Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (17 page)

Roan saw two short men, one with a potbelly and the other looking like a trim, fit athlete. Both were dressed in short-sleeved white shirts and dark blue trousers, and they were talking with someone in charge of the guards, a man in military jungle fatigues. “Got ’em.”

“They look pitifully harmless,” Inca growled. “But they are murderers of my people—hundreds of them over the last four years. The one with the pig’s belly is Sebastian. Faro is the thin one, a pilot. His helicopter is over there.” She pointed to the machine sitting off in the grass near the compound. “He has a fleet of military helicopters that he bought from foreign countries, and he uses them to ferry the cocaine out of the area. He has also used his helicopters to shoot down Brazilian Air Force helicopters that have tried to penetrate this area. He is dangerous. He is here to pick up a load of cocaine and fly it to Peru. The Indians are carrying it to the machine right now.”

Roan heard the grating in her voice. Faro had a military helicopter, dark green in color and without markings.
“I’ve read up on these two. Sebastian is the lazy one of the family. He stays put in Brazil, which is his territory. He’s satisfied with doing business from here. Faro has his own military air force, with choppers in nearly every South American country. He wants to dominate not only all of South America, but eventually Central America, as well. We’re lucky to catch the brothers together. I was hoping we’d get Sebastian.” His voice lowered with feeling. “I’d like to take ’em both down.”

“Do not be fooled by the piglike expressions on their faces. They are as smart as jaguars.”

“And you think the best time to attack is at night?”

“Yes, under cover of darkness. The guards go inside the factory at night to package the cocaine into blocks and wrap them, while the Indians sleep outside. I will go down, contact the chief who leads all the people there, and they will spread the word quickly and quietly as to the coming attack. I will break open the chain around the gate and open it. They will run. That is when the colonel will attack.”

Roan nodded and counted the guards. “I see twenty guards.”

“There are more inside the factory. Perhaps an equal number.”

“Forty men total. Against our hundred.”

Snorting, Inca gave him a cutting glance. “Do not think forty men cannot kill all of us, because they can.” She glared at the line of Brazilian soldiers hunkering down on their bellies along the rim to observe their coming target of attack. “While these soldiers have gotten stronger over the last ten days, no one says that they are battle hardened or can think in the middle of bullets flying around them.
The Valentinos’ men are cold, ruthless killers. Nothing distracts them from the shots they want to take. Nothing.”

“I understand,” Roan said. He reached out and touched Inca’s cheek. Time was at a premium between them. And as much as he wanted to kiss her, he knew that she had to come to him. Inca had shyly kissed him two more times. The enjoyment was mutual. He could almost feel what she was thinking now, as if that invisible connection between them was working with amazing accuracy. Inca had told him that because a bond of trust was forged between them, he would easily pick up on her thoughts and feelings—just as she would his.

Roan watched her eyes close slightly as he touched her cheek. “I worry about you. You’re the one taking all the chances. What if the guards spot you at the fence?”

Inca captured his large hand and boldly pressed a kiss into the palm of it. Smiling widely, she watched his eyes turn a dark, smoky blue, which indicated he liked what she had done. The last five days had been a wonderful exploration for her. She felt safe enough, trusting enough of Roan to experiment, to test her newfound feminine instincts. He made her happy. Deliriously so.

“Do not worry. They will not see me coming. I will use the cover of my spirit guide to reach the fence. Only then will I unveil myself.” She released his hand and turned over on her back, her gaze drifting up through the canopy. Above her, a flock of red-and-yellow parrots skittered among the limbs of the trees. “You worry too much, man of my heart.”

Roan gave her a careless smile in return. He lay on his back, slid his arm beneath her neck and moved closer to her. When she pressed her cheek against him, he knew
she enjoyed his touch. “I like where we’re going, Inca,” he told her quietly as they enjoyed one of the few private moments they’d been able to steal during the march. “I don’t know where that is, but it doesn’t matter.”

Inca laughed softly. She closed her eyes and fiercely enjoyed his closeness, the way he nurtured her with his touch, with his hard, protective body. “I do not know, either, but I want to find out.”

