Heart of Fire (7 page)

"Don't tell me," Ben said, closing his eyes. "Let me guess. They found the Amazons, and that's how the river got its name."

"Exactly."

"Bullshit."

"Most of it. Carvajal's journal is entertaining, but discounted by historians. It was the other tales, from different sources, that tied in and made my father curious."

"Such as?"

"He found five different sources for the Anzar fable. He couldn't find any connection between them, but the fragments of information fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. One tale was about the 'bloodless winged demons,' but that one also called them 'the devils from the great water.' It doesn't take much imagination to see the pale Spaniards coming ashore from their ships, with the white sails puffing in the wind like wings."

"All right, I'll give you that." He looked bored. "That isn't much of a stretch."

"The city of stone under the sea of green is obviously a city in the jungle, hidden by the canopy—so well hidden that the Spaniards couldn't find it."

"All of this is an interesting mind game, sweetcakes, but don't you have any hard evidence? I suppose you're trying to build a case that the friar's Amazons were really this Anzar tribe."

"Dad ran across a reference to the 'Stone City map.' He tracked that reference down and found another thread. It took him three years to actually find the map. He had it authenticated, and it dates back to the seventeenth century. It doesn't give the name of the country or even the continent, but it's quite detailed, with landmarks and distance notations."

He snorted in disbelief. "There aren't any landmarks in the jungle, none that last. The vegetation swallows everything up. 'Dust to dust' takes on real meaning here; you can almost watch it happening."

She ignored him. "The map refers to the Queen's Heart and pinpoints its location."

"So you think this Queen's Heart is some huge gem that's been sitting in the jungle all this time, and the map will take you right to it."

"It will," she said confidently. "Dad plotted out the course and encoded it."

"Say you actually find this place; I don't much think it exists, but let's say it does. What do you do then?"

"Photograph everything, document it, bring the proof back. My father was called a crackpot; his reputation was ruined by this theory, and so was mine. I'm going to prove that he was right. I don't care if there actually is a huge gem of some sort guarding a tomb; I want to find this city and prove that the Anzar existed. I love what I do, Mr. Lewis, but unless I can clear my father's reputation I'll never be anything but Crackpot Sherwood's equally loony daughter."

"Call me Ben," he said automatically, rubbing his chin while he considered the situation. "Even if there is some sort of lost city out there, what if it didn't belong to this Anzar tribe? What if the Anzar weren't really Amazons— and I gotta tell you, sweetcakes, the Amazons are way down on my list of possibilities—but just your ordinary, isolated Indian tribe that died out several centuries ago?"

"It doesn't matter. A lost city is a lost city." She had to make an effort to keep her voice brisk. His lazy speech cadences were contagious. "All I have to do is bring back proof of it."

"You know you're likely chasing a rainbow."

She shook her head. "My father did meticulous research. He wasn't a treasure hunter; he was a truth hunter. He didn't care if the myths he investigated were real or not; he just wanted to prove it one way or the other."

"But Kates is betting on finding a fortune in gold or gems. How did he get involved, anyway?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "Rick. He had all of Dad's old papers. I was at his place going through them when I came across the Anzar information. I admit, I was so excited I couldn't hide it—"

"Wish I'd been there."

She didn't let the lazy comment distract her. "Rick asked me what I'd found, and like a fool I just blurted it out. He grabbed the papers from me, but he couldn't read the instructions because they're in code. He got a little sarcastic then, asking me what made me think this told how to find lost treasure when I couldn't even read it. I told him I
could
read it, that Dad had taught me the code. I refused to tell him what it said, though."

"Bet that livened things up."

She smiled at the understatement. "I tried to interest several of my colleagues in the project. Everyone just laughed. I could tell what they were thinking; they were comparing me to Dad. An expedition like this takes a lot of money, and I couldn't do it on my own, but I couldn't find a backer. Not even the foundation I work for, and the Frost Archaeological Foundation is the biggest. Basically, they patted me on the head and told me to go away. I was so disappointed and depressed after being turned down by everyone I knew that I called Rick and told him there wouldn't be any expedition. I don't know why, except that I think he really loved Dad too, so he deserved to know. The next thing I knew, Kates was in on it and we were making plans to come down here."

"They didn't try to talk you into giving them the map and instructions?"

"Of course they did." She gave him a cool glance that told him how successful
that
effort had been. Then she bit her lip. "I don't know for certain, but I think someone searched my place."

"Kates, probably. Or someone he hired. He doesn't like to do the work himself. Did he get the map?"

"No. No one will find it where I put it."

