“If you believe in love, are you going to fall in love again? Knowing what could happen?”
“I don’t know if love can happen for me again, but if it does, I’m not going to pass it up because I’m afraid of losing him. I’d be stupid to walk away when there is so much happiness to be gained.”
“And so much sorrow...” he reminded her.
Talia nodded. “True, but feeling so deeply is a sign that we’re very much alive. If I push past the sorrow, I remember the happiness and it’s all worth it.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re a guest. I shouldn’t be bringing you down with my troubles.”
“You didn’t. I’m just curious. If you’re finally getting over the sorrow, what’s keeping you up at night? When we were here a couple weeks ago, other than the poachers, I didn’t get the feeling you were unhappy.”
“I wasn’t.” She stared out at the night again. “Everything seemed to be getting back on track. And then...strange things started happening.”
He studied her silhouette, noting the frown pulling her brow lower. Normally Harm avoided deep conversations, preferring to remain uninvolved. But Talia had been through so much, and she seemed like a genuinely nice lady. He wanted to get to the bottom of her troubles. “Strange? Like strangers showing up? Or hinky strange?”
She laughed. “Hinky?” Her smile soon faded. “Actually, hinky kind of describes it.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around her middle. “As the locals would say, the resort has some bad juju going on.”
Harm crossed to the swing and sat. He patted the space beside him. “Tell me about this bad juju.” If it was anything like what he’d been dreaming a few minutes ago, he could understand her concern.
She hesitated before joining him. As she settled, her movement set the swing in motion, gently swaying in the dark.
Again, Harm might have been better off going into the kitchen alone.
Talia’s warm thigh rested against his, and with every sway of the swing, he caught a whiff of her perfume.
“Yesterday, we found native paintings on the doors of the cabins.”
“Graffiti?” Harm asked.
“In a way. Only the content was threatening.”
“How so?”
“They’d painted an owl swooping down over several people.” She snorted. “Stick figures, nothing too dramatic, but enough to scare away the guests who’d been staying in the cabins.”
“Why?”
“I had hired new guards to protect the perimeter. They swear they saw no one sneak past them into the compound. They got to the guests 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,
