Enemy Mine (The Base Branch Series Book 1) by Megan Mitcham Read Free Book Online

shit bouncing around his skull. With only a two-hour drive to conclude his journey from Nelpruit to the isolated game lodge his father currently called home, nestled between Ulusaba Game Park and Blyde River Canyon, Baine went off grid. He snagged the cheapest hotel he could find in Hazyview, and enjoyed hot stale beer in the deepest hole-of-a bar he could find. He hadn’t worked much out in his head, but it had been nice not being Baine Kendrick for a while.
    Still, his nerves weren’t ready to confront the men. Not without pulling his Reeder twins and blowing them straight to hell. The 1911 custom 10mms hung ready for action in the shoulder holster over his grey tee. A gift from a stateside friend, they hadn’t let him down yet. But no matter how much his trigger fingers itched, he’d have to wait. Plans only worked when followed. And this plan had been years in the making. Baine refused to give the impulse life. His plan had far better aftermath.
    He retrieved his bag and rifle case from the back and made his way past the scrawling gate toward the pool. With only one hour until drinks, then dinner and the confrontation sure to erupt when his father discovered half his men were dead, he opted for the back entrance to avoid inquiry. Not to mention the revulsion the sight of the man wrought inside him.
    The intake of breath followed by a groaned sigh told him his fortune continued to run the hard line. Luckily, if there was anything lucky about catching his father with one of the maids, he’d already come and they were on the opposite side of the water from where Baine walked.
    “Son,” the man’s voice was practically jovial. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d just gotten head. Baine stopped, but didn’t turn. He caught quite enough in his periphery, as Devereaux discarded the woman with a flick of his wrist. She scurried into the servants’ entrance, one hand covering her mouth, the other shoving her breast back inside her shirt. His grip tightened on the straps of luggage he carried.
    “I heard poor President Bakou died from injuries sustained in an assassination on American soil,” he said with a hint of his Texas drawl.
    Baine enjoyed his own British accent all the more because it differed from his father’s. One more thing to thank his mum for . “I heard the news also.”
    A silk robe billowed as the man walked around the pool toward Baine. Thankfully, he’d knotted the front closed by the time they faced one another. His father was a big man. Thick and ruthless. With black hair and eyes and a soul to match. Baine looked down on him. Literally and figuratively.
    The older Kendrick’s too-white teeth flashed behind red lips. “Well now. I’d say that’s cause for celebration.” He turned his palms up, as if in offering. “We have a fresh batch of beauties due within the hour. A gift from Madam Walters for our successful contract. Now, go get a shower, and make yourself presentable. You look like a dust-covered mountain gorilla.”
    “You smell like one too,” he added with a wave at his crinkled nose.
    Certainly he did, since he’d driven through the bush in the heat of the day with all the windows down. Any excuse to shove off was ace. Baine stepped into the rear foyer and shut Devereaux out with a nudge of the door. A series of sobs echoed across the high ceiling, presumably belonging to the woman who’d retreated from the courtyard. He turned away from the noise, walked up the grand staircase, and to his room.
    When most people entered their own personal space—a home, a bedroom, a thatched hut on the hard dirt—visage gave way to their true nature. For some, the distance between the two was no more than a face of make-up or a forgotten hand over the mouth when belching. For others, the space between was more like dead bodies in a corner. Baine’s demeanor held firm as he stepped inside his suite, for his were not the only pair of eyes in the room. Three pairs, in fact, captured every move