The Treasure (15 page)

“I’m not.” Blinking rapidly, she willed them away.

“You promised no more tears,” he said gruffly.

“I know that,” she groused. “I’m trying my best. This is a whole new world for me, Brody. Excuse me for not knowing how to handle it better.”

Unable to hold them back, she ran into the bathroom and closed the door. Then sat down on the closed toilet lid and let them fall.

God save him from tears.
Brody could handle almost anything except those. And this woman seemed to be full of them. Like a leaky faucet that needed to be stopped from dripping.

With a scowl, he threw his bag down, strode to the bathroom door and pushed through to see Amelia sitting on the toilet, head bowed into her hands. She looked so delicate and soft, his anger instantly evaporated. How could he be mad at her? She had no way of knowing her call would be monitored. Her experience with criminal types was nonexistent. There was no reason for her to be suspicious. Wasn’t her innocence what he was trying to preserve? He didn’t want her to be suspicious and wary and always looking over her shoulder.

Feeling like a heel for making her cry, he knelt in front of her and gathered her into his arms. Tried not to think about how good and right she felt there. “Don’t cry, Amelia,” he muttered. “Garcia probably already knew about
Paraíso.
Everyone in the area does.”

“But now he knows why I’m here. He’ll want the map.”

“Not if he doesn’t know about it.”

Her head lifted, red-rimmed eyes met his. “You think he’ll assume we’re trying to find it like Aunt Pan?”

Brody nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The tendril was silky smooth and smelled like the rain. “He has no reason to think otherwise.”

“Then I didn’t screw up?”

Something inside him melted another notch. “No, you didn’t.” Reassurance was not his strong suit, but when it came to Amelia he found himself acting completely out of character. It wasn’t so bad. He was beginning to like it. Wasn’t that a conundrum? It meant he was falling for her and damned if he could stop it. He tried and she was absolutely not his type, but there was something about her that drew him like a moth to flame. Especially in the sexy outfit she wore. It displayed her tiny waist, showcased her perfect breasts, fit her slender curves.

Thinking of her in the shower, naked, water sluicing over her almost made him do the unthinkable.

Forget danger.

Forget the drug dealer down the hall.

Forget Newton and his friends willing to kill for the map.

Forget he was being pursued by a loan shark who wanted his money.

The other part of him wanted to lash out at the ones who put fear in her eyes at the prospect of screwing up. Had her sisters been so hard on her that she was paranoid about making a mistake?

“Brody,” she murmured, leaning in.

His eyes dropped to her lips. Ripe, luscious. Ready. The thought of kissing those beautiful lips had crossed his mind a million times over the past couple days. Try as he might, he couldn’t get her off his mind. Out of his head. All kinds of protective, possessive urges assailed him every second of every day he spent with her.

Deciding he could hold back no longer, he leaned in. A knock sounded on the door. With a scowl, he rose to his feet and stalked to the door. Yanking it open, he glared at the servant who stood in the hallway.

“Mr. Garcia requests your presence,” the short-of-stature man said, eyes averted to the floor. When Brody didn’t make a move to leave, he urged, “Now. Please.”

Amelia nudged him aside, casting him a “play-nice” look, and followed the man down the hall. Just as well she knew him, because he wanted to slam the door in the guy’s face and continue what he started. That option was off the table so he closed the door and went after them.

Garcia was waiting for them in the dining room. He sat at the head of a long, lavishly decorated dinner table complete with imported china and crystal goblets, looking smug and every inch the drug lord he was.

“Ms … ? I’m afraid I didn’t catch your husband’s name,” Garcia said, his attention centered on Amelia in a way that made Brody’s blood run hot.

“Kern,” Brody said before Amelia could answer. “Brody Kern.”

Garcia’s dark eyes turned to him. “Kern,” he repeated with a slight frown. “Weren’t you the man who flew the rescue mission for Pandora Sawyer?”

“Yes, that was him,” Amelia said, reaching for Brody’s hand with a smile. “He saved her life.”

Only Amelia would see it that way. Never mind the fact Pandora almost died searching for her damn
Paraíso
. Or the fact he risked his to get her out of there. How many times did he have to tell her? He was no hero.

