Into the Wild (13 page)

Spenser gripped River's shoulders. His gaze locked on those lush pink lips. “Keep flirting like that, angel, and you're going to get more than you bargained for.”

“I bet you know a lot of tricks,” she said in a breathless voice. “In bed, I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Ever done it in a tree?”

“You're confusing me with those monkeys you photographed.”

“There's always a first time.”

This would be the “charming him into doing
something stupid” part of the program. “Not this time.” He maneuvered her to the opposite side of the platform.

She snickered and glanced over her shoulder. “Get more than you bargained for?”

Touché.
“You're lucky I'm a gentleman.”

“Old-fashioned sensibilities.”

“Mmm.”

“Ever get tired of doing the right thing?”

“Trust me. I have lapses.” He clipped her rig to the next cable. “Here's the deal. Lana and Duke are waiting for us at the end of the line. The longer we take, the more worried they'll be.”

“Why are they worried?”

“Because zip-lining under the influence is dangerous.”

Her brow furrowed. “You're drunk?”

“I wish.” He had a painful hard-on and a knot in his gut. Unrelated to each other. Both related to River. Dulled senses sounded pretty good just now. He pointed to landing number four. “Think you can get there without stopping in the middle or giving me a heart attack?”

“No promises,” she said, then pushed off.

Spenser held his breath as she zip-lined to the next point, a little too fast for his comfort, but at least she didn't stop for pictures or hang upside down, arms stretched wide. How long did a coca tea high last? A natural stimulant, he'd known people who'd gotten a slight buzz from the leaf, but River's reaction was extreme. Would the effect slowly wear off or would
she crash? Either way, he wanted her on the ground as quickly as possible.

He soared to her side.

“Hey, why do you get to go really fast?” she asked as he finessed her to the next take-off position.

“Because I'm a trained professional.”

“As a trained professional, have you ever zip-lined across something like that?”

He looked to where she pointed. Didn't blame her for sounding nervous. A wide river and a nearby waterfall. “Something similar.” The expanse and decline were the most intense segment of this canopy tour. Normally, he'd be psyched, but he kept imagining the woman in front of him freaking out and falling down. He secured her rig then squeezed her shoulders. “Nothing to it, hon.”

“Then why do you sound worried?”

He didn't say.

She turned with a sweet smile and patted his arm. “Don't be scared. Just take it slow and don't look down.” And with that, she pushed off.

Spenser died a thousand deaths as she zoomed down the cable, full out, forty to fifty miles an hour, blonde hair whipping and voice screaming,
“Woo-hooooooooooooooo!!”

The little devil was having the time of her life.

He should've been pissed, but, dammit, he was impressed. Relief flooded through him as she slowed at the appropriate time and landed on the other side. Lana and Duke moved in and Spenser zoomed down—full out, fifty to sixty miles an hour. Heart lighter than it
had been since he'd entered Ecuador, he soared over one river with eyes on another.

His feet touched down, but he was still floating. Crazy. He pulled the laughing green-eyed angel into his arms and poured his soul into a kiss. Her response was passionate and he swore he'd died and gone to heaven.

His euphoria was short-lived.

With only a groan and a sigh as warning, River crashed in his arms.

“P
LEASE DON'T REPRIMAND
Nick” was River's parting plea to Lana and Duke as Spenser helped her out of the lodge's Suburban.

She'd awoken mid-ride feeling exhausted and slightly disoriented, but there was nothing wrong with her memory. She'd acted recklessly. Worried her hosts, Spenser's friends. She'd apologized to Lana and Duke at least a dozen times. They didn't blame her, but Nick…

Duke grunted.

Lana told her to get some rest.

River peered up at Spenser as he guided her up the wooden walkway to her bungalow. “They won't fire him, will they?”

“He broke company rules and put a life at risk.”

“I bullied him into it.”

“You charmed him into it.”

Her cheeks heated. She remembered manipulating that kid into doing something against his better judgment. She remembered flirting. With him. With Spenser.

“That stuff I said in the tree, intimating we should…”

“Do it like monkeys?”