"You don't have it with you?"

"Of course not! I'm not about to bring a four-hundred-year-old map along. I copied down the instructions, but as I said, they're in code."

He muttered something under his breath.

"What?" she demanded.

"I said, 'You must think you're Jane Bond.' They can't read the code and you won't tell them what it says, so they're forced to bring you along."

"Exactly. They would just loot the site rather than trying to preserve it, and Dad's reputation would never be cleared."

Abruptly his lazy facade fell away and he sat up, glaring at her with narrowed eyes. "And just how in the hell do you plan on stopping them?"

She braced her shoulders. "I don't know. But I bought a pistol."

He swore viciously. "And you thought that would solve your problem? Jesus. You bought a pistol. What kind, a pearl-handled derringer?"

"A .38 automatic."

"Do you even know how to use it?"

"I do. I'm an archaeologist; my work isn't in civilized places. I wasn't lying about having to kill my own food a time or two, and I've had to scare off some unfriendly creatures, both the two-legged and four-legged varieties."

He looked suspiciously at her purse.

"No, it isn't in there," she said, and smiled at him. "And I'm not buying your act. You found it when you searched my room, so you know I have a pistol, you know what kind it is, and you know
where
it is."

He smiled back at her, not denying the charge. Of course he had searched her room while he'd had the chance. "You have nice underwear."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Did you try it on?"

"Nah. Just rubbed it against my face."

Damn him. He probably had, too. The picture flashed into her mind and her stomach tightened. She still didn't want to show any reaction to him, but it was getting more and more difficult. He was wicked and blatant, and so damn masculine her nerve endings were tingling despite herself.

He was watching her, still smiling a little as he picked up the way her eyes dilated. Some reactions couldn't be hidden. Ben felt more than a little satisfaction at finally having gotten past her guard.

But there were more important things to talk about than sex. "Considering the situation," he said slowly, "why don't you decipher this code for me and I'll find this lost city, if it's really there, while you stay here out of danger?"

She laughed in his face. She didn't try to be polite about it, either. She crossed her arms over her stomach and absolutely hooted at the ridiculousness of the proposition.

"I take it that's a no."

"I don't know how you even said it with a straight face," she replied, still snickering. "Do you think I trust
you
?"

"You'll learn," he said cheerfully. "After all, since you insist on going along, we'll be sharing a tent. Yep, you'll learn real quick that you can trust me in a lot of ways. For one thing, I won't ever leave you hanging, sweetcakes."

She shot off the bed, control forgotten in the renewed surge of fury. "
Share a tent
!" she half yelled. "With
you
?" "Shhh." He motioned toward the door. "Anyone out in the hallway can hear you." He hid his satisfaction at her reaction, because if she saw it she would clamp down again. She sure had fooled him the night before with that iceberg image. The pure volcanic rage he'd seen on her face right before she'd begun walloping him with her purse had made his entire body tighten with excitement, just as it was doing now that he had breached her control again. "I don't care if they can hear me down in the lounge." "That's a possibility. Settle down, sweetcakes." She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. "We're going to get something settled, and I'm not it I'm not sharing a tent with anyone, and certainly not with you!" "I figure that's the only way Dutra will leave you alone." "I appreciate your gallantry, Mr. Lewis, but I'm not falling for this little gambit. Did you really think it would be that easy to line up your 'supply,' as you so charmingly phrased it last night?"

Damn, she wasn't going for it. But these were the early stages, and he was enjoying the game. He grinned at her, totally unabashed. "It was worth a try."

"I'll be sleeping with the pistol in my hand," she informed him.

"That's good to know, because I really wasn't kidding about Dutra. You may be safe enough on the trip in, because Kates won't want Dutra to harm you, but as soon as we find this place,
if
we find it, you'd better stay right with me. Okay?"

"Okay."

He looked surprised at her ready agreement. "What? No arguments? You'd better watch it, or I might start thinking you like me."

Jillian gave him a mockingly sweet smile. "I think I can prevent that from happening. I wouldn't want you going so far off track."

He gave a deep chuckle of appreciation and got to his feet. Instantly she felt a little overwhelmed by his nearness and tried to take a step back, but the bed was right behind her. He noticed the movement and sauntered even closer, so close that she could feel the intense heat of his muscled body.

Her breasts brushed against the hard wall of his upper abdomen and a hot tingle shot through her nipples. She stopped breathing, because even that small movement was too potent.

