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  Three Times as Deadly

  by Erin Wade

  Edited by Susan Hughes

  Three Times as Deadly

  by Erin Wade

  Edited by Susan Hughes

  © 2017 Erin Wade

  ISBN-13: 978-1976466472

  ISBN-10: 1976466474

  www.erinwade.us

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2017 Erin Wade

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—mechanical, photocopy, electronic, recording, or any other, except for brief quotations in printed reviews—without prior permission of the author.

  DEDICATION:

  To the one that has always supported me in everything, I have ever undertaken. You have encouraged me and have always been my biggest fan. Life is sweeter with you. Erin

  *******

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 1

  Rhinos are dangerous, I thought as I pulled my long blonde hair into a high ponytail and slid it through the opening in the back of my cap. I had shipped all my belongings to the States last week. I did a quick check of my room one more time before pulling my camera bag over my shoulder and heading out for my last attempt to capture the beast.

  I curled the bullwhip that had saved my life on several occasions and attached it to my belt. Indiana Jones has nothing on me when it comes to using the whip for self-defense. I can break a man’s arm or his neck from five feet away.

  My cameraman, Ross Taylor, and I have been in the tiny province of Sdratsab—the S is silent—on the coast of South Africa for over a year. It is finally time to go home. We will shoot a couple of hours of film to intersperse throughout our documentary, drive ten hours, and then catch the red-eye flight from Johannesburg to Heathrow in London and finally to the States—Dallas, to be exact. The total travel time is twenty-five hours, and I plan to sleep most of the way. I intend to be well rested for my homecoming.

  For the hundredth time, I read the last text from home. “I miss you, baby. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I have a very special homecoming planned for you.”

  Every night in this godforsaken country, I had dreamed of being in the arms of my—

  “Sloan, get your butt out here,” Ross bellowed as the jeep skidded to a stop amid a cloud of dust. “I’m not missing that plane for you or anyone else. My woman is waiting for me.”

  I slid into the driver’s seat, and Ross manned the high-powered video camera we had mounted in the back of the vehicle. We are after rhinos today. For a year, we have lived among a crash—or herd—of rhinoceros for a documentary we are doing for the Natural Habitat Network. Save the Rhino Consortium funded the documentary.

  While we do care about the magnificent animals, Ross and I have a more secretive reason for accepting the challenge of running with rhinos for a year.

  “Over there.” Ross pointed to a mother and baby partially hidden by brush. “Try to get beside her so I can film her running with her baby.”

  I circled the mother and calf to approach her from behind. Sometimes it’s difficult to flush a cow with a calf from the brush. The mother seems to know it’s safer in the bushes than to run into the open.

  “What the hell?” A bullet zinged by my head and nicked the hood of the jeep.

  “Someone is shooting at us,” Ross yelled as he ducked behind my seat. “Get us out of here, Sloan.”

  A quick glance in my rearview mirror brought into focus two armored Hummers bearing down on us.

  “Who are they?” I stomped the accelerator to the floorboard and bent low as a volley of bullets peppered our vehicle.

  Angered by the noise, the mama rhino decided to join the Kill Sloan and Ross Club and rammed the side of our jeep.

  “Son of a bitch!” Ross screamed. “She will turn this thing over.”

  I pressed the gas pedal but nothing happened. The rhino had lifted the driver’s side of the jeep off the ground and was pushing the vehicle toward a cliff. Ross and I had two choices: stay in the jeep and hope the drop wasn’t steep, or bail out of the vehicle and take our chances with the enraged rhino and the killers in the Hummers. I gripped the steering wheel and prayed. Ross grabbed the brake lever between the seats and held on for dear life.

  ##

  Chapter 2

  “Hello, Sleeping Beauty.” A tall, stout nurse smiled at me. I squinted to shut out the bright light she was trying to shine into my eyes.

  I slowly realized I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to all types of machines, and my head was killing me.

  “What happened?” I asked

  “We have no idea.” The nurse smiled as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm and pumped it tight enough to cut off all circulation to my hand. “Someone dumped you at the emergency entrance of the hospital. You’ve been in a coma for about ten days.

  “You looked like a pride of lions played keep-away with you.” She grinned at her own humor. “You have a concussion, couple of broken ribs, and various and sundry other cuts and bruises, but you’ll live.

  “I am glad to see you awake.” She ripped the cuff from my bicep. My hand tingled as the feeling returned to my numb fingers. She ran a temperature wand across my forehead. “I need to get some information from you.”

  I nodded, and my head kicked me hard. The pain was unbearable. I closed my eyes and opened them to find a name tag with Sadie engraved on it blocking my view. “Can you give me something for my headache?”

  “I will as soon as I complete my paperwork.” Sadie wrinkled her nose and logged into the computer on the stand beside my bed.

