Dangerous Pursuit (The Protectors) (12 page)

Samantha was contemplating how to start a new conversation when she heard a roaring noise. Alert, she sat up and listened. The roar grew louder, closer as Brock paddled. She had a sinking feeling she knew what was ahead of them—between her and Manaus.

“What’s that?” she asked, praying Brock wouldn’t confirm what she thought.

“A waterfall.”

Flashes from her nightmare inundated her.

“We’ll stop there for the night. Tomorrow morning we’ll portage around it. There’s nothing to worry about, Sam.”

“Great! How many more of these do we have to portage around?”

“I’m not sure. Three at least.”

As they neared the waterfall, Brock angled the raft toward the shore, the current near the falls pulling them along faster. Samantha had visions of the raft getting caught in the rapid flow and plunging over the waterfall. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as the drop a few hundred yards ahead mesmerized her.

She was so absorbed in the waterfall that she didn’t realize Brock was tying the raft to a log protruding out in the river until he clasped her arm to get her attention. She scrambled to the front, and he helped her step onto the log. Then she walked the few feet to the bank. As he unloaded the raft, he handed the items to her, and she placed their meager belongings in a pile by her feet.

When Brock hoisted the empty raft up and over his head, Samantha was amazed at his sense of balance as he tight roped along the log to shore. Putting the raft down by their belongings, he took his machete from its sheath and began to hack the vines in front of him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching the movement of his muscles as his blade attacked the foliage, more interested in them than his answer.

“Finding us a place to make camp for the night.”

A short distance into the jungle there was a clearing where Brock set up camp and slung the hammocks.

“While I’m gone, start a fire,” he commanded, picking up his gun.

“Gone? Where are you going?” She would take back all the negative things she thought about him not to be left alone.

“Grocery shopping.”

“May I come too?”

“We need a fire. It’ll be dark soon. Besides, Sam, I’ll move faster without you tagging along.”

She wasn’t a dog, she fumed silently, determined to show him she could do something worthwhile. She wasn’t totally dependent on him.

While Brock scouted for food, Samantha gathered wood, not going more than a foot from the clearing, and began the fire. When she stepped back to survey her work, pleased with her contribution, she collided with a solid wall of muscles and warmth—human warmth. With her nightmare at the waterfall in mind, she spun about with her hands clenched ready to defend herself. She found Brock standing behind her with a wide grin on his face.

“Next time you sneak up on someone, whistle,” she said breathlessly.

“Sorry. A habit of mine.”

His grin was sheer sexiness, and Samantha had to look away. “What are you, a soldier of fortune?” The question had come out before she realized what she was saying, but now she wanted to know the real answer. Had Carlos and Paul hired Brock to take care of her, then decided to do the job themselves? Or had Brock decided he wanted one hundred percent of whatever her brother had found? Was he working for himself or someone else? Did she have something to fear from him? Not knowing was slowly driving her crazy—or was it the jungle and the isolation?

“We’re in luck. I found some pyxidia that contain Brazil nuts.” He held up two balls, each the size of a grapefruit. “We’ll roast them over the fire, then I’ll open them. I also found some water to drink.”

“Water? With all that?” Samantha gestured toward the river.

“This is better. Less likely to make you sick, even though this river water is okay.”

“Where’s the water? All you’ve got is a stick.”

He cut a section of the vine and held it over his mouth. Water began to drip from the vine. He passed it to Samantha, who was astonished at just how thirsty she was. It was the best thing she had tasted.

“And for dessert I have some yellow berries. They’re like hard orange candy.”

Samantha was starved. The Brazil nuts were delicious, having a moist white meat better than a coconut’s. Even the “dessert” was good, and by the time she had finished eating, she felt sated.

“Tomorrow night we’ll stop earlier. I want to go farther and get some meat. If we’re lucky tomorrow we might find some turtles along the way.”

“I used to have two pet turtles named Fred and Susie. I don’t know if I could eat one.”

