Midnight Rainbow (9 page)

           
 
"Damned right, you shouldn't," he
interrupted savagely. He
looked
savage; his eyes were narrowed and bright with rage, his nostrils flared, and
his mouth a thin, grim line. "Next time, you'd better make sure you want
what you're asking for, because I'm damned sure going to give it to you. Is
that clear?" He turned and began wading to the bank, leaving her standing
in the middle of the stream. Jane crossed her arms over her bare breasts,
suddenly and acutely aware of her nakedness. She hadn't meant to tease him, but
she'd been so frightened, and he'd been so strong and calm that it had seemed
the most natural thing in the world to cling to him. Those frenzied kisses and
caresses had taken her by surprise, shaken her off balance. Still, she wasn't
about to have sex with a man she barely knew, especially when she didn't quite
know if she liked what little she did know about him.

           
 
He reached the bank and turned to look at her.
"Are you coming or not?" he snapped, so Jane waded toward him, still
keeping her arms over her breasts.

           
 
"Don't bother," he advised in a curt
voice. "I've already seen, and touched. Why pretend to be modest?"

           
 
He gestured to her blouse lying on the ground.
"You might want to wash the blood out of that, since you're so squeamish
about it."

           
 
Jane looked at the blood-stained blouse, and
she went a little pale again, but she was under control now.

           
 
"Yes, I will," she said in a low
voice. "Will you… will you get my pants and boots for me, please?" He
snorted, but climbed up the bank and tossed her pants and boots down to her.
Keeping her back turned to him, Jane pulled on her pants, shuddering at the
blood that stained them, too, but at least they weren't soaked the way her
blouse was. Her panties were wet, but there wasn't anything she could do about
that now, so she ignored the clammy discomfort. When she was partially clad again,
she squatted on the gravel at the edge of the stream and began trying to wash
her blouse. Red clouds drifted out of the fabric, staining the water before
being swept downstream. She scrubbed and scrubbed before she was satisfied,
then wrung out as much water as possible and shook the blouse. As she started
to put the blouse on, he said irritably, "Here," and held his shirt
in front of her. "Wear this until yours gets dry." She wanted to
refuse, but she knew false pride wouldn't gain her anything. She accepted the
shirt silently and put it on. It was far too big, but it was dry and warm and
not too dirty, and it smelled of sweat, and the musky odor of his skin. The
scent was vaguely comforting. There were rust colored stains on
it,
too, reminding her that he'd saved her life. She tied
the tails in a knot at her waist and sat down on the gravel to put on her
boots.

           
 
When she turned, she found him standing right
behind her, his face still grim and angry. He helped her up the bank,
then
lifted their packs to his shoulders. "We're not
going much farther. Follow me, and for God's sake don't touch anything that I
don't touch, or step anywhere except in my footprints. If another boa wants
you, I just may let him have you, so don't push your luck." Jane pushed
her wet hair behind her ears and followed obediently, walking where he walked.
For a while, she stared nervously at every tree limb they passed under,
then
made herself stop thinking about the snake. It was
over; there was no use dwelling on it.

           
 
Instead she stared at his broad back,
wondering how her father had found a man like Grant Sullivan. They obviously
lived in two different worlds, so how had they met?

           
 
Then something clicked in her mind, and a
chill went down her spine.
Had
they
met? She couldn't imagine her father knowing anyone like Sullivan. She also
knew what her own position was. Everyone wanted to get their hands on her, and
she had no way of knowing whose side Grant Sullivan was on. He'd called her
Priscilla, which was her first name. If her father had sent him, wouldn't he
have known that she was never called Priscilla, that she'd been called Jane
from birth?
He hadn't known her name!

           
 
Before he died, George had warned her not to
trust anyone. She didn't want to think that she was alone in the middle of the
jungle with a man who would casually cut her throat when he had no further use
for her. Still, the fact remained that she had no proof that her father had
sent him. He'd simply knocked her out, put her over his shoulder and hauled her
off into the jungle.

           
 
Then she realized that she had to trust this
man; she had no alternative. He was all she had. It was dangerous, trusting
him, but not as dangerous as trying to make it out of the jungle on her own. He
had shown flashes of kindness. She felt a funny constriction in her chest as
she remembered the way he'd cared for her after he'd killed the snake. Not just
cared for her, kissed her—she was still shaken by the way he'd kissed her.
Mercenary or not, enemy or not, he made her want him. Her mind wasn't certain
about him, but her body was.

           
 
She would have found it funny, if she hadn't
been so frightened.

