Every Serengeti Sunrise. Rula Sinara

on.

      You’ll never lose her. She’s family. But he knew Maddie was more than just Pippa’s cousin. They were best friends the way Haki’s mother, Niara, and Anna were. Pippa was right about a woman’s strength. Their mothers had raised them both at Busara when the remote camp consisted of nothing more than a few tents and a water well. They’d had no amenities. No extravagances. Just each other. Pippa hadn’t had a lot of other girls around growing up out here.

      That’s why he hated that Maddie didn’t seem to understand how much Pippa missed her. It was also why Pippa wasn’t just any girl to Haki. He’d known her all his life. They’d been through every growing pain together, from infancy to toddlerhood to the troublesome teens. Maddie had been around during their teens, too. But he and Pippa had a future together. Not because Haki put faith in the Laibon’s divination methods—that silliness was Pippa’s thing, along with reading her horoscope every now and then. No, Haki knew she was the one because their lives had become so intertwined he couldn’t see them ever being apart.

      They were perfect for each other. The whole family saw it and often dropped hints about what their wedding would be like. Something small at Busara surrounded by family and the baby elephant orphans they both loved so much...or something more elegant at one of Amboseli National Park’s lodges? It didn’t really matter to Haki. He just wanted life as they knew it to carry on. As long as they both continued their work to save the elephants and he could take care of her and their family... As long as Pippa was happy, he’d be happy.

      Maybe asking Maddie for insight on their legislative proposal wasn’t a bad idea. It would give him the chance to talk to her and to nudge her into spending some time at Busara. Like the good old days.

      For Pippa’s sake.

      Static buzzed over Haki’s radio and he grabbed it just as the call came through. The air rushing through the jeep’s windows went from refreshing to thick and heavy with the burden of death.

      He made a sharp left around a dense mass of Red Grass and aimed for the coordinates coming through. Coordinates that were all too familiar.

      He wiped his face against his sleeve and stepped on the gas.

      The poachers KWS had been hunting down had been apprehended about a kilometer west of where Haki had found Pippa photographing the rhinos. The poachers had tracked the rhinos and were intercepted while heading toward the Kenya-Tanzania border with their tusks.

      The old bull, Malik, was dead.

       CHAPTER TWO

      MADDIE CORALLIS’S PALM stung as she caught herself against the bathroom door at the law offices of Levy, Hatterson & Palomas. Every door in the restored historic building in Philadelphia was the original oak—as solid as nature had intended. She balanced her laptop and a stack of documents in her left hand and gave her right wrist a quick turn to ease her cramped joint.

      Higher heels boost confidence and make a girl look more dignified, huh? That was the last time she’d listen to the women in the break room at lunch. No, they had not specifically told her to run out and buy new shoes, nor had they suggested an eye-catching dark red, but she’d overheard them emphasizing that women who— Darnit. Maddie gritted her teeth. They’d wanted her to overhear them. You gullible idiot.

      She righted her brand-new pumps using her toes and shoved her foot back in, then glanced around the firm’s loft-style top floor in the hopes that no one had witnessed her klutziness. Patrick Cole, the other junior lawyer, quickly turned back to whatever he was feeding the fax machine, but he made no effort to hide his smirk. Of all the stuck-up—

      She pulled back her shoulders, entered the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

      “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Of all people,” she muttered. She set down her pile on the shimmery, black granite counter by the sink, inspected her reflection and took a deep breath. “Keep your eyes on the goal. They won’t be laughing when you make partner. Now get yourself together and get back out there.”

      The concealer she’d dabbed under her eyes was holding up. Her hair wasn’t. Her long, wavy locks were annoyingly thick and silky, always slipping out of any band or clip she used to keep them in place. No wonder her first mother, Zoe, had finally cropped hers short after Maddie’s little brother, Ryan, was born. It had no doubt made her routine with three little kids around a lot easier. Maddie tried that once during her first year in law school. She had it all chopped off and the resulting dark brown bob looked just like her mama’s did in an old photo. Only instead of looking pretty and chic on Maddie, it made her look boyish and even more pale.

      She pinched her cheeks, pulled her bun loose and flipped her head upside down. The three silver bangles she never took off her wrist tinkled like wind chimes as she finger-combed her hair and twisted it back up in a tighter knot. Her second mom had given her those bracelets when Maddie was only ten years old. They’d belonged to Hope’s grandmother...or Maddie’s step-great-grandmother. Hope hadn’t been married to Maddie’s father at the time, but she’d already become an important part of the family. She’d helped Maddie cope after the death of her birth mother and those bracelets meant more to Maddie than anything. Three silver rings, one for each of the three of them—Maddie, her mama, as she used to call Zoe, and Hope, her mom. Her bracelets held memories...and a magical bond. They were a reminder that life went on, and their soft, bell-like music always gave her courage.

      She’d make it through this meeting with her boss, the toughest of the partners at Levy, Hatterson & Palomas. She’d presented her work to the senior lawyers before and had survived any criticism thrown her way, but the memo requesting that Patrick be there, too, had her a little rattled. What did presenting her case research have to do with him?

      She smoothed her brown tweed pencil skirt and matching blazer, grabbed her pile of folders and headed toward the conference room, this time careful not to catch her heel on an uneven floorboard.

      “Good morning, Mr. Levy.” Maddie aimed for pleasantness, without the smile. Being serious, both in expression and looks, was part of her strategy for climbing the ranks. She’d noticed early on that if a guy smiled around here, he was being congenial, but if a woman did, it somehow diluted her brainpower and made her flirty. If she had to play borderline cold, she would.

      This office was a man’s world, and Maddie was desperate to move on from being a junior lawyer. The position was synonymous with grunt worker, and a year into the job, the grunt was already getting old. While the seniors got to spend their evenings dining clients at four-star restaurants, she and the other glorified minions in the office burned the midnight oil researching cases, or making sure dates and other details were in order. Being a junior lawyer was beginning to make her wonder why she’d gone to law school to begin with. No hearings. No appearing before judges. No showing what she was made of.

      Showing her family—particularly her father—what she was made of was why she’d worked so hard. She wanted to prove she could be strong and successful on her own. And after all those years in law school, here she was getting bossed around and doing work for others. For stern, older men just like her military dad. She scratched her wrist below her bracelets as her boss shuffled through papers.

      “Good morning.” Mr. Levy hit Send on what she assumed was a text, then set his smartphone on the polished cherrywood conference table. “Have a seat. Where’s Patrick?”

      “I saw him at the fax. I’m sure he’ll be in any minute. Oh, here are the files on the Clear Lake housing developments you needed.” She set the pile—all but her laptop—next to him, then went to the opposite end of the table to sit. “It includes signed affidavits from tenants who’ve been discriminated against, as well as some who’ve tried contracting new builds. Incident specifics are there, as well, including emails and text messages between defendants and the builder.”

      “Excellent.” Mr. Levy began scanning pages. “Good work. Ah, Patrick,” he said, as Patrick waltzed in. He stuck out his hand, which Mr. Levy didn’t hesitate