Midnight Rainbow (17 page)

           
 
"Grant! Are you all right?"

           
 
"Yeah," he grunted, slipping his
right arm around her and crawling with her behind the shelter of a large
mahogany tree, dragging her like a predator carrying off its prey. "What
happened to the
Bren
?"

           
 
"He knocked it out of my hand… over
there." She waved her hand to indicate the general area where she'd lost
the gun. Grant glanced around, measuring the shelter available to him and
swearing as he decided it was too much of a risk.

           
 
"I'm sorry," Jane
said,
her dark eyes full of guilt.

           
 
"Forget it." He
unslung
the rifle from his shoulder, his motions sure and swift as he handled the
weapon. Jane hugged the ground, watching as he darted a quick look around the
huge tree trunk. There was a glitter in his amber eyes that made her feel a
little in awe of him; at this moment he was the quintessential warrior,
superbly trained and toned, coolly assessing the situation and determining what
steps to take. Another shot zinged through the trees, sending bark flying only
inches from Grant's face. He jerked back,
then
swiped
at a thin line of blood that trickled down from his cheekbone, where a splinter
had caught him.

           
 
"Stay low," he
ordered,
his tone flat and hard. "Crawl on your belly through those bushes right
behind us, and keep going no matter what. We've got to get out of here."

           
 
She'd gone white at the sight of the blood
ribboning
down his face, but she didn't say anything.
Controlling the shaking of her legs and arms, she got down on her stomach and
obeyed, snaking her way into the emergent shrubs. She could feel him right
behind her, directing her with his hand on her leg. He was deliberately keeping
himself between her and the direction from which the shots had come, and the
realization made her heart squeeze painfully.

           
 
Thunder rumbled, so close now that the earth
shuddered from the shock waves. Grant glanced up.

           
 
"Come on, rain," he muttered.
"Come on."

           
 
It began a few minutes later, filtering
through the leaves with a dripping sound, then rapidly intensifying to the
thunderous deluge that she'd come to expect. They were soaked to the skin
immediately, as if they'd been tossed into a waterfall. Grant shoved her ahead
of him, heedless now of any noise they made, because the roar of the rain
obliterated everything else. They covered about a hundred yards on their hands
and knees,
then
he pulled her upright and brought his
mouth close to her ear. "Run!" he yelled, barely making
himself
heard over the din of the pummeling rain.

           
 
Jane didn't know how she could run but she
did. Her legs were trembling, she was dizzy and disoriented, but somehow her
feet moved as Grant pulled her through the forest at breakneck speed. Her
vision was blurred; she could see only a confused jumble of green, and the
rain, always the rain. She had no idea where they were going, but trusted
Grant's instincts to guide them. Suddenly they broke free of the jungle's edge,
where man had cut back the foliage in an attempt to bring civilization to a
small part of the tropical rain forest. Staggering across fields turned into a
quagmire by the rain, Jane was held upright only by Grant's unbreakable grip on
her wrist. She fell to her knees once and he dragged her for a few feet before
he noticed. Without a word he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder,
carrying her as effortlessly as ever, showing no trace of the exhaustion she
felt. She closed her eyes and hung on, already dizzy and now becoming nauseated
as her stomach was jolted by his hard shoulder. Their surroundings had become a
nightmare of endless gray water slapping at them, wrapping them in a curtain
that obliterated sight and sound. Terror lay in her stomach in a cold, soggy
lump, triggered by the sight of the blood on Grant's face. She couldn't bear it
if anything happened to him, she simply couldn't___

           
 
He lifted her from his shoulder, propping her
against something hard and cold. Jane's fingers spread against the support, and
dimly she recognized the texture of metal. Then he wrenched open the door of
the ancient pickup truck and picked her up to thrust her into the shelter of
the cab. With a lithe twist of his body he slid under the wheel,
then
slammed the door.

           
 
"Jane," he bit out, grabbing her
shoulder in a tight grip and shaking her. "Are you all right? Are you
hit?" She was sobbing, but her eyes were dry. She stretched out a
trembling hand to touch the red streak that ran down his rain-wet face.
"You're hurt," she whispered; he couldn't hear her over the thunder
of the rain pounding on the metal top of the old truck, but he read her lips
and gathered her in his arms, pressing hard, swift kisses to her dripping hair.