She was beyond mortified. “I'm sorry.”

His sexy smile melted her already wobbly limbs. And he wasn't even
looking
at her. He was focused on the walkway. Good thing, since she was focused on him and dusk was fast approaching. One of them needed to see where they were going.

“I'm not usually like that. I'm not a tease.”

“I know.”

“I don't have indiscriminate sex.”

“I know.”

She frowned. “No, you don't. How could you? Maybe I'm a faithless sex fiend.”

“Are you?”

“No. But I'm not an angel, either. I know some tricks in the bedroom.”

That earned her a glance. “Really?”

Damn.
“No.” She looked away. A thousand self-doubts welled. “Maybe that contributed to David leaving me. Maybe he couldn't imagine a lifetime of
doing it
—lights off, missionary-style.”

“Is that how it was?” Spenser asked. “Every time?”

She felt compelled to defend her fiancé. Strike that.
Ex
-fiancé. She didn't know why. Wait. Yes, she did. Because it wasn't wholly his fault. “I like knowing what to expect. I thrive on routine.”

Or at least she used to. She'd been out of her comfort zone the last few days and, though she was battling
deep-rooted fears, at least she wasn't hiding from them. It was surprisingly empowering.

“Did he ever try to spice things up? Ever suggest—”

“No. He was always a gentleman. Always mindful and respectful and…” She blew out a frustrated breath. “It's not like I tried to spice things up, either. I felt uncomfortable taking the lead. Some men would find that, well, according to
Traditional Bride Magazine,
most men like to be in charge.”

“Most men like variety.”

“Meaning?”

“I like being dominant, but it's also a turn-on when the woman takes control.”

His words stoked erotic images and an intimate ache. “Really?” They'd reached her bungalow. End of the line. She thought about the bed inside. Thought about how sexy and vibrant and alive Spenser had looked zip-lining through the jungle canopy. “Never mind. Don't elaborate. I can't believe we're even having this discussion. I know. I started it. I'm not myself. I haven't been myself since…”

“David abandoned you?”

She flushed head to toe, burning with embarrassment and…anger. “Yes.” She turned away and braced her hands on the terrace railing. She stared out at the darkening jungle, flashed on painful memories.

“I had my life mapped out. I knew where David and I were going to live. Our combined income. What we could afford and what we should save for. I even planned
ahead for family vacations, invested in a Disney time share. By the time we had kids, we'd own a house in the best school district. We'd live there forever.

“A kid should have roots,” she plowed on. “A place, one place to call home. They should go to one school so they can develop solid, lasting friendships. Kids need stability. They need to know they can count on their parents—as providers and nurturers. The more stable the parent, the more confident the child.”

“So you want for your kids what you didn't have.”

Her stomach knotted. “Very perceptive.”

“Not really. Just working the puzzle.”

She turned, her anger simmering toward boil. “Stop saying things like that. Stop
looking
at me like that!”

“I wish I could. I don't want this, River.”

“There is no
this.
You keep intimating there's some thing between us. Something…special.”

“There is.”

“We just
met.
”

“Sometimes the heart knows at a glance.”

He looked so sincere. So…besotted.
He's a treasure hunter. A celebrity. An actor.
“What do you want from me?”

“More than I should.”

Why hadn't David ever said anything like that? Her heart pounded. With frustration. Anticipation. Or maybe it was the remnants of that coca tea buzz. She tucked her trembling hands beneath her armpits and rooted her feet. Pacing wouldn't do. “For the sake of argument,”
she said, in a controlled voice, “
we
would never work. You're a globe-trotter, a risk-taker. I'm a…”

“What?”

She grappled for the words and snagged Ella's observation from a few days before. “A freak of nature.”

Now he looked annoyed. “Who told you that?”

“My parents, my grandparents, the assorted distant relatives and ragtag friends my mom used to leave me with after my father barred me from traveling with him anymore. Okay, none of them called me a freak of nature, specifically. But it was implied. I'm a lightning rod for disaster.
That
they said.”

“Then your family did you a disservice, angel. Tell someone something enough times and they start to believe it. Especially a kid.”

