The Treasure (19 page)

She looked in her travel book and didn’t find anything about woman-eating birds in the Amazon. It did little to ease her nerves.

Where was Brody? Distracting herself from the possibility that he had been shot and was dying or dead somewhere in the jungle was becoming even more difficult as the seconds passed. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, never had been, but this was pushing her limits. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t the safety of her bedroom. Her sisters weren’t here.

And Brody wasn’t here.

Oh, Lord. Where was he?

Images of him bleeding on the jungle floor flashed in head and her heart started to double-time it.

Stop, she ordered silently. Those thoughts wouldn’t do her any good. Brody was coming back.
Stay positive. Believe.

She drew in a deep breath, pulled the sleeping bag up to her neck and curled inside. It was going to be okay. Soon, she would be back in the states with her treasure, working at the B & B until she opened her own shop …

Something fell against the front of the tent and she screamed and pulled the sleeping bag over her head. Prayed it was only a branch falling off a tree. Seconds ticked by. Blood rushed through her ears.

The sound came again. Something slid down the zipper of the tent.

Oh, God. Something was out there. And it wanted in.

• • •

She couldn’t stay in here forever. Whatever was out there was coming in. No thin piece of nylon was going to keep it out.

Scrambling out of the sleeping bag, Amelia frantically searched their supplies for something she could use as a weapon. The zipper inched down slowly. One tooth at a time.

Oh, God, oh, God. Wrapping her hand around the shovel they had used to dig up the treasure she crouched in the corner, prepared to strike. Eyes wide, heart hammering in her chest, she watched the zipper lower itself.

Then it stopped. Halfway down.

Thud.

Silence.

Now what?

She couldn’t very well sit here all night. Reaching out with a shaking hand, she slowly finished unzipping it. Then jumped back, shovel raised over her shoulder, like a baseball bat prepared to swing.

It was too dark to see outside the tent. The lantern lay on its side, tipped when she rummaged for a weapon, so it was no help. But there was something there; a dark form, just outside the opening.

An animal? There were jaguars in the jungle. They were night predators. But they couldn’t unzip a zipper.

She started to sweat. Another bad guy?

Leaves rustled. The dark form moved.

With a cry, Amelia swung the shovel.

“Amelia, wait.”

The shovel flew out of her hands. Amelia tumbled out the opening after it. And landed on a still form.

“Brody?” she cried, grabbing his shoulders. When her hand touched something wet, she pulled it back and held it in the light.

Blood.

“Oh, God, Brody. You’re bleeding.”

“Just a scratch.”

She jumped into action and set the lantern upright, then grabbed Brody under the arms. “Can you move?”

“Get inside,” he said, rising to his hands and knees. His voice was thready, his body weaving.

“But — ”

“I’m on borrowed time, Amelia. Move.”

Borrowed time? Denial shot through her. No. He was
not
dying on her. She scrambled inside and helped him climb into the tent. When he dropped face down, she hurriedly zipped the tent to keep the bugs out and leapt to his side.

“Brody?” She shook his shoulders. No response.

Using all her might, she turned him over onto his back and gasped when she saw blood soaking his T-shirt. His face, pale beneath his tan, pulled tight. Her big, strong warrior was hurt, but he hadn’t broken his promise. Even bleeding and wounded, he had found his way back to her.

“Oh, Brody,” she whispered, swallowing tears. This wasn’t the time to break down. A nurse she was not, but basic first aid she knew. Caroline insisted they all learn it in case one of the guests at the B & B had ever needed emergency treatment.

Carefully, she rolled his shirt upward. A gasp escaped her lips when she saw the deep cut riding his right side, along the ribcage. It was gaping and raw, bleeding profusely. It looked like he tried to stop the flow with a torn piece of his shirt, but it soaked through. How much blood had he lost?

Her stomach turned at the sight of the open wound. Turning away, she forced herself to stay calm. Okay, so this wasn’t the same as someone having chest pains or a sprained ankle. She could handle it. Blood never bothered her. But this was a lot of blood. And it was flowing from the man she loved.

