Midnight Rainbow (10 page)

Then she realized that she had to trust this man; she had no alternative. He was all she had. It was dangerous, trusting him, but not as dangerous as trying to make it out of the
jungle on her own. He had shown flashes of kindness. She felt a funny constriction in her chest as she remembered the way he'd cared for her after he'd killed the snake. Not just cared for her, kissed her—she was still shaken by the way he'd kissed her. Mercenary or not, enemy or not, he made her want him. Her mind wasn't certain about him, but her body was.

She would have found it funny, if she hadn't been so frightened.

T
HEY MOVED DIRECTLY
away from the stream at a forty-five-degree angle, and it wasn't long before he stopped, looked around and unslung the packs from his shoulders. “We'll camp here.”

Jane stood in silence, feeling awkward and useless, watching as he opened his pack and took out a small, rolled bundle. Under his skilled hands, the bundle was rapidly transformed into a small tent, complete with a polyethylene floor and a flap that could be zipped shut. When the tent was up he began stripping vines and limbs from the nearby trees to cover it, making it virtually invisible. He hadn't so much as glanced in her direction, but after a moment she moved to help him. He did look at her then, and allowed her to gather more limbs while he positioned them over the tent.

When the job was completed, he said, “We can't risk a fire, so we'll just eat and turn in. After today, I'm ready for some sleep.”

Jane was, too, but she dreaded the thought of the night to come. The light was rapidly fading, and she knew that it would soon be completely dark. She remembered the total blackness of the night before and felt a cold finger of fear trace up her backbone. Well, there was nothing she could do about it; she'd have to tough it out.

She crouched beside her pack and dug out two more cans of orange juice, tossing one to him; he caught it deftly, and
eyed her pack with growing irritation. “How many more cans of this do you have in that traveling supermarket?” he asked sarcastically.

“That's it. We'll have to drink water from now on. How about a granola bar?” She handed it to him, refusing to let herself respond to the irritation in his voice. She was tired, she ached, and she was faced with a long night in total darkness. Given that, his irritation didn't seem very important. He'd get over it.

She ate her own granola bar, but was still hungry, so she rummaged for something else to eat. “Want some cheese and crackers?” she offered, dragging the items out of the depths of the pack.

She looked up to find him watching her with an expression of raw disbelief on his face. He held out his hand, and she divided the cheese and crackers between them. He looked at her again, shook his head and silently ate his share.

Jane saved a little of her orange juice, and when she finished eating she took a small bottle from the pack. Opening it, she shook a pill into the palm of her hand, glanced at Grant, then shook out another one. “Here,” she said.

He looked at it, but made no move to take it. “What the hell's that?”

“It's a yeast pill.”

“Why should I want to take a yeast pill?”

“So the mosquitoes and things won't bite you.”

“Sure they won't.”

“They won't! Look at me. I don't have any insect bites, and it's because I take yeast pills. It does something to your skin chemistry. Come on, take it. It won't hurt you.”

He took the pill from her hand and held it with a pained expression on his face while she took her own, washing it down with a sip of the orange juice she'd saved. She passed
the can to him, and he muttered something obscene before he tossed the pill into his mouth and slugged down the rest of the juice.

“Okay, bedtime,” he said, rising to his feet. He jerked his head toward a tree. “There's your bathroom, if you want to go before we turn in.”

Jane stepped behind the tree. He was crude, he was rude, he was a little cruel—and he had saved her life. She didn't know what to expect from him. No matter how rough he was, he would eventually disarm her with an unexpected act of kindness. On the other hand, when things were going smoothly between them, he would say things that stung, as if deliberately trying to start a quarrel.

He was waiting for her by the opening of the tent. “I've already put the blanket down. Crawl in.”

She knelt down and crawled into the small tent. He had spread the blanket over the floor, and she sat on it. He shoved their packs inside. “Put these out of the way,” he instructed. “I'm going to take a quick look around.”