“But I
am
prone to mishaps. Every time I travel somewhere remote or exotic. Every time I let down my guard. Every time I try something the least bit adventurous. I've only been in Ecuador three days and I've already suffered altitude sickness, been robbed, gotten lost, caused one man to get shot and another to lose his job.”

Spenser rubbed his hands over his celebrity-gorgeous face. “Let's take this in order. In these parts, lots of people get altitude sickness. Plenty of people get robbed, especially tourists. Trust me, it could have been worse. As for getting lost, there are methods to find your way without the aid of a map or GPS and I'm going to teach you. And as for Mel, he called. He's laid up but on the mend. That leaves Nick. Duke will give him hell,
rightfully so, but I don't think he'll fire him for one mistake.”

River nearly wilted with relief knowing Mel was mending and she appreciated Spenser's rational take on her recent calamities. But he didn't know her history. “What about the coca tea? I got whacked on medicinal tea, something people down here drink in abundance, according to Lana. She's never known anyone to have such an intense reaction. Have you?”

“No. But, for what it's worth, coca tea's illegal in the U.S. It's a stimulant, River. Coca leaves contain cocaine. A small amount, but according to Lana you drank the equivalent of two pots in less than an hour. By your own admission you went for almost two days with no sleep. You overindulged in alcohol the night before and had a harrowing experience this morning. Your system's off, that's all.”

He had an answer for everything. He had a way of making her feel normal. It was disconcerting and…a major turn-on. She backed away. “I'm in love with David.” She wasn't sure why she'd blurted that just now. Wasn't sure she even believed it anymore. How could she love one man yet be so fiercely attracted to another?

Your system's off, that's all.

Spenser opened the door to the bungalow and waved her inside. “You should get some rest. I'll have dinner sent over later.”

He didn't sound or look angry, but she knew she'd touched a nerve. She realized now that she'd brought up David to push away Spenser, except…she didn't want to
be alone. Night was closing in and so were her troubled thoughts. Thoughts about Bovedine, her dad, the curse and whatever had plagued Spenser's last trek into the Llanganatis. “Don't you want to talk about my dad's journal?”

“Later.”

She hadn't expected that. Given his interest in the lost treasure, she was sure he'd be anxious to pick her brain regarding Professor Henry Kane's
data.
“Just so you know, I won't let my phobias deter me from my goal to find my dad. I won't let you talk me into turning back, and if you abandon me—”

“I won't abandon you.”

Between the implied promise, his intense gaze and the testosterone-charged air, River's knees fairly buckled. She swallowed hard and licked her dry lips. “I've never known anyone like you.”

His gaze drifted to her mouth. “Just so you know, angel, next time you offer up sex, sober or buzzed, I won't say no.”

Her heart thundered in her ears as he turned to leave. “Where are you going?”

“To get drunk.”

“T
ROUBLE IN PARADISE?”

Spenser glanced up from his tequila and saw Duke.

Backlit by a citronella tiki torch, his old friend, a former army buddy like Andy, flashed a full bottle of Cuervo and an empty glass.

Spenser was happy to see the liquor. Not so much Duke he preferred to be alone. “Shouldn't you be inside, regaling your dinner guests with stories about the history of the Diablo Jungle Lodge?”

“Dinner was over an hour ago. I was fascinating, as always, but now guests are trading stories about their own backgrounds over complimentary bottles of wine. Lana sent me to check on you. She said you've been out here by the pool for three hours.”

“I like it out here.” Everyone else was in the communal dining area or hanging in the bar. Or, like River, tucked in their bungalow for the night. He appreciated the silence, the privacy. He had a lot to sort through. He'd even shut down his satellite phone. He wasn't in the mood to speak with his sister or Jack or Gordo or, God help him, Necktie Nate. He wasn't in the mood to speak with Duke, either, but booting the man from his own property seemed rude.

“Let me rephrase. You've been out here
alone
for three hours. Drinking.”

Spenser raised a brow. “Here to lecture?”

“Here to join you.” Duke dropped into the chair across from Spenser. He poured himself a drink. “Good thing I brought my own bottle. Yours is close to empty.”