Garcia smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze when he turned it to Brody was cool, measuring. Amelia didn’t seem to notice the tension between them as she accepted the chair Garcia’s servant held out for her. Brody took his, noting Amelia was on the man’s right.

“My cook has prepared a fine meal for us. It should be ready shortly. Now, tell me, Amelia — may I call you that?”

“By all means.”

Brody watched the exchange, wanting to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze. He didn’t like the way he was flirting with Amelia.

“What are you doing here?” Garcia continued. “You don’t seem the type of woman to go traipsing through the jungle without purpose.”

Amelia met his eyes briefly and he gave an imperceptible nod. Please, just this once let her remain silent.

“Actually, we are on our honeymoon. Thought we would follow in my aunt’s footsteps and join the search for the elusive
Paraíso.
”

Brody glared at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on their host, full of adventure and brimming with excitement that was no act. The woman had no sense when it came to danger. He was beginning to see why her sisters worried so much.

“
Paraíso
is a legend,” Garcia said, interested. “Rumor has it your aunt never found it. She, too, was a guest in my house during her search. Has that changed? Did Señora Pandora find this place?”

On the edge of his seat, Brody waited to see what she would say. It could make or break them.

“Hard to prove a rumor,” she admitted. “But it can’t hurt to try. Did you ever search for it, Mr. Garcia?”

Expelling a silent breath, Brody reached for his water glass and took a drink. The sooner they got out of this, the better. It was just too risky.

“Actually, no,” Garcia said with a smile Brody recognized for what it was. Cunning and dangerous. The man wasn’t looking because he was waiting to see if someone found it. Then he would swoop in and steal the treasure from them. Kill them for it, most likely.

“Well, we’re anxious to get on the road. Thank you so much for providing a shower and meal for us.”

That was more like it. Now she was moving in the right direction.

“Oh, please. I wouldn’t dream of sending you out so late in the day. Stay the night. I would love to talk more with such a lovely young woman. That is, of course, if your husband doesn’t mind.”

The emphasis on the word “husband” sent up red flags for Brody. Staying the night was the last thing he wanted to do. Not with a man like Garcia. And not with Amelia’s tendency to ramble when she was scared or nervous.

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Amelia said, casting him an apologetic glance. He didn’t blame her. Garcia had backed them into a corner. He didn’t like being cornered.

“Maybe for one night,” Brody said, meeting Garcia’s eyes. They assessed each other, measured the other’s intentions, before Amelia cut in.

“Would you take me on a tour of your home, Mr. Garcia? It’s simply beautiful.”

That seemed to please their host. He turned his full attention to Amelia, staring at her like a lovesick teen. That wasn’t what this was, but the man was damn good at playing whatever game he played.

“After we enjoy our meal,” Garcia promised. “Ah, dinner is served.”

Three servants filled the table with
humitas
— ground corn steamed in leaves with sugar and cheese-prawns in coconut sauce — and rice with patacones. Coffee and bread and an assortment of fruits and vegetables. A meal fit for a king. Or a drug dealer. The cook probably spent all day making the
humitas
.

The dinner was heavenly after eating trail food the past couple of days. Amelia seemed to be enjoying hers as she reached for another fried plantain. He was a fan of patacones himself so he, too, reached for another.

As they finished, a dark haired man hurried in, bent to speak quietly in Garcia’s ear, and then raced out of the room. The hairs on the back of Brody’s neck bristled. A warning.

Garcia tossed his napkin on his empty plate and looked at Amelia. “Tell me, Miss Sawyer, do I look like a fool to you?”

Gut screaming a warning now, Brody stiffened in his chair, sliding his hand over his butter knife and wrapping it in his palm. Caught off guard by the question, Amelia gave a puzzled smile and said, “What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question. Do I look like a fool?”

With a questioning glance at him, she answered, “No. Not at all.”

With lightning-quick reflexes, Garcia had her by the hair, a blade pressed to her neck. Brody stood, reached for the knife tucked into his boot. He met resistance in the form of cold steel pressed against his temple. The cold steel of an automatic weapon.

