Heart of Fire (11 page)

Ben snorted. "Then you deserve what you get with him. I hope you enjoy your little outing, because you sure as hell won't find what you're looking for."

"That's your opinion, and we all know what your opinion's worth," Rick put in belligerently.

Neither Ben nor Kates even glanced at him. "Oh, we'll find it," Kates said with assurance.

"Not without Jillian."

That gave Kates pause, and his good-looking face went cold. "What about Jillian?"

"She'll stay with me. Let's just say that Dutra hasn't made a favorable impression on her."

"And you have?" Rick hooted. "She thinks you're slime."

Ben allowed himself a complacent grin. "But good in bed."

Again Kates gave him a considering look. "You're bluffing," he finally said.

"What makes you think so?"

"Jillian wants to find this place more than any of us, so she can clear her old man's name," Kates said. "She won't give up the chance just because you're screwing her."

Rick frowned. "My sister? Gotta be kidding. Jillian's probably queer. She hangs around with a bunch of weirdos. Know what I mean?"

Sherwood was beginning to get on Ben's nerves, but he continued to ignore him. "Not just because of that, no," Ben agreed. "But take a good look at Dutra; if you were a woman, would you want to go anywhere with him in charge? Why the hell do you think I insisted that Jillian be on my boat? She flatly refused to get on the same boat with Dutra."

He
was
bluffing, of course. He'd already learned enough about Jillian to know that "stubborn" was her middle name. She had her mind set on finding this lost city, and God help anyone who got in her way. But he figured that both Kates and her brother underestimated her. Now, having been on the receiving end of her temper, and having seen the look of calm determination in her eyes when she showed him the pistol, he had an entirely different picture of the woman. It suited him, though, for the others to underestimate her.

He shrugged negligently. "Ask her, if you don't believe me."

Rick turned to obey. "Hey, Jillian!" he yelled. "Is Lewis really—"

Ben divined what the idiot was about to say a split second before the words came out, and that was exactly how long it took his fist to connect with Sherwood's gut. Rick's breath left him in a big whoosh, and he doubled up, clutching his belly. He coughed and began vomiting. Ben immediately stepped back, as did Kates.

When the spasm had ended, Ben knotted his hand in Rick's shirt and hauled him up on his toes. "Get sober," he advised in a voice that was devoid of his usual I-don't-give-a-damn tone. "And stay sober. Because if you say anything to Jillian that I don't like, I'm going to stomp your ass into the mud, whether you're in any condition to fight back or not. Is that clear?"

Rick tried to shove Ben's hand away, but Ben just twisted the fabric tighter. "I said, is that clear?" he barked.

"Yeah," Rick finally panted. "Uh—yeah."

"You'd better remember it." Ben released him with a little shove and turned slitted eyes to Kates. "Well, what's your decision?"

Kates didn't like it—in fact, he hadn't liked anything about this damn expedition since the minute the boats left the dock in Manaus—but what he saw in Lewis's narrowed eyes made him back down. He would cut the big-shot guide down to size, he swore to himself, as soon as they found the jewel and didn't need him
or
Jillian Sherwood any longer. He'd see how good Lewis grinned at him with an extra mouth sliced into his throat. But first maybe he'd let him watch while Dutra had fun with the broad.

"All right," he muttered. "I'll talk to Dutra."

"You'd better do more than just talk. If he even looks at me cross-eyed, he's out." Ben walked back to the first boat, aware of Jillian's sharply curious gaze on him. He was grateful that she had remained where she was, rather than coming ashore to see what the altercation was about. Probably she had done so in order to keep watch on Dutra. The idea of her guarding his back gave Ben a warm feeling.

Rick and Kates watched him go, both wearing expressions of anger and hatred in varying degrees.

"Son of a bitch," Rick said, wiping his mouth. "I'll kill him."

Kates gave him a furious look. Rick Sherwood was ineffectual, strictly small-time, though he swaggered and tried to pass himself off as a real hard-ass. His whining was getting on Kates's nerves; getting rid of him would be a pleasure, but for right now he had to endure the aggravation. "You're too drunk to kill a goddamn bug. He's right. Why the hell don't you sober up? You're no good to me like this."

"This stupid river is boring," Rick said, voice and expression turning sullen. "Nothing to do all day but just sit and watch the trees go by."

"Even Dutra is staying sober. Maybe we should leave
you
behind."

