Jungle Inferno (2 page)

Damn!

Faith Wilding stared at her computer monitor in frustration, the screen empty except for the annoying cursor winking at her. The first three chapters of her latest political thriller were due to her agent by the end of the month and she hadn’t even written the first word. Not once since she’d sold her first manuscript had she ever been stricken with writer’s block. Today, however, it seemed as if something had swept her mind bare, knocking out every word or phrase that might be taking root.

She looked around her den, usually a place of comfort and inspiration. The warm earth tones on the rug that had been her grandmother’s were an accent on the polished hardwood floor. The couch and chair, covered in navy denim, showed traces of wear from all the times she’d lain or sat there reading manuscript drafts. The walls were lined with family pictures, faces smiling down on her with encouragement and support.

Usually this room unlocked her mind and opened the gates for her thoughts to flow freely. Not tonight. She could have been sitting in a sterile room for all the good it was doing her.

She rotated her head, easing the tension in her neck and shoulders. Maybe she should fix another cup of her favorite chai tea. Its energy might kick-start her brain.

I need you.

The familiar voice blasted through her mind.

Mark! Oh God, Mark.

Stunned, she tried to focus her thoughts but a white-hot pain pierced her body, stealing her breath. She clenched her fists against it and as it faded an image of Mark’s face, bruised and lined with pain, flashed briefly and was gone.

Faith leaned back in her chair, using the skills she’d been taught to control her breathing and slow her racing pulse. Running her hands up and down her arms she discovered a fine sheen of perspiration on her skin.

Mark!

She tried to pull the image back but it was gone.

Need you…captured…

Captured! Dear God. He’d reached out to her from wherever he was. But how could she find him? He could be anywhere. She felt as if a part of her body had been severed. Closing her eyes and pushing everything else from her brain, she concentrated on sending a reply.

I heard you. Where are you?

She sat perfectly still, eyes still tightly shut, blocking out everything else, focusing as she’d been taught, to strengthen her message.

Mark?

She waited but the only thing that answered her was the heavy silence. Either his strength had given out or something—or someone—had blocked him.

Finally she pushed her chair away from the desk and headed to the kitchen on legs not quite steady. Tea was definitely in order.

The last time she’d heard from Mark Halloran was two years ago. That time she’d been sitting in a Starbucks drinking a mocha latte and checking her schedule on her PDA when the message hit her. Startled, she’d nearly spilled her coffee and looked around to make sure he wasn’t just standing two feet away.

Hello, darlin’.

That whiskey-smooth voice had warmed her blood and made her smile. And remember the one long weekend they’d had together before he’d left on a mission.

Hi. Where are you?

Far away.

An image of him in a helicopter danced before her eyes, helmet securely on his head, rifle and other gear strapped to his body. As a Special Ops soldier, a member of the famed Delta Force, he was always in some far corner of the world on a mission that no one could discuss. Usually he was concentrating so hard on what he was doing there was no opportunity to clear his mind and reach out to her.

Miss you,
came the next message
.

Me too. You’ll never know how much. You still have my heart.

The image had changed to one of him naked, grinning, his blue eyes laughing at her. Her body had heated and every pulse point had begun to throb. She’d looked around her carefully, sure every eye was on her but everyone had appeared to be attending to their own business. She’d carried that short message and those images with her for a long time.

And now, tonight’s message. Shocking in its pain. Mark, stolid and steadfast.

Bastion of strength. A soldier with special skills who’d stared at death more times than she’d ever know about. Mark never asked for help. The anguish in his voice filled her with a sense of dread. Fear drenched her and a cold knot of it tightened in her stomach.

For him to send her this message the situation had to be out of control.

But where was he? What had happened to him? And what was wrong that the only cry for help he could get out was telepathically to her?

Leaning against the counter, sipping the hot tea, she thought about the first time they’d discovered their telepathic ability to communicate.

* * * * *

“Are you finished?”

Fourteen-year-old Faith sat up so quickly the book she was reading slid off the end of the table. The resulting noise drew several hushing sounds from others in the library.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she leaned down and picked it up, then looked around. Had someone just spoken to her? Out loud? In the library?

Shaking her head, she bent her attention again to the book in front of her.

Let’s get out of here.

She gripped her pen as she looked around again. There. In the corner. Mark grinning at her and winking. How had he done that, sent her that message? Sometimes during the past few years she’d had the feeling that she could almost—almost—hear his voice in her head but she’d passed it off as wishful thinking.

Several times she’d thought about calling Aunt Vivi and talking to her, asking her about it but she knew her parents would have a fit. Her mother’s sister was telepathic and she belonged to The Lotus Circle, an ancient society now resurrected and spread throughout the world via the internet. Its members were people with special abilities, always ready to help each other and provide assistance and comfort when necessary.

Despite how the rest of the family felt, Faith stood in awe of her. Did receiving Mark’s message this way mean, like her aunt, that she might be a telepath, also? The thought made her both anxious and excited.

Faith closed her eyes and built her reply in her head. Just to see if she could do it.

Leave now?

She opened her eyes to see Mark dip his head.

A tiny thrill skittered through her. Clearly she had the same gift as Aunt Vivi. But Mark! Where had he come by this? Who in his family had this special gift that had filtered down to him?

Faith closed her book and shoved everything into her backpack. Mark had already left the large reading room and she followed as quickly as she could She found him outside sitting on one of the broad stone steps, the quirky grin still on his face.

“It worked,” he told her.

“How did you do that?” She lowered herself to the step beside him. “How did you know you could do it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. A feeling. I kept hearing bits and pieces of people’s messages in my head. Strangers. I wanted to try this for a long time, to see if I could actually send a message to someone.” He grinned. “I wanted it to be you.” He reached over and took one of her small hands in his. At sixteen he already had the structure of a man. Tall body just filling out. Large, warm hands. Eyes full of mischief and a face on the verge of being rugged. All topped with a thick head of inky black hair.

