Midnight Rainbow (19 page)

           
 
Their naked bodies moved together, and there
was no more waiting. He surged into her, and she cried out a little from the
delicious shock of it. Catching the small cry with his mouth, he lifted her
legs and placed them around his waist, then began to move more deeply into her.
It was like the night before. She gave no thought to anything but the man with
shoulders so broad that they blocked out the light. The bed was soft beneath
them, the sheets cool and smooth, and the rhythmic creak of the springs in time
with his movements was accompanied by the singing of insects outside the
window. Time meant nothing. There was only his mouth on hers, his hands on her
body, the slow thrusts that went deep inside her and touched off a wildfire of
sensation, until they strained together in frenzied pleasure and the sheets were
no longer cool, but warm from their damp, heated flesh. Then it was quiet
again, and he lay heavily on her, drawing in deep breaths while her hands moved
over his powerful back. Her lips trembled with the words of love that she
wanted to give him, but she held them back. All her instincts told her that he
wouldn't want to know, and she didn't want to do anything to spoil their time
together.

           
 
Perhaps he had given her something anyway, if
not his love, something at least as infinitely precious. As her sensitive
fingertips explored the deep valley of his spine, she wondered if he had given
her his baby. A tremor of pleasure rippled down her body, and she held him
closer, hoping that her body would be receptive to his seed.

           
 
He stirred, reaching out to turn off the lamp,
and in the darkness he moved to lie beside her. She curled against his side,
her head on his shoulder, and after a moment he gave a low chuckle.

           
 
"Why don't you just save time and get on
top of me now?" he suggested, scooping her up and settling her on his
chest.

           
 
Jane gave a sigh of deep satisfaction,
stretching out on him and looping her arm around his neck. With her face
pressed against his throat she was comfortable and safe, as if she'd found a
sheltering harbor. "I love you," she said silently, moving her lips
without sound against his throat.

           
 
They woke with the bright early morning sun
coming through the slats of the shutters. Leaving Jane stretching and grousing
on the bed, Grant got up and opened the shutters, letting the rosy light pour
into the room. When he turned, he saw the way the light glowed on her
warm-toned skin, turning her nipples to apricot, catching the glossy lights in
her dark hair. Her face was flushed, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Suddenly
his body throbbed, and he couldn't bear to be separated from her by even the
width of the small room. He went back to the bed and pulled her under him, then
watched the way her face changed as he slowly eased into her, watched the
radiance that lit her. Something swelled in his chest, making it difficult for
him to breathe, and as he lost himself in the soft depths of her body he had
one last, glaringly clear thought: she'd gotten too close to him, and letting
her go was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

           
 
He dressed, pulling on the freshly washed
clothes that one of
Señora
Trejos's
daughters had brought, along with a tray of fruit, bread and cheese. Jane
flushed wildly when she realized that
Señora
Trejos
must have brought a tray to them the night before,
then
discreetly left when she heard the sounds they had been
making. A quick glance at Grant told her that he'd had the same thought,
because the corner of his mouth was twitching in amusement.

           
 
The
señora
had also sent along a soft white off-the-shoulder
blouse, and Jane donned it with pleasure, more than glad to discard her
tattered black shirt. After selecting a piece of orange from the tray, she bit
into the juicy fruit as she watched him pull his dark green undershirt over his
head.

           
 
"You're going to be pretty noticeable in
those camouflage fatigues," she said, poking a bit of the orange into his
mouth.

           
 
"I know." He quickly kissed her
orange-sticky lips. "Put the shirt in your pack and be ready to go when I
get back."

           
 
"Get back? Where are you going?"

           
 
"I'm going to try to get some sort of
transport. It won't be as easy this time."

           
 
"We could take the train," she
pointed out.

           
 
"The rifle would be a mite conspicuous, honey."

           
 
"Why can't I go with you?"

           
 
"Because you're safer
here."

           
 
"The last time you left me, I got into
trouble," she felt obliged to remind him. He didn't appreciate the
reminder. He scowled down at her as he reached for a spear of melon. "If
you'll just keep your little butt where I tell you to, you'll be fine."

           
 
"I'm fine when I'm with you."

           
 
"Damn it, stop arguing with me!"

           
 
"I'm not arguing.
I'm
pointing out some obvious facts!
You're
the one who's arguing!"

