Reckless

A mindless little whimper of delight escaped her throat, the soft female sound making his arms tighten around her. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, then locked around his neck, hanging on to him for support. She couldn’t get close enough to him, though he was crushing her against him. The buttons of his shirt dug into her bare breasts, but she wasn’t aware of any pain. His mouth was wild, hungry with a basic need that had flared out of control, bruising her lips with the force of his kisses, and she didn’t care. Instead she gloried in it, clinging to him. Her body was suddenly alive with sensations and needs that she didn’t recognize, never having felt them before. Her skin actually ached for his touch, yet every stroke of his hard fingers made the ache intensify.

Boldly cupping her breast in his palm, he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb across her tightly puckered nipple, and Jane almost cried aloud at the surge of heat that washed through her. It had never been like this for her before; the urgency of the pure, brazen sensuality of her own body took her by surprise. She’d long ago decided that she simply wasn’t a very physical person, then forgotten about it. Sex hadn’t been something that interested her very much. The way Grant was making her feel completely shattered her concept of herself. She was a female animal in his arms, grinding against him, feeling and glorying in the swollen response of his body, and hurting with the emptiness deep inside her.

Time disappeared as they stood in the water, the late afternoon sun dappling them with the shifting patterns of light created by the sheltering trees. His hands freely roamed her body. She never even thought of resisting him. It was as if he had every right to her flesh, as if she were his to touch and taste. He bent her back over his arm, making her breasts jut enticingly, and his lips traveled hotly down her throat to the warm, quivering mounds. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked strongly, and she surged against him like a wild creature, on fire and dying and wanting more.

His hand swept downward, his fingers curving between her legs to caress her through the silk of her panties. The boldness of his touch shocked her out of her sensual frenzy; automatically she stiffened in his grasp and brought her arms down from around his neck to wedge them between their bodies and push against him. A low, gutteral sound rattled in his throat, and for a brief, terrified moment she thought there wouldn’t be any stopping him. Then, with a curse, he thrust her away from him.

Jane staggered a little, and his hand shot out to catch her, hauling her back to face him. “Damn you, is this how you get your kicks?” he asked, infuriated. “Do you like seeing how far you can push a man?”

Her chin came up, and she swallowed. “No, that’s not it at all. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like that—”

“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.

CHAPTER FIVE

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, fireproof 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.”

He grunted, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Jane clenched her jaw against the sudden chattering of her teeth. It was hot and steamy inside the dark tent, but chills were running up and down her body. Why didn’t he say something else, anything, rather than lying there so quietly? She might as well have been alone. It was unnatural for anyone to be that soundless, that utterly controlled.

“How was Dad?”

“Why?”

“I just wondered.” Was he being deliberately evasive? Why didn’t he want to talk about her father? Perhaps he hadn’t been hired by her father at all and didn’t want to be drawn into a conversation about someone he was supposed to have met, but hadn’t.

After a measured silence, as if he had carefully considered his answer, he said, “He was worried sick about you. Surprised?”

“No, of course not,” she said, startled. “I’d be surprised if he weren’t.”

“It doesn’t surprise you that he’d pay a small fortune to get you out of Turego’s hands, even though you don’t get along with him?”

He was confusing her; she felt left out of the conversation, as if he were talking about someone else entirely. “What are you talking about? We get along perfectly, always have.”

She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, but suddenly there was something different about him, as if the very air had become electrically charged. A powerful sense of danger made the fine hairs on her body stand up. The danger was coming from him. Without knowing why, she shrank back from him as far as she could in the confines of the small tent, but there was no escape. With the suddenness of a snake striking, he rolled and pinned her down, forcing her hands over her head and holding them shackled there in a grip that hurt her wrists. “All right, Jane, or Priscilla, or whoever you are, we’re going to talk. I’m going to ask the questions and you’re going to answer them, and you’d better have the right answers or you’re in trouble, sugar. Who are you?”

Had he gone mad? Jane struggled briefly against the grip on her wrists, but there was no breaking it. His weight bore down heavily on her, controlling her completely. His muscled legs clasped hers, preventing her from even kicking. “Wh-what...?” she stammered. “Grant, you’re hurting me!”

“Answer me, damn you! Who are you?”

“Jane Greer!” Desperately, she tried to put some humor in her voice, but it wasn’t a very successful effort.

“I don’t like being lied to, sugar.” His voice was velvety soft, and the sound of it chilled her to her marrow. Not even Turego had affected her like this; Turego was a dangerous, vicious man, but the man who held her now was the most lethal person she’d ever seen. He didn’t have to reach for a weapon to kill her; he could kill her with his bare hands. She was totally helpless against him.

“I’m not lying!” she protested desperately. “I’m Priscilla Jane Hamilton Greer.”

“If you were, you’d know that James Hamilton cut you out of his will several years ago. So you get along with him just perfectly, do you?”

“Yes, I do!” She strained against him, and he deliberately let her feel more of his weight, making it difficult for her to breathe. “He did it to protect me!”

For a long, silent moment in which she could hear the roaring of her blood in her ears, she waited for his reaction. His silence scraped along her nerves. Why didn’t he say something? His warm breath was on her cheek, telling her how close he was to her, but she couldn’t see him at all in that suffocating darkness. “That’s a good one,” he finally responded, and she flinched at the icy sarcasm of his tone. “Too bad I don’t buy it. Try again.”

“I’m telling you the truth! He did it to make me a less attractive kidnap target. It was my idea, damn it!”

“Sure it was,” he crooned, and that low, silky sound made her shudder convulsively. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Jane closed her eyes, searching desperately for some way of convincing him of her identity. None came to mind, and she had no identification with her. Turego had taken her passport, so she didn’t have even that. “Well, what about you?” she blurted in sudden fury. She’d taken a lot from him, endured without complaining, and now he’d frightened her half out of her mind. She’d had her back to the wall before, and had learned to strike back. “Who are you? How do I know that Dad hired you? If he did why didn’t you know that no one ever calls me Priscilla? You were sloppy with your homework!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, honey, I’m the one on top. You answer my questions.”

“I did, and you didn’t believe me,” she snapped. “Sorry, but I don’t have my American Express card with me. For God’s sake, do I look like a terrorist? You nearly broke my arm; then you knocked me out. You’ve bounced me on the ground like a rubber ball, and you’ve got the utter gall to act like I’m dangerous? My goodness, you’d better search me, too, so you’ll be able to sleep tonight. Who knows? I might have a bazooka strapped to my leg, since I’m such a dangerous character!” Her voice had risen furiously, and he cut her off by resting all his weight on her rib cage. When she gasped, he eased up again.

“No, you’re unarmed. I’ve already had your clothes off, remember?” Even in the darkness, Jane blushed at the memory, thinking of the way he’d kissed her and touched her, and how his hands on her body had made her feel. He moved slowly against her, stopping her breath this time with the suggestive intimacy of his movements. His warm breath stirred her hair as he dipped his head closer to her. “But I wouldn’t want to disappoint a lady. If you want to be searched, I’ll oblige you. I wouldn’t mind giving you a body search.”

Fuming, Jane tried again to free her hands, but finally fell back in disgust at the futile action. Raw frustration finally cleared her mind, giving her an idea, and she said harshly, “Did you go in the house when Dad hired you?”