by Linda Howard
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!”
CHAPTER TEN
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,” he 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. “Hopefully, we won’t be here long. Alfonso will stay with you while I question our friend about his activities, and who hired him to abduct you.”
What he meant was that she was also under guard. Jane didn’t protest, not wanting to arouse his suspicions even more, but her skin crawled. She was very much afraid of the form his “questioning” would take. She had to think of something fast! But nothing came to mind, and Turego tilted her chin up to kiss her again. “I won’t be long,” he murmured. “Alfonso, watch her carefully. I would be very upset if someone stole her from me again.”
Jane thought she recognized Alfonso as one of the guards who had been at the plantation. When Turego had gone, closing the door behind him, Jane gave Alfonso a slow glance from under lowered lashes and essayed a tentative smile. He was fairly young and good-looking. He had probably been warned against her, but still he couldn’t help responding to her smile.
“You were a guard at the plantation?” she asked in Spanish.
He gave a reluctant nod.
“I thought I recognized you. I never forget a good-looking man,” she said with more enthusiasm than precision, her pronunciation mangled just enough to bring a hint of amusement to Alfonso’s face. She wondered if he knew what Turego was up to, or if he had been told some fabrication about protecting her.
Whatever he had been told, he wasn’t inclined toward conversation. Jane poked around the room, looking for anything to use as a weapon, but trying not to be obvious about it. She kept straining her ears for any sound from the warehouse, her nerves jumping. What was Turego doing? If he harmed Grant…
How long had it been? Five minutes? Ten? Or less than that? She had no idea, but suddenly she couldn’t stand it any longer, and she went to the door. Alfonso stretched his arm in front of her, barring her way.
“I want to see Turego,” she said impatiently. “It’s too hot to wait in here.”
“You must stay here.”
“Well, I won’t! Don’t be such a stuffed shirt, Alfonso; he won’t mind. You can come with me, if you can’t let me out of your sight.”
She ducked under his arm and had the door open before he could stop her. With a muffled oath he came after her, but Jane darted through the door and the connecting offices. Just as she entered the main warehouse she heard the sickening thud of a fist against flesh, and the blood drained from her face.
Two men held Grant between them, holding him up by his bound arms, while another stood before him, rubbing his fist. Turego stood to the side, a small, inhuman smile on his lips. Grant’s head sagged forward on his chest, and drops of blood spotted the floor at his feet.
“This silence will gain you nothing but more pain, my friend,” Turego said softly. “Tell me who hired you. That is all I want to know, for now.”
Grant said nothing, and one of the men holding him grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking his head up. Just before Alfonso took her arm, Jane saw Grant’s face, and she jerked free, driven by a wild strength.
“Turego!” she cried shrilly, drawing everyone’s attention to her. Turego’s brows snapped together over his nose.
“What are you doing here? Alfonso, take her back!”
“No!” she yelled, pushing Alfonso away. “It’s too hot back there, and I won’t stay! Really, this is too much! I’ve had a miserable time in that jungle, and I thought when you rescued m
e that I’d be comfortable again, but no, you drag me to this miserable dump and leave me in that grungy little room. I insist that you take me to a hotel!”
“Jane, Jane, you don’t understand these things,” Turego said, coming up to her and taking her arm. “Just a few moments more and he will tell me what I want to know. Aren’t you interested in knowing who hired him?” He turned her away, leading her back to the offices again. “Please be patient, love.”
Jane subsided, letting herself be led docilely away. She risked a quick glance back at Grant and his captors, and saw that they were waiting for Turego’s return before resuming the beating. He was sagging limply in their grasp, unable even to stand erect.
“You are to stay here,” Turego said sternly when they reached the office again. “Promise me, yes?”
“I promise,” Jane said, turning toward him with a smile on her face; he never saw the blow coming. She caught him under the nose with the bridge of her hand, snapping his head back and making blood spurt. Before he could yell with pain or surprise, she slammed her elbow into his solar plexus and he doubled over with an agonized grunt. As if in a well-choreographed ballet, she brought her knee up under his unprotected chin, and Turego collapsed like a stuffed doll. Jane cast a quick thought of thanks to her father for insisting that she take all of those self-defense classes, then bent down and quickly jerked the pistol from Turego’s holster.
Just as she started through the doorway again, a shot reverberated through the tin building, and she froze in horror. “No,” she moaned, then launched herself toward the sound.
* * *
WHEN JANE HAD HURLED herself into Turego’s arms, Grant had been seized by a fury so consuming that a mist of red had fallen over his vision, but he’d been trained to control himself, and that control had held, even though he had been on the edge of madness. Then the mist had cleared, and cold contempt had taken its place. Hell, what had he expected? Jane was a survivor, adept at keeping her feet. First she had charmed Turego, then Grant had stolen her from Turego and she’d charmed him as effortlessly as she had put Turego under her spell. Now Turego was back, and since he had the upper hand, it was a case of So long, Sullivan. He even felt a sort of bitter admiration for the way she had so quickly and accurately summed up the situation, then known exactly the tone to set to begin bringing Turego back to heel.