“Lecturing.”

“Wondering.”

“About why I came back to a place I swore off?”

“We hoped it was a sign that you'd put the past behind you. We assumed you were preparing for another crack at the treasure. Maybe for the show. But Gordo's not here. And River…she's not like Jo. She's out of her element. What's the deal, Spense?”

“Heard of Professor Henry Kane?”

“Who in these parts hasn't? Locals buzzed about him for months. He was good for the economy, especially in Triunfo, where he hired help and purchased supplies. Now no one will utter his name.”

“Because they think he's cursed.”

Duke nodded. “People connected with the expedition started dropping like flies. A few illnesses. Typical accidents associated with the Llanganatis. You know how dicey it gets when the fog rolls in.”

Spenser drained his glass, wishing the liquor would burn away memories like it burned the back of his throat.

“But then there were out-and-out murders,” Duke went on. “One of Kane's most trusted guides was stabbed to death in Baños. Another, the last one to
deliver provisions to a designated drop-off point, followed the professor back up Cerro Hermoso and got a spear through the heart. Though no one witnessed the attack, they say Kane himself chucked that spear.”

All of this was old news to Spenser, yet it still made him uneasy. “Kane's not a killer.”

“In that last month, he slipped away, alone, for days at a time. He warned his guides not to follow him—at the risk of death.”

“I still don't buy it.”

Duke shrugged and poured them both a drink. “I assume you knew him.”

“Mostly by reputation but, yeah, we met.” Spenser flashed on their animated and extensive talk about the Seven Cities of Cibola. The man was eccentric and obsessed, but fascinating. And kind. At least that had been his impression and Spenser's instincts were top notch.

“The Llanganatis lure explorers from all over the world. Every man, every team has a story.
You
have a story. Two of them, for Christ's sake. Why the pointed interest in Professor Kane?” Duke asked.

“He's River's dad.”

“Damn.”

Everything happens for a reason,
one of Spenser's favorite clichés, whispered through his brain. Along with,
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
He was sick to death of the guilt. If this was some sort of cosmic shot at redemption, he'd be a cowardly ass not to take it.

“You know,” said Duke, “rumor has it Kane's loco or dead.”

“I know. River suspects. She's still committed to finding him.”

Duke sipped his drink.

Spenser tensed. “She's tougher than she looks.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

“You're in love with her.”

He was. But given his history and these circumstances, he feared the admission would be as good as a death sentence. “I don't even know her. We only met three days ago.”

“I was head over heels for Lana the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“That was different. She wasn't hung up on some other guy.”

Duke paused mid-sip. “Déjà vu.”

Spenser suppressed a surge of panic. “River isn't anything like Jo.”

“No, she's not. But you were in love with Jo and Jo was in love with Andy.”

“And I was convinced I could win her over.” Shameful memories battered Spenser. He drank more tequila to dull the pain.

“The other guy—”

“River's ex-fiancé.”

“Any chance he'll show on the scene?”

Spenser hadn't considered that. “I don't think so. He dumped her at the altar. Joined an extreme tour. Doubt he even knows or cares where she is.”

“You don't know that for sure.” Duke drummed his
fingers on the wicker table. “What if he has second thoughts? Gets drunk one night and calls River, hoping to reconcile? What if he learns she's having a family crisis and races to her aid?”

Spenser said nothing.

“Where's the tour?”

“Peru.”

Duke stared. “Fuck sake, Spense.”

If so inclined and if fate was a truly cruel cocksucker, David could be in the Llanganatis in a matter of hours. Then it would be Spenser, River and David. A triangle of old and wannabe lovers.

Déjà vu.

Almost.

“Difference is,” Spenser said mid-thought, “we're not searching for Atahualpa's ransom. We're searching for River's father.”

“Who was searching for Atahualpa's ransom.”

Again, Spenser held silent.

“Facing your demons and hoping to dodge the curse. Tough assignment.”

“You're not a superstitious man, Duke.”

“No, but you are. At least where Atahualpa's ransom is concerned. No wonder you're getting shitfaced.”

