Hearing the accusation voiced aloud stirred her defenses. “For heaven’s sake, I was fifteen years old. My mother was dead. What should he have done?”
“You could have gone away to school. There were relatives who could have taken you in.”
Cara was stunned by the coldness in his voice, the cruel indifference to her feelings. He almost seemed to hate her, and she couldn’t imagine why.
“Well?” he persisted. “Weren’t there other choices?”
“Okay, I admit it. I suppose I knew I was nothing but a burden to him. There was an aunt who was willing to take me, and there was money enough for boarding school. But he was my father. Don’t you think he belonged with me?” she said. Her tone was angry, but the fury couldn’t hide a plea for understanding.
All the old feelings of hurt and rejection tore through her. Furiously, she blinked back tears.
Rod appeared unaffected by her vulnerability. “Why? The relationship certainly hadn’t seemed to mean much to you up until then.”
“How can you say that? I idolized Scottie.”
He gave her a look of total disbelief. “Oh, give me a break. What had you or your mother, for that matter, ever done for Scottie? Did you ever really try to understand him? You never once came to the places he worked. He was a lonely man. He missed his family.”
Cara stared at Rod, amazed by the statement. What he said was impossible. Surely he couldn’t be referring to the man who’d glided in and out her life with nary a backward glance.
“You must be mistaken,” she replied stiffly. “He chose to stay away.”
“Maybe so. Maybe he felt he was the one who wasn’t wanted. All I know for certain is that he missed you. Frankly, it didn’t make a damn bit of sense to me. I’d have written the two of you off years before, but not Scottie. He’d read those skimpy letters you wrote with tears in his eyes. He’d read them over and over. The latest one was always tucked in his pocket and the latest picture of you was always up on the bulletin board in his office. No matter where we were, it was the first thing to go up.”
His gaze pierced her. “Why the hell didn’t you ever come?”
She trembled with outrage at that accusing look. How dare he question her relationship with Scottie? She’d been a child, subject to the whims of two adults, each of whom had apparently been determined to have their own way.
“Dammit, I was a little girl. Was I supposed to hop on a plane and take off to be with a man I didn’t even know wanted me? It was his choice that we stay behind and make a home for him. Not that he was ever there,” she said bitterly. “I can’t tell you the birthdays he missed or how many Christmas mornings all I had to remind me of my father was a gift under the tree.” She gave him a penetrating look. “Why does this matter so much to you? Scottie was just your boss.”
“No,” he said softly. “He was the father I never had. Oh, I know he wasn’t really old enough to be my father, but he was far, far wiser than the green kid I was. My own father could never spare me the time of day. Scottie talked to me by the hour. We sat around bars together, just passing the time. Hell, we even went fishing together. He was gentle and kind and patient. I hated sitting by and watching what the two of you were doing to him. He didn’t deserve it. He had a right to your loyalty and love.”
There was so much anguish in his voice that Cara couldn’t doubt his sincerity. That pain was hauntingly familiar. It was a reflection of her own. How odd that a man who’d never seemed much of a father to her until she was fifteen had provided exactly that sort of loving guidance for Rod. It did nothing to ease the instinctive jealousy she’d felt for Rod even before they met.
Now, though, a million unanswered questions raged through her mind. What Rod was telling her cast her entire childhood—and her mother’s air of martyrdom—in an entirely new light. She and Scottie had made a life for themselves in the dozen years since he’d come home. At first, struggling with her mother’s death, she’d been so grateful for his presence she’d avoided asking him why he hadn’t come years earlier. Lately it hadn’t seemed to matter. She was only just beginning to realize that it had mattered desperately all along, that she hadn’t broached the subject because she feared the answers.
“I did love Scottie. As for what you’re telling me now, I don’t know whose fault it was that things were the way they were between my parents,” she said softly, filled with sorrow and an odd sense of relief. With the relief came joy. Rod had given her that. He had given her back an image of her father she’d wanted to believe in. Her father had cared after all. Even then, when he’d been so far away.
“Maybe it was my mother’s choice to stay behind,” she said finally. “She never said, and neither has Scottie. There was that much loyalty, at least. There were no accusations, no attempts to make me choose sides.”
“It must have been a hell of a marriage,” Rod said sarcastically.
“It was no marriage at all,” Cara admitted. “Not by my standards, either. God knows, I never want one like that. If I commit to someone for the rest of my life then that’s exactly what it’s going to mean. I want a house with a fireplace, picnics at the beach, Sunday barbecues in the backyard and traditions for every holiday.”
The expression in Rod’s eyes softened unexpectedly. For just an instant she sensed that he might reach out to her. Instead, he asked, “Do you have the man in mind for this idyllic arrangement?”
“Not yet,” she conceded with a rueful smile, grateful that the emotional conversation was veering off in a new direction. “Good men are hard to find.”
