Fire and Desire (Arabesque) (9 page)

It seemed that a full twenty minutes had passed before the men finally moved on. Corinthians was grateful. Her body was hurting from remaining in one position for such a long period of time, and the smoke from one of the men’s cigarettes had begun stinging her eyes.

When Trevor was sure the men had moved a safe distance away from them, he stood and pulled Corinthians up with him. “That was a close call,” he said. He began stretching to work the kinks and tightness out of his cramped body.

Corinthians followed his lead and began doing the same thing. “Did you understand what they were saying? Who are they? I could swear they’re the same ones from McDonald’s. But with those bandannas tied around their heads, I can’t be too sure.”

Trevor stopped stretching and turned to fix his gaze on Corinthians. He’d wondered if she would notice that they were the same two. But until he found out what was going on and how she was involved, he wouldn’t tell her that. “I understood a little of what they were saying, but not enough to make any sense out of it,” he replied truthfully. “Come on, I’m going to find a safe place where I can leave you before I go.”

Corinthians’s eyes widened. “Go where?”

“Back to the hotel.”

“Why? Shouldn’t we stay put until the police come?” she asked, not caring that her voice was quivering.

The look Trevor gave her was deep, intense and protective. “I’ll be back, Corinthians, but I need to go back to the hotel to see if I can help the others.”

He picked up the overnight bag. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Trevor left Corinthians in what he considered a pretty safe place. Using extreme caution and all the survival skills he possessed as a former member of the Marine’s Force Recon group, he made his way through the jungle of dense vines, overhanging trees and thick underbrush.

He tried to ignore the surge of adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, and the rush of energy consuming him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, out here in the wilds underneath the predawn sky, and the possibility of danger nipping close at his heels, he was within his element.

One of his special skills as a member of the Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance unit was his survival expertise. Within the special, elite group of highly trained men who engaged in special Marine operations, his fellow peers had considered him one of the best in that field. Because of the nature of the Force Recon, they had to be well trained on how to survive if they were ever caught behind enemy lines. All of them had been taught ways on how to escape their captors, how to hide out in the thicket of a jungle, and how to travel with special emphasis placed on what roads and paths to avoid.

Trevor crouched down when he saw the hotel in the distance through the trees. There had been approximately twenty-five people who had stayed at the hotel for the research summit. And no telling how many others had been there just for a little rest and relaxation. It would take quite a number of terrorists to handle a group that large of panic-stricken and hysterical people.

He had only seen five armed men when he had gone downstairs. At the time, after weighing all the factors and considering all his options, he had decided not to be foolish and to try doing anything heroic. His main thought had been on Corinthians and getting her out of the hotel. For some reason it had been of monumental importance to keep her safe.

Trevor sighed deeply, not fully understanding why he had felt such a strong need to protect her at any cost; even at the cost of his own life. Even now he was worried about her. He had discovered a steep slope that had been well-hidden by a cloak of trees whose overhanging branches had formed a canopy, making it the perfect hideout. And although he felt she was pretty safe for now, he didn’t want to leave her alone for too long. He had given her strict orders to stay put.

When he got closer to the hotel, Trevor tensed, ready for action. He slowly and silently made his way toward the regal six-floor structure. All was quiet. Too quiet, he thought, as he slipped into the dark alley of a vine-covered walkway that was adjacent to the hotel. All his senses were astute and on alert. His facial features became void of any expression. In the pit of his stomach he felt there was something about the situation that wasn’t right. Being careful not to be seen, he eased his body close to a window and peeped in. The lobby area of the hotel was empty. There wasn’t a single person in sight. He slowly eased his way around the other side of the building to check out the hotel from another angle. He then saw everything.

The large banquet room, the same one the dinner party had been held in that night, was in shambles. Tables had been overturned and the stage where the live band had performed had been destroyed. But what caught his eye was the fact that there were people in the room. Most of them were dressed in their sleepwear. Evidently they had been accosted from their rooms in the middle of the night. They were sitting on the floor as if in a trance and afraid to move.