“Not helping,” she muttered, sucking in a deep breath. Brody needed her. It was her turn to take care of him. He would do it for her.

“All right. Here goes.” After a silent pep talk, she found one of his T-shirts and the first aid kit he carried in his pack. Moving the light closer, she opened the kit and opened packages of gauze pads.

“This might hurt,” she warned in case he could hear her.

Gently, she cleaned the blood off his skin and used the T-shirt to stop the flow by applying pressure. For what seemed an eternity she held the shirt firm against his side, until finally the blood stopped flowing.

“I have no idea how to put stitches in,” she told him. It felt better to talk. Kept her fears at bay. “But Mom did teach us three girls how to sew. I can hem pants and sew on a button. How different can this be, huh?” Her voice wavered and she swallowed hard as she found a needle and thread.

It took a few minutes to get the needle threaded because her hands shook so badly. Another couple minutes for her to gather courage to make the first stitch.

“This is going to hurt,” she said, took a calming breath, and pushed the needle through his skin. “Oh, God, sorry.” Tears floated in her eyes, her hand trembled, but she continued on. If she left that wound open, it would get infected. He would never survive. She would do this.

“Like riding a bike,” she murmured, closing the wound with another stitch. Her mom had been an incredible woman. She could make a burlap sack beautiful. Her girls were going to know how to sew if it was the last thing she ever did. An important task all girls should learn, she advised. A craft as old as time lost to this generation, but not to her girls.

Amelia never thought she’d be so happy to have learned the skill. Sewing wasn’t her thing, it was more Brit’s bailiwick, but she was thanking her mom right now for having the talent and determination to teach her.

Using the scissors, she cut the thread she had tied off. Then she cleaned the wound one last time, pleased with the nice, straight stitches. After cleaning up her mess and getting Brody settled on his sleeping bag, she sat back and curled her knees into her chest.

Reality hit her like a wrecking ball and she burst into tears. Crying into her folded arms for Brody, who still hadn’t woken up, for everything she endured on this trip. Fear of being lost in the middle of the jungle without him ate her up.

Fear of him walking away when this was over.

The thought made her cry even harder. Until now she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the future. Or lack of. Brody’s life was here. Hers was in Michigan. Worlds apart. He was a pilot. She was a pastry chef. Their worlds had collided in the present, but how would they ever have a future?

Needing to be close to him, she crawled across the tent and lay down beside him, fitting against his good side and laying her hand on his chest so she could feel his heartbeat. Exhaustion won and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

When she opened her eyes, it was to let out a groan. The sun heated the inside of the tent like a sauna.

“Brody?” She sat up, hopeful, but he was still asleep. His face wasn’t as pale as last night. He still gave no response. Worry skittered through her and she bit her lip. What if he never woke up?

With a shaky sigh, she checked his wound, put a fresh bandage on, and unzipped the tent to let in some fresh air. Deciding she needed some fresh air herself, she climbed out and stretched sore muscles. This sleeping on the ground stuff wasn’t for her. She couldn’t wait to get back to her nice, soft bed.

Turning back to the tent, she let out a gasp. There sat her treasure. Every ounce of gold and jewels still inside, sparkling in the bright sunlight.

“Oh, Brody,” she whispered, dropping to her knees and digging her hands through the gold nuggets. He risked his life for her. So she could have her treasure.

Not fool enough to leave it out for someone to steal again, she grabbed her bag from inside the tent, dumped out the contents, and poured the gold and jewels inside. The box was too ancient to throw out so she stuffed that in her other bag. Now no one would suspect a thing.

A groan came from inside the tent. Happiness filled her chest and she scrambled through the opening to kneel at Brody’s side. “Brody?”

His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. “Why are you crying?” he asked gruffly.

With a tearful smile, she threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank God.”

He winced and she drew back, remembering too late he was injured. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“What happened?”

“You showed up here bleeding last night. I stitched your wound. I hope I did it right. I’ve never put stitches in anything but fabric. There was so much blood — ”

Brody’s hand covered her mouth. “Amelia,” he said. “It’s all right. You did the right thing.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I did?”