That wasn’t exactly true, she thought. She had met honest, kind men. She had dated men with ambition and wit and intelligence. She had even considered marriage to a man who could have given her everything she’d just described to Rod. But not a one of them had stirred her passions, not a one of them had had Scottie’s strength or exuberance. While she didn’t consider herself a romantic, she wanted it all. She wasn’t willing to settle for a lukewarm marriage that would weather time but stir her blood no more than a pleasant evening stroll.
“What about you?” she asked Rod. “Where’s the woman in your life?”
“Just one? You do me an injustice.”
The deliberately mocking edge was back in his voice, but this time Cara determined it wasn’t going to silence her questions as she was sure he intended.
“Don’t you want to settle down someday?”
“I tried it once. It’s not for me.”
“You were married,” she said, surprised. He had the air of a man who’d resist the bonds of marriage to death. There was an independent, untamable quality about him. It hinted of strong passion, but not love. “When?”
“A long time ago, before I came to work for your father.”
“What happened?”
“I guess I set out to do what you’re doing. I wanted a marriage that would be everything my parents’ wasn’t. The woman I chose was the exact opposite of my mother. She was sweet and gentle, a real homebody. She did everything she could to create the perfect home. I had the perfect nine-to-five job. It was a disaster. Worse, it was all my fault. I was restless. I didn’t like sitting around in the evenings playing bridge or dressing up in a tuxedo to go to the opera. I should have realized that before the wedding. Instead I put her through hell before we had sense enough to call it quits.”
Cara was somehow dismayed by his rejection of exactly the kind of life she wanted. It only confirmed his unsuitability. Still, she had to admit to being intrigued, not only by the discovery that Rod had been married, but by the admission that the divorce was his failing. She sensed, though, that now was not the time to pursue it.
“What about since then?”
“I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Then the stories are true?” She didn’t like the way her heart was thudding dully as she awaited his response.
“Which stories are those?”
“That the world is strewn wi
th women whose hearts you’ve broken.”
“That must be someone else,” he told her with a wry expression. “I always leave ’em laughing.”
* * *
It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Rod appeared lost in thought. Cara was filled with an odd sense of having had her world shaken. Rod’s revelations about Scottie made her cherish her father anew, and suddenly she wanted desperately to hear his voice. Instead, it was Rod who spoke, insisting that they take a break.
Cara sank down gratefully on a tree stump at the edge of the river. She drank deeply from the canteen of water she’d filled from the bottles at their camp. Rod unwrapped a chocolate bar and held it out.
“Have a piece.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t be foolish. This is no time to worry about calories. You’ll walk them off.”
“I’m not being foolish. I happen to hate chocolate.” She pulled a package of raisins and nuts from her pack. “Will this do?”
“Whatever the lady likes.”
While Cara ate a handful of the trail mix, Rod prowled restlessly along the river’s edge. His expression was intent, and something about it made her uneasy.
“I thought this was supposed to be a break,” she called out. He glanced up, startled.
“It is.” He sounded distracted. “I’m just looking things over.”
“Find anything?”
He hesitated.
“Rod?”
“Maybe.”
Cara immediately went to his side. “What?”
He bent down to show her the mashed grass and muddy tracks. “Someone’s been here recently.”
“Why is that odd? You said there were Lacandones in the area.”
He shook his head. “These weren’t left here by the Lacandones.”
He held out his hand. Two bullet casings rested in his palm. A chill swept down Cara’s back.
“I don’t like it,” he said, his expression grim. “If you’re ready, let’s finish this inspection and get back to camp. I want you on that plane this afternoon.”
She decided to ignore his reference to the plane for the moment. She was anxious to see the site.
“I’m ready,” she said, noting that he tucked the casings into his pocket. He was obviously hanging onto them as evidence. But of what?
They reached the site after another half hour of hard walking. As he led her quickly over the area, she was thankful for the detailed information in the previous night’s briefing. She could see that his choice for the location for the dam was sound.
“Let me take another look at the map,” she said.
He drew it from his back pocket and spread it on a tree stump. “We’re right about here,” he told her, pointing to a location well south of Palenque. “The flooding would be farther south. Yaxchilan is here. The ruins there are bound to be affected. Bonampak wouldn’t be.”
“Are there archaeologists in either of those places now?”
“I doubt it. There are some working a relatively new site down in here.” He tapped his finger on a dot he’d made farther along the Usumacinta. “They’ve come from San Cristobal. I had a couple of meetings with them, too, when I first got out here.”
“According to the map, there don’t appear to be any roads. Can we get there?”
Rod’s jaw set. “Cara, I thought I made myself clear. I want you out of here today.”
“And I thought I made myself clear. I’m not leaving until I have a complete picture of what will be affected if we agree to build this dam. I’m not going to be scared away just because someone fired a gun a couple of times. It could have happened months ago, even years ago.”
“I’m telling you that I’m convinced that someone is very determined that this dam not be built. If I’m right, you’re in danger.”
“And you’re not?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, are we going to waste time arguing over male supremacy? I am just as capable of shooting a gun as you are.”
He grinned at that. “But do you have one?”