           
 
"It's just a scratch, honey," he
reassured her. "What about you? Are you okay?" She managed a nod,
clinging to him, feeling the incredible warmth of his body despite the soggy
condition of his clothes. He held her for a moment, then pulled her arms from
around his neck and put her on the other side of the truck. "Sit tight
while I get this thing going. We've got to get out of here before the rain
stops and everyone comes out."

           
 
He bent down and reached under the dash of the
truck, pulling some wires loose.

           
 
"What are you doing?" Jane asked
numbly.

           
 
"Hot-wiring this old crate," he
replied, and gave her a quick grin. "Pay close attention, since you've
been so insistent that I do this. You may want to steal a truck someday."

           
 
"You can't see to drive in this,"
she said, still in that helpless, numb tone of voice, so unlike her usual
cheerful matter-of-fact manner. A frown drew his brows together, but he
couldn't stop to cradle her in his arms and reassure her that everything was
going to be all right. He wasn't too sure of that himself; all hell had broken
loose, reminding him how much he disliked being shot at—and now Jane was a
target as well. He hated this whole set-up so much that a certain deadly look
had come into his eyes, the look that had become legend in the jungles and rice
paddies of Southeast Asia.

           
 
"I can see well enough to get us out of
here."

           
 
He put two wires together, and the engine
coughed and turned over, but didn't start. Swearing under his breath, he tried
it again, and the second time the engine caught. He put the old truck in gear
and let up on the clutch. They lurched into motion with the old vehicle
groaning and protesting. The rain on the windshield was so heavy that the
feeble wipers were almost useless, but Grant seemed to know where he was going.

           
 
Looking around, Jane saw a surprisingly large
number of buildings through the rain, and several streets seemed to branch away
from the one they were on. The village was a prosperous one, with most of the
trappings of civilization, and it looked somehow incongruous existing so close
to the jungle.

           
 
"Where are we going?" she asked.

           
 
"South, honey.
To
Limon,
or at least as far as this crate will carry
us down the road."

           
 
Limon. The name sounded like heaven, and as
she clung to the tattered seat of the old truck, the city seemed just as far
away. Her dark eyes were wide and vulnerable as she stared at the streaming
windshield, trying to see the road. Grant gave her a quick look, all he could
safely spare when driving took so much of his attention. Keeping his voice
calm, he said, "Jane, scoot as far into the corner as you can. Get your
head away from the back window. Do you understand?"

           
 
"Yes." She obeyed, shrinking into
the corner. The old truck had a small window in back and smaller windows on
each side, leaving deep pockets of protection in the corners. A broken spring
dug into the back of her leg, making her shift her weight. The upholstery on
this side of the seat was almost nonexistent, consisting mostly of
miscellaneous pieces of cloth covering some of the springs. Grant was sitting
on a grimy patch of burlap. Looking down, she saw a large hole in the floorboard
beside the door.

           
 
"This thing has character," she
commented, regaining a small portion of her composure.

           
 
"Yeah, all of it
bad."
The truck skewed sideways on a sea of mud, and Grant gave all
his attention to steering the thing in a straight line again.

           
 
"How can you tell where we're
going?"

           
 
"I can't. I'm guessing." A devilish
grin twisted his lips, a sign of the adrenaline that was racing through his
system. It was a physical high, an acute sensitivity brought on by pitting his
wits and his skills against the enemy. If it hadn't been for the danger to
Jane, he might even have enjoyed this game of cat and mouse. He risked another
quick glance at her, relaxing a little as he saw that she was calmer now,
gathering herself together and mastering her fear. The fear was still there,
but she was in control.

           
 
"You'd better be a good guesser,"
she gasped as the truck lurched sickeningly to the side. "If you drive us
off a cliff, I swear I'll never forgive you!"

           
 
He grinned again and shifted his weight
uncomfortably. He leaned forward over the wheel. "Can you get these packs
off? They're in the way. And keep down!"

