“Is there a reason for the rush?” She had wanted to get the lay of the land first and also possibly speak to him about Victor’s death before taking a trip to the plant’s special habitat.
The smile on Antonio’s face wavered a bit as he said, “I worry that the loggers are getting too close to that area. It’s best we not delay.”
Without waiting for her reply, Antonio stepped away and disappeared back into the village. Javier, who was panting behind them as he lugged her bags, unceremoniously tossed her luggage at the foot of the hut’s door.
“Do not stray on your own, especially into the jungle surrounding the village. It may not be safe,” he warned her.
Defiantly raising her chin, she said, “I can take care of myself, remember?”
Javier eyed her up and down. The heat of desire flared in his gaze before he shook his head and laughed as he walked away, leaving her to stew.
The feast didn’t begin until night had fallen.
Javier walked to Jessica’s hut to escort her, frowning at the thought of another outsider’s visit to the tribe. He knocked on the door, and she immediately answered.
She was still wearing a tank top in deference to the heat and humidity, but this one was feminine, black with a touch of black lace all around the neckline. The color accented the smooth creaminess of her skin, and the fabric clung to her, drawing his attention to her full breasts. As he admired her curves, he realized she had changed into a loose, gauzy skirt as well, which hung to mid-calf.
Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a fancy knot, although some slightly unruly wisps had escaped to feather around her forehead. The hairstyle exposed the fine features of her face and her hazel eyes. She peered at him intently.
“Are you ready?” he asked gruffly, and offered his arm.
Jessica hesitated. She had noted the attentive gleam in his gaze and tried to keep her own interest from roving up and down his nearly naked body. Still, it would be awkward to refuse, so she slipped her arm through his while he escorted her to the feast, trying to ignore his potent masculinity.
The tribe had built a large bonfire in the center of the village, and many people gathered around it, the men seated in smaller circles while the women served them food.
Javier led Jessica to the circle of tribal elders. As she approached, Antonio shifted to make space for her to sit with them. Javier squeezed in beside her.
Disconcerting, she thought, as they brushed shoulders in the tight circle. Javier had adopted the dress of his mother’s tribe, even down to decorating his body with a series of small circles in a rosette pattern along his torso. A palm belt wrapped around the lean, ribbed muscles of his abdomen, and another rested just beneath his chest, almost grazing his dark copper nipples. He had no hair on his chest, much like the rest of the men present, but his short, dark hair was a shade lighter than that of the rest of the tribe, and his skin was noticeably paler, a rich color made more golden by the firelight.
Javier had forgone his jeans for a small loincloth, which barely covered his lean hips and exposed his sculpted midsection and long, thickly muscled legs. Legs that also brushed against hers as they sat beside each other. Goosebumps rose along her legs each time his thigh rubbed hers accidentally.
As she examined him from the corner of her eye, she noted the palm band that encircled his forehead. It had a series of geometric designs, different from those the other men had adopted. Antonio leaned close to her and explained, “The patterns identify the clans within the tribe. Javier’s is the jaguar, the strongest of all the animals within the jungle, much like my nephew.”
Javier seemed embarrassed by his uncle’s comment but said nothing as a woman handed him and Jessica bowls filled with some kind of fish stew. Jessica tried a sip and smiled. “It’s delicious.”
Antonio offered her a wooden cup containing a strong-smelling fruit punch. As he raised his cup in a toast, a man from another circle stood and began some kind of pantomime. Antonio explained, “The spirits we choose guide us. They open their arms to embrace us when we call upon them to help.”
“Embrace you?”
Javier cautioned his uncle, “Tio. She cannot understand our ways so quickly.” The condemnation in his tone implied she could never accept their ways.
Jessica took a bracing gulp of the drink. It immediately created a pleasant buzz of energy in her belly. Javier grabbed her wrist as she raised her cup for another sip. He warned her, “It’s not just fruit punch. Be careful, or the alcohol and guarana will knock you on your ass.”
He emphasized that statement by risking a quick appreciative glance downward to her posterior, but he quickly dropped her wrist and returned his attention to the men beside him.
“Really? I think I can handle the kick,” she said, and took a healthy swig of the punch, earning a glare of annoyance from Javier.
