In Too Deep

by Sherryl Woods

  “Cara!” His voice rose ominously.

  One blond brow rose in what Scottie would have recognized as a warning.

  “I’m not going,” she said softly, steel wrapped in velvet. “Just look at what happened the last time we got separated.”

  “I want you where you’ll be safe.”

  “And what about you?”

  He touched the gun at the waistband of his pants. “I have my own protection.”

  “And I have a knife now.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  She gave him a disgusted scowl. “We’re wasting time, I’m coming with you. I’m the one they kidnapped.”

  “Getting even is not on the agenda for the moment. I want to look around for a few answers, and then we’re getting out of here the minute it’s daybreak.”

  “I’m all for that, but I am not waiting in the jungle like some simpering, delicate flower while you snoop around satisfying your curiosity. We’re partners in this.”

  This time his eyebrows rose skeptically. “Partners? Since when?”

  “I was trying not to pull rank,” she said demurely.

  With that she turned and left the tent, leaving him staring after her. She counted her steps, guessing she had no more than ten before he’d catch up with her. Muttering expressively, Rod followed her. He grabbed her arm when she would have marched straight on to the next tent. She’d taken exactly nine steps.

  “Slow down,” he demanded. “If you insist on doing this, at least use your head. You don’t know who might be lurking inside that tent. Old Luis could be in there after all.”

  “If he is, he’s probably sleeping or passed out drunk.”

  “Or waiting with a shotgun.”

  Good point, she admitted, though not aloud. She did give him the satisfaction of going ahead of her. It wasn’t that she was turning cowardly all of a sudden. It was just the sensible thing to do. After all, Rod did have the gun.

  To her disappointment—well, more or less disappointment—the tent was essentially empty. Rod lit a lantern and held it up to dispel the shadows. There were two cots, a carton of canned goods and a few cooking utensils. Still not speaking, he waved her outside.

  Carrying the lantern, they approached the remaining tent with similar caution. Again, there were no sounds to indicate that anyone was inside, but he gave her the light to hold and motioned for her to wait. Almost as soon as he’d taken the first step inside, he came to an abrupt halt. She saw his hand move slowly. Her heart began to pound, but then she realized he wasn’t reaching for his gun after all. He was holding out his hand for the lantern. She gave it to him. Once the soft glow erased the shadows inside, she heard his low whistle of astonishment.

  “What is it?”

  He stepped aside and held open the tent flap. “See for yourself.”

  She looked inside and gasped. Mayan relics filled the tent. Carvings, the most beautiful she’d ever seen, were stacked haphazardly. The amount of pottery was staggering. There were bowls and pitchers and other vessels, some plain, some decorated with hieroglyphics and simple figures. Some were broken or chipped, but even to her untrained eye it appeared that many of the pieces were museum quality. There were several limestone stelae, all carved, some decorated with the red paint that, according to her talks with Rafael and Jorge, held some religious significance.

  “My God!” Cara breathed, excitement rushing through her. “It’s incredible. This must be worth a fortune.”

  “I’m sure it is, especially on the black market,” Rod said wryly. “Since law forbids the removal of these things from the country, private collectors with no scruples will pay dearly for them. I just wish I could figure out how they’ve been getting the things across the border. Not that the border isn’t like a sieve down here, but I would think it would be difficult to move this much stuff without arousing suspicion.”

  “The burlap,” Cara murmured to herself.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking aloud.” She continued to toy with the idea that was forming. “In the tent where they held me there were sacks of burlap. Didn’t you notice it?”

  “Princess, the only thing I noticed in that tent was that man attacking you.”

  “Well, the place was filled with burlap, all with the insignia of some American grain company. What better way to get something across the border without notice than by hiding it in a much-needed shipment of grain.” She met his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Rod swept her into his arms and planted a hard kiss on her lips. “You’re a genius.”

  “Just observant,” she said modestly. “Do you really think that’s it?”

  “I’d stake my career on it, which, by the way, I might have to do, if we don’t get out of here and report in to Scottie soon. He must be frantic.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “We’ll get back to my campsite and clear everything up. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours. Then we’ll meet the pilot. We’ll have him take us straight to Mexico City. I can’t wait to turn this entire mess over to the authorities. Then I think WHS owes us both a long vacation.”

  Cara didn’t allow herself to consider the implications of that remark. “What if the pilot’s already left? We’re late getting back.”

  “He won’t leave. WHS is paying him very well to stick around until we turn up.”

  When they turned to leave the tent, they found the Lacandones waiting patiently outside. The first pale light of dawn was shimmering through the trees. In that subdued light, Juan Castillo studied Cara with serious eyes.

  “You are well?”

  “Si, gracias.”

  Apparently satisfied not so much by the answer as by what his eyes told him, he nodded slowly, then looked to Rod. “What will you do now?”

  “We need to get back to my camp without anyone following us,” Rod said. “Can you help us?”

  “We will guard the man here and watch for others. One of my men will follow along the trail behind you, another will go in front. No one will approach unless you indicate that it is your wish.”