She shoved the packs into the far corners of the tent, then lay down on her back and stared tensely at the thin walls. The light was almost gone; only a glimmer entered through the translucent fabric. It wasn't quite as dark outside yet, but the limbs he'd used as camouflage made it darker inside. The flap parted, and he crawled in, then zipped the opening shut.

“Take your boots off and put them in the corner next to your feet.”

Sitting up, she did as he said, then lay down again. Her eyes strained open so widely that they burned. Her body stiff with dread, she listened to him stretch and yawn and make himself comfortable.

Moments later the silence became nearly as unbearable
as the darkness. “A collapsible tent comes in handy, doesn't it?” she blurted nervously. “What is it made out of?”

“Nylon,” he replied, yawning again. “It's nearly indestructible.”

“How much does it weigh?”

“Three pounds and eight ounces.”

“Is it waterproof?”

“Yes, it's waterproof.”

“And bug proof?”

“Bug proof, too,” he muttered.

“Do you think a jaguar could—”

“Look, it's
jaguar
proof,
mildew
proof,
fire
proof and
snake
proof. I personally guarantee you that it's proof against everything except elephants, and I don't think we're going to be stomped on by an elephant in Costa Rica! Is there any other damned thing you're worried about?” he exploded. “If not, why don't you be quiet and let me get some sleep?”

Jane lay tensely, and silence fell again. She clenched her fists in an effort to control her nervousness, listening to the growing cacophony of the jungle night. Monkeys howled and chattered; insects squeaked their calls; underbrush rustled. She was exhausted but she had no real hope of sleeping, at least not until dawn, and at dawn this devil beside her would want to start another day of marathon travel.

He was totally silent in that unnerving way of his. She couldn't even hear him breathe. The old fear began to rise in her chest, making her own breathing difficult. She might as well be alone, and that was the one thing she absolutely couldn't bear.

“Where are you from?”

He heaved a sigh. “Georgia.”

That explained his drawl. She swallowed, trying to ease
the constriction of her dry throat. If she could just keep him talking, then she wouldn't feel so alone. She'd know he was there.

“What part of Georgia?”

“South. Ever hear of the Okefenokee?”

“Yes. It's a swamp.”

“I grew up in it. My folks own a farm just on the edge of it.” It had been a normal boyhood, except for the skills he'd learned automatically in the swamp, those skills, which had eventually changed his life by shaping him into something not quite human. He willed the memories away, pulling a mental shade down over them, isolating himself. There was no use in thinking about what had been.

“Are you an only child?”

“Why all the questions?” he snapped, edgy at revealing any information about himself.

“I'm just interested, that's all.”

He paused, suddenly alert. There was something in her voice, a tone that he couldn't quite place. It was dark, so he couldn't see her face; he had to go entirely by what his ears told him. If he kept her talking, he might be able to figure it out.

“I've got a sister,” he finally said reluctantly.

“I'll bet she's younger. You're so bossy, you must be an older brother.”

He let the dig pass and said only, “She's four years younger.”

“I'm an only child,” she volunteered.

“I know.”

She searched frantically for something else to say, but the darkness was making her panic. She felt herself move to grab for him, then remembered what he'd said about startling him, and about not making offers she didn't mean. She ground her teeth together and stilled her reaching hands,
the effort so intense that tears actually welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. “Grant,” she said in a shaking voice.

“What?” he growled.

“I don't want you to think I'm throwing myself at you again because I'm really not, but would you mind very much if I…just held your hand?” she whispered. “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid of the dark, and it helps if I know I'm not alone.”

He was still for a moment; then she heard his clothing rustle as he rolled onto his side. “You're really that afraid of the dark?”

Jane tried for a laugh, but the sound was so shaky that it was close to a sob. “The word ‘terrified' only begins to describe how afraid I am. I can't sleep in the dark. All the time I was at that wretched plantation I was awake all night long, never sleeping until dawn. But at least I could use that time to watch the guards and figure out their routine. Besides, it wasn't as totally dark there as it is here.”