Trevor frowned as he analyzed the situation before him in full detail. There was a look of total fear on all of their faces, from the youngest person in the room to the oldest. Why? As far as he could see from within the window’s perimeter, there wasn’t an armed terrorist around. So what was keeping these people immobile? He felt around the window for a latch to open so he could get inside.

“No,
senhor!
You mustn’t!”

Trevor swung his body around quickly, automatically going into attack position, ready to defend. With his body poised, his feet spread apart and his hands in midair with palms arched, his stance was symbolic of lethal readiness. The Force Recons’s special fighting skill consisted of four different types of martial arts that were blended together for maximum use. And his mind and his body were high-toned, keen and as sharp as a fine cutting edge.

“Please,
senhor,
don’t hurt me. I just wanted to warn you.”

Trevor’s body somewhat relaxed when he looked into the young boy’s tired and frightened face. He couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen years old. He’d remembered seeing him serving as a waiter during dinner, and had thought at the time that the labor force in this country started rather young.

Trevor wondered how the kid had managed to escape the terrorists. He even considered the possibility that the boy was one of them. It wasn’t uncommon for revolutionaries or terrorists to pull into their folds young innocents, who possessed a zeal for making changes, even drastic, radical ones. He tilted his head back and studied the boy. And the more he did so, the more his features depicted someone who was truly frightened and genuinely concerned. “Warn me about what?” he finally asked.

“The bomb.”

Trevor frowned as a wave of apprehension flowed through him. “What bomb?”

“The one those bad men left behind in the hotel. I was in the back when they came into the hotel. I was able to get out without being seen.”

The muscles of Trevor’s forearms hardened beneath the sleeves of his shirt. A cold knot formed in his stomach as he thought about the people inside the hotel. “What makes you think there’s a bomb?”

“Those men said so. They told everyone that a bomb has been planted in the hotel, somewhere in that room. And that any sound or any slight movement would set it off.”

The unwelcome knot that had formed in Trevor’s stomach moved higher to his chest, making it feel as if it would burst as he comprehended what the boy was saying. No wonder the people were all sitting around like zombies, afraid to move. “How many terrorists were there?”

“In the beginning there were about five, then another four men showed up later.”

“Where are they now?”

“They left around half an hour ago and took some of the people with them, all Americans.”

Trevor wasn’t surprised they had taken American hostages. “Which way did they go?”

“Half of them headed toward the mountains with the hostages. The others went through the jungle looking for the African-American woman. The one you were with at the dinner party tonight.”

Trevor’s body tensed and a pensive shimmer appeared in the shadows of his dark eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I overheard them talking when I was hiding out in the kitchen. I can’t remember everything they said, I only remember them saying that their leader was angry that she could not be found. I can only assume she was the one they were talking about because she’s the only African-American woman who’s been staying at the hotel. The leader told his men who went into the jungle not to return without her.”

Trevor’s face hardened. “How many men went into the jungle?”

“Three of them.” He glanced at the hotel. “
Senhor,
what can we do to help those people inside? Do you really believe a bomb is planted in there?”

Trevor knew enough about terrorists to know they were good in backing up their threats. In fact, to cause destruction for what they believed in was an honor. “Yes, I believe it.”

At that moment the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Help was coming. Trevor’s eyes darkened with intensity as he thought about everything that the kid had told him. He had to get back to Corinthians. She wasn’t safe alone in the jungle with three men looking for her. And until he was able to piece together what was going on and what part she played, it would be best if they hid out in the jungle for a while longer. He didn’t feel safe trusting the Brazilian police right now. He looked back at the young boy who was watching him with something akin to fear in his eyes.

“What’s your name?” Trevor asked the boy.

“Giovano.”

Trevor nodded. “Giovano, when the police get here, I want you to tell them exactly what you’ve told me about the bomb so they won’t go barging into the hotel. But under no circumstances are you to mention to them that you saw me here tonight or anything you’ve told me about the terrorists’ interest in the African-American woman. Understood?”

Giovano nodded his head yes.

Trevor reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of American bills. “This is for you,” he said, handing him the money. “I want you to do me a favor.”

