Dangerous Pursuit (The Protectors) (3 page)

After signing her name to the register, the clerk escorted Samantha and the stranger to the storeroom to retrieve her brother’s one suitcase.

Back in the lobby, Samantha turned to the man and said, “I’m Samantha Prince. I’d like to treat you to lunch for helping me.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to.” 

“Please. If you hadn’t come to my rescue, I’d still be trying to figure out what the man was saying, Mr…”

“Brock Slader.” He glanced about the lobby, indecision in his eyes. Then suddenly, as though he had made up his mind, he looked at her and replied, “Fine. I’ll meet you here in an hour then.”

As Samantha started to pick up the two pieces of luggage, Brock intercepted her and took them instead. Their hands touched and a bolt of electricity streaked up her arm. She snatched away her hand.

In answer to the question probably written all over her face, he said, “There are no elevators in this hotel. The third floor is a long way up.”

As they climbed the first flight of stairs, sweat rolled down her face. It must be because heat rose or possibly because of the one hundred percent humidity. “I’m in your debt again. After all the traveling I’ve done in the last forty-eight hours, I don’t think I’d have made it up this first flight with the luggage.”

“It’s nothing. And it can take," he shot her a look, "people a while to get used to the climate here."

Samantha had to agree that the two bags appeared to give him no trouble at all. He apparently was a man who prided himself in keeping in shape, a man capable of taking care of himself if he got into trouble. She instantly thought of Harper in
Jungle Fever
.

At her door he placed the suitcases on the floor. “Maybe it would be better if you got some rest this afternoon. As I said, the jungle has a way of sapping a person’s strength—male or female.”

His half grin sent her heart beating at a fast pace. “I have to eat. I’ll rest tonight.”

Tilting his head forward in a slight nod, he drawled, “Very well.”

Samantha couldn’t resist the temptation of watching him saunter away. She was again reminded of Harper’s quick reflexes and animal grace. When Brock was at the end of the hallway, he glanced back and touched an imaginary Stetson in salute. Samantha winced at her blatant behavior and immediately turned her attention to inserting her key in the lock.

When she was inside her room, she swung Mark’s suitcase up on the bed and tried to open it. It was locked. She took out a metal fingernail file and tried to pick the lock, but that didn’t work and she decided to give it up for the moment. She hid the bag under her bed, then sat down.

For the first time she took a moment to examine her surroundings. It was a small room that had an old bed with no headboard and a faded bedspread, a table with a water stain in the middle of it, and one chest with several long drawers. At least, Samantha thought, the room seemed clean, and there was even a small balcony that overlooked the street.

Suddenly Samantha experienced an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. She wanted to be home, back in the safe world of her store and house. Even the New Orleans traffic would be a welcome sight at the moment—it was familiar, something she could handle. She wasn’t at all sure she could handle this place, this situation.

She was used to being independent, and already she was depending on a stranger—a very appealing man, but a stranger nonetheless. Well, the sooner she found her brother, the sooner she could return to New Orleans and the security there.

Samantha pushed herself off the bed and headed for the tiny bathroom. After splashing some water on her face and neck, she felt a little better. She changed into a fresh sundress, pale yellow cotton with thin straps and a soft flowing skirt. She left her hair in its long braid and twisted it on top of her head. Even that was cooler in this heat. And just a week ago she had wanted to vacation in a warm, exotic place. This city was certainly warm, but she couldn’t say it was exotic.

As she left the room to meet Brock Slader in the lobby, she mentally listed the things she had to do that afternoon. First she would go to the bank where the money had been wired to Mark. Then, if she had to, she’d go to the police. And lastly, she would visit as many hotels in the area as possible.

Going over her list, Samantha knew it wasn’t going to be easy if the bank and police couldn’t help her. But maybe Mark had checked out of the Grand Hotel and was staying somewhere else in Manaus. She had to exhaust all possibilities before…

She shook her head to rid her mind of any unpleasant thoughts. Mark was okay. He was like a cat, always landing on his feet. And like a cat, Mark seemed to have nine lives.

