Read Fever for Free Online Page B

efforts, promises of worthwhile causes, travel, and generous bonuses. After her employment, her relationship with her parents had disintegrated. She had to keep her visits brief between assignments in out-of-the-way destinations to keep everyone insulated and safe. The closeness they shared slowly eroded through the years. Since her father’s death she had seen her mother only twice. Back in this country, she felt the loss more profoundly and painfully.
    “Where we go now, madam?”
    The cab driver had stopped in the middle of the street and was waiting for Zak’s instructions. She gave him their next stop and for several more hours she begged, bargained, bribed, or bought the remainder of the items on her procurement list. By midafternoon she returned to the hotel, satisfied that she’d done everything possible to make Sara’s trip inland successful.
    As Zak slipped into the Serena Mombasa Hotel, she took in the Swahili village resort with whitewashed walls and mangrove-beam trim nestled among gardens filled with bougainvilleas. The setting was ideal for relaxation and romance. Unfortunately, her mission didn’t include either. Dodging eager employees, she made her way through the lobby toward the poolside restroom. She changed into a pair of shorts with her T-shirt, took off her boots, and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and a Daily Nation newspaper on her way to the beach.
    She dropped her bag against the trunk of a coconut palm, dug her toes into the warm sand, and sprawled back. As soon as she settled, local entrepreneurs swarmed her like mosquitoes. Everybody had something to sell. She waved them off and immediately regretted it. She wanted to help them all, but the entire balance of her well-stocked bank accounts wouldn’t dent Africa’s financial inequity. When the natives lost interest, she looked at her surroundings for the first time in appreciation instead of reconnoitering or evaluating it.
    Warm salty air swept across her and brought with it the pungent aroma of fish and seaweed. The variegated turquoise hues of the Indian Ocean stretched before her, and lateen-rigged dhows bobbed lazily, waiting for their next passengers. Tourists wobbled back and forth atop camels that ferried them along the shoreline.
    Windsurfers sliced across the surface of the sparkling water like gulls diving for prey. One woman in a bright green bikini that almost blended with the watery background caught her attention. She flexed and extended gracefully with the breaking waves as the wind and spray lapped at her shapely body. Such strength and control weren’t easy to acquire. This woman had obviously worked hard to master the sport. Zak watched as the surfer made a few more laps then sailed toward shore.
    As she got closer, Zak realized the woman was Sara Ambrosini. She beached her board and bent over to lower it onto the sand. Her bathing suit was practically see-through, but Zak didn’t need transparency to appreciate the full breasts and round hips she’d admired on the plane. One more degree of tilt and those luscious mounds would tumble from her bikini top and entertain the entire resort. A slow burn started in Zak’s lower abdomen and blazed between her legs. She kicked at the sand covering her toes and cursed her weakness. Couldn’t Sara be more discreet? Zak had learned to slip through the world comfortable in its shadows, but obviously low-key didn’t fit Sara’s job description. She couldn’t afford to be seen with Sara, or at least not be seen as too familiar with her.
    Zak opened her newspaper and hid behind the pages, hoping Sara hadn’t spotted her. She scanned the front page, then skipped to the local section, mindlessly skimming until a bold headline caught her attention. T ITUS W ACHIRA T O H EAD N AROK D ISTRICT . The stirrings of arousal she’d felt watching Sara turned to irritation as she read the article.
    She had seen no news of Wachira in three years, even though she’d asked her contacts