Sanctuary: Delos Series, Book 9 Read online

  Tucking the plastic visitor’s card into his jacket pocket, Nolan nodded his thanks. The guards stepped away and one pressed a button, and the large, black iron gates slowly swung open. Teren was tapping her fingers against the wheel, as if anxious to get on with things. She had taken off her sunglasses, hanging them on the throat of her tob. Off came the hat, too. She turned to him.

  “First things first: I’m going to take you to your duplex so you can get cleaned up and unpacked, and you probably want to rest. I’m sure you have jet lag.”

  “Sounds good and yes, jet lag is guaranteed.”

  She looked at her watch, pulling up the sleeve on her slender left wrist. “It’s three p.m. Farida, the director, has invited us over to her family’s duplex for dinner at seven p.m. Ayman and his wife, Hadii, are also invited. Do you think you’re up for that? Or would you rather crash and burn?”

  “No, I very much want to meet them.” Nolan liked the idea that Teren was going with him.

  “Great.” She shifted the hafla into gear and it leaped forward into the huge, rectangular enclosure of the village. “I’m taking you to our duplex.” She frowned and drove very slowly once inside the gates. “I hope you’re okay sharing the duplex with me. Captain Taban felt it important that you be near me since you’re my big guard dog.” Her lips curved teasingly as she sent him an amused look.

  “Yes, I’m your guard dog, and yes, I do want to be close to you.” Much closer than you might imagine. But he kept those words to himself.

  She shook her head. “I think this situation is overblown, if you want the truth. But Captain Taban feels Uzan is a serious threat to Kitra and to me, so I’m playing along with what he wants. He’s a good man and has always held Kitra’s heart close to his own. And he’s kept us safe for the five years he’s been employed by us.”

  “Wyatt knows him personally,” Nolan told her. “He feels Kitra is in good hands with Taban.”

  “That’s music to my ears.” Teren lifted her hand and gestured around the area as she slowed the truck. “You can get a bird’s-eye view of Kitra from here. Up on that slight knoll is the U-shaped administration building. The medical clinic, the psychologist’s office, our kitchen and dining room, my office, and the sewing area and sewing training center are all located within it. So is security, which is near to my office. The staff lives in the duplexes on the east and west sides of the U-shaped building. North of the main building are a hundred and fifty small huts. Those house the women survivors and their children, who have asked Delos for safety. Right now, we have about one hundred women here, mostly with children. Once she learns to sew and has a trade to bring in money to feed her family, she’ll leave Kitra. Most go back to their families’ home villages, where they set up their trade and enjoy a happily-ever-after of sorts.”

  “Sounds like Delos makes a serious effort to help these women,” he said, spotting some of the huts, which consisted of wood, corrugated aluminum siding, and thatched roofs. They were far better constructed than what was available to most of the poor surviving in Sudan, and Nolan knew it. Most tribes moved their herds with the seasons across Sudan, living in huts made from local grass, with thatched roofs, and anything else from nature that they could scavenge in the area to create it.

  Teren wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand. “Delos has always put people first, Nolan. We do everything in our power to support these survivors emotionally, mentally, and physically. The biggest worry for an abused woman is her small children. When she sees that they are cared for medically, that they have full bellies every day, that they get to go play on that huge playground over there and are babysat by women caregivers when needed, the woman survivor begins to thrive. She can focus on learning her new trade that she’ll make money from.”

  Nolan stared at the playground, which was enclosed by a two-foot-high blue plastic wall. There was sand inside it, gold and sparkling. He saw about thirty children of various ages playing on merry-go-rounds, five swing sets, six teeter-totters, ten slides, and five sets of monkey bars. Even from a distance, he could hear their infectious laughter, making him smile.

  Glancing over at Teren, he saw a kind of wistfulness come to her expression as she watched the children. She’d make a good mother, he guessed by the nurturing look on her face.

  “This is impressive.”

