In Too Deep (22 page)

Rod's mind was apparently working along the same lines because he suggested a deal.

“Why don't you let Cara go? This time you'll have me as your hostage. WHS is her company. She can stop the dam.”

Cara prepared to fight the idea of leaving Rod behind, but then the sense of it sank in. Jorge would never allow them both to leave. But if one of them were freed, at least they would be in a position to get help.

“And why would she want to do that, señor?”

“Because I believe it should be stopped,” she answered for herself, not feigning the response simply for his benefit. She believed the decision was the right one. “The cost is too high. The effect on the rain forest, the loss of Mayan history, the toll is simply too great. I could not recommend that the government proceed.”

“And if they disagree with your idealistic motives, will you build it anyway? There is, I understand, much money involved.”

“The money is unimportant. WHS will not accept the contract. They will have to hire another company, conduct another survey. The dam will be delayed for months, perhaps years. Your work...” She almost choked on the word. “Your project will be safe.”

Cara held her breath, praying that Jorge would take the bait. He smiled at her.

“And what is to prevent you from revealing my discovery the moment you leave this room?”

“You will have me,” Rod reminded him.

“And that is enough to guarantee her silence?” Jorge scoffed. “I think, perhaps, you flatter yourself.”

“No,” Cara said and looked directly into Rod's eyes, then back to Jorge.

“I love him,” she said quietly to the archaeologist. “So, you see, you will hold the ultimate weapon against me.”

Rod listened to the words roll off Cara's tongue so easily. They were like a blow below the belt, all the more painful because he knew they were a mockery. Still, he gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. She was playing the scene exactly right. He wanted her out of here, no matter the cost to himself. One on one, he could deal with Jorge. With Cara in the room, his hands were tied. He would do nothing to put her at risk.

Jorge seemed tempted by the arrangement. With Rod's nerves stretched taut and Cara sitting on the edge of her seat, the archaeologist paced the room. Finally, he stopped behind Cara's chair, his hands dropping onto her shoulders as if daring Rod to react. All of the color drained from her face. It took every ounce of control Rod possessed to keep from going for the man's throat. Only the sight of those hands so close to Cara's neck kept him in check.

“Let her go, Jorge,” he said evenly. “She will do whatever you ask.”

“I do not like leaving my fate in the hands of a woman.”

“You have little choice, unless you're prepared to kill us both here and now.”

Jorge hesitated still. Then, at last, he nodded decisively and Rod's muscles began to relax. “I will do it.” His fingers stroked meaningfully along the column of Cara's neck, raising goose bumps on the satiny skin. “But I will be watching you, Señorita Scott. One mistake and I will kill the man you claim to love.”

Rod caught the hastily masked look of panic in her eyes. “There will be no mistakes,” she assured Jorge. “I will arrange a meeting with the officials this afternoon and give them a verbal report recommending against the dam.”

“And then you will leave the country at once.”

With a quick, anxious glance at Rod, she nodded. “On the first available flight.”

At least she would be safe then, Rod thought. His own fate was of less consequence. Satisfied with the negotiations, the tension finally began to drain out of him, but not that alertness that kept him from trusting Jorge entirely.

With Jorge's blessing, Cara rose and went to the door. He turned the key in the lock for her, then took her arm in a grip that was bound to leave bruises on the pale skin. Rod grasped the arms of his chair so tightly he could feel the metal digging into his flesh.

“No mistakes,” Jorge warned one last time.

Cara swallowed hard, but her expression remained cool, professional. Though Rod tried to send her one final signal, she avoided his gaze. “You need not worry.”

Then she was gone and, though the door was once more locked, the odds, once again, had turned in his favor. He took advantage of Jorge's momentary distraction to reach for his flight bag. A kick sent it skittering across the floor beyond his reach.

“Do not be a fool. Even your woman would not be so stupid as to cross me.”

Then Jorge made his first mistake. He deliberately goaded him. “She is not unattractive. It is too bad she feels as she does about you or I might have had her for my own mistress.”

