Free A Touch of Betrayal by Catherine Palmer

He does overseas business all the time, and he’ll know who to contact to quietly end any search that may be going on. He can also arrange my flight back to the States.”
    Yeah, and take about a month doing it, Grant thought. Some New York City stockbroker wouldn’t have the first clue how to deal with the kind of mess Alexandra Prescott had gotten herself into. All kinds of government red tape would be involved. Maybe even the United States consulate. In the meantime, Grant would be stuck with her.
    “You trust this broker of yours to know what to tell the Kenyan authorities?” he asked. “You trust him to help you get out of a foreign country—even though you think some killer is stalking you?”
    “Trust him?” She dampened her lip. “Well . . . I have to trust someone, don’t I?”
    “Trust me , then.”
    “You?”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know you.”
    “Yeah, well, take me on faith. I’m not interested in killing you. In fact, I’m very interested in getting you some help—like a doctor, the police, a trip to the airport, that sort of thing. I have a lot of work to do, Miss Prescott— Alexandra—and the truth is, you can count on me to get you up and out and moving on as quickly as I possibly can.”
    She glanced at Mama Hannah, and a smile hinted at the corner of her lip. “I think he wants to get rid of me.”
    “Ehh,” the old woman said. “But he tells you to have faith in him. This certainly is a new subject for Dr. Grant Thornton. Perhaps you should allow it and see what happens.”
    “Is he trustworthy?”
    “Hey, did I suddenly leave the room?” Grant asked. “Talk to me if you want to hear an honest answer. Of course I’m trustworthy. Ask any Maasai in Kenya. If Bwana Hadithi says something, he means it.”
    “ Bwana Hadithi is an anthropologist.” Alexandra looked down at her bruised arms. “I need to get to safety as soon as I can.”
    “The Lord is your safe haven,” Mama Hannah said. “He will see you through this.”
    “Yes, that’s true,” Alexandra acknowledged.
    “Wait a minute now. A guy tries to kill you—and you’re willing to rely on some kind of religious dogma?”
    “I’m a Christian, Grant,” she said. “I trust God.”
    “I’ve got news for you. God doesn’t fill out government forms. He doesn’t negotiate missed airline reservations. And he sure doesn’t drive the only Land Rover in fifty miles.”
    “You’re right. But he did send a leopard to save me from Nick Jones. He led me through the darkness. He rescued me from the pack of wild dogs. I’ll just have to trust him to see me through this.”
    “Fine. Go the Jesus route. If you want to count on—”
    “He brought me here to you ,” she cut in, her voice gentle. “So maybe I can trust you.”
    Grant stared at her, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. He’d built a great trap of an argument—and stepped right into it. Now Alexandra saw him as divine provision in her time of need. God’s pawn. Not only that, he’d practically forced her to accept his assistance—help he didn’t really want to give.
    “Thank you, Dr. Thornton,” she said, suddenly looking very tired. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
    He nodded. “Sure. Anytime.”
    As he left the tent, he could feel the jaws of the trap closing around his heart.

F IVE
    Alexandra lay on the cot and stared up at the expanse of green canvas over her head. More than a day had passed since the Maasai warriors had brought her to Grant Thornton’s camp. In that time she had hardly budged, gratefully accepting Mama Hannah’s tender care. Though her body still craved rest and nurture, she knew the interlude couldn’t go on. It was time to reenter the land of the living.
    Morning sunlight streaming through the acacia trees created a display of spiky shadows across the canvas tent. It would make a perfect pattern for sheets, upholstery, even dresses, Alexandra thought. Even though the world of fabric design and high