           
 
His eyes were yellow fire. He bent down until
they were almost nose to nose, his control under severe stress. His teeth were
clenched together as he said, evenly spacing the words out, "If you make
it home without having the worst spanking of your life, it'll be a
miracle."

           
 
"I've never had a spanking in my
life," she protested.

           
 
"It shows!"

           
 
She flounced into the chair and pouted.
Grant's hands clenched; then he reached for her and pulled her out of the
chair, hauling her up to him for a deep, hard kiss. "Be good, for a
change," he said, aware that he was almost pleading with her. "I'll
be back in an hour—"

           
 
"Or so!" she finished in unison with
him. "All right, I'll wait! But I don't like it!" He left before he
completely lost his temper with her, and Jane munched on more of the fruit,
terribly grateful for something fresh to eat. Deciding that he'd meant only for
her to stay in the house, not in the room, she first got everything ready for
them to leave, as he'd instructed, then sought out the
señora
and had a pleasant chat
with her. The woman was bustling around the kitchen preparing food for her
boarders, while two of her daughters diligently cleaned the house and did a
mountain of laundry. Jane had her arms deep in a bowl of dough when Grant
returned.

           
 
He'd gone first to their room, and when he
found her in the kitchen there was a flicker of intense relief in his eyes
before he masked it. Jane sensed his presence and looked up, smiling. "Is
everything arranged?"

           
 
"Yes. Are you ready?"

           
 
"Just as soon as I wash
my hands."

           
 
She hugged the
señora
and thanked her, while
Grant leaned in the doorway and watched her. Did she charm everyone so
effortlessly? The
señora
was beaming at her, wishing her a safe journey and inviting her back. There
would always be a room for the lovely young
señora
and her husband in the
Trejos
house!

           
 
They collected their packs, and Grant slung
the rifle over his shoulder. They risked attracting attention because of it,
but he didn't dare leave it behind. With any luck they would be on a plane out
of
Costa Rica
by nightfall, but until they were actually
on their way he couldn't let his guard down. The close call the day before had
been proof of that.
Turego
wasn't giving up; he stood
to lose too much. Out in the alley, Jane glanced up at him. "What exactly
did you arrange?"

           
 
"A farmer is going into Limon, and he's
giving us a ride." After the adventure of the last several days that
seemed almost boringly tame, but Jane was happy to be bored. A nice, quiet
ride, that
was the ticket. How good it would be not to feel
hunted!

           
 
As they neared the end of the alley, a man
stepped suddenly in front of them. Grant reacted immediately, shoving Jane
aside, but before he could swing the rifle around there was a pistol in his
face, and several more men stepped into the alley, all of them armed, all of
them with their weapons pointed at Grant. Jane stopped breathing, her eyes wide
with horror. Then she recognized the man in the middle, and her heart stopped.
Was Grant going to die now, because of her?

           
 
She couldn't bear it. She had to do something,
anything.

           
 
"Manuel!" she cried, filling her
voice with joy. She ran to him and flung her arms around him. "I'm so glad
you found me!"

           
 
It was a nightmare. Grant hadn't taken his
narrowed gaze off her, and the hatred that glittered in his eyes made her
stomach knot, but there was no way she could reassure him. She was acting for
all she was worth, clinging to
Turego
and babbling
her head off, telling him how frightened she'd been and how this madman had
knocked her out and stolen her away from the plantation, all the while clinging
to
Turego's
shirt as if she couldn't bear to release
him. She had no clear idea of what she was going to do, only that somehow she
had to stay unfettered so she could help Grant, and to do that she had to win
Turego's
trust and soothe his wounded vanity.

           
 
The entire situation was balanced on a knife
edge; things could go in either direction. Wariness was in
Turego's
dark eyes, as well as a certain amount of cruel satisfaction in having cornered
his prey. He wanted to make her suffer for having eluded him, she knew, yet for
the moment she was safe from any real harm, because he still wanted the
microfilm. It was Grant whose life was threatened, and it would take only a
word from
Turego
for those men to kill him where he
stood. Grant had to know it, yet there wasn't even a flicker of fear in his
expression, only the cold, consuming hatred of his glare as he stared at Jane.
Perhaps it was that, in the
end, that
eased
Turego's
suspicions somewhat. He would never relax his
guard around her again, but Jane could only worry about one thing at a time.
Right now, she had to protect Grant in any way she could.