A surge of pure rage tore through Rod and sent him to his feet. He reached Jorge before the man had time to react, his fist connecting with that arrogant face with a satisfying crunch. He had just leveled another powerful blow at the man's stomach when he felt the press of cold metal against his own gut. It brought him up short. He knew better than to argue with a weapon at close range.

“Kill me and you lose your hold over Cara,” he said quite calmly. The muscles across his shoulders were bunched into knots, but his heart drummed with a surprisingly steady beat. He held his breath, though, and eventually Jorge backed down, eyes blazing furiously.

“Do not tempt me again, señor. I can always find the woman and see that she maintains her silence.”

Rod dropped back into a chair and managed a neutral expression. “So, what happens now? We can't stay locked in this room forever. Sooner or later, they'll want to empty the trash cans or dust the desk or something.”

“We will leave, when I say so,” Jorge said edgily.

“And go where?”

Rod pushed because he could see that Jorge had not thought this through beyond the moment. Rod wanted Jorge off balance, wanted his nerves on the verge of cracking under the stress. Already there were white lines of tension at the corners of his mouth. Fear glazed his eyes. Rod took his measure of the man and knew it was only hours until he broke. He had no intention of waiting that long to make his own escape.

“You will see when the time comes,” Jorge snapped.

Rod shrugged with indifference. “I don't suppose you could get us some coffee in here in the meantime. It's been a hell of a morning.”

Jorge regarded him as if he'd just suggested they import drugs.

Rod persisted persuasively. “What could possibly be wrong with asking a secretary to bring in a couple of cups of coffee? Everyone knows you're in the middle of an important meeting. It would be natural to want coffee, perhaps even some sandwiches. You look like you could use the meal as well as I could.”

He watched as Jorge struggled with himself. Eventually he must have decided that Rod's request would buy him some much-needed time. He called and requested that someone bring coffee and sandwiches.

They sat waiting in silence, the strain obviously mounting. When the rap came on the door, Jorge jumped, then rose and went to open it.

But instead of a secretary with lunch, he found Rafael and Maria.

And, then, all hell broke loose.

Rod took advantage of their unexpected arrival to leap from his chair. Hearing the movement, Jorge grabbed for his gun, only to have it wrenched from his grasp by Rafael as Maria screamed. Rod whirled the young archaeologist around and delivered another blow to his face, then one to his chin and another that split the skin above his eye. He was just getting started.

It took Rafael and two guards to pull Rod off of Jorge.

“You have won, my friend,” Rafael said, gently guiding him back to a chair. Rod's pulse was pounding, his knuckles scraped and bleeding, his need for revenge unsatisfied. It was Cara's voice that drew him back from his blind outrage.

“I was rather hoping you'd wait for me before pummelling the man,” she said.

Drawing in a deep breath, he looked up into amused blue eyes. “Take your best shot, princess. I doubt the guards would object.”

She shook her head. “It seems anticlimactic somehow.”

Instead, she moved to his side and knelt down, resting her head on his thigh. A sigh shuddered through her. “Are you okay?”

He stroked her hair. “Never better.”

“Promise?”

“You know me. I never lie... even when it hurts.”

Neither of them were aware when the guards took Jorge from the room.

“Leaving you here with him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, even though I knew it was the only way I could help,” Cara said.

“Thanks for sending in the reinforcements.” He gave Maria and Rafael a rueful smile, as he ran a finger along Cara's cheek. He shook his head. “I should have known you wouldn't just do what you'd promised and leave town.”

Maria laughed. “You must be very foolish, if you thought for one moment that she would abandon you.”

He glanced away from Cara long enough to see that Maria was standing close by Rafael's side. His arm was tight around her waist. “What brought you two back?”

“I would like to say it was some great insight, but it was little more than luck,” Rafael admitted. “Thanks to that talk you had with me, I finally decided it was time to put an end to the charade we have maintained for the past several years and get married. We came back to arrange for a small ceremony. We would like it very much if you two would come. Perhaps it would give you ideas as well.”