When she entered the lobby she spied Brock, reclining against a white pillar, his arms and legs loosely crossed as he watched people entering and leaving the hotel. His stance looked casual, but for some reason Samantha felt there wasn’t anything casual about him.

Even in white pants and shirt she could tell his body was muscular and well-conditioned. If it weren’t for his gray eyes, a startling combination against his dark features, he could easily have been mistaken for a Latin American because of his tanned skin and black hair.

Samantha realized she only knew his name. Beyond that, all she knew was that he spoke fluent Portuguese. Usually she was very cautious, especially where men were concerned, but she had no one else to turn to. She knew no one in this country and she realized she needed help if she was going to find her brother.

He looked her way. Their gazes caught and held. Brock unfolded his arms and legs and eased away from the pillar. Striding toward her, he kept his eyes fastened to hers. She felt the heat of his probing assessment, and suddenly she wondered if she were plunging into something that was way out of her league.

When they were a few feet apart, Brock’s gaze swept down her body, pausing for the briefest moment at her small waist. If any other man had looked at her so thoroughly, she would have instantly been on guard. But ever since this journey began, nothing had been the same. Samantha felt like a different person, which at times was even more confusing than her brother’s disappearance.

“You can do a lot in an hour’s time,” Brock said in his southwestern drawl.

“I feel like a new woman,” Samantha replied, meaning it on more than one level.

“We don’t want to eat here. I know a little restaurant a few blocks away that has good food and reasonable prices.”

“That sounds like my kind of place.”

Brock touched her elbow to lead the way and once again she felt tingles streaking up her arm. Her instant physical response to him was unnerving. Would it always be like this, the slightest touch triggering off a chain reaction in her body? What was she thinking? After today, they would part ways.

Samantha no longer had to wonder if she were plunging into something out of her league; she felt it deep within her, and knew she would do nothing to stop this exciting journey into the unknown.

At the restaurant Brock asked for a table in the corner that afforded them a view of the rest of the room. After assisting her into a chair, he sat with his back to the wall next to her, much too close for her peace of mind.

Samantha allowed him to order for her, since she couldn’t read the menu. Besides, she didn’t think she would eat a bite when the food did arrive. Her stomach was twisted into a huge knot. She told herself it was because of her brother, but in her heart she knew this man next to her was the real cause.

After the waitress left, Brock reclined in his chair and studied Samantha a moment under lowered lashes. “You’re here because your brother is missing?”

“Yes.” Her throat was so dry that her answer came out in a whisper.

“For how long?”

“A week.”

“Lady, that isn’t long in this town. People often disappear into the jungle for much longer.”

His piercing gray eyes seemed to penetrate, trying to read her mind. She looked away and wished the waitress would return with her drink. “There’s more to it than just that.”

“What?”

She peered back at him and wondered how much she should tell this man. She needed someone to help her; she couldn’t find Mark alone. Was Brock Slader that someone?

His eyes gentled. “Maybe talking about it will help.”

She drew in a deep breath and said, “Mark called me last week. He said he was in trouble and needed money to get out of here. I wired him the money, but he never picked it up.” Her voice caught, and she swallowed several times. “Someone was after him and I’m afraid…"She couldn’t voice aloud that her brother might be dead.

He leaned forward, covering her small hand with his large one. “Maybe he’s in hiding. There are a lot of places a person can get lost around here.”

“I’m praying that’s it, but I have to know. He’s my only family.”

His hand tightened about hers, and they both glanced down at their clasped hands as if they finally realized they were touching. Brock slowly withdrew his hand and sat back in his chair.

“Why is your brother in trouble? Who’s after him?”

“I don’t know, which makes it even worse. He didn’t have time to tell me.” Or he didn’t want to tell her.

After the waitress brought their lunches, a baked pirarucu dish, Brock asked, “How are you going to try to locate your brother? You’re at a disadvantage.”