           
 
Turego's
arm stole
around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. He bent his head and kissed
her, a deeply intimate kiss that Jane had to steel herself not to resist in any
way, even though she shuddered at having to endure the touch and taste of him.
She knew what he was doing; he was illustrating his power, his control, and
using her as a weapon against Grant. When he lifted his head, a cruel little
smile was on his handsome mouth.

           
 
"I have you now,
chiquita
,
" he reassured her in a smooth tone. "You are
quite safe. This… madman, as you called him, will not bother you again, I
promise. I am impressed," be continued mockingly, inclining his head
toward Grant. "I have heard of you,
señor
.
 
Surely there can be only
one with the yellow eyes and scarred face, who melts through jungles like a
silent cat. You are a legend, but it was thought that you were dead. It has
been a long time since anything was heard of you." Grant was silent, his
attention now on
Turego
, ignoring Jane as if she no
longer existed. Not a muscle moved; it was as if he'd turned to stone. He
wasn't even breathing. His utter stillness was unnerving, yet there was also
the impression of great strength under control, a wild animal waiting for the
perfect moment to pounce. Even though he was only one against many, the others
were like jackals surrounding a mighty tiger; the men who held their weapons
trained on him were visibly nervous.

           
 
"Perhaps it would be interesting to know
who now pays you for your services. And there are others who would like very
much to have an opportunity to question you, yes? Tie him, and put him in the
truck,"
Turego
ordered, still keeping his arm
around Jane. She forced herself not to watch as Grant was roughly bound and
dragged over to a two ton military-type truck, with a canvas top stretched over
the back. Instead she gave
Turego
her most dazzling
smile and leaned her head on his shoulder.

           
 
"I've been so frightened," she
whispered.

           
 
"Of course you
have,
chiquita
.
 
Is that why you resisted my men when they
found you in the forest yesterday?"

           
 
She might have known he was too sharp to
simply believe her! She let her eyes widen incredulously.

           
 
"Those were
your
men? Well, why didn't they say so? They were shoving me
around, and I was afraid they wanted to… to attack me. I had managed to slip
away from that crazy man; I'd have made it, too, if it hadn't been for all the
noise your men made! They led him right to me!" Her voice quivered with
indignation.

           
 
"It is over; I will take care of you
now." He led her to the truck and assisted her into the cab, then climbed
in beside her and gave terse instructions to the driver.

           
 
That was exactly what she was afraid of, being
taken care of by
Turego
, but for the moment she had
to play up to him and somehow convince him that she was totally innocent of her
escape from under the noses of his guards. He hadn't gotten where he was by
being a gullible idiot; though she'd successfully fooled him the first time,
the second time would be much more difficult.

           
 
"Where are we going?" she asked
innocently, leaning against him.
"Back to the
plantation?
Did you bring any of my clothes with you?
He
brought me this blouse this
morning," she said, plucking at the soft white fabric, "but I'd
really like to have my own clothes."

           
 
"I have been so worried about you that I
did not think of your clothes, I confess,"
Turego
lied smoothly. His hard arm was around her shoulders, and Jane smiled up at
him. He was unnaturally handsome, with perfect features that would have done
better on a statue than a man, though perhaps
Turego
wasn't quite human. He didn't show his age; he looked to be in his twenties,
though Jane knew that he was in his early forties. Emotion hadn't changed his
face; he had no wrinkles, no attractive crinkles at the corners of his eyes, no
signs that time or life had touched him. His only weakness was his vanity; he
knew he could force himself on Jane at any time, but he wanted to seduce her
into giving herself willingly to him. She would be another feather in his cap;
then, once he had the microfilm, he could dispose of her without regret.

           
 
She had only the microfilm to protect her, and
only herself to protect Grant. Her mind raced, trying to think of some way she
could free him from his bonds, get some sort of weapon to him. All he needed
was a small advantage.

           
 
"Who
is
he? You seem to know him."

           
 
"He hasn't introduced himself? But you
have spent several days alone with him, my heart. Surely you know his
name."

           
 
Again she had to make a split second decision.
Was Grant's real name commonly known? Was Grant his real name, anyway? She
couldn't take the chance. "He told me that his name is Joe Tyson. Isn't
that his real name?" she asked in an incredulous voice, sitting up to turn
the full force of her brown eyes on him, blinking as if in astonishment.

