Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (27 page)

Laughing delightedly, Inca said, “You are of the Cougar Clan! Why should you not be my equal? The cougar is the symbol of the north, just as the jaguar is of the south. One is not stronger or better than the other.”

Roan sat up and took Inca into his arms. It felt damned good to be naked against one another. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him spontaneously on the cheek.

“Let us go to the Pool of Life,” she whispered excitedly. “I will wash you, my beloved. And you will wash me.”

Grinning, Roan said, “I like your take-charge attitude, Inca.” He helped her to her feet and then holding her hand, gathered up her clothes and his.

“Let’s go, sweetheart.”

Inca was standing beneath a rubber tree near their hut, at the round table where they took their meals, when she felt a disturbance in the energy around her. She was preparing lunch for her and Roan when it happened. Roan was out in the field with the rest of the men, tending their large, beautiful vegetable gardens beyond the meadow in
the distance. Soon he would arrive, and she wanted to have a meal prepared for him.

Looking around, she saw that other inhabitants of the village were going about their noontime business. Shaking her head, she wondered what she’d felt. It was vaguely familiar, but nothing she could put her finger on right away. Sunlight glanced off the peridot ring on her left hand. Holding it up, she smiled happily. How had three months flown by? Grandmother Alaria had married them shortly after they had loved one another in that wonderful, private glade near the Pool of Life. Inca had never known what happiness was until now. She had been slogging through life alone, and suddenly life had taken on wonderful shades and hues of joy—ever since Roan entered her world. Yes, love made the difference. That and the fact she had family now.

Placing bowls on the table, Inca straightened. Maya, her sister…she had seen her only four times in the last three months, and only for an hour or two at the most. Maya was busier than Inca was. Yet they utilized every scrap of every moment to talk, share and search one another’s separate lives, to understand how life had shaped them and made them into what they were today.

Inca always marveled at how alike they were. It was a joy to connect telepathically with her sister, to share, openly all her emotions with Maya. To have a sister was as great a gift as having Roan as her husband. And after talking it over with Roan, she had gifted Maya with the medicine necklace that Roan had bestowed on her. Somehow, Inca knew that the blue stone in the center of it was a great protection. How or why, she couldn’t explain, but that didn’t matter.

Roan had approved of her giving Maya the very ancient and powerful amulet. And Maya had received it with tears of thanks in her eyes. She told them that, as a pilot, she wasn’t supposed to wear any jewelry when flying her daily, dangerous missions against the drug runners. Maya had tucked it gently beneath her flight suit, a grin of pride playing on her wide mouth. She thanked both of them for it, for she knew it had originally come from Roan’s family and that sacred articles were always passed down through family.

Yes, Inca was truly blessed. She knew now that she had been in a dark tunnel for the last twenty-five years. She was out of that tunnel now, and in the light. It felt good. Very good. And Maya was now protected with the mysterious necklace that held that incredible blue, opalescent stone. That made Inca sleep better at night, knowing that the stone’s amazing powers were supporting her sister’s best interests.

“How are you today, child?”

Inca turned and saw Grandmother Alaria moving slowly toward her. She wore her hair in thick braids, her shift a dark pink color and her feet bare and thick with calluses. The gentle smile on her face made Inca smile in turn and eagerly pull out one of the rough-hewn stools for the old woman to sit upon.

“I have coffee perking. Would you like some, Grandmother?”

Sighing, Alaria nodded. “Yes, that sounds perfect, thank you.” Settling down carefully on the stool beneath the shade of the rubber tree, Alaria painstakingly arranged the shift over her crossed legs. “The day is beautiful,”
she mused as Inca handed her a mug with steaming black coffee in it. “Thank you, child. Come, sit down near me.”

Inca sensed the change in the air. Over the months, as she’d gone into training with her, she knew when Alaria had something of importance to say to her. Taking the other stool, she sat opposite her. Today she wore a sleeveless, white cotton tunic and dark red slacks that barely reached her slender ankles.

“Something is going on, is it not?” Inca asked.

Alaria sipped the coffee. “Yes. I have asked Roan to come in early from the fields. He’ll be here shortly.”