A sweet happiness flowed through Roan. “So do I.” And he did. In the last five days they had bonded so closely. Despite his fear, Inca had somehow surmounted that wall within him. Roan was scared. But he was more frightened of losing Inca to the danger of her livelihood. Did she love him? Was there hope for their love? There were many obstacles in their path. Was what she felt for him puppy love? A first love rather than a lasting love built upon a foundation of friendship and mutual respect? Roan wasn’t sure, and he knew the only way to find out was to surrender his heart over to her, to the gift Inca had given to him alone.

Inca opened her eyes and looked at Roan, a playful smile on her face. “You are the first man to open my heart. I do not know how you did it, only that it has happened.” She lightly touched the area between her breasts where the bandoliers of ammo met and crossed.

More serious, Roan held her softened willow-green eyes. “What we have…I hope, Inca…is something lasting. That’s what I want—what I hope for out of this.”

“Mmm, like Grandfather Adaire and Grandmother Alaria have? You know, there is gossip that they are a thousand years old, that they fell in love on an island off the coast of England. They were druids on the Isle of
Mona, where they were charged with keeping the knowledge of druid culture alive for the next generation. When the Romans came and set fire to the island, destroying the druid temples and thousands of scrolls that had their people’s knowledge recorded on them, they fled. It is said they came by boat over here, to Peru, and helped to create the Village of the Clouds.”

“And they’re husband and wife?”

Chuckling, Inca said, “Oh, yes. But Grandmother Alaria is the head elder of the village. Grandfather Adaire is one of eight other elders who comprise the counsel that makes decisions on how to teach jaguar medicine and train students from around the world.”

“A thousand years,” Roan murmured. “That’s a long time. How could they live so long?”

Inca shrugged and gazed up through the trees. “I do not know. It is said that when humans have a pure heart, they may live forever or until such time that they desire to leave their earthly body.” She laughed sharply. “I do not have a pure heart. I will die much, much sooner!”

Roan moved onto his side, his body touching hers. He placed his hand on her waist and looked deeply into her eyes. “You have the purest heart I’ve ever seen,” he rasped. Reaching out, he brushed several strands of hair away from her brow. “The unselfish love you have for your people, the way you share with others…if that isn’t pure of heart, I don’t know what is.”

Just the touch of his fingers made her skin tingle pleasantly. Reaching up, Inca caressed his unshaved jaw. “Roan Storm Walker, you hold my heart in your hands, as I hold yours. You think only good of me. Those of the
Jaguar Clan are charged with seeing us without such feelings in the way.” She smiled gently.

Leaning down, he whispered, “Yes, you hold my heart in your hands, my woman—”

“Excuse me….”

Roan heard the apologetic voice just moments before he was going to kiss Inca. Instead, he lifted his head and sat up. Captain Braga stood uncertainly before them, clearly embarrassed for intruding upon their private moment. “Yes?”

Clearing his throat, Captain Braga said, “A thousand pardons to you both.”

Inca felt heat in her face as she sat up. She picked several tiny leaves out of her braid. “What is it?” she demanded. More than anything, she’d wanted Roan’s kiss, that commanding, wonderfully male mouth settling against her hungry lips.

“The colonel…he asks you to come and help him with the attack plans. Er, can you?”

Inca was on her feet first. She held out her hand to Roan, who took it, and she pulled him to his feet. “Yes, we will come….”

Roan tried to quell his fear for Inca’s safety. He’d followed her down the steep, slippery wall of the narrow valley in the darkness, but Inca had disdained his offer of a flak jacket and headphone gear. Roan adjusted the microphone near his mouth. He was in contact with the officers of the company, who also wore communication gear. He wished Inca had agreed to the headset and protective vest. She had told him it would hamper her abilities to shape-shift and he’d reluctantly given in. The one
thing he did do, however, was take off his medicine necklace and give it to her—for protection. The urge to give it to her had overwhelmed him, and this time he’d followed the demand.

Inca’s eyes had filled with tears as he’d hung it around her neck, the beautiful blue stone resting at the bottom of her slender throat. She’d smiled, kissed his hand, knowing instinctively the importance of his gesture.

The clouds were thick and a recent shower made the leaves gleam. The rain had muffled their approach to their target which was fortunate. The factory was less than two hundred yards away. The road to it was deeply rutted, and now muddy. Trees had been cleared from the edge of the road, but otherwise the valley was thickly covered by rain forest. Faro’s helicopter sat tethered near the factory. He and his brother had disappeared inside the main facility hours earlier.

