Free Noble Hearts (Wild Hearts Romance Book 3) by Phoenix Sullivan

client, I logged into my account, looking for a reply from Doctors MD.
    “They’re acknowledging my request for extraction,” I relayed to Kayla who was busy at a cutting board on the counter, dicing eggplant and plantains. “They seem to be more concerned about arranging for another volunteer and for the security of the clinic and its supplies right now. What part about kidnapping and gunfire did they not understand?”
    I scowled.
    “Oh, wait. There’s another email. This one’s from the director. She agrees I shouldn’t go back to the clinic, and she’ll arrange for authorities from Hasa to check on it and secure it. They’ll re-evaluate the political climate after the elections and decide then whether to re-staff it or not. Meanwhile, she’s looking for a flight out sooner than the 14th.” I did the quick calculation. “That’s nine days!”
    Surely that was a mistake. But no, not as I read on further.
    “It’s the Subs epidemic. Tourists are apparently cutting trips short in the Sudans, Ethiopia, Uganda and the Congos. Also airports in the countries to the south are already starting to book up. There’s talk of a ban on air traffic into Sudan, South Sudan and the DRC, which means I’d have to find a connecting flight further away, which would likely mean a private hire. Upshot is: We’re working on it .”
    Kayla had finished chopping and was lining up bottles by the stove, scooping separate powdered supplements into each, and listening with a grave face from what little of it I could see.
    “They want to know if I’m somewhere safe meanwhile.”
    She nodded. “Of course. You can stay here as long as necessary if—”
    I waited for her to name the condition, realizing she’d be foolish to not want something in return for the inconvenience of her extended hospitality. Money would be easy—wire transfers from bank to bank with some hefty exchange fees, no doubt. Not that I had more than a few thousand tucked away since I was only a couple of years out on my own and with a mountain of student loan debt still waiting to be paid. Short of extortion, though, I had enough to cover a week or two of hoteling.
    Drugs, however, would be a problem, both ethically and logistically, if that’s what she wanted. She had penicillin and Percocet . What else hid in her cupboards? Not that penicillin wasn’t readily available to any livestock owner even in the States without a prescription. And certainly not that anything about her suggested drug use. It was just, out here in the remote rainforest, coffee wasn’t the only thing being grown and trafficked.
    I steeled myself.
    “—if you make yourself useful. Like now, for instance.”
    Kicking back out of the chair, careful not to move too quickly or two wrongly, I joined her at the counter. “Hold this.” She handed me a funnel and pointed to the bottles, before turning to the stainless steel kettle on the stove in which milk had been warming while we breakfasted. Using a spouted cup, she scooped the milk into the funnel as we filled the three bottles.
    She didn’t need me for this. I’m not even sure a third hand made the task any easier or quicker. But drawing me in served two purposes. First, it gave me something physical to do so I didn’t dwell too much on the disappointing news that I might be stuck here for longer than I thought. And second, as we worked shoulder to shoulder, the big kitchen suddenly felt quite intimate, and the same feelings of rightness and home washed over me as when I’d first awoken between crisp, clean sheets to the comforting smell of breakfast ham sizzling in the pan.
    “I’d like to do more.” I left it open-ended because I wasn’t sure how welcome an insertion of myself into all her everyday—and everynight—activities might be. But when she hesitated, I panicked, afraid to lose the bond I felt building between us. “I need to do more. For you.” I leaned in close, my nose against the honeyed shine of her dark hair