Still seething at how he had been outmaneuvered, Kates went over to where Dutra was swinging the machete with murderous power.

"I want to talk to you," he said, jerking his head to indicate they should step out of hearing, for all of the Brazilians spoke some English and he didn't want any eavesdroppers.

Dutra halted the swing of the machete and walked a few paces away. There was a chilling gleam in his eyes, an expression at once empty and savage. It even gave Kates an uneasy feeling. "I will kill him tonight," Dutra said, hefting the machete. His upper lip curled, showing his incisors. "With one swing, his head will bounce across the bottom of the boat."

"Not yet, damn it," Kates said. 'The woman won't cooperate without the bastard, and we have to have her. Just play along until we find the jewel. Then you can do whatever you want with both of them."

"I can make her cooperate," Dutra replied, his small eyes swinging to the trim figure aboard the first boat.

Kates was getting tired of having to deal with stupid people. "Just do what I tell you," he snapped, and walked away. Dutra's chilling gaze settled on his back, and the thick lips twisted into a feral smile.

"What was that about?" Jillian asked Ben quietly.

"We got a few things settled."

"Such as?"

"Such as, who's running things."

"Is that why you punched Rick? What was he about to say?"

Ben looked at her and was caught by her shrewd, level eyes. He could lie to her, but she'd know it. "He was going to ask you if it's true we've been… uh, having sex."

From the way her mouth quirked, he knew that she'd noticed the way he'd modified his phrasing at the last second. "What gave him that idea?"

"I told them we were," he said casually.

Instead of blowing up as he'd expected, she turned to watch the men working. "Any reason for that, or was it just the usual male bragging?"

"They were thinking about leaving me behind. I told them you wouldn't go on without me."

"Smart. But it won't get you inside my tent."

"It'll have to, at least occasionally. What we do in there is our business."

Again she gave him that look that pinned him to the wall. "You think you've outmaneuvered me, don't you? I can always stage an argument as an excuse to kick you out."

He put his hand over his heart. "You'd endanger me like that?"

"You're a big boy; from what I've seen, you can hold your own."

"Just remember," he said with a grin, "you're choosing between me and Dutra."

"Don't let it go to your head," she advised. "I'd choose a slug over Dutra."

The men had finished hacking out a clearing large enough so that they could sit comfortably and enjoy a measure of security. Within a month after they'd gone their way, the undergrowth would have taken over again and erased any sign of their having been there, but for now the vegetation was held at bay. Pepe swung aboard to begin unloading the alcohol stove, the lanterns, and the supplies for supper.

Jillian moved to help him, startling the lean little Indian, who ducked his head and shyly muttered his thanks in Portuguese, the first words in that language she'd heard him speak.

Ben was well satisfied with the day. He had backed Dutra down and gotten some control over the situation, at least until they found the lost city—
if
they found it. Kates was a smart man; he would keep his hired killer on a leash as long as he thought he still needed Ben and Jillian.

But more than that, he'd gotten his answer about Jillian. She was cool, all right, with that air of being indifferent, but a woman who was unaffected by a man wouldn't have been willing to pull a weapon and shoot somebody in his defense. A cold, passionless woman wouldn't have had the guts or the fire. She was a sham, hiding all that heat behind that cool act, but he had her number now. He'd known it from the time she swung at him with her purse, or at least his body had, but he'd let his mind fall for the charade. Hell, his body had known from the first time he'd met her.

Good old chemistry was a mighty funny thing. Whoever would have thought he'd have the hots for a too-slim, stubborn woman? A woman who seemed to see straight through even his best lines?

But she'd been willing to shoot Dutra to protect him. Something like that wanned a man's heart.

The meal ashore went smoothly, partly because everyone was glad of any excuse to get off the boats and partly because whatever Kates said to Dutra evidently had worked. After the meal was finished they lingered, reluctant to go aboard again. Jillian produced several decks of playing cards, which the men received with appreciation. She declined to join any of the games and sat a little apart from them, content to watch the fire. Ben decided not to play either and moved over beside her.

"Good idea. I didn't know you had the cards. Why haven't you brought them out before?"

"If I had, everyone would already be tired of playing. Now it will keep them occupied for several days."

"So you're a psychologist, too."

"Just common sense. I've been on digs before, so I know how boredom works."

"Aren't you bored, too?"

The firelight flickered on her face, revealing the little smile that barely moved her lips. "A little, but not as much as they are. I like this kind of life. Eventually I'd have to have some books, but I don't need television or telephones, things like that."