Frowning, Inca sensed that all was not well. She knew better than to ask, because if she was to know, Grandmother Alaria would tell her at the appropriate time.

“Did you sense a shift in the force field around the village?”

Raising her brows, Inca said, “Was that what it was? I sensed something but I could not identify it directly.”

“Your sister just landed her helicopter outside the village. That is what you felt.”

Gasping with joy, Inca said, “Oh! Maya’s coming?”

Smiling, Alaria said, “Yes, and she’s bringing Michael Houston with her.”

“Really?” Inca clapped her hands in joy. She shot off the stool and craned her neck to look down the path toward where the clouds met the earth. That was one of two entrances in and out of the highly protected village. She saw no one—yet.

“Yes, you will have much of your family here in a few minutes,” Alaria told her with a soft smile.

Unable to sit in her excitement, Inca saw Roan coming across the meadow. He had a rake propped on his shoul
der as he walked in sure, steady strides toward the village center.

Joy thrummed briefly through Inca. She stopped her restless pacing and looked down at the elder, who sipped her coffee with obvious relish. “This is unusual, for Michael to be here, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Are Ann and the baby coming, also?”

Alaria shook her head. “No, my child. I’m afraid this is a business visit.”

A warning flickered though Inca’s gut. She halted and scowled. Placing her hand against her stomach, where she felt the fear, she whispered, “Business?”

Setting the coffee on the table, Alaria nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

Inca’s heart pounded briefly with dread. She didn’t want her perfect world shattered. She knew it was a childish reaction and not mature at all. Still, her love with Roan was so new, so wonderful and expanding, that she wanted nothing to taint what they had. Knowing that the grandmother could easily read her thoughts and emotions, Inca glumly sat down, all her joy snuffed out like a candle in a brisk breeze.

“I feel fear.”

Reaching out, Alaria patted Inca’s sloped shoulder. “Take courage, my child. You are of the Jaguar Clan. We face and work through our fears—together.”

Just as Roan put his rake up against the hut and arrived at the table, Inca saw Maya and Mike Houston appear out of the gauzy, white cloud wall and walk toward them. Inca gave Roan a quick hug of hello, turned on her heel
and ran through the center of the village toward them, her arms open, her hair flying behind her like a banner.

Roan chuckled, poured himself some coffee and sat down next to Alaria. “Looks like family week around here for Inca.”

“It is,” Alaria said, returning his smile and greeting.

Resting his elbows on the table, Roan watched with undisguised pleasure as Inca threw her arms first around her sister, who was dressed in her black flight suit, and then Mike Houston, giving him a puppy like smooch on his cheek. Then, nestled between the two, she slid her arms around their waists and walked with them. Roan couldn’t hear their animated words, but the laughter and joking among the three of them made him grin. He was so happy for Inca. She had family now. People who loved her, who wanted her in their lives. He shifted a glance to Alaria, who was also watching them, with kindness in her eyes.

“She deserves this,” he told the old woman in a low tone.

“Yes, she does, my son.”

“All I want to do is keep that smile on her face, Grandmother. Inca’s been deprived of so much for so long.”

Patting his sun-darkened hand, Alaria said, “All you need do is continue to love her and allow her to grow into all of what she can become. I will warn you that Maya and Mike coming today is not good news. Inca will be distraught.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. I’ll take care of her afterward.” Roan was grateful for the warning. At least he could hold Inca, console her, and be there for her. It was more than she’d had before, and Roan wanted to serve in
that capacity. Being married meant being many things, wearing different hats at different times for his partner, and it was something he could do well. The years he’d spent with Sarah had prepared him for Inca. And he was grateful.

After everyone had shaken hands or embraced, they sat around the table. Coffee was poured and Inca brought out a dish of fresh fruit and cheese, plus a warm loaf of wheat bread and butter. Then she sat close to Roan, anxiety written in her features. Maya sat across from her. She’d placed her helmet on the table and thrown her black gloves into it. Her hair, as usual, was drawn back into a chignon at the base of her neck. Mike Houston was in military fatigues, his face grave. Inca threaded her fingers under the table nervously.