  “Date of birth?” Her attitude was efficient and direct.

  “I don’t know.” I said.

  “We’ll just skip the hard stuff and start with the easy questions,” she said with a smirk. “What is your name? I need the middle initial too.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. This is a joke, right?

  “Your name, sweetie,” she insisted.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” I whispered.

  Loud arguing in the hallway outside my room sent Sadie charging toward the door. Before she could reach it, two different, but equally stunning women burst into my room.

  Sadie took a stance between the women and me. I raised my head and tried to look
around my nurse.

  “You two do realize you are in a hospital, don’t you?” Sadie scolded the women. “Keep your voices low, or I’ll have you escorted from the premises.”

  The women looked contrite and edged around Sadie, but my protector wasn’t letting them get close to me.

  “Who are you?” Sadie glared at them.

  They answered in unison. “I’m Sloan Cartwright’s wife.”

  “Well, I’ll be damn.” Sadie laughed as she turned to me. “Is that what happened to you? You got caught between these two.”

  “No!” I blurted out. “I mean, I don’t know them.”

  Both women glared at me as if I had defamed God.”

  “Honey, I’m glad I’m not in your shoes right now,” Sadie said, chuckling. “Sloan Cartwright, is that your name?”

  I struggled to sit up so I could get a better look at the two visitors. Obviously, I had good taste in women.

  “Why don’t you introduce yourselves.” Sadie grinned, enjoying my predicament too much.

  The beautiful blonde stepped forward. She was tall and slender, like a runner. She wore black slacks that hugged her perfect hips. A short-sleeved lavender blouse was tucked into her waistband. Toned arms and a flat stomach testified to her workout regimen. She wore a gold watch and pendant. Her green eyes seemed to change color as the light reflected from them.

  “Sloan, honey, it’s me. Leigh.” Distress filled her eyes as she moved toward me. “Leigh Redding-Cartwright, your wife. We make our home in the United States. I’m here to take you home.” She blushed and added, “You call me LeeRee.”

  “No! No!” Sadie intercepted her. “We still need to hear from this black beauty.”

  She was a beauty indeed. Her features were fine and chiseled. Her ebony hair was stylishly cut. She reminded me of the actress Halle Berry. When she spoke, her French accent mingled with a touch of high English. I loved her accent. How do I know who Halle Berry is?

  I looked from one woman to the other. Apparently I am an equal opportunity lover.

  The black beauty smiled. “I am Amarosia Cartwright.” She bowed her head slightly. “You call me Amy. We live together here in Africa.”

  Both women were earthshaking beauties.

  As I gazed at them, mouth agape, the door to my room flew open, banging against the wall a couple of times as if doing a drum roll to announce the arrival of the gorgeous brunette who burst into my room. “Where is Sloan?” If the woman was also my wife, my taste in women had just shot off the Richter scale.

  I realized I was holding my breath when the cardiac monitor attached to me went crazy. I didn’t know if the brunette or my predicament caused the increase in my heart rate.

  “Tachycardia,” I muttered, one hand to my chest. I didn’t want the other two women to know how the brunette was affecting me. If one of them was my wife, I didn’t want to hurt her.

  “Bullshit.” Sadie laughed gleefully. “You have your butt in a crack and can’t get it out. No wonder you have amnesia.”

  “What is going on here?” The brunette demanded, glaring at the other women. “Sloan, what have they done to you, baby? I begged you not to come to this heathen hellhole.”

  “Who are you?” Sadie demanded.

  If looks could kill, Sadie would be pushing up daisies any minute. The brunette narrowed her icy blue eyes and moved to stand toe to toe with the nurse.

  “I am Alexander Roland Cartwright.” She tilted her head, tossed back her long, dark hair, and stared down Sadie who stepped back to allow her access to me.

  My heart jumped to triple time as Alexander Roland Cartwright moved closer to me. “What do I call you?” I gulped.

  “The love of my life,” she said with a mischievous smile. “When you aren’t acting grandiose, you call me Alex.”

  “What’s going on, Sloan?” She lightly stroked my cheek. “Ross managed to sneak a call to me before he disappeared. He said you’re in trouble and to trust no one.”

  “I . . . I honestly don’t know,” I whimpered. Something about Alex’s soft touch brought out the baby in me.

  “I flew all the way from New York to take Sloan home with me,” Leigh declared.

  “Our home is here,” Amy said. “We have always lived here. Sloan is going home with me.”

  Alex possessively pulled my hand into hers. “I am not letting Sloan out of my sight.”

  I leaned forward to stare at the three women, and my front opening hospital gown took the opportunity to expose my ample breasts. I must admit, I am nicely endowed. Determined to resolve the uncomfortable situation, I pointed out the obvious. “You all seem to be missing something, ladies. I am a woman. I doubt that I am married to any of you.”