He wasn't doing anything, just standing there so close that his body was touching hers. She could feel his gaze on her face but refused to look up, both because she didn't want to see the sensuality of his expression and because she didn't want him to see her own involuntary response. His heat was wrapping around her, beguiling her, sapping her strength. She hadn't realized he was quite so big, but he had to be a couple of inches over six feet, and she already knew that he was all muscle. He would overwhelm a woman in bed—

No. She halted the wayward thought, appalled that it had slipped into her mind. She didn't want to think about him in bed.

"Jillian." He said her name in a softly cajoling tone. "Look up at me."

She swallowed. "No."

Another of those deep chuckles rumbled from his chest. "Stubborn." He moved then, sliding his left hand into her hair at the back of her head and pulling gently, forcing her face up. Just for a second she saw his eyes, glittering and intent, all amusement gone; then he bent his head and firmly angled his mouth to fit over hers.

She quivered, then stood very still, her eyes closed. The sudden flood of pleasure took her unawares. She had expected to endure it, nothing more, but found instead that she was tempted to open her mouth to his probing tongue. In a flash she saw that she had vastly underestimated his seductive skills. His mouth tasted clean, and smoky with whiskey; his lips were firm-textured but gentle in the way they moved over hers. She could have withstood brute force without even a scintilla of response, but force wasn't what he used; he lured with light, tender kisses that lingered; he tempted her with a hint of passion that she only glimpsed before he controlled it, beguiled her with his animal warmth and hard strength, invited her to rest against him.

Oh, God, he was dangerous.

She clenched her hands into fists, sinking her nails deep into her palms with her inner effort to resist. She didn't open her mouth to him, she refused to open her mouth, but she wanted to so fiercely that she shook under the strain.

He ended the torment himself, lifting his head after one last, lingering kiss that almost broke her resolve. "Sweet," he murmured, and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. Then those blue, blue eyes met hers, and he seemed satisfied by what he saw there.

"I'll have you yet," he said lazily. "Be sure to lock the door behind me."

But she just stood there, trying to get herself under control, as he walked to the door. He stopped and lifted his eyebrows at her, then took a step back toward her. Jillian was recovered enough that she narrowed her eyes wamingly at him. He laughed and lifted his hand in a little salute, then left without saying anything, a forbearance she appreciated.

After a minute she crossed to the door and obediently set the bolt and chain. Then she sat down in the chair he had just vacated and tried to bring order to her scattered thoughts. It was difficult to think, however, when all she wanted to do was
feel
, to revel in the wickedly delicious sensations he had aroused.

Why couldn't he have been simply what he had appeared at first, a raffish, disreputable guide who was too fond of his whiskey? She could have easily resisted that man, but the one he had revealed to her tonight, the real one, was something else. Despite that sexual brashness he was charming, or maybe that was part of his charm. She had never met anyone before who was so totally at ease with his sexuality as Ben Lewis was. But even worse, he was intelligent and tough; he had seen immediately that Kates was up to no good. Unfortunately, he had also seen how easily he could slip past her guard, and he'd taken fiendish delight in doing so.

She had to be a fool to willingly spend two months or longer in his company. She had supplied herself with birth control pills not because she was looking to have an affair but because it was common sense and basic self-protection. Anything could happen to a woman in a foreign country, in uncivilized circumstances. She would be alert, try to protect herself, but her relentless realism told her that the worst could happen. Protecting herself against Ben Lewis, however, would be more difficult, because she would have to resist herself, too. If he made love as well as he kissed, a woman could die of pleasure.

She could also die of other means, if she insisted on continuing. Dutra's presence made the expedition even more dangerous than before. But she was committed; she refused to stop now. If this meant her life, she was willing to take the risk, because this was her one chance to vindicate the professor and resurrect her own career. It was for herself, and for her father, the one gift he would appreciate above all others.

She was going to find the city of the Anzar. The others, Kates and Rick, were in it because of the lure of the Empress jewel, but she hoped it didn't really exist. It had been useful as the lodestone that had drawn so many people to search for the Anzar, searches she hadn't told Ben about, but if the Empress really existed it put them in grave danger from Kates and his henchman. If she was lucky, she would find only the city.

She was very much afraid, though, that the Empress was real. The professor had thought so. He had written that he suspected it was a huge red diamond, as colored diamonds were mined in Brazil. It would still be there, indestructible and undisturbed, possibly the world's largest specimen of the rarest diamond of all, the red diamond.

Red diamonds were of poor quality, because of the imperfections that made them red, but their rare color made them extremely valuable. The professor had been interested not in the Empress itself but rather in what it would prove. There would be no riches in it for him, only vindication, since archaeological sites belonged to the country they were found in rather than to the person who found them. The government of Brazil would be extremely pleased if the Empress was found.