"Why didn't you bring a few books?"

She looked incredulous. "Give me a break. I'll be carrying enough weight in my pack as it is. I have two cameras, a supply of film, a tape recorder and microcassettes, extra batteries, a blank notebook, and waterproof pens."

"Don't forget your other little item," he said blandly, meaning the pistol.

"I won't, don't worry."

"Why two cameras?"

"In case something happens to one. In my experience, something usually does."

"So what else do you have in your personal stuff?"

This time her smile was bigger. "A whisk broom and a trowel."

"A
what
?"

"You heard me."

"What in hell do you need a broom for?"

"Those are standard tools for an archaeologist. What did you think we used, shovels?"

"Well, when I think of 'dig,' I sure don't automatically think of a whisk broom. Guess it takes a while to uncover anything at that rate."

"It can," she agreed. "But that way we do the least possible damage to the find. When everything lost is irreplaceable, you learn to be cautious. We won't be doing any actual excavating, anyway. I just want to find the place."

Her eyes were shining with enthusiasm for her work, though he didn't see how she could get so excited over old bones and buildings. Gold and jewels, now that was different.

"There's been a major new find in east Africa," she said. "At Ouosalla. It looks like an entire village, thousands of years old. I'd have given anything to be included on that team, but I was turned down. Wasn't even considered, really. So much is going to be learned about how people lived back then, and there's nothing like helping to put the pieces together."

"Why weren't you considered?" he asked. "Because of your father?"

"Yes." Her eyes lost their sparkle and she watched the fire a little longer. He almost regretted bringing up the subject, because he had reminded her of why they were there. A few minutes later she excused herself and went back aboard the boat.

For the first time since they had started out, it rained at night. Ben had been expecting it, as night storms weren't unusual. What was unusual was that the rainstorms, because of their timing and position, had thus far missed them at night, allowing them to sleep on deck.

Ben swung out of his hammock as the first cool wind hit him, and to his left Pepe was already on his feet. Ben shook Jillian awake. "It's going to rain," he said. "Get under the top."

The men unrolled the tarps and fastened them down, then turned a lantern on low to relieve the darkness. Sleepily they made themselves as comfortable as possible on the boxes of supplies; Jorge and Vicente almost immediately dozed off, snoring their unconcern over the weather. Floriano yawned and nodded off, woke with a jerk at a clap of thunder, then dozed again.

The rain began its loud drumming on the metal top. Jillian hugged herself into a knot to conserve body heat, and tried to curl up on the boxes. A sharp edge dug into her side, keeping her awake. Fretfully she sat up and shoved cartons around to arrange a better nest.

"Here." Ben moved over next to her and pulled her against his side, fitting her head into the hollow of his shoulder. "Better?"

"Mmm." His body heat was wonderful, liking pulling a blanket around her. She closed her eyes and began to sink into sleep.

"How 'bout this?" he whispered, but she could hear the smugness in his voice. It brought her eyes open. "I knew you'd be sleeping with me sooner or later."

Without a word she moved away and pulled a couple of extra shirts out of her pack. One she rolled into a ball and used for a pillow, the other she used to cover her bare arms. Before she went to sleep she had the regretful thought that she wished he had kept his mouth shut, because he was much warmer than her thin shirt.

Ben watched her curl up with her back to him, and he wished he'd had the sense to keep his mouth shut. She'd have been sleeping peacefully in his arms if he had.
He
might not have slept, but he'd've enjoyed the hell out of being awake. Now he was still awake, but there was nothing about it to enjoy.

Pepe turned the lantern off. The rain continued, the darkness lit only by the flashes of lightning as the storm moved on, the rumble of thunder gradually becoming fainter. A few minutes later Ben noticed that the rumble was growing louder again, as if another storm was blowing up. But the night air was calm.

"Pepe," he said quietly.

"I hear," the Indian replied.

"Wake the others."

Pepe moved silently about in the darkness, shaking the Brazilians awake. Ben did the same to Jillian. He put his mouth close to her ear. "We have unexpected company. Try not to make any noise. Just get down on the floor and stay there."

"Smugglers?" she whispered.

"Maybe."

He made certain she was in a sheltered position and then, going only by his sense of touch, fetched his shotgun. Around him in the darkness he could hear the faint clicks as the others found their weapons and readied them. He didn't dare use the radio to alert the second boat; the noise could have cost them the advantage of surprise. He only hoped that Eulogio, the Tukano who was piloting the other boat, had heard the engines and roused the men.