  Teren smiled a little and said, “It’s life-giving. Kitra means ‘abundance’ in Arabic, and this place gives back to those poor women who’ve been beaten down, scarred, harmed, and abused. They absolutely blossom here at Kitra.” She urged the hafla slowly forward. “There’s a beautiful fountain in front of the admin building, with lots of shade trees surrounding it. Everyone loves to come out here in the midafternoon and cool down. The kids play in the fountain, splash around, and there’s a lot of laughter from everyone.”

  “Do you get splashed with water?” Nolan asked, watching the amusement in her eyes.

  “Oh, as you get to know me, you’ll see I’m usually the first person who takes off her sandals, strips down to her sleeveless tee and cargo pants, and leaps into the fountain, chasing the kids around in it. I do manage to get wet, of course, and I also get a lot of the adults who are sitting nearby wet.”

  His mouth pursed. “Anyone ever accuse you of being an instigator, Ms. Lambert?”

  Her hands opened on the wheel. “A few times, Mr. Steele. A few times. I’m not someone who can sit in an office all day. I have to get up, stretch, move, get my hands onto something other than a computer keyboard. Usually, you’ll find me out at the barn working with the men who care for the animals, or playing with the kids in the fountain, or at the playground. If I get lucky, I throw a leg over one of our horses and ride outside the village at dusk when it’s cooler. I love to gallop along the grasslands, just being one with the land, the wind, and the sky.”

  “I’ll join you on those rides.”

  She raised a brow and then chuckled. “Because you have to? Ayman told me a bodyguard goes just about everywhere with the person they’re protecting.”

  “That’s true; I’d join you because of that, but also because I want to.” Nolan saw her eyes widen momentarily, and then warmth and some other undefined emotion shone in them.

  “You have to tell me all about yourself. You must be a country boy if you want to ride with me.”

  “We’ll cover that later,” Nolan promised, interested in the many wooden corrals and huge three-story barns coming up on their right. In one pen were about a hundred sheep, in another the same number of colorful spotted goats. In the last one were at least fifty long-horned cattle. These were large corrals covering at least ten acres each.

  There were a lot of trees around the outside of the corrals to give the animals shade, and inside each corral were filled rectangular concrete water troughs. He could see that there were also men inside them, delivering dried grass and feeding the herds. The animals’ coats gleamed with good health. Usually, Nolan saw half-starved animals in Sudanese villages. Thanks to the grasslands, the animals owned by village tribes never reached the level of health and vitality that Kitra’s herds did. He saw acres of water sprinklers giving that grass vibrant life. The grass, once it reached its mature height, would be cut and dried with a scythe by hand. It would then be hauled into a barn to dry, then fed to the animals over winter, ensuring their continued health. Outside of Kitra, those animals would quickly lose weight and become skin and bone by the time next spring arrived when grass would once again, become plentiful.

  The duplexes were one story and large, the stucco painted white to deflect heat. They, too, had corrugated aluminum roofs. To Nolan’s surprise, he saw air-conditioning units with each one. That was a game changer for him. He’d spent a lot of time in African desert countries and rarely encountered air-conditioning. To his left, far beyond the barn, he saw a small substation, the reason why there was enough electricity for the houses of those who maintained Kitra.

  “This is actually a small city.”
/>   “Yes, it is.” Teren pulled the hafla into a concrete driveway at the first duplex, parked, and shut off the engine. “Welcome home, Nolan.” She smiled a little. “This is my duplex.” She pointed out the window toward it. “You’ve been given the one next door to me. We knew you were coming, so a number of women went to work to really clean it, dust it, and make sure you’d have everything you need.”

  “That’s a lot of work,” he said, climbing out. “Thank you.” He walked to the flatbed and released his two pieces of luggage, carrying the first of them to the door of his temporary digs.

  Teren produced a set of keys from her purse and opened up the bright red painted door to his side of the duplex. Dropping the keys into his hand, she said, “Come in. Let me show you around.” And then added wickedly, “Besides, it’s much cooler in here.”