           
 
She slithered across the seat and unbuckled
the backpacks, pulling them away from him so he could lean back. How could she
have forgotten her pack? Stricken that she'd been so utterly reckless with it,
she drew the buckles through the belt loops of her pants and fastened the
straps. He wasn't paying any attention to her now, but was frowning at the
dash. He rapped at a gauge with his knuckle. "Damn it!"

           
 
Jane groaned. "Don't tell me. We're
almost out of gas!"

           
 
"I don't know. The damned gauge doesn't
work. We could have a full tank, or it could quit on us at any time."

           
 
She looked around. The rain wasn't as
torrential as it had been, though it was still heavy. The forest pressed
closely on both sides of the road, and the village was out of sight behind
them. The road wasn't paved, and the truck kept jouncing over the uneven
surface, forcing her to cling to the seat to stay in it—but it was a road and
the truck was still running along it. Even if it quit that minute, they were
still better off than they had been only a short while before. At least they
weren't being shot at now. With any luck
Turego
would
think they were still afoot and continue searching close by, at least for a
while. Every moment was precious now, putting distance between them and their
pursuers. Half an hour later the rain stopped, and the temperature immediately
began to climb. Jane rolled down the window on her side of the truck, searching
for any coolness she could find. "Does this thing have a radio?" she
asked.

           
 
He snorted. "What do you want to listen
to, the top forty? No, it doesn't have a radio."

           
 
"There's no need to get snippy," she
sniffed.

           
 
Grant wondered if he'd ever been accused of
being "snippy" before. He'd been called a lot of things, but never
that; Jane had a unique way of looking at things. If they
had
met up with a jaguar, she probably would have called it a
"nice kitty"! The familiar urge rose in him, making him want to
either throttle her or make love to her. His somber expression lightened as he
considered which would give him the most pleasure.

           
 
The truck brushed against a bush that was
encroaching on the narrow road. Jane ducked barely in time to avoid being
slapped in the face by the branches that sprang through the open window,
showering them with the raindrops that had been clinging to the leaves.

           
 
"Roll that window up," he ordered,
concern making his voice sharp. Jane obeyed and sat back in the corner again.
Already she could feel perspiration beading on her face, and she wiped her
sleeve across her forehead. Her hand touched her hair, and she pushed the heavy
mass away from her face, appalled at the tangled ringlets she found. What she
wouldn't give for a bath!
A real bath, with hot water and
soap and shampoo, not a rinsing in a rocky stream.
And clean clothes!
She thought of the hairbrush in her pack, but she didn't have the energy to
reach for it right now.

           
 
Well, there was no sense in wasting her time
wishing for something she couldn't have. There were more important issues at
hand. "Did you get any food?"

           
 
"In my pack."

           
 
She grabbed the pack and opened it, pulling
out a towel-wrapped bundle of bread and cheese. That was all there was, but she
wasn't in the mood to quibble about the limited menu. Food was food. Right now,
even field rations would have been good.

           
 
Leaning over, she took his knife from his belt
and swiftly sliced the bread and cheese. In less than a minute, she'd made two
thick cheese sandwiches and returned the knife to its sheath. "Can you
hold the sandwich and drive, or do you want me to feed you?"

           
 
"I can manage." It was awkward,
wrestling with the steering wheel and holding the sandwich at the same time,
but she would have to slide closer to him to feed him, and that would expose
her head in the back window. The road behind them was still empty, but he
wasn't going to take any chances with her welfare.

           
 
"I could lie down with my head in your
lap and feed you," she suggested softly, and her dark eyes were sleepy and
tender.

           
 
He jerked slightly, his entire body tensing.
"Honey, if you put your head in my lap, I might drive this crate up a
tree. You'd better stay where you are."

           
 
Was it only yesterday that he'd taken her so
completely in that cave? He'd made her his, possessed her and changed her,
until she found it difficult to remember what it had been like before she'd
known him. The focus of her entire life had shifted, redirected itself onto
him. What she was feeling was plainly revealed in her eyes, in her expressive
face. A quick glance at her had him swallowing to relieve an abruptly dry
throat, and his hands clenched on the wheel. He wanted her, immediately; he
wanted to stop the truck and pull her astride him, then bury himself in her inner
heat. The taste and scent of her lingered in his mind, and his body still felt
the silk of her skin beneath his. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to get enough of
her to satisfy him in the short time they had remaining, but he was going to
try, and the trying would probably drive him crazy with pleasure. They wolfed
down the sandwiches,
then
Jane passed him the canteen.
The Perrier was flat, but it was still wet, and he gulped it thirstily. When he
gave the canteen back to her, she found herself gulping, too, in an effort to
replenish the moisture her body was losing in perspiration. It was so hot in
the truck!