He pinned her with a penetrating gaze, the hunter in him evident. “Sam, if it means your survival, you will. Contrary to food shopping in the States, in the jungle you don’t always have a wide variety or even a choice of what to eat. You take what nature gives you and you’re grateful for that.”

Samantha rose and dusted off her pants. Looking at him with an equally piercing gaze, she said, “You’ve purposely avoided my questions about what you do for a living. You won’t tell me why you refused to be my guide and then suddenly accepted the job of taking me to the mission. Why, Brock? I want an answer, and changing the subject won’t work this time.”

He stood, gaining the height advantage. “For money. What other reason is there?” 

“What do you need the money for?”

“Some things aren’t your business.” He pivoted and strode from the clearing, disappearing into the jungle as if the trees and vines had swallowed him up.

It left her utterly alone. Suddenly the sounds of the jungle, that she had begun to take for granted, were magnified, and the dark shadows of the approaching night were growing. Looking around, Samantha thought of the time when she was eight and had stayed up all night to overcome her fear of the dark. Her mind had visualized all kinds of monsters in the shadows, waiting for her to fall asleep. But before morning had come, she had faced the fear and had won. Never again had the dark bothered her.

The memory prompted her to try and come to terms with her nightmare of the waterfall. She made her way to it, pushing away plants and lianas from her path. At the falls she saw the sun begin to set, the horizon a blood red. She peered into the churning water at the bottom. There was a raw beauty about the scene that turned Samantha’s fear into appreciation.

The lure of nature was strong, and Samantha could understand the attraction that Brock had for the jungle. While she realized she belonged back in civilization, she felt that Brock was probably more comfortable here, in a place that reminded her of the beginning of time. Man did not control the land; the land dominated, often reclaiming what man had taken.

Samantha was mesmerized by the power and deafening sound of the waterfall. She hadn’t realized how quickly it grew dark at the equator, but in five minutes the sun had set and the black shadows engulfed her.

When a hand settled heavily on her shoulder, she gasped, jerking away from the touch. Her foot slipped at the edge of the waterfall, and she felt herself falling. Her arms flung outward. She latched onto a hand and held on to the warm flesh.

Brock caught her and easily lifted her to her feet. She collapsed against him, clinging to him for a moment as she got a decent breath. All she could hear was the waterfall; all she could see was a faint outline of Brock, but she felt safe again in his arms.

When her pulse began to slow, she tilted back her head to look at Brock. He placed his thumb under her chin and bent his head toward hers. His other hand moved down her spine and pulled her even closer. Pressed flat against him, she felt the tremendous pounding of his heart, his firm muscles, his warm breath on her cheek.

Her arms found their way around his neck, and she was the one who urged his mouth to hers. Her tongue slipped in between his slightly parted lips and slid over the smoothness of his teeth. Their kiss became as raw as the waterfall behind them, their passion as intense as the struggle for survival in this primitive environment.

His fingers pulled the pins from her hair and wove through its lush richness, holding her head still as his mouth ravished hers again and again. When his tongue dipped inside her mouth, their breath and tastes merged, forming a potent combination that was headier than a rich wine. It intoxicated her senses and made her ache for him.

Her head fell back in wonder, and he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as a moan escaped her lips. When he lifted his head, she sensed his gaze taking her in. Although she couldn’t see his expression, passion leaped between them. Time seemed to become suspended.

Then suddenly they came together, kissing, embracing, and Samantha became lost in sensations she’d never experienced before. This man had protected her—saved her life. No other person ever had.

Brock swept her up into his arms and carried her toward their camp. Placing her gently into the hammock, the glow of the fire reflecting their desire-shrouded expressions, he swept his gaze from the tip of her toes to her mass of curls fanned out about her head. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her labored breathing. She couldn’t seem to draw in a decent inhalation.

He should walk away now before it was too late, he thought, but he couldn’t. She was like a rare orchid high in a tree, unattainable to all but the daring. He would curse himself in the morning, because making love to her would complicate an already difficult situation, but he wanted the orchid for his own.

