He strode to the door and made a quick survey of the bath—a shower stall and utilitarian sink. Only then, assured that she was alone in her room, did he move toward the door.
“You look exhausted,” he said, taking in the dark shadows under her eyes, the slump of her delicate shoulders. A wave of tenderness washed over him; she looked so sweet, so vulnerable. His heart twisted in his chest. He’d have to be careful. Her vulnerability called to his protectiveness, and he didn’t want that. Nevertheless, it was all he could do to stay on his own side of the room.
“Thanks,” she said dryly. “That always makes a woman feel better.” She sank down on the soft bed, a wan smile on her face. “But you’re right, I’m tired. I think I could sleep for a week. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to have a good sleep, too. And a huge meal, maybe not in that order. Tomorrow George will take me out to rescue my plane.”
He hesitated. Could he really order her out of his life? His impulse was to take her in his arms and never let her go. Perhaps that was why his voice was harsher than he had intended.
“And I don’t want you here when I get back. There’s a plane out for Anchorage tomorrow—you can change there for Seattle.”
Her eyes shot fire. “I told you. That’s not up for discussion.”
“I won’t have you in danger. Look what’s nearly happened to you already.”
“You won’t have me in danger! You have nothing to say about it.”
“Don’t be stubborn. I can handle this by myself.”
She took a deep breath. “Brian, I’ve told you before. I make my own decisions.”
“Fine!” He left the room, slamming the door behind him. He walked slowly to his room, relief that she wouldn’t leave vying with fear for her.
He steeled himself to enter his room, knowing Pasco and Wilson would be waiting. Had they really flown up here to assure themselves of his safety, or was there another motive? And how could he think such a thing? He had known Pasco for years; if not an intimate friend, he was at least a business friend.
When he opened the door, Pasco was sitting on the bed. Wilson was at the window, gazing out at the narrow main street of the town. Both turned at his entrance.
Pasco glanced at Wilson, almost as though seeking permission, then gave Brian a hearty smile. “I can’t tell you how happy we are to see you safe, pal.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty happy about it myself.” Brian shut the door and stood with his back to it, his arms folded across his chest. He would let them lead the way. Neither one had asked him about the circumstances that had caused him to set his plane down in the middle of the wilderness. Why not, unless they already knew?
He had better stop such paranoid thinking. It wasn’t unreasonable that they were here. George had radioed the information to the tower that he had found them, and had given a short explanation of what had happened.
“Well, at least it’s over, no real harm done,” Wilson said.
“Just a good scare for all of us,” Pasco agreed. “Once you get back to Anchorage, everything will be back to normal. When are you going back?”
A sharpness in Pasco’s tone belied the casual question. Brian shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have to salvage my plane tomorrow…”
Pasco nodded. “Then you’ll fly back to Anchorage the day after.”
“I’m not sure just yet what we’ll do.” Brian’s stubborn streak was surfacing under Pasco’s prodding. Pasco was pushing and he didn’t know why. And how naturally he, Brian, had said “we” instead of “I.” “Malinche wants to stay on a few days—”
Wilson moved from the window, giving Pasco a sharp glance. Who the hell was this man? Pasco was reacting like a puppet on strings. Wilson had been introduced as a Universal Oil man, but Brian was almost sure he hadn’t seen him before. Or had he? The man’s features were eminently forgettable, his manner so unobtrusive you could almost forget he was there—almost. Brian sensed something deep and hidden under the bland facade.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Pasco persisted. “If she wants to go on a wild-goose chase, there’s no reason for you to go along with it.”
At Brian’s sharp glance, he spread his hands, palms upward, and shrugged. “I know, I know—it’s your business. But did you ever think you might be getting into something you don’t know anything about?”
Brian’s lips tightened. “If you know so much about it, why don’t you tell me what I’m getting into, Joe?”
“Hey—all I know is nothing good can come of prying around into that Native’s accidental death.”
“Accidental? You know better than that, don’t you, Joe?”
“Well, sure, I’ve heard the rumors. But, so what? If somebody killed him, it was probably one of his own people. He was dead set against the Natives agreeing to let us drill on their lands. And some of his people didn’t like that at all.”
“No more than Universal Oil did, I suspect.”
“What are you implying? That we’d murder to get drilling rights? You’ve worked for us a long time, and I never thought I’d hear anything like that from you. Are you accusing me—”
“It’s not an unreasonable idea,” Wilson interposed quietly. “Kennedy was just taking a shot in the dark. No reason to get upset. But I assure you, Kennedy, that whatever happened to Dimitri was none of our doing.”
Brian took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. He wouldn’t accept Wilson’s assurance alone, but he couldn’t believe his company for whom he felt a strong loyalty would do something so blatantly criminal. “Sorry.”
“So, you’ll rescue your plane, rest up a bit, and get on back where you belong?” Pasco asked. “The girl wouldn’t be fool enough to stay here by herself.”
Brian merely looked at him.
“I’ve never known you to be so stubborn, man. I’d hate to phrase that as an order.”
“I’m on vacation,” Brian reminded him.