Giovano’s eyes widened as his hand closed around the money. “What,
senhor?
”

“I have something I want delivered to Colonel Ashton Sinclair at the American Embassy. I don’t want it given to anyone but Colonel Sinclair. Understood?”

The boy nodded again.
“Sim, senhor.”

Trevor took off his Marine Force Recon signet ring and handed it to him. “Get this to him as soon as you can after you’ve finished up here. Tell him I’m somewhere in the Rio jungle. And you can tell him about the American woman.”

Trevor then turned and slipped away in the darkness.

W
hen Trevor returned to the hideout, to his surprise, he found Corinthians sleeping like a baby. She had taken the lightweight jacket he left with her and had used it as a pallet, and had used his overnight bag as a pillow. Her face was pressed against the palm of her hand to protect her skin from the rough material.

There was both delicacy and strength in her features, and her hair fell in a graceful slant around her face and over her shoulders. Even lying down, her breasts were uplifted and pressed firmly against her shirt, and her hips were well-defined and exquisitely curved against the fabric of her jeans.

He couldn’t help but remember the feel of her backside cushioned in his hand when he’d stopped her from falling off the ladder back at the hotel. The sweat that had formed on his brow at the time had had nothing to do with the danger surrounding them, but had had everything to do with the tempestuous feelings that had ripped through him when he had touched her so intimately.

Trevor moved closer and knelt beside her, unable to resist the temptation to reach out and gently move a few loose tendrils of hair out of her face. Asleep she looked peaceful, serene and, if possible, even more beautiful.

He watched her slow breathing and knew she must have been extremely tired to fall asleep in this wild, impenetrable place. The distance they had covered since leaving the hotel had taken its toll on her. He was used to occasionally operating under severe hardships, but she wasn’t. Yet she hadn’t complained or whined to him about anything. Even when he had left her here alone in the dark, she hadn’t voiced her disapproval. In the past couple of hours, he had discovered a strength about her that was at odds with some of his earlier assumptions. Corinthians Avery never ceased to both amaze and surprise him.

Trevor sighed deeply as he glanced down at his watch. From the looks of things, their exodus from the hotel was only the beginning. Until Ashton found them, they would have to move deeper and deeper into the jungle. There was no doubt in his mind that once his ring was delivered to his good friend at the embassy, he would organize a search party to find them. And he
would
find them. Half Cherokee Indian and half African-American, Ashton Sinclair had been one of the best trackers the Force Recon unit ever had.

Trevor glanced again at his watch. He hated waking Corinthians, but knew he had no choice. It was now daybreak, and they would be at a disadvantage traveling through the jungle during daytime hours. But it wasn’t safe to remain here in this place any longer. It was bad enough to be pitted against one hunter, but they had to somehow elude three. If the situation had been different and he’d only had himself to think about, he wouldn’t elude them at all. He would set a trap and let the hunters become the hunted and take care of them in his own way. But he couldn’t think of doing that now. Corinthians’s safety was at stake.

He looked thoughtfully at her for a moment, wondering why the terrorists specifically wanted her. He shook his head. Maybe he was reading more into it than there really was. It wasn’t that the terrorists only wanted her, they’d apparently been interested in taking all the Americans who were key players of the research summit team as hostages. And she had definitely been a key player.

Corinthians stirred in her sleep. Trevor reached out and stroked the side of her face. Her skin felt soft and smooth to his touch. He then advanced his hand lower, toward her chest. He caught himself and stopped within a few inches of her firm, high-perched breasts.

For crying out loud! What in the blazes was wrong with him? He’d been about to fondle her while she slept. Touching her should have been the last thing on his mind. What he should have been focusing on was getting them out of this area and moving them deeper into the jungle.

Angry with himself, he stood and backed away. “Corinthians, wake up,” he said more roughly than he’d intended.

His deep voice awakened Corinthians. She had a tendency to fall into a state of deep sleep whenever she was extremely tired, sometimes sleeping as long as twelve hours straight. She looked up at Trevor through sleep-filled eyes. With daylight breaking through the trees, the shadow of his unshaven face gave him an even manlier aura. His massive shoulders filled his shirt, and his stance emphasized the force of his presence. The way he stood over her was both appealing and compelling. An air of firm strength and virile command exuded from him.