           
 
They moved directly away from the stream at a
forty-five-degree angle, and it wasn't long before he stopped, looked around
and
unslung
the packs from his shoulders. "We'll
camp here." Jane stood in silence, feeling awkward and useless, watching
as he opened his pack and took out a small, rolled bundle. Under his skilled
hands, the bundle was rapidly transformed into a small tent, complete with a
polyethylene floor and a flap that could be zipped shut. When the tent was up
he began stripping vines and limbs from the nearby trees to cover it, making it
virtually invisible. He hadn't so much as glanced in her direction, but after a
moment she moved to help him. He did look at her then, and allowed her to
gather more limbs while he positioned them over the tent. When the job was
completed, he said, "We can't risk a fire, so we'll just eat and turn in.
After today, I'm ready for some sleep."

           
 
Jane was, too, but she dreaded the thought of
the night to come. The light was rapidly fading, and she knew that it would
soon be completely dark. She remembered the total blackness of the night before
and felt a cold finger of fear trace up her backbone. Well, there was nothing
she could do about it; she'd have to tough it out.

           
 
She crouched beside her pack and dug out two
more cans of orange juice, tossing one to him; he caught it deftly, and eyed
her pack with growing irritation. "How many more cans of this do you have
in that traveling supermarket?" he asked sarcastically.

           
 
"That's it. We'll have to drink water
from now on.
How about a granola bar?"
She handed
it to him, refusing to let herself respond to the irritation in his voice. She
was tired, she ached, and she was faced with a long night in total darkness.
Given that, his irritation didn't seem very important. He'd get over it. She
ate her own granola bar, but was still hungry, so she rummaged for something
else to eat. "Want some cheese and crackers?" she offered, dragging
the items out of the depths of the pack. She looked up to find him watching her
with an expression of raw disbelief on his face. He held out his hand, and she
divided the cheese and crackers between them. He looked at her again, shook his
head and silently ate his share.

           
 
Jane saved a little of her orange juice, and
when she finished eating she took a small bottle from the pack. Opening it, she
shook a pill into the palm of her hand, glanced at Grant,
then
shook out another one. "Here," she said.

           
 
He looked at it, but made no move to take it.
"What the hell's that?"

           
 
"It's a yeast pill."

           
 
"Why should I want to take a yeast
pill?"

           
 
"So the mosquitoes and things won't bite
you."

           
 
"Sure they won't."

           
 
"They won't! Look at me. I don't have any
insect bites, and it's because I take yeast pills. It does something to your
skin chemistry. Come on, take it. It won't hurt you." He took the pill
from her hand and held it with a pained expression on his face while she took
her
own,
washing it down with a sip of the orange
juice she'd saved. She passed the can to him, and he muttered something obscene
before he tossed the pill into his mouth and slugged down the rest of the
juice.

           
 
"Okay, bedtime," he said, rising to
his feet. He jerked his head toward a tree. "There's your bathroom, if you
want to go before we turn in."

           
 
Jane stepped behind the tree. He was crude, he
was rude, he was a little cruel—and he had saved her life. She didn't know what
to expect from him. No matter how rough he was, he would eventually disarm her
with an unexpected act of kindness. On the other hand, when things were going
smoothly between them, he would say things that stung, as if deliberately
trying to start a quarrel. He was waiting for her by the opening of the tent.
"I've already put the blanket down. Crawl in." She knelt down and
crawled into the small tent. He had spread the blanket over the floor, and she
sat on it. He shoved their packs inside. "Put these out of the way,"
he instructed. "I'm going to take a quick look around."

           
 
She shoved the packs into the far corners of
the tent, then lay down on her back and stared tensely at the thin walls. The
light was almost gone; only a glimmer entered through the translucent fabric.
It wasn't quite as dark outside yet, but the limbs he'd used as camouflage made
it darker inside. The flap parted, and he crawled in,
then
zipped the opening shut.

           
 
"Take your boots off and put them in the
corner next to your feet." Sitting up, she did as he said
,
then lay down again. Her eyes strained open so widely that
they burned. Her body stiff with dread, she listened to him stretch and yawn
and make
himself
comfortable. Moments later the
silence became nearly as unbearable as the darkness. "A collapsible tent
comes in handy, doesn't it?" she blurted nervously. "What is it made
out of?"

           
 
"Nylon," he replied, yawning again.
"It's nearly indestructible."

           
 
"How much does it weigh?"

           
 
"Three pounds and eight
ounces."

           
 
"Is it waterproof?"

           
 
"Yes, it's waterproof."

           
 
"And bug proof?"

           
 
"Bug proof, too," he muttered.

           
 
"Do you think a jaguar could—
"

           
 
"Look,
it's
jaguar
proof,
mildew
proof,
fire
proof and
snake
proof. I personally guarantee you
that it's proof against everything except elephants, and I don't think we're
going to be stomped on by an elephant in
Costa Rica
! Is there any other damned thing you're
worried about?" he exploded. "If not, why don't you be quiet and let
me get some sleep?"