           
 
Somehow, even trekking through the jungle
hadn't seemed this hot, though there hadn't been even a hint of breeze beneath
the canopy. The metal shell of the truck made her feel canned, like a boiled
shrimp. She forced herself to stop drinking before she emptied the canteen, and
capped it again. Ten minutes later the truck began sputtering and coughing;
then the engine stopped altogether, and Grant coasted to a stop, as far to one
side of the narrow road as he could get. "It lasted almost two
hours," he said, opening the door and getting out.

           
 
Jane scrambled across the truck and got out on
his side, since he'd parked so close to the edge that her door was blocked by a
tree. "How far do you think we got?"

           
 
"Thirty miles or
so."
He wound a lock of her hair around his forefinger and smiled
down at her. "Feel up to a walk?"

           
 
"
A nice afternoon
stroll
? Sure, why not?"

           
 
He lowered his head and took a hard kiss from
her mouth. Before she could respond he'd drawn away and pushed her off the road
and into the shelter of the forest again. He returned to the truck, and she
looked back to see him obliterating their footprints; then he leaped easily up
the low bank and came to her side. "There's another village down the road
a few more miles; I hoped we'd make it so we could buy more gas, but—" He
broke off and shrugged at the change of plans. "We'll follow the road and
try to get to the village by nightfall, unless they get too close to us. If
they do, we'll have to go back into the interior."

           
 
"We're not going to the swamp?"

           
 
"We can't," he explained gently.
"There's too much open ground to cover, now that they know we're in the
area."

           
 
A bleak expression came and went in her eyes
so fast that he wasn't certain he'd seen it. "It's my fault. If I'd just
hidden from them, instead of trying to find you…"

           
 
"It's done. Don't worry about it. We just
have to adjust our plans, and the plan now is to get to Limon as fast as we
can, any way we can."

           
 
"You're going to steal another
truck?"

           
 
"I'll do whatever has to be done."

           
 
Yes, he would. That knowledge was what made
her feel so safe with him; he was infinitely capable, in many different areas.
Even wearily following him through the overgrown tangle of greenery made her
happy, because she was with him. She didn't let herself think of the fact that
they would soon part, that he'd casually kiss her goodbye and walk away, as if
she were nothing more than another job finished. She'd deal with that when it
happened; she wasn't going to borrow trouble. She had to devote her energies
now to getting out of
Costa Rica
, or at least to some trustworthy
authorities, where Grant wouldn't be in danger of being shot while trying to
protect her. When she'd seen the blood on his face, some vital part inside of
her had frozen knowing that she couldn't survive if anything happened to him.
Even though she'd been able to see that he wasn't badly hurt, the realization
of his vulnerability had frightened her. As strong as he was, as vital and
dangerous, he was a man, and therefore mortal. They heard only one vehicle on
the road, and it was moving toward the village where they'd stolen the truck.
The sun edged downward, and the dim light in the forest began to fade. Right
before the darkness became total, they came to the edge of a field, and down the
road about half a mile they could see the other village spread out. It was
really more of a small town than a village; there were bright electric lights,
and cars and trucks were parked on the streets. After days spent in the jungle,
it looked like a booming metropolis, a cornerstone of civilization.

           
 
"We'll stay here until it's completely
dark,
then
go into town," Grant decided, dropping
to the ground and stretching out flat on his back. Jane stared at the twinkling
lights of the town, torn between a vague uneasiness and an eagerness to take
advantage of the comforts a town offered. She wanted a bath, and to sleep in a
bed, but after so much time spent alone with Grant, the thought of once more
being surrounded by other people made her wary. She couldn't relax the way
Grant did, so she remained on her feet, her face tense and her hands clenched.
"You might as well rest, instead of twitching like a nervous cat."