“If you're so all-fired scared of the dark, why were you getting ready to hit the jungle on your own?”

A dark, handsome, incredibly cruel face swam before her mind's eye. “Because even dying in the jungle would be better than Turego,” she said quietly.

Grant grunted. He could understand that choice, but the fact that she had so correctly summed up the situation illustrated once again that she was more than what she seemed. Then again, perhaps she already had reason to know just how vile Turego could be. Had Turego raped her, or would it have been rape? With this woman, who knew? “Did you have sex with him?”

The blunt question made her shudder. “No. I'd been holding him off, but when he left yesterday…it
was
just yesterday, wasn't it? It seems like a year ago. Anyway, I
knew that, when he came back, I wouldn't be able to stop him any longer. My time had run out.”

“What makes you so certain of that?”

Jane paused, wondering just how much to tell him, wondering how much he already knew. If he was involved, he would be familiar with Luis's name; if he wasn't, the name would mean nothing to him. She wanted to tell him; she didn't want to be alone in this nightmare any longer. But she remembered George telling her once that secrecy was synonymous with security, and she quelled the need to turn into Grant's arms and tell him how afraid and alone she had been. If he wasn't involved already, he was safer not knowing anything about it. On the other hand, if he was involved,
she
might be safer if he didn't realize how deeply she was a part of things. Finally, to answer his question, she said, “I wasn't certain. I was just afraid to stay, afraid of Turego.”

He grunted, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Jane clenched her jaw against the sudden chattering of her teeth. It was hot and steamy inside the dark tent, but chills were running up and down her body. Why didn't he say something else, anything, rather than lying there so quietly? She might as well have been alone. It was unnatural for anyone to be that soundless, that utterly controlled.

“How was Dad?”

“Why?”

“I just wondered.” Was he being deliberately evasive? Why didn't he want to talk about her father? Perhaps he hadn't been hired by her father at all and didn't want to be drawn into a conversation about someone he was supposed to have met, but hadn't.

After a measured silence, as if he had carefully
considered his answer, he said, “He was worried sick about you. Surprised?”

“No, of course not,” she said, startled. “I'd be surprised if he weren't.”

“It doesn't surprise you that he'd pay a small fortune to get you out of Turego's hands, even though you don't get along with him?”

He was confusing her; she felt left out of the conversation, as if he were talking about someone else entirely. “What are you talking about? We get along perfectly, always have.”

She couldn't see him, couldn't hear him, but suddenly there was something different about him, as if the very air had become electrically charged. A powerful sense of danger made the fine hairs on her body stand up. The danger was coming from him. Without knowing why, she shrank back from him as far as she could in the confines of the small tent, but there was no escape. With the suddenness of a snake striking, he rolled and pinned her down, forcing her hands over her head and holding them shackled there in a grip that hurt her wrists. “All right, Jane, or Priscilla, or whoever you are, we're going to talk. I'm going to ask the questions and you're going to answer them, and you'd better have the right answers or you're in trouble, sugar. Who are you?”

Had he gone mad? Jane struggled briefly against the grip on her wrists, but there was no breaking it. His weight bore down heavily on her, controlling her completely. His muscled legs clasped hers, preventing her from even kicking. “W-what…?” she stammered. “Grant, you're hurting me!”

“Answer me, damn you! Who are you?”

“Jane Greer!” Desperately, she tried to put some humor in her voice, but it wasn't a very successful effort.

“I don't like being lied to, sugar.” His voice was velvety soft, and the sound of it chilled her to her marrow. Not even Turego had affected her like this; Turego was a dangerous, vicious man, but the man who held her now was the most lethal person she'd ever seen. He didn't have to reach for a weapon to kill her; he could kill her with his bare hands. She was totally helpless against him.