Spenser topped off his glass. He wasn't drunk, but he was getting there. It wasn't solely about numbing his self to the past, but to River. Even though he'd sensed and felt her desire, she kept throwing up roadblocks. Namely David. It was too close to his dealings with Jo for comfort.

Duke sighed. “Tough is relative. River won't be able to heft the supplies for a three-day journey. And that's if the weather cooperates. Which it usually doesn't. You should allow for a week or two. You need help.”

“She won't like it.”

“Do you care?”

Spenser grunted. What he cared about was River's safety. His mind ticked ahead.

“Normally I'd suggest a few reliable guides, but as soon as you mention Kane's name—”

“I have someone in mind.”

Duke angled his head. “Gordo?”

“If I invited Gordo, River would assume he was here on business. To film the journey.”

“You have to admit it would make a hell of an episode for
Into the Wild.
”

“I know, but I can't go there.”

“Okay. Not Gordo. Who then?”

“Cyrus Lassiter. He's made more trips into Llanganatis than anyone I know.”

“Can't argue that. Still—”

“Like you said, no one else will do it. Plus, I like Cy.”

“Don't see how that figures as a credential, but you would.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Means I saw Andy's faults. You didn't. When you're ready to have that discussion, let me know.” Duke stood. “The lodge is booked solid, but if you need somewhere to crash, Lana and I have a pullout sofa—”

“I'm good. Thanks.” He'd already resigned himself to the hammock on River's terrace. He just needed some time. Some space. If he was lucky, he'd pass out from the booze instead of lying there, pondering ways to seduce her or obsessing on the challenge ahead.

“Would it help if I told you,
again,
that you weren't at fault for Andy's death?”

“No. But thanks.” Heart heavy, Spenser watched his old friend go. He blocked welling memories of his army days, the good times, the bad times, the times spent with Duke and Andy. He especially didn't want to think about Andy. He drank more tequila and focused on his current dilemma. Any definitive clues to finding Henry Kane had been stolen by those scumbag bandits, along with any notes about the treasure or his so-called contact with General Rumiñahui—a man who'd been dead for centuries.

Had the professor smoked toad venom, hoping to connect with the spirits, specifically Rumiñahui? Had he made contact with a lost tribe and misinterpreted something they'd said? What was the real story behind Kane and his botched expedition? Had he made a unique discovery or had he lost his mind? Spenser would give a year's salary to read that journal. Although if it were in his hands just now, he doubted he'd be able to decipher the contents.

Vision blurring, he pushed out of his seat before he ended up under the table. Numb was one thing, comatose another. He thumbed on his satellite phone, dialed Cy midway to the bungalow.

“No, I don't have any more info on Kane or his dead guides,” Cy grumbled, sounding distracted.

“The problem with cell phones and incoming call display,” Spenser said, “is that it negates an automatic courteous greeting.”

Cy grunted. “When have you ever known me to be formal? What do you want, boy? Be warned, my mood's foul. Sorting through monthly bills and coming up short on funds.”

“I can help you with that.”

“How so?”

“Need your services.”

“For what?”

Spenser rolled his eyes as he navigated the boardwalk. “What do you think? I'm going into the Llanganatis. Going after Kane.”

“And the gold.”

Spenser hedged. He couldn't think about that aspect. Every time he envisioned the lost treasure his temperature spiked.

“You know those mountains,” Cy said, sounding suspicious. “What do you need me for?”

“River's coming along.”

“She's crazy for trying. You're crazy for letting her.”

“She won't take no for an answer. I need your help, Cy.”

“And I could use the cash.” He sniffed, then chuckled. “Hell, I was bored, anyway. Starting point? Time?”

“Triunfo. Tomorrow morning.”

“See you around nine,” Cy said, then signed off.

Spenser eyed the bungalow ahead of him, thought about the woman sleeping inside. How he'd like to curl up next to her and kiss her into oblivion. He stumbled up the steps and frowned at the damned hammock that would serve as his bed. Drunk, but not drunk enough to pass out, he was in for a long night.