To fourteen-year-old Faith he was the man of her dreams. The invisible bond between them had been forged the day they met, when Faith and her family moved next door to the Hallorans. The shy six-year-old was nervous about entering a new school and meeting strangers. Until the eight-year-old boy held out his hand and said,

“I’ll take care of you,” and helped her onto the bus. Something passed between them, as sharp as a bolt of lightning yet more comforting. Secure. Faith had raised her eyes to Mark’s, warmed at the sight of his smile and they’d been a team since then.

As they got older, on warm nights they sat outside counting stars and sharing dreams. When Mark dated now and then, Faith felt an unreasoning rush of jealousy but the thread that bound them still remained as strong as ever. And none of the relationships, even beyond high school, ever lasted.

For herself she had no desire to spend time with other boys. Assuming, of course, her parents would ever lift the restrictions and allow her something beyond group activities.

They’d always been able to read each other’s thoughts, even as tiny children. This had to be just a natural outgrowth of that. Didn’t it? Faith frowned. Or did she—and Mark—have a connection far beyond the ordinary?

“Heavy thoughts for a small person,” he teased, squeezing her hand.

She looked up at him and smiled. Even at fourteen the sight of him could make her heart stumble and her blood race. “Just wondering if we could do that again. You know. Talk without talking.”

“Maybe. It would be a nice thing when I leave for college in another year.” Mark had been accepted at Texas A&M and planned to become a member of their elite ROTC Corps. Then into the Army.

“It would save on telephone bills,” she joked.

“Tell you what. Let’s try it tonight when we’re at home. Maybe before we each go to sleep.”

“A-all right.” Talk to him while they were in their beds? She shivered.

“Cold?”

No. I’m having forbidden thoughts about you.

“Come on.” He put his arm around her and drew her close to him, giving her a quick squeeze. “I’ll drive you home. Don’t forget about tonight.” As if she could.

She could hardly wait for evening to come and darkness, so she could test this new phase of their relationship. At ten o’clock she climbed into bed, prepared to lie awake until whatever time Mark might send her a message. Knowing him it could be as late as midnight. But she had barely settled her head on the pillow and tried to clear her mind of any obstacles when she heard him. Sharp. Clear. As if he was standing beside her.

Hi, Tidbit.

His name for her since he’d shot up to his present height while she remained at a tiny five foot one.

Hi.
An image flashed across her brain like a flickering move. Mark, on his bed in nothing but his boxers. The same grin on his face. Faith slid down and pulled the blanket over her head, cheeks hot with teenage embarrassment.

For a long moment silence filled the room. Then faintly, she heard,
’Night.

Then the image was gone and so was the lingering sound of the message.

Faith turned over and hugged her pillow to her body. Was it possible to fall in love at fourteen?

* * * * *

Faith stood in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on her, hoping it would sweep the clutter out of her mind. She’d tried three more times to reach him, focusing her message, making her mind a blank except for that one image of him. Nothing. Now so many images of Mark were crowding together she couldn’t separate them from the latest one, so full of pain it hurt her just to think about it.

Lord, she missed him. More than she ever admitted to herself. The men she’d dated in college and beyond were merely pale imitations of the man who held both her heart and her soul in the palm of his hand. But so much separated them, things that kept getting in the way. College. The Army. Even her career to a small degree, although she could write anywhere. But Mark’s military assignments were so secret and required such focus he made the choice not to be distracted by her nearness.

Except for that one weekend. The weekend she kept tucked in her mind like a precious gem, pulling it out to warm herself in private. She thought of the one long weekend they’d had together. Unexpected and unexpectedly hot and sensuous. Who had known that their friendship would open up to a mind-blowing sexual connection.

But that was the only time they’d been able to communicate. That left only the telepathic messages but to Faith they were more special than anything. A means of sharing that shut everyone else out. Words. Images. Enough to keep them going.

They both knew phone calls and brief contact would only leave them wanting more, so by unspoken agreement they pushed everything to the back of their minds.

For now.

Until Mark felt he had honored his commitment to his country and they were both ready to think about the future.

Until tonight.

She closed her eyes and ran her hands over her body, remembering how it felt to have Mark’s hands on her. His mouth on her nipples. His fingers molding her breasts.

She slid her soap-slicked fingers down through the softness of her pubic curls and touched her clit, softly the way he’d done, just enough to tease her at first, then increasing both tempo and pressure until she was practically begging him to be inside her.

He’d laughed, a slow, sexy chuckle, and told her, “Don’t rush me. I’m planning on taking my time. I never thought we’d get to this point, so I don’t want to miss anything.”

And he hadn’t. Not one single thing. She realized suddenly that her fingers slipping into her cunt were a very poor substitute for Mark’s thick, hard cock. The tremors making the walls of her cunt quiver were a pale imitation of the spasms that rocked her when Mark fucked her.

Deliberately pushing the memories from her mind, she turned off the shower, squeezed the water from her long hair and reached for a thick towel to wrap around herself, another one to squeeze the excess water from her hair before using the blow dryer.

I can find him. I’m a writer. I know how to do research.

But this was a little more complicated than delving into a politician’s life. She wouldn’t be able to find people willing to talk. Or even acknowledge that they knew Mark Halloran or anything to do with his assignments.

She’d start with his parents. Maybe they had a tiny glimmer of where he’d been sent. At least the general region.

But first she’d call Aunt Vivi and go talk to her. If there was another telepath where Mark was being held who was erecting shields to block his mind, she’d need help to get around them. And help to strengthen her own abilities to send her messages to Mark.