She saw a muscle clench along his jaw, eliminating any traces of softness around his mouth and eyes. And when he continued to stare at her with those dark eyes of his, she felt a quickening in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to reach out and stroke his hard jaw and let her fingers slide across his smooth skin and…

Corinthians took a quick, sharp breath, surprised at where her thoughts were going. She momentarily turned her face away from him, afraid he might be able to read her mind. Evidently she was more tired than she had originally thought to even think such things. Sitting up, she turned and faced him again. His dark eyes were still on her. She refused to let him unnerve her and leaned her head back and met his stare, noting the tightness around his jaw was even more profound. She couldn’t help wondering what had him in such a bad mood.

It suddenly occurred to her that his mood might have something to do with what he had found upon returning to the hotel. A part of her was almost afraid to ask if that was the case. Before she could do so, his voice boomed out at her.

“We need to move on. Now.”

She blinked as the words he had spoken cleared her fatigued mind. “Why? Are the terrorists still at the hotel?”

“No, they left before I got there. Unfortunately, several persons were taken as hostages.”

Corinthians pushed herself into a standing position. The thought that any of the people she had met this week were among the ones taken was very disturbing. “What about the others left behind?”

“I didn’t see any casualties.”

She sighed deeply, relieved. “Thank God for that.”

“But the terrorists did leave their mark.”

“How so?” Her stomach clenched tight. She was afraid she was not going to like what he was about to say.

Trevor told her about the bomb. “But the authorities were arriving when I left. Hopefully, the bomb experts will be able to get everything under control.”

“I hope and pray they will. So now can we start heading back?”

“No.”

Corinthians’s brows raised inquiringly. “No? I don’t understand.”

Trevor wondered just how much he should tell her. The last thing he wanted or needed was a hysterical, worked-up and overwrought woman on his hands. His dark eyes met hers as she waited for an answer. “You and I are going deeper into the jungle to hide out for a while.”

Corinthians’s eyebrows slanted in a confused frown. “Why?”

“I think it will be for the best.”

She glared up at him, not understanding why he would feel that way. Evidently he liked being out here in the jungle playing soldier. If that were the case, he could look for another playmate because she wasn’t interested. “Well, I don’t think it will be for the best. I see no reason why we can’t go back to the hotel.”

The narrowing of Trevor’s eyes revealed his irritation and anger. “Well, I do.”

“Why? You just said the police had arrived,” she managed to say through stiff lips. Getting information out of him was like shedding cellulose from one’s thighs. It was nearly impossible.

“It’s not safe to go back there just yet.”

Corinthians sighed out loud in frustration. “That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because not all the terrorists went back to where they came from. There are three of them wandering around out here in this jungle somewhere,” he said in a deceptively calm voice.

“Then that’s all the more reason we should get out of here and go back to the hotel.” She reached down to pick up the overnight bag and found it was too heavy for her to lift. She wondered how on earth Trevor had carried it.

“You, of all people, can’t go back.”

Corinthians glanced back at him, narrowing her eyes. “And why not?”

“Because it appears the terrorists are interested in the American key players of the research summit. Those men lurking around out here have strict orders to capture you and take you to their leader.”

“That’s insane.”

“Then you tell that to Terry Mills, Sidney Wells, Keith Johnson and a few other Americans that were taken as hostages. That is, if you ever see them again. Their lives are now at the mercy of those terrorists. It’s a good thing Armond Thetas got called away unexpectedly from dinner last night. With all his money, he would have been a good catch for those terrorists although he isn’t from the United States.”

Corinthians nearly collapsed down onto the overnight bag. Her body began shaking. It was impossible to calm the alarming quakes that had suddenly torn at her insides when Trevor had mentioned the names of several persons who had been taken as hostages. They were men she knew professionally. They were men who just last night had laughed with her, had held conversations with her and had eaten dinner with her.