Hands lifted in surrender, he sank slowly back into his chair.

“What are you doing?” Amelia asked, scared.

“I am told the map is not in your bags. Tell me, Miss Sawyer, where is the map your dear aunt drew that leads to
Paraíso
?”

Damn.
He should have known Garcia was up to something. Should have seen it coming. Trusted his gut. Now, it was too late. And he had an AK47 pressed against his face.

“You knew about the map all along?” Amelia asked, unmoving under the pressure of the knife pressed against her skin.

“I know everything that happens in my jungle,” Garcia said. “Now, where is it?”

His
jungle? The man’s ego knew no boundaries. Neither did his desire to have that map. Expecting Amelia to crumble, he sat posed, ready to defend her. Instead, she surprised them all.

She knocked Garcia’s hand aside, flew to her feet and glared at the men who advanced on her. Servants they were, but they would clearly protect their master at any cost. Obedient little slaves, Brody thought, prepared to leap into action. But Garcia motioned them to back off and stared at Amelia with a mixture of surprise, irritation, and admiration.

“So you weren’t being a gracious host or treating us with respect because you knew my Aunt Pandora,” Amelia ranted. “You were using me. Trying to charm your way into my good graces so I would hand over the map? But, what, you got tired of waiting and decided to raid our room?”

With a sound of disgust, she reached inside her shirt, puzzling them all. A moment later, she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her bra and tossed it on the table. “You know what?” she continued her tirade. “I’ve had it with this stupid map. I’ve been in a plane crash, bullied, held at gunpoint, and shot at. And I have had it with the whole lot of you. Take the damn map. If it’s worth that much to you, just take it.”

Brody glanced at the folded map, frowned, stared at it again, then schooled his features and watched Amelia hit her limit. She probably didn’t realize how close to death she was.

But damned if she wasn’t a sight to behold. Her temper flared as hot as her red hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands fisted at her sides. Green eyes flashed with fire and she wasn’t backing down.

“And take your phony hospitality, too. I want no part of it.” When Garcia didn’t reach for the map, fascinated by the beauty in front of him, she took an aggressive step closer. “Take it!”

The barked order shocked all of them. Coming from such a sweet, innocent, sometimes naïve woman, it was unexpected. Brody grinned his pride; he couldn’t help it. He knew she had it in her, she just never had the courage to use it. Somehow, he doubted anyone would ever push this woman around again.

Garcia finally picked up the map and unfolded it. Amelia leaned over him and pointed to the red symbol. “Treasure,” she said. “Now go find it because I’m leaving and you are not going to stop us.”

Garcia looked up and met her eyes, handing the map to the man on his right. “You will continue your search?”

Amelia scoffed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Without the map? Why bother? You’ll only steal it from me if I do.”

“I would indeed. But I am hesitant to let you go.”

“We are no threat to you. You got what you wanted.”

Garcia glanced at Brody. He stared right back.

“I suppose you can do no harm. Go. Have your ‘honeymoon.’”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You know we aren’t married. May we have our bags?”

Distracted, Garcia waved to one of the servants, who escorted them out of the room. But, just as they were leaving, he called, “Amelia.”

She turned at the door, looked back.

“In another time, maybe we could have gotten to know each other. A woman of your valor deserves knowing.”

“No, Mr. Garcia, we would not have liked each other,” she said and walked out, head held high.

Brody followed, still grinning.

• • •

A hand gently but firmly pushed her outside the gates protecting Garcia’s hacienda. Amelia stumbled on knees that shook and listened to the lock being sprung, blockading them from the air conditioning, soft beds and fine meals.

Turning wide eyes to Brody where they stood in the street, she bit her lip, but a smile cracked through. When she saw the corner of Brody’s mouth tilt, she threw herself into his arms.

“I did it,” she gushed. “Can you believe I stood up to a drug lord? I was too angry to be scared. All I knew was I couldn’t let him steal the map and feed us to the gators. Oh my God, my knees are knocking.”

Too wired to enjoy the hug, she pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I feel like I just drank ten pots of coffee.”