The approaching boat might not be smugglers. It might be pirates. It might even be some totally innocent people, caught out late on the river and looking for a safe place to tie up for the rest of the night. He didn't think the last scenario was likely, but just to be on the safe side he whispered for the others to hold their fire until they knew for certain, but to be
ready
.

The engine cut off, and silence fell. Ben felt his muscles tighten as he pictured the unknown boat drifting closer and closer. He whispered another command, and caught the edge of the covering tarp with his left hand, holding the shotgun steady in his right. He didn't want to let the newcomers get too close, but he wanted them within range of the shotgun's lethal power. Steady, steady…

"Now!" he barked, and the five of them simultaneously threw the tarps up and trained their weapons on the black bulk of the silently approaching boat. His eyes well adjusted to the dark, Ben could plainly see the dark figures poised on deck, as if ready to jump aboard the instant the hulls touched. A startled shout came from the unknown vessel as the dark figures scrambled irito action.

An instant later, a flashlight clicked on from behind and to Ben's left, pinning the scurrying strangers in a beam of light and plainly revealing the weapons in their hands.

Jillian! The realization flashed in his brain at the same time one of the pirates halted, brought a rifle to his shoulder, and jerkily fired in the direction of the flashlight beam.

"Get down, damn it!" Ben roared at her as the night erupted in gunfire. The pirate craft was only twenty feet away. He pulled the trigger on the shotgun, hitting the shooter and slamming him backwards. Ben pumped another shell into the chamber and fired again, this time splintering the top edge of the hull and sending long slivers of wood flying.

The flashlight beam still hadn't wavered.

Combat was an almost purely physical experience, without room for much thought or reason as instinct and learned technique kicked in. He felt the shotgun bucking in his hands, the heat of it like something alive. He felt the power of the gunpowder exploding, smelled the acrid tang of it hanging in the night air, heard the thunder of it. He also heard the screams and curses, the yells, the groans of pain. All of his senses were painfully acute, time slowing and stretching out so that seconds were like minutes, everything happening in slow motion. He saw and felt and heard everything, was aware of everything. He knew that the men on their second boat were also firing, their attack splitting the pirates' efforts at defense. He felt the hot rush of a bullet close to his head and instinctively fired again even as he dodged to the side, so they couldn't zero in on his muzzle flash.

Then, even through all of the noise, he heard the deep cough as the pirates started their engine and threw it into reverse, slowly backing the vessel away from the riverbank. Ben fired the shotgun a few more times to speed them on their way. When the pirates had enough maneuvering room, they swung the boat around and headed out at full speed. The wake washed against the two moored craft, setting them to bobbing.

Ben shouted at Pepe to check for any wounded. Then he whirled back to Jillian and grabbed that damn flashlight, but to his horror there was no hand holding it. "Jillian!" he said hoarsely.

"Here."

Her voice was amazingly calm, and came all the way from the stern of the boat. He turned the flashlight around so that the beam shone full on her face, making her blink as she crawled out from behind her shelter.

Confused, he looked down at the flashlight in his hand. If she hadn't been holding it, who had? "Are you all right?" he finally asked.

"Not a scratch. How about you?"

"I'm fine." Damn if they didn't sound as if they were about to sit down to tea.

Then she held out her hand. "May I have my flashlight back?"

He didn't release it, but instead kept it shining in her face. He was beginning to do a slow bum. "This is your flashlight?"

"Yes, and you're running the batteries down."

He clicked it off. "I told you to stay down," he said in a very level voice. "Instead you got up and flashed a light right in their faces. Goddammit, you made a perfect target of yourself."

"I did not," she shot back. "I braced the flashlight on some boxes, then reached up and turned it on. I was behind cover the entire time."

He thought about covering her behind with his hand and then maybe she would get some idea of just how serious he was. She didn't seem the least bit excited, as if she got shot at by pirates every day of the week.

"Don't you
ever
— " he began, his voice low and tight, but she coolly interrupted.

"The flashlight trick works every time as well as letting you see what you're shooting at. I've used it on grave robbers before."

He stopped. "Grave robbers?"

"Sure. Any new site is a target for grave robbers. Humans tend to bury a dead person's valuables with the body."

He had a mental picture of her crouching in an open grave, flashlight in one hand and pistol in the other. He rubbed his face and gave up. "Shit."