  Cara watched these two men, so newly acquainted, yet so obviously kindred spirits. Despite the vast differences in culture and life-style, they shared similar values and respect. Each, in some ways, thought the other was poor, yet neither made judgments.

  “We will find some way to repay you, my friend,” Rod promised. “Food, supplies, whatever you need.”

  “Our gods provide for us.” There was no arrogance in the words, just supreme confidence in a way of life. Cara had never before witnessed such self-possession, such quiet command.

  “Then we will send what the gods cannot provide,” Rod said.

  When they were on their way, Cara glanced at him. “What exactly do you think it’s in your power to give them that their gods can’t?”

  “Some Mozart,” he said with a grin. “Maybe a little Beethoven. I might even send along a tape of the Beatles. That should really confound them.”

  Cara laughed. “It might make more sense to send fishing rods,” she said dryly.

  “Ah, princess, you’re entirely too practical sometimes.”

  “It comes in handy when you’re trying to run a company.”

  Rod opened his mouth, but she held up a hand, “So help me, if you suggest I take time to stop and smell the roses, I will find a snake and tuck it into your sleeping bag.”

  For the first time since he’d found her, Rod’s uninhibited laugh echoed through the jungle. “I don’t think I need to worry about that.”

  She regarded him suspiciously, just a little disappointed that he hadn’t taken the admittedly idle threat more seriously. “And why is that?”

  He returned her stare with a look so innocent the angels would have been fooled. “Scottie told me what happened in Brazil.”

  Her eyes widened. Surely her father would not have revealed that one time in her life when she had utterly and completely lost her cool. “What exactly did Scot
tie tell you?”

  “He said, and I quote, ‘When she saw that snake all curled up, the fool gal screamed so loud, you could have heard her dear to Rio. I thought the whole damn tent must have been on fire.’”

  So much for her image as a woman who could handle anything, a woman who could cope quite nicely in any environment. For some reason, during the past few days it had become increasingly important for her to prove that to Rod.

  “Scottie talks entirely too much,” she grumbled.

  “Don’t look so embarrassed, princess. He thought it was cute. It made him feel needed.”

  “What about you? Do you suffer from the same male malady?”

  “Are you asking if I prefer my women to lean on me?”

  “More or less.”

  “I suppose every man likes to fall into the role of strong, male protector occasionally.”

  “Would you have preferred it if I’d swooned back there, so you could have ridden in on a white charger and saved the day?”

  “I thought I had.”

  “Stop it. I’m serious.”

  He sighed. “Princess, I am very glad that you did not fall apart under pressure, that you had devised a scheme to escape. My ego can handle the fact that you don’t have to rely on me to survive.”

  It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. He had recognized her independence, her resourcefulness. But now that she’d heard the words, even though they’d been spoken with a certain amount of admiration, somehow they sounded hollow. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a woman who could traipse to the ends of the earth with him after all. Hell, maybe she should have swooned. Her head hurt from trying to make sense of the situation. Forget figuring out what Rod wants, she told herself. She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore. Aside from the obvious calamities, this trip was proving to be an emotional mine field.

  They finished the hike in silence. When they reached the camp at midday, they made quick work of dismantling the remaining equipment. The two Lacandones helped them pack everything and carry it to the airstrip.

  Whey they arrived, a small Cessna was waiting, just as Rod had predicted. There was no sign of the pilot, but the plane was unlocked. They loaded everything onto it.

  “What do we do now?” Cara asked.

  “We wait. I can’t imagine the pilot’s gone too far.” He spoke to the Lacandones and, after a solemn farewell, they faded into the jungle.

  “Why did you send them back?”

  “There’s no point in them hanging around here.”

  Just then Cara noticed a movement in the brush on the other side of the runway. “Did you see that?” She pointed. “Over there.”

  “Where?”

  “In a straight line just past the nose of the plane. I saw something move.”

  “Wait here and I’ll check it out.”

  He started forward, careful to keep the plane between him and the spot where she’d seen the movement. Cara was right on his heels. He shot a scowl over his shoulder, but didn’t comment. Slowly a man emerged from the forest and Rod released a sigh of relief.

  “No problem, princess. It’s the pilot.”

  He had just opened his mouth to call out to the man, when Cara got a good look at him and gasped. “Luis?”

  “No,” Rod corrected, unaware of her sudden panic. “His name is Pedro Garcia.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s Luis,” she whispered.

  Rod turned to stare at her. “Who the hell’s Luis?”

  “The other guy who was holding me.”

  He reached for his gun, but his instant of hesitation had cost him the advantage. Before he could get his fingers around his own weapon, a shotgun blast ripped past them. Rod grabbed the door of the plane and wrenched it open.

  “Get in.”

  “I am not leaving you out here.”

  He grabbed her around the middle and tossed her through the door. She landed... hard. As he climbed in after her, Rod fired two shots that dug up dirt in front of the rapidly approaching Mexican. He slammed the door closed and jumped into the pilot’s seat. He handed Cara the gun.

