Free Guarding the Princess by Loreth Anne White Page A

he lowered the jeep, removed the jack and tossed it into the backseat. He hopped into the driver’s seat and fired the ignition. Slowly, he pressed down on the gas. The front wheel turned, whined, almost edging up onto the wood, but the vehicle fell back into the ruts
    “Dalilah, can you push? We need something extra so the wheel can find purchase on the wood.”
    Shoving wet hair back from her face, she went round to the rear of the vehicle. Again, he carefully pressed down on the accelerator. The wheels whined as Dalilah leaned into the rear, using her good arm.
    “Easy, easy,” Brandt whispered as he felt the jeep beginning to move. “Please, baby, come on, come on, you can do it.” The headlights panned ahead, illuminating the white river sand. Brandt had no idea whether the rain was packing it hard, or turning it into quicksand—soft and dangerous. Even if they did get the jeep unstuck, they still might not make it across all the way now. But it was the rising pools on the far side that really worried him. Then there was the steep wall of a bank. He glanced at the dashboard clock—3:23 a.m. If this didn’t work—if they couldn’t get this jeep over the Tsholo border and into Botswana within the next fifteen minutes, he was going to abort the attempt, take what he could from the jeep and hightail it out on foot. But that would lower their odds of survival on the other side tenfold.
    Suddenly, the front tire bit. Brandt’s heart lurched as the jeep kicked forward. Dalilah fell with a smack to the sand as the vehicle shot out from under her. She let out a cry of pain as she hit the sand, then scrambled to her feet and ran after the jeep. Brandt could not apply the brakes now. They’d sink. So he kept going, slow, steady as he leaned over and flung open the passenger door.
    “Run, Dalilah! Jump in!”
    She leaped in, scrambling up onto the seat as he increased gas, steady, steady, until with relief he felt the sand turning solid beneath the tires. Behind them on the Zimbabwe side from which they’d come, the riverine fringe was now completely ablaze. Even if they wanted to return, they couldn’t. There was only one way, and that way was forward.
    He blew out a breath, dragging his hand over wet hair, his heart thumping. He shot her a glance. “You okay?”
    She nodded, but she was white with pain, her eyes huge. Brandt felt a sudden punch of affection. Quickly he turned away, concentrating instead on driving. They were reaching the brown pools and water was flowing in widening streams between them. Tension wound tighter.
    “How deep do you think that water is?” she said.
    “Don’t know.” He entered the narrowest part of a stream between two of the deep-looking pools. Water swirled dark in his lights. The front tires went into the water, then the back ones. As he drove, the jeep went deeper, water coming up over the wheels now. Brandt kept the forward motion steady. Then suddenly the jeep plunged abruptly forward, water sloshing up over the running boards and flowing in under the door. He could feel it soaking into his boots. His mouth turned dry and he quickly changed direction, steering upriver instead, trying to keep the jeep level and keep it from becoming immersed even more deeply. Water churned around the wheels.
    “You know how to swim?” he said.
    She gave a snort.
    “That’s a yes?” He was worried now.
    But she didn’t reply, her gaze fixated on the water still rising around them, her knuckles white as she gripped the top of the door. A wave rolled suddenly over the bonnet. Water leaked under the fold-down windshield, wetting their knees.
    The engine burbled strangely and Brandt swallowed. He knew as long as he could maintain forward momentum, the diesel engine would be fine. But if the sand turned to mud, and the wheels slipped just once, the engine would take in too much water and seize. He wondered about crocs—these pools were a lot deeper and bigger than he’d thought.
    The engine