“But shouldn’t that be all the more reason we should seek police protection?” she asked quietly, still feeling stunned and disoriented by the news.

“Right now I don’t trust anyone. And neither should you. I have a lot of questions about all of this. And until I get some answers, I think we should stay lost for a while. I’m asking you to trust me on this.”

Corinthians’s brain was in tumult. She took a long, deep, steady breath to control her swirling emotions. She stood silent for a few moments, trying to absorb everything Trevor had told her. She knew what she would do. The bottom line was she did trust him. He had proven ever since that incident with those two men at McDonald’s that he was concerned with her welfare. And last night he had shown her just how far he would go to protect her when he had placed his body over hers when they had heard the gunfire at the hotel. He had used his body as a human shield to protect her. Although he could be an infuriating, exasperating and irritating man at times, deep down she knew he would protect her with his life. He had already proven it.

“But what if we get lost out here?”

“We won’t. And I’ve already sent word to a good friend of mine at the American embassy. He’ll find us in no time.”

“And you trust him?”

“Yes. He’s a fellow Marine who’s now a colonel. We started out in boot camp together in South Carolina and have worked together on a number of missions. I trust him with my life.”

Trevor took a few steps that brought him closer to her. He stood before her. The gaze that bored into her burned with heated intensity. “But most importantly, Corinthians, I trust him with yours.”

Corinthians shivered with the forcefulness of Trevor’s words. She was caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice. It wasn’t what he had said, but rather how he had said it. He had spoken the words as if her life meant everything to him. She took a deep breath, trying to control her thoughts, which were now running wild.

Get a grip, girl. Trevor Grant doesn’t even like you, remember. He’s just a man who possesses an instinct to protect, take charge of and defend. His attitude has nothing to do with you personally. Don’t be stupid and read any more into it than that. You mean nothing to him.

“And you think he’ll come?” she finally asked.

“He’ll come.”

She nodded. “But will he be able to find us out here?”

“He’ll find us. That’s the least of my worries. Now come on, we need to leave this place. It isn’t safe for us to hang around here any longer.” After she stepped out of his way, he reached down and effortlessly picked up his overnight bag.

Corinthians sighed, feeling dispirited. “I wish there was some way we could let our families and friends know that we’re okay. Once news of the terrorist attack hits the airwaves and we’re listed as missing, they’ll think the worst.”

Trevor nodded. He thought about his parents; his sister, Regina; and his close friends the Madaris brothers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to worry for long.”

But even as he said the words, he had a gut feeling it would be longer than he hoped.

Houston, Texas

Maurice Grant entered the barbershop where he had been getting his hair cut for well over forty years. Most of the men who came here had started coming as teenagers. And later as grown men they had eventually brought their sons here. Those sons were now bringing their own sons. It wasn’t uncommon to find three generations of men patronizing Mister P’s Barbershop.

“Good morning, Zack.”

“Same to you, Maurice. Go ahead and take a seat. You’re next in the chair.”

Maurice nodded. It seemed to him that Zack Peterson had worked here forever. He had originally opened the shop back in the early fifties. During that time a mom-and-pop drugstore had operated out of the building next door and had had a reputation of selling the best soda fountain drinks around. Unfortunately, the drugstore hadn’t been able to compete with the super–chain store pharmacy that had opened around the corner, and had been forced to close its doors a few years back. Now the building had been turned into a hair and beauty supply store.

Survivorship hadn’t been a problem for Mister P’s Barbershop. Even during the late sixties and early seventies when the Afro was popular and haircuts had been on the decline, business at Mister P’s hadn’t suffered. No one around town could wear a “‘fro” and not let Zack give it a neat tapering or a smooth trim. He had a way of giving your Afro that special Mister P’s look. Now, although Zack was getting on up in age, he was still a very popular barber around town. Everyone knew that during his lifetime he had cut the hair of such notables who’d passed through Houston as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Thurgood Marshall, Sidney Poitier, Smokey Robinson and most recently, actor Sterling Hamilton and movie producer, Spike Lee. One wall in the shop was plastered with photos of Zack with all those famous people and quite a few others.