"I should walk away. If I don’t soon…" His rough voice faded into the stillness that hung between them. "You’re beautiful. I’m not even sure you realize that. You’re a diversion I don’t need in my life, Sam." But as he said those words, he leaned over as though to kiss her.

The nickname her brother always called her hovered on the moisture-laden air. She zeroed in on it and stiffened. Hearing Brock call her Sam doused the fire that raged inside. It reminded her of the reason she was in the jungle with Brock: her brother’s disappearance. It reminded her of the questions about Brock that she had to have answers to.

Brock straightened, seeing immediately the change in Samantha. "At least one of us obviously has some good sense left." He backed away from her.

Samantha swung her legs over the edge of the hammock. “Why do you need the money, Brock?”

He walked to the fire and sat on his haunches, staring into the flames as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Indecision was apparent in his usually closed expression. Samantha moved to the circle of fire but remained standing a few feet from him, perched like a bird, ready to take flight if danger was evident.

“I don’t answer to anyone and haven’t for a long time. I’ve made a point to keep it that way.”

“Please. I need to know.” She hated the desperation in her voice, but she didn’t want to spend the next week wondering if she could trust him.

“I need the money for an oil deal. I’m an independent geologist. I have to have twenty-five thousand dollars if I want a quarter interest in a project I’ve been putting together. Of course, my services are included as part of my share.”

“A geologist! I thought you might be—”

His robust laugh cut off the rest of her statement. “You thought I was an uneducated bum, a soldier of fortune, or someone like that.”

She blushed and looked down at her feet. “Well, your opinion of books, staying at the Grand Hotel, having lived in the jungle…”

“All adds up to an unsavory character?” One eyebrow rose mockingly.

She couldn’t meet his steadfast gaze. “Actually, a lot worse. How did Carlos and Paul know we were going to be at the mission?”

He frowned, thought a moment, and replied, “Paul was in your room. Perhaps he bugged it. Or when we were in the lobby checking out of the Grand Hotel, maybe one of us mentioned the Para Mission and someone overheard us. Why do you ask?”

“I thought you were working for Carlos and Paul and that you had told them. You’re always so mysterious.” She braced herself for his anger but was surprised when Brock threw back his head and laughed again, a rich, deep sound.

“No wonder you’ve been giving me frightful glances all day.”

"Not all day,” she protested, realizing she might have misjudged him.

“No, not when we were kissing.” His voice mellowed and his eyes clouded with a sensuality that was almost palpable.

Flustered by the way he could make her forget everything sensible, she asked the first thing that came to mind, “What’s a geologist doing in the jungle?”

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “Looking for oil.”

“The Amazon has a lot?”

“We’re just scratching the surface, so to speak. But the potential is there.”

“Why here?”

“Why not here?” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug as if to say it was a natural place for him to look.

“Oh, I don’t know. You have to battle so much just to get where you’re going.”

“I like the challenge.”

“Ah, yes. That’s why you agreed to take me to the mission—that and the hope of a treasure.”

He rose to his feet and stretched in one fluid movement, the gesture a startlingly sexy one. “We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. We’d better turn in for the night, Sam.”

Samantha still had a long list of questions to ask him, but she sensed his barriers, usually erected about his personal life, rising back into place. Tomorrow she would delve a little deeper and find out why he preferred the jungle to living in Houston. Personally, she couldn’t imagine anyone voluntarily choosing the Amazon over a city in the States—or anywhere for that matter.

She had started to walk past him to her hammock when he reached for her wrist and stopped her. She stared into his gleaming gray eyes and had to fight the urge to throw herself against him. No man had a right to be so full of masculine vitality.

He raised his hand to cup her face. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Sam. You have nothing to fear from me.” Then, almost reluctantly, he dropped his hand to his side and made his way to his hammock.

She was beginning to believe she had nothing to fear from Brock, but she wasn’t so sure about herself. She was changing since she had come to the Amazon, and the new aspects of her personality confused her. In her hammock she tried to sleep, but the strangeness of being in the middle of a jungle out in the open kept her awake for hours. And when she finally fell asleep, her dreams were riddled with images of herself and Brock, embracing, kissing.