He repeated her name. “You are Chinese?”
“My ancestors were from China.” Her mother’s family had been in the US for generations now, while her father had remained in the US after coming from Beijing for medical school. But Kristi wouldn’t explain. “I was born in the United States.”
“Ah.”
She rose onto her knees to check IV bags, which now hung from a peg they had hammered into the crumbling mortar. She’d brought enough IV antibiotics for about forty-eight hours. After that, Jidda would be on oral meds only.
God, she hoped that would be enough.
If it wasn’t, if this infection got out of control…
“I’m going to check your wound now.” She peeled back the plastic, saw that the wound was draining well and less inflamed than it had been yesterday.Thank God. “I need to change the gauze again.”
He nodded, familiar with the routine.
She put on sterile gloves, took out the old gauze, and replaced it, Jidda grimacing as she worked. “Sorry. I know it’s painful.”
She wrapped his thigh in plastic once again.
Peter returned, set an aluminum coffee pot of steaming hot water down beside Jidda and handed Kristi a wooden bowl of spiced rice and vegetables calledjollof, fried strips of plantain on top. “Eat with your hands.”
Kristi lovedjollof, the scent making her mouth water. “Thank you.”
Peter grunted, glared at her, and then left the hut.
“Eat,” Jidda said.
Beyond manners or caring what anyone thought of her, Kristi scooped the hot rice with her fingers and shoveled it hungrily into her mouth.
3
Malik led Kristi to his room, the two of them wearing only towels from the sauna.
She took hold of his towel, yanked it off, dropped it to the floor, her gaze moving over him, appreciation on her face. She slid her hands up his bare chest. “Damn. I want to play with you.”
“Sounds good to me.” He returned the favor, tugging off her towel, letting it fall.
God, she was beautiful—full breasts, a slender waist, thick dark curls between her thighs. He’d already seen her naked body when they’d joined the 300 Club, but that had been in the dark and in freezing temperatures. Now, he was free to savor her.
An annoyed voice came over his radio, interrupting them. “Jones, this is Isaksen. Turn off your fucking camera.”
Shit.
Kristi jumped, covered her breasts. “You’ve got a cam in here?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He walked over, turned it off. “It’s for security.”
She wasn’t supposed to know that. He would have to move it—and avoid bringing her here in the future.
Kristi laughed. “I guess that was my porn debut.”
Sexual need thrumming in his veins, Malik turned back to her.
But she was gone.
Malik’s head snapped up, adrenaline bringing him awake.
He raised his seat to the upright position, looked out the window, and saw the dense green of Nigerian forests below. He was almost there.