Alaria spoke quietly. “Inca, your sister is going to be working directly with Michael for the government of Peru. As you know, Maya and her band of pilots and mechanics have hidden bases in every country here in South America. When we want them to lend their considerable support in a situation, they fly in and help. Maya’s main staging area is a Black Jaguar base near the Machu Pichu reserve in Peru. The Peruvian government has requested aid from Morgan Trayhern, and he’s asked Michael to coordinate a plan to do so. Michael has spent most of his life in Peru, and he knows the land and its people well.”

Inca nodded. She felt her mouth going dry. “This has to do with the death spiral dance between Maya and Faro Valentino, does it not?” The words came out low, filled with concern and trepidation. Seeing her sister’s green eyes narrow slightly, Inca glanced back at Grandmother Alaria, for she was the authority at the table.

“It does, my child.”

Inca’s heart dropped, then froze with fear. She stared at Maya, who sat looking completely unconcerned about it all. Oh, perhaps there was a time in Inca’s past that she’d behaved similarly, but not now. Not in the last three months. Compressing her lips, she struggled to keep quiet and let the elder do the talking. It was so hard, because Inca’s love for Maya was just taking root. She’d just met her. They’d had so little time together. Inca acknowledged her selfishness, but still she wanted more. Much more. And a death spiral dance meant that only one of the two people involved would come out alive—with luck. Too many times, Inca had seen both people die as they circled one another like wary jaguars fighting over turf and territory. Fights to the death in the spiral dance were common—the death of both protagonists.

Dipping her head, Inca shut her eyes tightly, the tears feeling hot behind her lids. “I—I see….” The words came out brokenly. When Roan’s hand moved gently across her drooping shoulders, Inca felt his concern and love. It stopped some of the fierce anguish and pain from assaulting her wide-open heart.

“Inca,” Maya pleaded gently, “don’t worry so much about me. This isn’t any different from what I do out there every day. I’m always in the line of fire. And I
want
to take down Faro Valentino, more than anything.”

Inca lifted her head and opened her eyes. She saw the fury burning in Maya’s narrowed gaze. “I do not want you in a death spiral dance on my behalf, Maya. I want you alive. I—need you….”

Reaching across the table, Maya gripped Inca’s proffered hand. “Silly goose. You have me. Don’t worry,
okay? I’ve been around this block many, many times. Mike will tell you that.”

Mike leaned forward, his voice low and cajoling. “Inca, I’ve worked off and on with Maya for years. Now, I didn’t know who she was, or what her relationship was to you. We called those black helicopters the ‘ghosts of the rain forest.’ Sometimes, during a hot firefight, when I and my men were tangling with drug runners or a drug lord, she and her colleagues would show up out of the blue. Many times, they made the difference between us living or dying, the battle moving in our favor and not the enemies. I never got to meet Maya personally to thank her. I had no idea it was a woman-run operation, or that they were part of the Black Jaguar Clan. Not until recently.”

Inca saw the challenging sparkle in Maya’s eyes as she released her hand and straightened up. There was no doubt that Maya was a leader in every sense of the word. It was clear in her defiant and confident expression; in the way she walked with military precision, her shoulders thrown back; in that sense of absolute power and authority exuding from her.

“Inca,” Maya pleaded, “we have a chance to not only get Faro, but close down his main factories in Peru in this sweep. Mike is going to coordinate the whole thing from Lima. He’ll be buying us new Boeing D model Apaches to compete with Valentino’s Kamov gunships. He’s our contact. Morgan Trayhern is assigning people from Fort Rucker, Alabama—Apache helicopter instructors—to teach us the characteristics of the D model. I haven’t met them yet, but Mike says Morgan is borrowing the best instructors from the U.S. Army, and they’re considered the cream of the crop. The best! So you see, you have
nothing to worry about. I’m in the best of hands.” She flashed a triumphant grin.

Alaria looked from one sister to the other. “Inca can feel many possible outcomes of this death spiral dance,” she stated quietly.

Maya lost her smile. “I’m prepared to die, little sister, if that’s what it takes.” Shrugging, she said, “I was born to die. We all were. My life is lived in the now, the present. That is how the Jaguar Clan operates, as you know.” And then she eased the blue medicine piece from the neck of her flight suit. “See? I wear it twenty-four hours a day. It keeps me safe.”