“Yeah, and I can revoke that anytime. Brian, what’s got into you? You’ve always been a man to mind your own business. You’d never have got involved if it hadn’t been for that woman.”
Joe rose from the bed and took a step or two toward Brian, shaking his head. “Come on, I know she’s a good-looking woman, and with all that time alone, she must have been persuasive—”
“That’s enough.” Brian’s swift surge of fury surprised them all—even himself. But Pasco had no right to imply that about Malinche.
“Damn it, be reasonable! There’s a lot involved here, stuff none of us know all about. And you—you’ve always been levelheaded, practical. You’re the last man I’d expect to lose his head over a woman—and a Native fox at that.”
Brian stepped forward smoothly, his rage showing only in his eyes. His fist connected with Pasco’s jaw, sending the man sprawling on the floor. “You can’t talk about her like that.”
Joe looked up, an aggrieved expression on his face, as Brian leaned over him, ready to knock him back down.
Jim Wilson, a half smile on his narrow features, stepped between the two men. “That’s enough, Kennedy. I’m sure he’s sorry.” He glanced down at Joe, who was rubbing his chin.
“Yeah,” Pasco mumbled, “yeah, I’m sorry.” He stumbled toward the bed.
Wilson placed his hand on Brian’s arm. “We’ve been out of line here, Kennedy. We both apologize. Naturally, Universal Oil doesn’t control your private life. We’ll be going and let you get some rest.”
His temper still barely under control, Brian nodded curtly. “Apology accepted. Will you two be returning on the next flight to Anchorage?”
“Oh, I doubt it,” Wilson said. “I’ve never been to Kotzebue before. We might hang around a few days, look the place over. There’s bound to be some interesting things to see around here.”
Brian watched the two leave the room, then shut the door carefully behind them. One thing was sure—Universal Oil was interested in Dimitri’s death, whether or not they had actually caused it. A
nd had Pasco and Wilson come all this way just to assure themselves of his safety? Or had they been following him since he left Anchorage?
Brian wasn’t accustomed to the suspicions that raced through his mind, and he didn’t like it. He thought of himself as an honest man with integrity. Up until a few days ago he would have bet anything that the company he worked for was the same.
He was still shaken by the depth of his fury at Joe. He had wanted to kill the man. A basic need to protect Malinche had seemed to come out of nowhere. And that was scary!
Pasco and Wilson didn’t need to convince him of the dangers of digging into this thing. He knew it, but he also knew it was too late to drop it.
The greater danger was Malinche—being near her when all his survival instincts told him to get away. The days in the cave had been so idyllic that he might even persuade himself that there was a chance for them—that although she was rich, unused to hardship, would leave when the chips were down, she might be different. That way lay heartbreak. He could face a grizzly, could face a gun, but he knew any relationship with Malinche would be temporary. He would come to love her and she would be gone. That he couldn’t face. Better not let it happen in the first place.
If it wasn’t already too late. He had to admit he’d felt a surge of relief when she had refused to leave; staying near her would be tough, but it was better than her absence. No, he’d see this through. He would just be sure that nothing more occurred between them.
He forced his thoughts back to Wilson and Pasco. They had sure changed their minds about staying in Kotzebue. Interesting things to see, indeed!
MALINCHE HAULED HERSELF off the bed and into the small bathroom. Standing under the shower, she closed her eyes and allowed the warmth to penetrate her aching muscles and flow like balm over her skin. The jade dragon hung between her breasts and she fingered it lightly, taking comfort in its familiarity.
She toweled slowly and luxuriously, then slipped on a light silk gown whose collar reached just under her chin, but which clung like a second skin. It had seemed an unnecessary item on such a rugged trip, but it took up so little room she had given in to the impulse.
Had Brian been in her mind when she packed it? Probably, she admitted. She pulled the heavy shades to darken the room, and then slid between the cotton sheets and pulled the comforter up around her neck.
The sleep she courted was not to be. Tired as her body was, her mind pulsed with energy. Over and over she relived the past few days, but every time she tried to concentrate on who was menacing her, her thoughts returned to those days and nights with Brian in the ancient cave.
Another time, another place, she might have loved him with all her soul. But she was a wanderer between two worlds, pulled by two different cultures, and until she resolved that dichotomy, she could not truly love anyone. She was glad he had tried to order her about; it deepened her realization of the chasm between them. She might not know where she belonged, but she did know something about herself. The man she loved would treat her as an equal, not a recalcitrant child.
Finally she drifted off, only to jolt wide-awake again She wasn’t sure what had awakened her. It wasn’t a sound. It was more that she sensed a presence in her room, a scent of danger. Instantly she was wide-awake, every muscle rigid as she listened.
Her heart was pounding so loud she suspected it could be heard a mile away. Making a supreme effort, she slowed her breathing, making sure that it continued its calm, even rhythm that would indicate she slept. Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened her eyelids a fraction of an inch. She could see nothing. The drawn shades kept out the light of the midnight sun.
Suddenly a gloved hand closed over her mouth, choking off her scream. Another hand captured her hands, holding them in a tight, cruel grip.
“Don’t make a sound.” The voice was muffled, unrecognizable.
