Night Fall
A Novel
One
Mallaruza Central West Africa
“Morning,” Kess Goodall said absently as she and Simon Blackthorne passed in an upstairs hallway of the city offices of Mallaruza’s state capitol building. Tear and sweat tracks painted pale lines through the dirt on her sunburned cheeks, and her gray eyes were shadowed. Something was up. She made no effort to hide it; in fact Simon observed that despite the greeting, she was barely aware of those she passed, and probably wasn’t even seeing individuals as she speed walked by.
Intrigued, he turned to watch her retreat.
Cute ass.
She was publicist for Abioyne Bongani, Simon’s old college friend and current president of Mallaruza. Goodall had held up well in the past two months, considering that she’d been banished to this tiny country in midwestern Africa. No one wanted to hire her back in Atlanta, Georgia, where she was from. The PR community there had closed ranks on her. Instead of looking for a job anywhere else in the United States, she’d opted for a time-out here in Africa.
She hadn’t chosen easy, that was ...
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