Roan’s heart beat painfully in his chest for Inca as he followed her, for her raw courage under such dangerous circumstances. She didn’t seem fazed by her duties, and if she felt fear, he didn’t see it in her eyes or gestures. How brave she was in the name of her people.

Inca carefully removed her bandoliers and put her rifle aside. She took off the web belt. There was a guard outside the gate, his military weapon on his shoulder as he walked back and forth in front of it. Hidden in the forest above and around the factory were the Brazilian soldiers, who had crept carefully into position. The attack would take place in a U-shaped area. The only escape for the Indians would be down the road. Inca would urge them to run and then take cover in the rain forest. There was a squad of Brazilian soldiers half a mile from the front gate,
their machine gun set up to stop any guards from driving away from the factory once the battle began.

Roan said nothing. His heart hammered with worry and anxiety for her. What was Inca going to do? Just walk up to the guard and knock him out? The guard would see her coming. Though his mouth was dry, Roan wiped it with the back of his hand. She slowly stood up, only a foot away from him.

“It is time,” she said. Looking up at him, her mouth pulled slightly upward. “Now you and all of them will see why they call me the jaguar goddess.”

Roan reached out and gripped her hand. “Don’t do anything foolish. I’m here. I can help you….”

She squeezed his fingers. “You just gave me the greatest gift of all, my man.” She gently touched the medicine necklace. “Your heart, your care, will keep me safe.” Stepping forward, she followed her wild instincts. Her mouth fitted hotly against his. She slid her fingers through his damp hair, and hungrily met and matched his returning ardor. Pulling away, her heart pounding, Inca whispered, “I will return. You have captured my heart….” Then she quickly moved down the last stretch of slope to a position near the road.

Roan’s lips tingled hotly from her swift, unexpected kiss. He watched through the lazy light filtering through the clouds from the moon above them. Inca’s form seemed to melt into the surrounding grayness. For a moment, Roan lost sight of her. And then his heart thudded. Farther down, something else moved. Not a human…what, then?

Eyes slitting, he lifted the light-sensitive binoculars to try and pinpoint the dark, shadowy movement. He was
looking for Inca’s tall, proud form. It was nowhere to be found.
There!
Roan scowled. His hands wrapped more strongly around the binoculars. He saw the shadowy outline of a jaguar moving stealthily toward the guard in the distance. His black-and-gold coat blended perfectly into the shadows and darkness surrounding him. Was that Inca? The jaguar was trotting steadily now toward his intended target—the guard walking past the gate. She had told him of her shape-shifting ability, of being able to allow her jaguar spirit guardian to envelope her so that she appeared in his shape and form. Roan didn’t know how it was done, exactly, but he recalled his own experience with his cougar recently. Among his own people, there were medicine men and women who were known to change shape into a cat or wolf. In this altered form, Inca had told him, she possessed all the jaguar’s powerful abilities, including sneaking up on her intended target without ever being noticed.

Roan’s breath hitched. The guard had turned and was coming back toward the corner of the fence closest to the jungle. Compressing his lips, Roan hunted anxiously for the cat. Where was it? It seemed to have disappeared. Instead, he watched the guard, who was lazily smoking a cigarette, a bored look on his face. Just as the guard reached the corner and was going to turn around, something caught his attention. Startled, he dropped the cigarette from his lips, jerked his rifle off his shoulder and started to raise it to fire.

Out of the darkness of the rain forest, a jaguar leaped toward the man. In an instant, the stunned guard was knocked on his back, the rifle flying out of his hand. In seconds, the cat had strangled the soldier by grabbing hold
of his neck in his jaws and suffocating him into unconsciousness, not death though that was how a jaguar killed.

Roan stood, the binoculars dropping to his chest. He picked up his rifle and moved rapidly down the hill. In the distance, he could barely see the soldier lying motionless on the ground. A number of Indians had run to that area of the fence. All hell was going to break loose in a few seconds. Running hard, Roan hit the muddy road and sprinted toward the front gate. The other guards would be making their rounds. Inca would have only moments to open that front gate and release her people.