Pepe approached with a report. Floriano had been hit in the arm, but the wound wasn't serious. Everyone else was okay. The pirates had been firing wildly, their attack plan thrown into total confusion when they had, in effect, been attacked first. Both boats had taken some rounds, but the damage was slight. All in all, they had escaped very lightly.

Excitement made the men jumpy and they were slow to settle down, chattering excitedly between the two boats and rehashing the events over and over. Eulogio, as Ben had hoped, had also heard the pirates approaching and had the men on the second boat ready, so they had all been in on it from the beginning. After a while, though, when it became apparent that the pirates weren't coming back, they began to settle down. As a safety precaution, Ben set a guard, scheduling a change every hour so everyone would have a chance to sleep. The short watch time also ensured that the guard would be alert, just in case the pirates were stupid enough to double back for a second go at them.

Once the lanterns were out and everyone quieted down, the snoring began surprisingly soon. Ben wondered if they would have been as lucky if that thunderstorm hadn't roused them. Probably, since both he and Pepe slept like cats, awakening at the slightest unusual noise. But if the pirates had been smarter, if they had cut their engines a lot sooner and paddled in, things could have been a lot nastier. This time, chance had been on their side.

Jillian had settled down in her previous position on the boxes, and had dropped off as easily as the others. When he thought she was sleeping soundly, Ben moved closer to her and stretched out beside her, straightening his long legs. He wasn't actually touching her—not quite—but he was close enough to hear her breathing, and that let his taut nerves finally relax.

The damn boxes were fairly comfortable, he thought drowsily. Or maybe he was sleepier than he'd thought. He dozed, and woke up half an hour later to listen carefully. Everything was calm, the night denizens carrying on undisturbed. Jillian was soft and warm beside him. Instinctively he turned on his side and draped his arm across her waist, cuddling her closer to him. She made an incoherent noise of protest at being disturbed, but didn't awaken. Instead she adjusted her position against his warmth and then the deep breathing rhythm of sleep resumed.

Jillian woke up just before dawn, only minutes before the howler monkeys would begin their daily uproar. They were such effective alarm clocks that, after the first morning, she had invariably woken before the noise started, evidently in self-defense against being startled out of her skin.

Her first rational thought was that she was stiff and cramped from sleeping on the boxes; the second was that, regardless, she didn't want to move. There was something so comforting about waking up in a man's arms— Whoa.

That conniving rat.

She didn't doubt for a minute that he'd waited until she was asleep, then slipped over next to her so as to give credence to his lie about their sleeping together. It was also a sneaky way to cop a few feels, if he was so inclined, and nothing she had seen about him yet made her believe that he
wasn't
inclined. The man was a walking hormone.

His arm was lying heavily across her rib cage, his wrist snuggled between her breasts, his hand tucked into the little pocket between her neck and shoulders, but he was utterly still and she thought he must still be asleep. The strong, even movements of his chest as he breathed were so soothing that, even considering everything, she was a little reluctant to move. But she had to; it was time to get up.

Then she felt a definite movement that wasn't soothing at all, and she realized that she wasn't the only thing getting up. Ben was definitely awake. He thrust his hips firmly against her bottom, tightening his arm to hold her still.

She didn't waste time trying to tug his arm away, because he was far too strong for that. Instead she reached up and back, closed her fingers in his thick, tousled hair, and pulled with all her might.

"Ouch! Hey!" he yelped. "Hey!" He was up on his knees, trying to relieve the pressure on his scalp.

Jillian released him and rolled away, getting to her feet with a lithe bound. She gave him a pleasant smile. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

He rubbed his head and scowled at her. "The sleeping was fine. Waking up was hell, though."

"Then you'll learn to behave."

"It's not something I can control, damn it. Every man I know wakes up with a hard-on."

"Maybe so, but they do not—repeat,
do not
—rub it on me."

" 'Every man I know' wasn't rubbing it on you! It was just me!"

"And it was just your hair that I pulled, wasn't it?" she asked sweetly.

He growled something under his breath and turned away. Pleased with the exchange, Jillian turned around and saw four pairs of dark eyes regarding her with expressions varying from complete puzzlement to shock to amusement. Pepe was the puzzled one, while Jorge looked as if he might laugh aloud. Not knowing what else to do, she shrugged in a questioning manner as if it were all Ben's fault and she didn't understand any more than they did, and picked her way to the rear of the boat where the tiny closet of a toilet was.