           
 
Oddly,
Turego
hesitated. "That may be what he calls himself now. If he is who I think he
is, he was once known as the Tiger."

           
 
He was uneasy! Grant was tied, and there were
ten guns on him, but still
Turego
was made uneasy by
his presence! Did that slight hesitation mean that
Turego
wasn't certain of Grant's real name and didn't want to reveal his lack of
knowledge—or was the uncertainty of a greater scope?

           
 
Was he not entirely certain that Grant was the
Tiger?
Turego
wouldn't want to make
himself
look foolish by claiming to have captured the Tiger,
only to have his prisoner turn out to be someone much less interesting.

           
 
Tiger.
She could see
how he had gained the name, and the reputation. With his amber eyes and deadly
grace, the comparison had been inevitable. But he was a man, too, and she'd
slept in his arms. He'd held her during the long hours of darkness, keeping the
night demons away from her, and he'd shown her a part of herself that she
hadn't known existed. Because of Grant, she felt like a whole person, capable
of love and passion, a warm, giving woman. Though she could see what he had
been, the way she saw him now was colored by love. He was a man, not a
supernatural creature who melted through the dark, tangled jungles of the
world. He could bleed, and hurt. He could
laugh,
that
deep, rusty laugh that caught at her heart. After Grant, she felt contaminated
just by sitting next to
Turego
. She gave a tinkling
laugh. "That sounds so cloak-and-
daggerish
! Do
you mean he's a spy?"

           
 
"No, of course not.
Nothing so romantic.
He is really just a mercenary,
hiring himself out to anyone for any sort of dirty job."

           
 
"Like kidnapping me?
Why would he do that? I mean, no one is going to pay any ransom for me! My
father doesn't even speak to me, and I certainly don't have any money of my
own!"

           
 
"Perhaps something else was wanted from
you," he suggested.

           
 
"But I don't have anything!" She managed
to fill her face and voice with bewilderment, and
Turego
smiled down at her.

           
 
"Perhaps you have it and are not aware of
it."

           
 
"What? Do you know?"

           
 
"In time, love, we shall find out."

           
 
"No one tells me anything!" she
wailed, and lapsed into a pout. She allowed herself to hold the pout for about
thirty seconds, then roused to demand of him again, like an impatient child,
"Where are we going?"

           
 
"Just down this street,
love."

           
 
They were on the very fringes of the town, and
a dilapidated tin warehouse sat at the end of the street. It was in sad shape,
its walls sagging, the tin roof curled up in several places, sections of it
missing altogether in others. A scarred blue door hung crookedly on its hinges.
The warehouse was their destination, and when the truck stopped beside the blue
door and
Turego
helped Jane from the cab, she saw
why. There were few people about, and those who were in the vicinity quickly
turned their eyes away and scurried off.

           
 
Grant was hauled out of the back of the truck and
shoved toward the door; he stumbled and barely caught his balance before he
would have crashed headlong against the building. Someone chuckled, and when
Grant straightened to turn his unnerving stare on his captors, Jane saw that a
thin trickle of blood had dried at the corner of his mouth. His lip was split
and puffy. Her heart lurched, and her breath caught. Someone had hit him while
he had his hands tied behind his back! Right behind her first sick reaction
came
fury, raw and powerful, surging through her like a
tidal wave. She shook with the effort it took to disguise it before she turned
to
Turego
again. "What are we going to do
here?"

           
 
"I just want to ask a few questions of
our friend.
Nothing important."
She was firmly
escorted into the building, and she gasped as the heat hit her in the face like
a blow. The tin building was a furnace, heating the air until it was almost
impossible to breathe. Perspiration immediately beaded on her skin, and she
felt dizzy, unable to drag in enough oxygen to satisfy her need. Evidently
Turego
had been using the warehouse as a sort of base,
because there was equipment scattered around. Leaving Grant under guard,
Turego
led Jane to the back of the building, where several
small rooms connected with each other, probably the former offices. It was just
as hot there, but a small window was opened and let in a measure of fresh air.
The room he took her to was filthy, piled with musty smelling papers and netted
with cobwebs. An old wooden desk, missing a leg, listed drunkenly to one side,
and there was the unmistakable stench of rodents. Jane wrinkled her nose
fastidiously. "Ugh!" she said in completely honest disgust.

           
 
"I apologize for the room,"
Turego
said smoothly, bestowing one of his toothpaste-ad
smiles on her.