He nodded. “Yes. You did. Just may have saved my life.”

She was crying in earnest now. The thought of losing him tormented her.

“Don’t cry.” The husky plea made her cry harder.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she admitted on a sob. “You took so long to come back. And … and then you did and you were bleeding — you scared me to death.”

“Come here.”

He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly, needing to feel his arms around her. She curled into him, taking comfort in his embrace. Her tears subsided until there were none left.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I sewed you back together, I deserve to know.”

His chest lifted in a sigh. “One of Newton’s guys got the drop on me. I got the treasure back, that’s all that matters.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. But, they won’t be coming after the treasure again.”

Dare she ask why not? Deciding some things were better left unsaid, she let it go and focused instead on having him back at her side.

“So we can leave now?”

“Yes.”

Relief shuddered through her. She was so ready to leave the jungle, and get back to life as she knew it. This trip had changed her; somehow she doubted she would ever be the same.

“You need time to heal first.”

“I’m good.”

Rising up on an elbow, she shook her head. “You were severely wounded. You need to get your strength back before we trek through the jungle.”

His eyes closed and she knew she was right. He was in pain. There was no way he was going anywhere soon. That was okay. She would rather wait a few days and see him heal properly than go now and risk his life.

“Relax,” she instructed. “I’ll go fix you something to eat.”

“Amelia … ”

“Don’t argue with me. I know you’re a loner and you don’t like anyone taking care of you, but that’s too bad. Deal. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

She left him no room to argue by grabbing his pack and leaving the tent. Rest was what he needed. It would help him get his strength back. There was no hurry to return. She had called her sisters from the drug lord’s house, so they wouldn’t send out the troops for a couple more days. The treasure was safe. Mr. Newton was out of the way. That left them nothing but time. And she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him before they returned to the real world. It was easy to forget reality in such a beautiful place.

But she wasn’t fool enough to think
Paraíso
would last forever. Soon, it would end and she would have to face facts. She would go home to Michigan. Brody would return to his charter business here in South America. Two worlds apart. Brody Kern was a loner bush pilot who lived in the jungle. She was a pastry chef whom wanted nothing more than to return home with her treasure and open the business she dreamed of. Aunt Pan made that possible and she was determined to live the dream.

Without Brody.

As much as that hurt, she was a realist. This had been an adventure of a lifetime and no matter what happened, she was going to cherish it for an eternity.

• • •

While Amelia slept, Brody moved out of the tent and transferred the treasure from her bag to his. Taking it out of the chest was wise, but the only way to keep her safe was if he carried it. Too many people would hurt her for the damn gold and he wasn’t risking her life.

He replaced a couple of items out of his pack into hers so she didn’t notice the difference in weight and put both packs back. Let her think she carried it, but he would keep her safe if it was the last damn thing he did. Newton was still a threat. And once they hit the city, there would be even more danger.

Amelia would be furious if she found out, but there was no other way. He would get her and her treasure safely home. Then he would face the consequences.

• • •

“Ready?” Brody asked when she stood with her bags, his sitting at her feet.

“Yep. Are you sure you can carry all that?”

His expression told her how ridiculous the question was as he leaned down and picked up the pack. The lines of his mouth were tight when he straightened and shrugged it on. Amelia quirked a brow at him, but he only scowled.

Stubborn man. Picking up that pack obviously caused him pain, but he was too obstinate to admit it, or lighten his load.

“Lead the way, Rambo.”

She suppressed a grin when his scowl deepened.

“Everyone’s a comedian,” he grumbled.

Amelia smiled at his retreating back. She was happy. Brody woke her this morning by making slow, sweet love to her. They had explored each other’s bodies, learning and committing. She did things with him she had never done before. Just remembering how he’d bucked and groaned beneath her touch made her body tingle. He pleasured her in more ways than she could count, gave the words “erogenous zone” a whole new meaning. Who knew her feet were so sensitive?