She refused to meet his smug gaze. “Not with me.” Her chin lifted stubbornly. “But it doesn’t matter, because I am staying.”
“You do realize that if I decided to swing you over my shoulder and carry you off to that plane, you would not be able to stop me?”
“I’m aware that you believe that.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t test me.”
Cara wisely refrained from letting her lips curve into the challenge of a full-fledged grin. “How do we get to the archaeological site?”
“We’d have to take Diablo,” he said with a sly glance in her direction. “There’s a dirt road part of the way, but this time of year it’s virtually impassable.”
Cara ignored the taunt. “Can we go this afternoon?”
“I thought you didn’t want to get anywhere near Diablo.”
“I may not like the idea, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it. Now stop procrastinating. When can we leave?”
Rod scowled and muttered a frustrated oath. “We’ll decide after we get back to camp. I want to try to meet that plane you’re convinced will be coming back for you. Maybe the pilot will stick around a day or two in case we need to get you out of here in a hurry.”
She thought of the greedy glint in Carlos’s black eyes. “For the right price, Carlos will probably sell you the plane.”
They were almost back at the camp before Cara said anything more. She studied the hard, angry lines of Rod’s profile. He was clearly still seething over her decision to stay. At first she’d assumed it was nothing more than damaged pride, irritation over her interference in his work. Now she wasn’t so sure. There had seemed to be a note of genuine concern in his voice when they’d argued at the site.
“Rod?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really think we’re in any danger? We’re just a couple of engineers. Why would anyone want to hurt us?”
“We represent change. Maybe they just don’t like our looks. Hell, I don’t know. But I’ve had a bad feeling about this project from the day I arrived, and it’s not getting any better.”
With anyone else she might have written that feeling off to squeamishness, but that was hardly Rod’s personality. Nor did he seem an alarmist. If anything, he was the type to understate danger, the sort of man who relished living on the edge, but knew exactly when to back away. For the first time, a feeling of anxiety settled at the base of her spine. Her senses became more alert to every whisper of sound, every movement. She thought she was prepared for anything.
She was wrong. She wasn’t ready for the sight of Diablo lying on the ground in a pool of blood, a bullet through his head.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rod was sitting by the river wondering why Cara got under his skin so, when her terrified scream shattered the silence. The sound made his blood run cold. Cursing expressively, he drew his gun and charged through the undergrowth in back of his camp. He set off in the direction she had taken when she’d asserted a need for a moment of privacy before going on to the airstrip. For the first time in his life, he hated living under such primitive conditions. If the lack of something as basic as indoor plumbing had put her in danger, he’d never forgive himself. He never should have let her go alone, decorum or no.
He crashed through the bush, his heart thundering in his chest. “Cara! Where the hell are you? Cara!” The fact that there had been no second scream nearly panicked him. The silence was almost as frightening as the bloodcurdling pitch of her first agonized cry.
“Cara!”
“Over here.” Though her tear-choked voice was barely above a frightened whisper, relief swept through him when he heard it.
Following the sound of her muffled sobs, he found her standing over Diablo’s body. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of the fallen donkey. Pale and trembling, Cara was staring down at it. His hand shaking, he tilted her chin up and looked
into stricken eyes.
“Are you okay?” He stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears.
She gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Don’t move. I just want to look around for a minute. Okay?”
Panic flitted across her face, but then she seemed to pull herself together. It was an act of sheer bravado, probably meant as much for herself as for him. “Okay,” she murmured.
His heart still hammering, Rod searched the surrounding area quickly, but found nothing else amiss. When he returned, Cara was standing frozen, exactly as he’d left her. An incomparable feeling of protectiveness swept through him as he gently drew her into his arms and turned her head away.
A heavy sigh shuddered through her as she clung to him. The flames of desire sparked to life, startling him with their brightness. He wanted her here and now with a force that rocked him. The emotions that accompanied the desire were less straightforward. Perhaps he was a sucker for vulnerability after all. Or, more likely, for soft breasts, trembling lips and hair that smelled like sunshine. He tried hard to tell himself that he owed it to both of them to sort out the feelings before he made love to her, but right now an examination of his psyche was the last thing on his mind.
“Why?” she murmured, her tears dampening his shirt. “Why would anyone do that?”
She gazed up at him, eyes shimmering, her expression woebegone. Rod’s heart constricted painfully. His hands, trembling at the restraint, caressed her back in an innocent touch of comfort.
“It’s another warning,” he told her. “We have to get you out of here.”
To his amazement, she resisted. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to be frightened away by someone that cowardly.”
“Cowardly?”
“Killing a poor defenseless animal is cowardly. I’d like to get my hands on the person who did it. I’d show you just how well I can handle that gun of yours.”
“I appreciate your desire to avenge Diablo’s death,” he said, somehow impressed by the vehement indignation and outrage in her voice. Still, he knew her well enough now to recognize that they were headed for an argument. “I’d rather you used your head and took the hint. This is no place for you to be hanging around.”
In Too Deep Page 5