  “If he tries to get in the door, shoot him.”

  The hand, which unexpectedly found itself in possession of a gun, trembled. “Shoot him?”

  “If you have any problems with your conscience, just remember he’s one of the men who kidnapped you.”

  That steeled her nerves instantly and she kept a steady aim at the door as Rod started the plane’s twin engines. She heard Luis pounding uselessly on the door just before they took off down the short runway.

  Then trees were rushing toward them. Panicked at the speed with which they seemed to be approaching certain death, Cara glanced over at Rod for reassurance. That was a mistake. He was holding the throttle with white-knuckled intensity. He also appeared to be murmuring a prayer.

  “Oh, my God!” she whispered. She dropped the gun and held onto the edge of her seat. “Rod Craig, I did not survive that kidnapping and this awful jungle only to die in a plane crash with you! Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly, princess, I’m doing my best.”

  At the last possible instant, without so much as an inch of airstrip left, the plane lifted off, dipping slightly. The right wing clipped the top of a tree and the whole plane shuddered. It dipped left, then steadied.

  Cara closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I suppose this is not the very best time to be asking this question, but do you know how to fly this thing?”

  “I got us up here, didn’t I?”

  “Barely.”

  He turned to look at her then. His brow was damp, his eyes tired, but there was the beginning of a grin tilting the corners of his mouth. “Don’t look like that, princess. It wasn’t bad for a man who’s only had a couple of lessons.”

  Cara buried her face in her hands. Her heart thumped unsteadily. “Tell me, please, that one of those lessons included landing.”

  She did not like the evasive look in his eyes one little bit. He suddenly became extraordinarily interested in the control panel. That could be the sign of a pilot running through a standard checklist, or it could be the mark of a man who wasn’t crazy about the question.

  “Rod?”

  “Would you rather hear the answer to that now or after we’re on the ground?”

  For the second time in five minutes, Cara saw her entire life flash before her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When Cara could finally breathe again, she glanced at Rod. Despite the narrowness of the escape from Luis or Pedro or whoever the hell he was, despite coming within a hairbreadth of crashing, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Once a daredevil, she thought disgustedly. How had she ever forgotten, even for an instant, that the man was exactly like her father? Scottie would have been slapping his knee and chortling with glee right now, figuratively thumbing his nose at Luis, Tomas and their dreaded jefe. True, Rod’s delight was more sedate. He merely looked smug.

  “You don’t plan to try to fly this thing all the way to Mexico City, do you?” Visions of colliding with a jumbo jetliner danced in her head with sickening clarity.

  “No,” he said and she actually thought she heard a note of regret in his voice. “The authorities there probably take a dim view of private planes being piloted by men without licenses. They might actually get it into their heads we were drug smugglers or something.”

  “What an absolutely delightful thought,” Cara commented with deliberately exaggerated cheer. “So, where are you planning to land? Palenque or Comitan?”

  “I’d rather go to Tuxtla Gutierrez. It’s a little farther, but we’d be able to get a flight there straight to Mexico City.”

  Cara had no real objections to staying in the air now that they were safely up here, especially if it meant delaying even by a few minutes the moment when they discovered the extent of Rod’s skill at landing. Tuxtla Gutierrez probably also had slightly more experienced flight controllers who could talk them down. She tried very hard not to r
ecall the exact size of the plane she’d been on when she’d landed there on the trip down. However, by comparison with this tin can, it had definitely been in the jumbo range.

  All she said to Rod was, “I suppose you know where it is.”

  He immediately assumed an injured expression. “Of course I know where it is. It’s west,” he said confidently.

  She was somewhat reassured.

  “More or less,” he amended.

  Cara groaned. “Terrific.”

  “Okay. So, I’m not so sure how to get there. Dig around up here and see if there are any aviation maps. Then you might get on the radio and see if you can rouse the control tower.”

  “Me?”

  “Hey, why not?”

  “I’m just along for the ride.”

  “I don’t want you to get bored.”

  “Believe me, I am never bored when I’m trying to survive.” She shook her head in bemusement. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  As the critical tone of her question registered, she watched his hand tighten on the throttle, saw him clench his teeth. The light in his eyes died. Somehow it all made her feel guilty.

  “Do you want me to say no?” he asked in a flat voice.

  She sighed deeply. “I don’t want you to lie to me.”

  “Then, yes, I am enjoying it.”

  She struggled to understand what made him tick, as she’d never understood Scottie. “Is it the living on the edge? Do you like flirting with death?”

  “No more than with a dangerous woman.” He flashed a wicked grin at her.

  She responded to the grin instinctively. Not many men had ever classified her as dangerous. Not the way Rod meant it. Cute, perky and feisty were about the best she’d ever done outside the corporate boardroom. Inside, she knew what they thought of her, and dangerous was kindly by comparison. However, Rod’s innuendo, though appreciated on some feminine level, was quite beside the point. She masked her momentary thrill of pleasure and snapped impatiently, “Rod!”

  He sobered at once. He even managed to look contrite, which made her extraordinarily suspicious.