on her lips. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“No. Like you told us from the beginning, we can make do for ourselves. I was heading for the kitchen, hoping to snag a sandwich.”
“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, not ready to be alone after everything that had happened. She’d found temporary comfort in this man’s arms, something she hadn’t counted on, especially after the loss of her husband. A tug of guilt pulled at her heart. At the same time, she felt a spark of something else. She refused to put a name to it. Not yet.
“I’d be honored.” Harm offered her his elbow.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and stepped through the door with him.
They had just crossed the threshold when a shot rang out. One of the cabin doors slammed open and Big Jake burst out running backward, wearing only his boxer shorts, cursing. He held his M4A1 rifle in his hand, pointed back into the cabin.
Pitbull, Diesel, Buck and T-Mac all ran out of their cabins in varying stages of undress, carrying their weapons.
“I heard a shot fired.” T-Mac hurried toward Big Jake, wearing just his jeans, no shirt or shoes.
“Me too.” Diesel joined him on the path, in shorts and nothing else.
“What’s going on?” Pitbull asked, tugging a T-shirt over his head, his jeans pulled up but not buttoned.
Marly emerged seconds later, zipping up her flight suit. “Who’s shooting?”
Harm leaped off the veranda and ran toward Big Jake. “What happened?”
Big Jake shook his head. “I’ve never seen one that big. It was curled up at the foot of my bed.”
“What was curled up at the foot of your bed?” Harm asked as he arrived at Big Jake’s side.
His teammate shook his head and pointed his rifle toward the door. “I was having this strange dream. Drums, painted dancers, incense... I was falling into a fire when I woke up, sat up and stared at a cobra coiled at the foot of my bed, his head up, hood spread and ready to launch himself at me. I did the only thing a good SEAL could do.”
“You blew it away, right?” T-Mac shuddered.
“Damn right I blew it away.” He shot a glance toward Talia. “I’m sorry if I also put a hole in the wall.”
“Holy hell, I hate snakes,” T-Mac said. “That would be one of my worst nightmares—forget the fire and dancers. Snakes are the devil.”
Talia pushed past him, headed into the cabin, then paused at the door. “You did hit it, didn’t you?”
“I’m pretty sure I did.” Big Jake shoved a hand through his hair. “It was all pretty much a blur.”
Harm caught her arm. “Let me go in first.”
“Here.” T-Mac handed him the pistol he’d brought from his cabin. “You’ll need this.”
Harm grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want to make sure the snake is dead?”
T-Mac crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No. I trust you to make it right.”
“I can take care of this,” Talia said. “We have the occasional snake enter the compound. Although not lately. The villagers see cobras on occasion. They like rats and chickens.”
“And the occasional baby?” Marly asked, a shiver shaking her body.
Talia grimaced. “They don’t usually eat the babies. But some children have been bitten on occasion.”
“Nice,” T-Mac said. “Nightmare, I’m telling you.” He turned to Diesel. “Why did we decide a safari in Kenya was a good idea?”
“You wanted to come as much as the rest of us,” Diesel reminded him. “At least you weren’t stuck in the jungle along the Congo for several nights, sleeping in snake-infested trees.”
“Enough talk about snakes.” T-Mac raised a hand. “Who’s for heading back to Djibouti and the friendly scorpions they have?”
“We’re not going back to Djibouti,” Harm said. “One snake is not a den of snakes.”
“How do you know?” T-Mac asked.
“Shut up, T-Mac.” Harm unlocked the safety on the handgun and stepped past Talia and through the door, switching on the light. “I’ll let you know if there are more when I come out.”
“If you come out alive,” T-Mac muttered behind him.
Cobra bites were deadly if left untreated. But there was treatment, Harm coached himself. Although he wasn’t horribly afraid of snakes