  Nolan followed her into the cool, welcoming unit and shut the door behind him. There was a black-and-white zebra hide across the gleaming white tile floor in the living room. A black leather couch and two other matching chairs made it look inviting. The coffee table was made of local wood, lovingly crafted, with a thick, clear glass top. Teren moved like a whisper, pointing out the small but well-stocked kitchen, his bedroom with a queen-size bed, and a tiled bathroom with a large, enclosed shower.

  Nolan placed his first duffel bag on the bed and explored further, finding a small room off the bathroom for his office. A desk and a computer were already set up for his use, a landline phone nearby. Nolan particularly liked the handcrafted stained-glass light overhead.

  Teren turned and walked through the living room and kitchen to a door at the other end. “This is the door between our homes. Generally, we keep them locked.”

  Nolan walked over to her, but not near enough to make her feel uncomfortable. He was beginning to see slight smudges beneath her eyes and realized she had likely been putting in long days before his arrival.

  “Would it bother you if I asked you to keep it open?” he asked. “I promise I won’t be waltzing into your place uninvited unless there’s a serious threat.”

  She brought her arms against her breasts, her mouth tightening. “You mean, if I’m being attacked by Uzan and you hear it and come through it with guns blazing?”

  Knowing she said this half in jest and half seriously, Nolan placed his hand on the doorknob. “It’s a safety measure for you,” he said quietly.

  He had the feeling she was uncomfortable with his request. Did she not trust him? “Look, if you’re in a relationship or have a special guy over, I promise I won’t be bothering you. I know an attack when I hear one.”

  “Oh,” she muttered. “No, I’m single and I don’t have anyone in my life, Nolan, so no worries there.”

  “Then what does worry you?” Again, he saw her brow crease and she looked down for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to divulge her secret to him.

  “I…umm…just like the sense of safety a locked door gives me.” And in a rush, she added, “But I know you have a job to do. Wyatt gave me a short course on being a PSD, a personal security detail, and how I had to behave, and how you would protect me. I guess I’m still getting used to it.” She looked up, searching his eyes.

  Nolan had to physically stop himself from reaching out to touch her reassuringly. He saw her confusion and worry and eased his hand from the jamb, allowing it to fall at his side. “Can you see me as an extra, added layer of protection to keep you even safer than you were before, Teren?” It was the first time he’d spoken her first name out loud. Damn! It felt like sweet honey rolling off his lips. Her eyes lost some anxiety.

  “That helps…yes.”

  “I don’t know the lay of the land around here yet,” Nolan confided. “Until I do, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that inner door unlocked. You don’t have to keep it open. After I have several meetings with Captain Taban, I’ll have a clearer understanding of the situation. If he feels the risk to you is low, then I’ll tell you to go ahead and lock your door. Okay?”

  Instantly, Nolan saw relief come to Teren’s eyes. Was he that much of an ogre to her that she didn’t trust him? Nolan’s gut rejected that thought as soon as it formed in his mind. Teren had given no indication that she distrusted him. Instead, he sensed she was embarrassed or ashamed of something. With time, Nolan hoped the immediate level of trust they had already established with one another would allow her to reveal whatever the secret was. He could only be as effective as she was honest with him.

  “Okay, that sounds good,” she said, her voice low and emotional.

  Nolan looked at his watch. “I’m going to crash for a while after I get my other duffel. Then, I’m going to get a shower. Could you knock at my front door near dinnertime? I’m assuming we’ll walk to Farida’s duplex?”

  “Yes, we’re expected at seven p.m.” She opened the door and stepped through it. “For now, though, I’ll leave this unlocked for you, Nolan.”

  He gave her a faint smile. “We’ll take this a day at a time.”

  “Yes…that’s all we can do. One day at a time.”

  Nolan watched the door quietly close between them. He settled his hands against his hips, scowling as he turned and surveyed the cool, quiet duplex. Rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the fine grit from the open-air ride to Kitra, Nolan was bothered by Teren’s most recent reactions.

  He knew a lot of people didn’t want to have a stranger in their midst, privy to their private life. And he shouldn’t have been celebrating that Teren had no man in her life, either, but hell, he was. A lot of women didn’t want open windows or doors where they lived. They were all afraid of an intruder slipping in and raping or killing them. And it was a very real fear around the world, not just in the U.S. That was probably why Teren had reacted as she did.