Disadvantage was putting it mildly. She was at a loss. But she had to try. “I realize I don’t speak the language, and I’m unfamiliar with this city, but—”

“That’s not all,” he said before she could finish. “This city is on the fringe of the jungle, a hostile, primitive environment that isn’t too kind to people, especially novices—whether they’re male or female, by the way. The jungle doesn’t make a distinction between the sexes. You have no business being here. If your brother can’t take care of himself, then how do you expect to take care of him?”

She stared down at her plate, knowing everything he said was true. When her gaze touched his again, she whispered, “With your help?”

Disbelief flickered into his eyes. “My help? You don’t even know me, lady.”

“I don’t know anyone here.”

“My job isn’t to rescue damsels in distress. I can’t help you.”

Gripping her fork and knife in her hands, Samantha leaned toward him, her expression intense. “I’m not in distress. It’s my brother who needs help.”

“Are you ready to do battle with those?” Brock’s amused gaze flicked to the utensils in her hands then back to her face.

She glanced down and laughed. “No. I was about to try the fish and got caught up in the moment.”

He smiled, first with his eyes and then his mouth. “Are you always this fervent?”

“No.” But that was another aspect of her that seemed to be changing.

“Just about your brother. You must love him a lot.”

“Do you have any family, Mr. Slader?”

“A father and a sister.”

“Then maybe you can understand how important this is to me.”

“I’m not a guide, and I’m certainly no detective.” His eyebrows slashed.

“I just need someone who knows the language and the city for a few days. I’ll pay you for your services.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Do you have something better to do?" She quickly calculated her limit cash reserves. "A hundred dollars a day.”

“I’m free for the rest of the day. But beyond that I can’t guarantee my services.”

“What are you doing in Manaus?”

“It’s not important.” He began to eat, dismissing the subject. “This is good. You’ll need your energy if we’re going to walk the streets, so to speak.”

She watched him eat for a few minutes and realized that by not answering her he had intrigued her even more. Why was he in the Amazon? Why was it a secret?

“Lesson number one, Miss Prince: You’ll need every ounce of strength you can get in the Amazon. Dieting has no place in the jungle.”

She started to eat, forcing down half the delicious fish before she gave up and just finished her fruit drink. When she was nervous, she could never eat.

After he was through with his lunch, Brock sipped his thick, sweet coffee and asked, “Where does your search begin?”

“At the bank where I wired the money, then the police.”

“The bank is a waste of time. If he didn’t pick it up, he didn’t pick it up. We’ll go to the police first.” He handed her the check.

For a few seconds she stared at the bill, then at him. She was so used to the men she knew and dated paying the bill that it took a moment for her to realize she was to pay. But then, this certainly wasn’t a date—and Brock Slader was nothing like the men she was used to seeing.

“This was your treat?” His dark eyebrows hiked up.

She took the tab and laid the money to cover it on the table.

Once outside the restaurant, Brock halted her progress with a hand on her arm. He turned her to face him. “Before we go to the police, are you prepared for the worst?”

CHAPTER THREE

“Don’t worry. You won’t have an hysterical woman on your hands. I don’t go in for that.” Samantha’s voice held none of the confidence she wanted. She told herself that it was the humidity and strangeness of the jungle city. But in truth all her senses converged on the touch of Brock’s hand on her arm, his fingers a tantalizing combination of rough and gentle.

Brock released his hold on her but didn’t move away. He was only inches from her, his male scent mingling with the potent odors of the tropics carried on the moisture-laden breeze. The noise of Manaus surrounded them, but all Samantha could hear was the loud pounding of her heart that filled her ears.

“I knew a man who disappeared about six months back without a trace. There are a lot of stories like that, Miss Prince.”

“I’m sure there are, but I’ll find Mark. I would know if something had happened to him.”

The warm gleam in his eyes that made them appear almost silver was gone, replaced by a serious look that turned his gaze a dark gray like storm clouds. “It will be worse if you discover nothing.”

“Worse?”

“The jungle has a way of swallowing people up. You may never find out what’s happened to your brother. You may spend the rest of your life hoping for something that won’t happen.”