Rod purposely ignored the pointed suggestion and concentrated on offering enthusiastic congratulations.

“I'm just grateful they showed up when they did,” Cara said with heartfelt sincerity. “I was running through the museum like a crazy lady looking for help, when I ran into them. Fortunately, they believed me when I told them about Jorge. They had begun to wonder about his frequent absences from their site. They notified the guards. I was worried about getting past the secretary again, but she wasn't at her desk.”

Rod permitted himself a slight smile. “Inadvertently, I guess I played my part as well. I had Jorge send her for sandwiches.”

Suddenly Cara shuddered again. He could feel her scalding tears soaking through the cotton of his slacks. “Princess, don't, please. I hate it when you cry.”

She looked up at him them, her eyes shimmering, lips trembling. Her chin lifted proudly. “Then I guess you ain't seen nothing yet. Just wait until tomorrow when you have to put me on that plane back to New York.”

Rod's heart sank. So, then, she was still going and without him.

“We have tonight, though,” he said with feigned enthusiasm. “Let's make it a good one.”

* * *

Hand in hand, they left the museum with Rafael and Maria. After promising to attend the wedding, they were dropped off at a small, quiet hotel that promised enough hot water to wipe away days of grime, if not the memories. They shared the shower, after all. And then the bed. And then a delicious candlelight dinner. For Cara, there was a bittersweet agony to all of it.

How could two people so much in love hurt each other so? And she didn't doubt that Rod loved her. She'd seen the emotion shining in his eyes, felt it in the tenderness of his touch, the joy of their union.

Now as they lay together, her head resting on his chest, his arms tight around her, she knew the true meaning of serenity and contentment. She also knew it would die, if they forced their love to fit the mold either of them had chosen for their lives.

She tangled her fingers in the curls of hair on his chest, then pressed a kiss to the spot above his heartbeat, aware of the precise moment when it accelerated.

“Up here, princess,” he said in a ragged whisper.

She moved to meet his lips with her own, then tasted the salt of tears. His? Her own? It didn't really matter. They both knew what they were doing was right. It made sense. It was the only way.

And no matter how often they said it or thought it, it still hurt like hell.

The only thing that didn't hurt was this rush of feeling when their lips met, when his hand moved along the sweep of her back, the curve of her hips. The strokes and caresses—deep, powerful, intense—muted pain and brought an exquisite joy in its place.

The first time they'd made love, deep in the jungle, had been filled with the passionate hunger of newly discovered desire. Earlier tonight, there had been the urgency of two people who had survived and needed to prove that life went on. Now...now was the slow building of a tempest, a gentle reaffirmation destined to explode with the same heat of those other times. There was nothing tame about the two of them, nothing tame about their love.

Cara relished the wildness, even as she knew it had no place in her life. She would remember it, cherish it, but she would let it go. Tomorrow.

In the meantime, she soared with it.

* * *

Everything about the morning was painful. The sun shone too brightly for a day of goodbyes. Cara thought if Rod touched her just once she would shatter into a million pieces. They had said everything there was to say, except the words that would have kept them together.

When the phone rang, they both jumped. Rod reached it first.

“Yes, hello.”

Cara watched his face as he listened, saw the quick glance he cast in her direction. His jaw tensed. His complexion turned pale. Her pulse began to beat unsteadily.

“I understand,” Rod was saying. “Are you okay? Yes, she's here, but I'll tell her. We'll be on the next flight.”

Cara grabbed for the phone then, but Rod decisively held it out of reach and pushed the button to disconnect the call.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, infuriated by his peremptory manner. Then she saw the bleak expression in his eyes and her heart stood still. “What is it?”

“It's Scottie,” he said very, very quietly.

Cara felt a flood of tears in her eyes. She choked back a sob and looked at him. “Is he... ?”