  More than anything, Nolan needed to forge an unbreakable bond with Teren, because if problems arose, she’d have to know what to do and then follow his short, sharp commands if all hell broke loose.

  He was glad that she wasn’t a flighty, disorganized woman in any sense of the word. Teren was grounded, stable, commonsense, and practical. He could see it in everything she did and how she moved. Those were all great attributes for a PSD to have, because in the long run, it made it easier for him to protect her.

  Letting it all go, feeling the exhaustion creeping up on him, Nolan went out and retrieved his other bag. After locking the door, he walked into the spacious bathroom. He was eager to dive into a long, cool shower to wipe away the jet lag and the Sudanese red grit clinging to his damp flesh. After that, a few hours of sleep would help him stay awake for the dinner tonight.

  Best of all, Teren would be there with him. Nolan needed to see her interact with others, to get to know her as quickly as possible, so he could anticipate what she’d do in a crisis. Never mind his mounting personal interest in her now that he’d found out she was single.

  CHAPTER 5

  Nolan knocked lightly at Teren’s door. Night had fallen, the stars glimmering in the black vaulted skies above Kitra. He heard the yips of a pack of hyenas out beyond the walled village. That was one animal he’d hated on sight. Their bone-crushing jaws could destroy a person’s arm or leg in seconds. Plus, hyenas were aggressive predators, roaming the Sudanese desert in packs. With the corrals of sheep, goats, and cattle within Kitra’s walls, Nolan was sure the scent of those animals made the pack he’d just heard want to get inside Kitra and perform their murderous slaughter. A seven-foot wall would deter them from any such attempts.

  The door opened, and Nolan had to put on his game face. Teren was dressed in a filmy, white silk long-sleeved blouse. The bell-shaped sleeves made her look romantic and wispy. She wore a pale pink, ballet-length skirt with a set of sturdy but feminine-looking leather sandals on her feet. He smiled when he saw that she had pink polish on her toenails. Out here in this dry, gritty land, the ability to indulge in the luxuries of femininity was a rare occurrence.

  He liked seeing her recently washed hair twisted up on her h
ead, a beautiful tortoiseshell clip holding it all in place. Her filigreed gold earrings appeared to be from Turkey and hung halfway to her shoulders, increasing her exotic look. Teren wore pink lipstick too, which showcased the shape of her sensual mouth. There was a shine to her sable hair, highlighting gold strands and darker, wine-colored ones. The multicolored effect increased beneath the porch light from where he stood.

  “I woke up on my own. I thought I’d come over and get you,” he said.

  “Thanks, I was just coming over to knock on your door. Good timing, Nolan.” She stepped out, closing the door. There were well-placed lights all around the village, making it easy to walk around at night. Looking him up and down, she added, “You look cleaned up and rested.”

  Nolan noticed she didn’t lock the door but said nothing. Training could start tomorrow. “I brought my African clothing with me,” he said, and gestured to the ivory safari pants and jacket he wore. “My only concession to being an American is my red T-shirt.” He grinned.

  “We sort of look color-coordinated, even without consulting one another,” Teren said, gesturing for him to walk with her. “Pink and red are brother and sister to one another on the color wheel.”

  Nolan pushed his hands into his pockets, cutting his stride as she took him down a redbrick walk that cut across the courtyard of the admin building, past the water fountain. There was no way he could think of Teren as his sister. But he nodded and said, “I hope I’m dressed appropriately for a Sudanese meal?”

  “Oh, no worries,” Teren assured him. “You’ve been in Sudan before and you know their customs, but here, within Kitra’s walls, it’s relaxed. It’s more of an independent tribal village than hostage to those strict Sharia-law demands you’ll find in big cities here. Usually, men eat together and women eat in another room with one another. Here, Farida and her husband, Ameer, have a huge, round wooden table where we’ll all sit together. Farida received her doctorate in business administration from Stanford University in California. When she can, she prefers the American style of sitting down to dinner rather than the Sudanese one.”