           
 
Jane lay tensely, and silence fell again. She
clenched her fists in an effort to control her nervousness, listening to the
growing cacophony of the jungle night. Monkeys howled and chattered; insects
squeaked their calls; underbrush rustled. She was exhausted but she had no real
hope of sleeping, at least not until dawn, and at dawn this devil beside her
would want to start another day of marathon travel. He was totally silent in
that unnerving way of his. She couldn't even hear him breathe. The old fear
began to rise in her chest, making her own breathing difficult. She might as
well be alone, and that was the one thing she absolutely couldn't bear.

           
 
"Where are you from?"

           
 
He heaved a sigh. "
Georgia
."

           
 
That explained his drawl. She swallowed,
trying to ease the constriction of her dry throat. If she could just keep him
talking, then she wouldn't feel so alone. She'd know he was there.

           
 
"What part of
Georgia
?"

           
 
"South.
Ever
hear of the
Okefenokee
?"

           
 
"Yes. It's a swamp."

           
 
"I grew up in it. My folks own a farm
just on the edge of it." It had been a normal boyhood, except for the
skills he'd learned automatically in the swamp, those skills, which had
eventually changed his life by shaping him into something not quite human. He
willed the memories away, pulling a mental shade down over them, isolating
himself. There was no use in thinking about what had been.

           
 
"Are you an only child?"

           
 
"Why all the questions?" he snapped,
edgy at revealing any information about himself.

           
 
"I'm just interested, that's all."

           
 
He paused, suddenly alert. There was something
in her voice, a tone that he couldn't quite place. It was dark, so he couldn't
see her face; he had to go entirely by what his ears told him. If he kept her
talking, he might be able to figure it out.

           
 
"I've got a sister," he finally said
reluctantly.

           
 
"I'll bet she's younger. You're so
bossy,
you must be an older brother." He let the dig
pass and said only, "She's four years younger."

           
 
"I'm an only child," she
volunteered.

           
 
"I know."

           
 
She searched frantically for something else to
say, but the darkness was making her panic. She felt herself move to grab for
him, then remembered what he'd said about startling him, and about not making
offers she didn't mean. She ground her teeth together and stilled her reaching
hands, the effort so intense that tears actually welled in her eyes. She
blinked them away. "Grant," she said in a shaking voice.

           
 
"What?" he growled.

           
 
"I don't want you to think I'm throwing
myself at you again because I'm really not, but would you mind very much if I…
just held your hand?" she whispered. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid of
the dark, and it helps if I know I'm not alone."

           
 
He was still for a moment; then she heard his
clothing rustle as he rolled onto his side. "You're really that afraid of
the dark?"

           
 
Jane tried for a laugh, but the sound was so
shaky that it was close to a sob. "The
word'terrified
'
only begins to describe how afraid I am. I can't sleep in the dark. All the
time I was at that wretched plantation I was awake all night long, never
sleeping until dawn. But at least I could use that time to watch the guards and
figure out their routine. Besides, it wasn't as totally dark there as it is
here."

           
 
"If you're so all-fired scared of the
dark, why were you getting ready to hit the jungle on your own?" A dark,
handsome, incredibly cruel face swam before her mind's eye. "Because even
dying in the jungle would be better than
Turego
,"
she said quietly.

           
 
Grant grunted. He could understand that
choice, but the fact that she had so correctly summed up the situation
illustrated once again that she was more than what she seemed. Then again,
perhaps she already had reason to know just how vile
Turego
could be. Had
Turego
raped her, or would it have been
rape?

           
 
With this woman, who knew? "Did you have
sex with him?"

           
 
The blunt question made her shudder. "No.
I'd been holding him off, but when he left yesterday… it
was
just yesterday, wasn't it? It seems like a year ago. Anyway, I
knew that, when he came back, I wouldn't be able to stop him any longer. My
time had run out."

           
 
"What makes you so certain of that?"

           
 
Jane paused, wondering just how much to tell
him, wondering how much he already knew. If he was involved, he would be
familiar with Luis's name; if he wasn't, the name would mean nothing to him.
She wanted to tell him; she didn't want to be alone in this nightmare any
longer. But she remembered George telling her once that secrecy was synonymous
with security, and she quelled the need to turn into Grant's arms and tell him
how afraid and alone she had been. If he wasn't involved already, he was safer
not knowing anything about it. On the other hand, if he was involved,
she
might be safer if he didn't realize
how deeply she was a part of things. Finally, to answer his question, she said,
"I wasn't certain. I was just afraid to stay, afraid of
Turego
."