She struggled briefly, but the pressure on her arms tightened, sending pain shooting along her arms.
“Where is it?” the voice hissed.
She tried to respond, but the hand effectively cut off all sound. Anger shot through her, mixing with the fear. How did the fool expect an answer if he wouldn’t let her speak?
The question had apparently been rhetorical, anyway. She squirmed as he fastened duct tape over her mouth and secured her arms behind her back.
Wide-eyed with terror, she watched the dark form go to her bag and dump the contents on the floor. He sorted through the contents, throwing things in all directions. Even in the partial darkness she might have been able to recognize him, but he wore black clothing and a ski mask obliterated his features.
He made a quick, systematic search of the rest of the room, dumping out drawers, checking the pockets of her jeans. She tried to memorize every detail of his appearance, but all she could tell for sure was that he was a man of medium size, medium build. She could never recognize him if she saw him again.
With a curse, he threw her backpack onto the floor at the foot of her bed. Whatever he was searching for, he had obviously not found it. Could it be the dragon? The long chain kept the tiny object out of sight beneath her gown.
“I’m going to warn you one more time,” he whispered. “Drop this Dimitri thing. Or you could wind up right where he is.”
He yanked the tape from her wrists. “Just forget you ever saw me here,” he muttered. “It should take you a few seconds to get the tape off your mouth. If I hear one shout, one scream, I’ll be back in here and I won’t be so gentle. Understand?” He gave a hard yank on her arm. “I should kill you now, but your boyfriend and his pals are too close.”
She nodded frantically; she wasn’t sure she could move. She watched his dark form move to the door and an eternity later heard the door close behind him. Only then did she take a deep breath.
She yanked the tape from her lips. Her first impulse was to scream, but what if he actually was waiting on the other side of the door? He could reach her long before anyone else could, and she believed his promise to harm her if she alerted anyone.
She could run down the hall and find Brian, but she wasn’t sure which room was his. It would be too dangerous to stumble into just any room. Besides, what could he do? The intruder would be long gone before she could alert Brian. Or, she thought, shuddering, he could have removed his disguise and be right among them.
How had the man got in here, anyway? She was sure she had locked the door—she always did.
She slid from the bed and crept across to the door. Nothing had been broken; apparently the man had a passkey or else was adept at picking locks. She locked the door again, wishing she had more trust in its ability to keep out intruders.
What had the man been after? Whatever it was, he hadn’t found it. Her hand touched the talisman between her breasts Did he want the dragon? If so, why? It was like any of a dozen for sale at any craft shop. She resolved that in the morning, she would examine the dragon even more carefully, although she didn’t expect to see anything she hadn’t seen before.
There was nothing to be done until morning. She wouldn’t test his warning about keeping her mouth shut. She could call the authorities, she supposed, but so far they hadn’t been interested in anything she told them.
Briefly she thought of going immediately to Brian, but she hesitated. He’d been so angry when he left so determined to make her leave. This would only confirm his belief that she was in danger, and even if he couldn’t force her to leave, he might stop helping her.
And there was nothing he could do now. The man was long gone.
She’d talk it over with Brian tomorrow. He had planned to leave early to salvage his plane. It was 4:00 a.m. now. She would be up by five and catch him before he left.
The plan allowed her to relax, and exhaustion caused her to doze. When she woke again, she glanced at the clock and jerked wide awake. Nine o’clock. Brian was gone.
Chapter Eight
Malinche slipped into a booth in the hotel’s coffee shop and looked around at the other c
ustomers. Few people were here this late in the morning: several men clustered around a table in the center of the room drinking coffee and talking loudly; an elderly couple, apparently tourists, in one of the booths; four teenagers in another booth, who, considering their features and Native dress, were Eskimo. No one looked in the least threatening.
She’d known Brian would be gone when she checked her watch on awakening, but she had checked at the front desk to be sure. The clerk confirmed he’d left around six.
She gave her order to a smiling teenage waitress with straight dark hair and flashing eyes who made a production of passing by the youths in the other booth. In spite of her own concerns, Malinche smiled. The girl was obviously the reason for the young men’s presence.
Even though she’d known Brian wouldn’t be here, she had to stifle a sharp pang of disappointment. She was alone in a strange place, suspicious of everyone, at the mercy of an enemy she didn’t know. She had never felt so terribly vulnerable.
But there was nothing to be done about it. She had an entire day to fill before Brian returned, and she could hardly go back to her room, lock the door, and pull the covers over her head. And she couldn’t sit here, frozen with fear, a woman unable to move without a man. She should get on with the job she had come to do.
Two men entering the room caught her attention. She remembered the names—Joe Pasco and Jim Wilson—the men who had met their plane, co-workers of Brian’s. They glanced around the room, started toward a booth, then caught sight of her.
“Miss Adams, I hope you had a good night’s rest.” Joe Pasco came to her booth, smiling expansively.
Malinche trusted no one; she listened carefully to the tone of his voice. Had she heard it last night, muffled by a ski mask? Impossible to tell. Nevertheless, the man had a habit of turning up when least expected. It was best to be cautious.
“Yes, thank you. I’m afraid I overslept. I haven’t been outside yet.”
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