Page 54 of Love in the Wild

“She’s booked on a private flight to London.”

“When does she leave?”

“Tomorrow, midmorning.”

“What did you find out about her personally?”

Bramble snorted. “That’s going to cost you extra.”

“I’ll pay.” Archibald wasn’t in the mood for haggling.

“She’s a photojournalist for some nature magazine,National Park. She’s mainly focused on animals and doesn’t seem to have any political leanings in her articles, no skeletons in her closet. Her parents are in Little Rock, Arkansas. She’s clean. I found nothing on her you could use. She’s a real girl next door, a cute kid.”

A squeaky-clean American girl who worked in the media and couldn’t be blackmailed into silence?Unacceptable.

“Do you know how she managed to charter a private flight to London so quickly? Is the magazine covering that expense?”

“No, definitely not. She’s the guest of some hotshot in merry old England, Cameron Haywood. You know him?”

“I’m acquainted.” For the first time in a long time, Archibald felt panic. “I’ll contact you if I need anything else.”

Archibald ended the call and cursed. Cameron Haywood was the brother of the man he’d killed all those years ago. They had even met in passing over the years as Archibald had clawed his way up the social ladder.

How did the girl know him? And why did Cameron charter a plane for her? What had she found?

Perhaps she’d found the Haywoods’ plane wreckage. It had been so long ago, however. Nothing tied him to that site, but he couldn’t take the chance of having the Haywoods’ remains resurface. He needed to silence the girl before she could tell anyone what she knew. It didn’t sound as though she’d told anyone at the embassy about it—Bramble was good about finding such things out.

Archibald stared off into space, planning. Thinking. That, after all, was what separated the men from the animals. The stuffed silverback gorilla in the corner of his office suddenly drew his focus. He’d killed that beast when it had been ready to charge the Haywoods. It was a kill that still left him feeling a pulsing of excitement in his veins.

For the first time in days, he smiled.

13

Eden was impressed with how calm Thorne had been. They had caught a car first thing in the morning and had driven forty minutes to the city of Entebbe, which had the nearest airport. There they had boarded an expensive private jet that they had entirely to themselves. Thorne had eaten his lunch, puzzling over the forks, knives, and spoons, and carefully mimicking her when she used them while they waited for the flight crew to prepare. Now he was seated on the plane, watching the ground crew fueling the plane and preparing for takeoff.

She put a hand on his knee, and he looked away from the window and toward her, a furrow forming between his dark brows.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I have memories. Memories of falling from the sky,” he said quietly. Eden couldn’t even begin to put herself in his place. He had to be frightened of flying, even after all these years, but this was the quickest way to get to London.

“Hey, you survived that, remember? And this plane is much safer.” She smiled and placed her hand over his, but he still said nothing as he turned his focus back to the ground crew.

By the time they were cleared for takeoff, Thorne had a white-knuckled grip on the armrests. What he needed, Eden decided, was a distraction. While the plane rumbled down the runway, she retrieved her camera bag and dug Jacob’s ring out of the front pocket. With gentle hands, she pried Thorne’s death grip from the armrests and slipped it on his finger. He glanced down at it, then to her in surprise.

“Your father is here with you,” she said and held his hand as the plane rose into the sky. Thorne sat rigid beside her, and Eden hated that he was afraid. This man was so powerful and confident in the jungle, yet here he was at odds with everything around him. Eden vowed she would do everything she could to erase that fear since he was here because she’d asked him to be.

“Thorne, do you remember much about home?”

He pulled his focus from the window back to her. “Home?”

“In England, I mean. Do you remember?”

“I ... Yes. A little.” He didn’t say anything more.

Eden cursed to herself. She had hoped to keep him talking. But now that the plane was high enough, she could pull out her laptop.

“I have some pictures of the jungle. Would you like to see them?”

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