  I didn’t miss the way each of them licked their lips as they ogled me. I pulled the treasonous gown tight around my chest. I felt like the most succulent lobster at the lobster fest.

  I tried to bring some sanity to my situation. “Look, I’ve been in an accident and had a loss of memory. I don’t even know my name, much less to whom I’m married.”

  The women looked at each other and then began talking all at once,

  “You can take turns sitting with her,” Sadie instructed, but all of you can’t stay here all the time. You can sit in eight-hour shifts. You work it out among yourselves.”

  Sadie pushed the women out the door and shoved it closed behind them. I was glad I wasn’t involved in the arguing taking place in the hallway outside my door.

  ##

  Chapter 3

  “Sadie, where are my clothes?” I asked after she herded the women from my room.

  “Sweetie, your clothes were shredded rags when we admitted you to the emergency room.”

  “Surely I had some form of identification,” I insisted. I looked at my left hand. A white band around my wrist was evidence that I usually wore a watch. A matching strip of pale skin encircled the ring finger on my left hand.

  “There were only the rags on your back,” Sadie said with a sad smile, as if she suddenly had some compassion for me.

  I gratefully swallowed the pills she held out to me. My headache had returned with a vengeance. “Why does my head hurt so badly?”

  “Concussion, remember? That’s why you don’t know which of those smoking-hot women is your wife.” She chuckled as if she found my predicament funny.

  Sadie narrowed her eyes and studied me intently. “Or maybe you are married to all of them, and this is the first time they’ve met. You’re gorgeous, definitely a chick magnet. I bet you have a girl in every port.”

  “Oh, God, Sadie, don’t even say such a thing out loud.” I chewed my bottom lip. Part of me thought she could be right, but another part of me was certain I was the type that mated for life, like a wolf. What I wasn’t sure about was which one of the women—if any—I had chosen.

  ##

  “I get the first shift.” Amy said, a broad smile on her face as she entered the room. “Miss Redding will relieve me at four and sit with you until midnight. Miss Roland will sit with you from midnight to eight in the morning.”

  I noticed how she insisted on referring to the other two women as Miss and dropping my last name from theirs.

  “I brought the book you were reading before the accident,” Amy said. “I thought you might want to finish it.”

  I looked at the book by D. J. Jouett. It was The Destiny Factor, a lesbian murder mystery. A book marker indicated I had read a third of the book. Nothing about the book looked familiar to me. I’ll have to read it from the beginning.

  “Thank you.” I watched Amy as she pulled a chair closer to my bed. She was beautiful, fashionably dressed and perfectly manicured. If she was my wife, we obviously had money. She wore no wedding band.

  “My love, can I do anything for you?” Amy fidgeted. She was skittish and appeared to be ready to bolt and run at the slightest disturbance.

  “I am sorry, Amy. It is very disconcerting. I know nothing about my life—our life. Perhaps you can enligh
ten me.”

  “Oh, yes, my love.” She smiled, placed the book on the bedside table, and pulled her chair even closer.

  “Your name is Sloan Cartwright. You are married to me, and we live in a lovely home that is safe and secure. We’ve been married five years.”

  “How did we meet?” I asked.

  “You are with the US Embassy,” Amy said with a shrug. “I met you at a formal dinner, and we became friends. One thing led to another, and we became lovers then married.”

  “What is your job?” I inquired.

  “My job is to take care of you and make certain our home is a sanctuary for you. I strive to please you in every way.” Amy’s eyes darted around the room as if our conversation was embarrassing her.

  “I’m sure you do. How did I end up in the hospital?”

  She laughed. “Sloan, you know how you love speed. I told you jeeps couldn’t take sharp corners at high speeds.”

  I grinned at the merriment in her eyes. “You aren’t angry with me for wrecking the jeep?”

  “I never get angry with you, my love,” she said earnestly. “I only worry about you.”

  “What is my job at the embassy?”

  “You are the chief of security,” she said with pride. “You are someone extremely important.”

  “What happened to my identification and jewelry?”

  Amy’s big brown eyes opened wide as she stared at me. “I don’t know. We live in an extremely poor province. I am sure bystanders were on you like a pack of hyenas. You are lucky your clothes were shredded, or they would have stolen the shirt off your back, leaving you naked in the dirt.”

  “How did you find out I was in the hospital?”

  She chuckled. “This is a small town. Everyone rushed to our home to inform me of your accident and that you were here.”

  “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

  “Hospital Central de Maputo.” She furrowed her lovely brow. “In Maputo, Mozambique.”

  “You are from here?” I watched her dark eyes as she relaxed.

  “Yes. I was born here but educated in France and England.” She lifted her chin proudly.