She hadn't told Ben of all the references to the Empress, for if he realized how likely it was that the thing existed he might refuse to put them in such danger. As it was, he thought they would explore the jungle for a couple of months and find nothing. No Empress, no danger.

But the professor had found another map, far more detailed than the seventeenth-century one. That was where the actual instructions had come from, the instructions that he had copied. He had never lost his professional spirit of competition, and the slight paranoia that went along with it, so he had written the instructions in the code he had devised. Jillian's eyes filled with tears; she could just picture him, quivering with suppressed excitement and glee, as he encoded the information, making it all the more mysterious. He had loved things like that, which was why he had developed the code in the first place and then shown Jillian how to decipher it. She remembered the key, and the key was all that was important to breaking any code. Her father had called it a running code, since it changed with every word, but with the key memorized she could take a pad and pencil and decode it. The key itself was simple, if a bit obscure. She had no doubt that an intelligence agency could break it in little time, but it had served her father's purpose well, just as it was now serving hers.

The last map he had found, the one with the precise details of latitude and longitude, miles and yards, had been made in 1916 by an explorer who had ventured deep into the rain forest and found incredible ruins, a city that had rivaled those of the Incas, with what seemed to be a palace carved deep into a cliff of stone. The explorer had made it out of the jungle alive, but had succumbed to malaria. Tossing in high fever right before he died, he had muttered about seeing "the heart on the tomb," which everyone had taken to be a forecast of his own death. A pity, but not a difficult prediction.

Her father had been certain the explorer had stumbled on the hidden city of the Anzar, and had actually seen the huge red diamond but for some reason had been unable to retrieve the gem. After reading his papers, Jillian was also certain of it.

She had thought she would be able to protect the site, but now she didn't know. As Ben had said, the situation had changed. The odds were loaded on Kates's side now. The thought of the site being looted made her tremble with rage. She had pointedly told Rick before they left the States that the laws against stealing antiquities and national treasures were severe, but that countries often offered rewards for new finds as a means of preventing theft. He had shrugged off her concerns, carelessly swearing that he didn't intend to steal the diamond. Why go to all the trouble to steal something when you could make money from it legally?

In her occupation, she was well aware of all the angles. Why settle for a reward if you had a contact who would pay much more? She didn't think Rick had those kinds of contacts, but she was certain Kates did. Her opinion of him hadn't improved on acquaintance, rather had steadily gone downhill. He was too smooth, too… cold. She had no trouble believing the things Ben had told her about him.

She had to go through with this. For her father, and for herself. But just in case the worst happened and she didn't make it back, she would
not
let Kates get away with both murder and looting. The idea of looting infuriated her almost more than the thought of getting killed.

Briskly she got out a pen and pad and began writing. Twenty minutes later she sealed two envelopes, feeling grimly triumphant. She scrawled the hotel manager's name on one and the address of a colleague in the States on the other. She would privately give both envelopes to the hotel manager, with instructions to open the one addressed to him and promptly mail the other if she didn't personally return to retrieve their belongings. Inside, in both letters, she had outlined the circumstances. The Brazilian government might not pull out all the stops on her account, but she hoped they would at least investigate something as valuable as the Empress. And in a further effort to make certain the truth was known about the Anzar, and about her father, she hoped her letter, coupled with her own death, would cause enough interest that her archaeological colleagues would investigate the Anzar. It was a hope, nothing more, but she felt better having made the effort.

She thought about using the letters as a guarantee, telling Rick and Kates about them once they reached the site, but then realized that Kates would simply not return for his belongings. The hotel manager would assume that they had
all
died in the interior. If he ever did open her letter, it would be too late; Kates would already have left the country.

She would have to keep her precautions to herself, and her pistol close at hand. It was the best she could do. She was scared, but only a fool wouldn't have been. At least Ben would also be keeping his eyes open. She couldn't trust him sexually, but she thought she could trust him to try to keep her safe. After all, his neck was at risk, too.

"How long will we be on the boats?" Jillian asked, standing on the docks and watching the black waters roll past. Manaus was actually located on the Rio Negro, seven miles upriver from where the river would add its clear black waters to the yellow of the Amazon. The two currents were so strong that the rivers flowed side by side without mixing, black and yellow moving sinuously along like a huge serpent, for about fifty miles before finally merging their forces.

"Two weeks, give or take a day," Ben replied without looking at her. His attention was on the loading of the last of their supplies.