The rest of the night passed pleasantly as the members of the tribe took turns dancing and acting out various stories. As they sang and danced before the fire, Antonio translated some of the stories for Jessica and explained the significance of the various tattoos and headbands. The food and punch continued to flow through the night, with the women bringing around yet more fish, in addition to plates with an assortment of root vegetables. Large platters of fresh fruits followed to end the meal.
Jessica was enjoying the night, even though Javier kept glaring at her. He seemed alternately puzzled and displeased by her presence there, and she sensed that it was because he wasn’t sure of her reaction to the tribal customs. It seemed as if he was almost hoping for her disdain, so that he could justify his anger at having an outsider present for the feast. Despite that, she refused to let him ruin the night for her.
When one of the women pulled Jessica out of her seat, inviting her to join a group of women who were dancing closer to the bonfire, she went willingly, ignoring Javier’s disbelieving look. By the time she had gamely handled the women’s playful teasing as she struggled with their steps, it was late, but another cup of the guarana punch kept her awake and tuned into the activities all around. An hour later, however, people finally began to disperse and return to their huts.
Javier rose and held out his hand.
“I will walk you back,” he said, but she shunned his offer.
He chuckled and waved dismissively. “By all means, go take care of yourself.”
He walked away then, the flames from the fire sweeping golden light over the strong muscles in his back and arms. She suddenly itched to touch his creamy café con leche skin. But she ignored the pull between her legs, a sure sign that maybe she had drunk too much punch.
Bidding good night to the elders, Jessica rose and strolled leisurely toward her hut. As she passed the first ring of structures, the night seemed to swallow her into the darkness. She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the deep black, so different from the city at night with its unnatural lights.
A snap of a twig snagged her attention. She peered into the shadows but saw nothing as her eyes finally completed their adjustment. She took another step toward her hut, but before she could cry out someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth with his hand.
Years of martial arts training took over. Jessica stamped down hard on her attacker’s foot, making him grunt and loosen his grip just enough that she could deliver a sharp elbow to his solar plexus.
He released his hold across her mouth. Jessica sucked in a breath, bent, and wrenched his arm, sending him up and over her to land with a dull thud.
A second later, something rushed past her, emitting a low growl as it did so. Javier appeared suddenly, seeming to rush out of nowhere.
Her attacker jumped to his feet and whipped something out of his pocket—a large knife. Its blade glinted brightly as the moonlight caught its edge.
The man jabbed at Javier with it, but he dodged the blade and somehow managed to strike out and land a blow on the man’s face that rocked him backward. As the man stumbled, the moonlight playe
d over his features. He had a strong, stocky build, and his face and coloring were not that of the tribespeople. For a second, Jessica thought she had seen him before. At the docks? she wondered.
Javier advanced on the man again, but her attacker slashed the knife wildly through the air, driving Javier back. The man jabbed and lunged, his face filled with fear as Javier landed one blow and then another between wild swipes of the blade.
The man suddenly rushed forward but tripped on a loose vine. Javier couldn’t react quickly enough to the change in the attacker’s direction, and the two men went sprawling onto the ground in a heap.
Fearing that in such close quarters Javier might be injured by the knife, Jessica moved toward them. As her attacker’s body became exposed for just a moment, she launched a kick at his side and sent him stumbling away from Javier. The knife went flying. Too far for the man to reach.
Seeing that the odds had suddenly turned, her attacker dashed off into the jungle, too quick for them to follow. Javier rose and stood beside her.
They were both breathing heavily from a combination of fear and exertion. As she faced Javier, Jessica realized he had one hand against his side. In the moonlight, the blood along his ribs seemed black against his skin.
“Damn,” she cursed.
“I know you’re too big and brave to ask for help, but I’m not. Do you think you could do something about this cut?”
Chapter 3
J essica took hold of his hand and led him into her hut.
She flipped on a battery-powered lantern she had brought with her and quickly pulled a small first-aid kit from her luggage.
As she turned, Javier stepped closer to her, and her elbow brushed across his abs, reminding her of all his blatant masculinity.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, but then laid a hand against the taut muscles at his waist to urge him toward the light so she could examine the wound.
The knife had caught him across a rib, preventing the blade from biting too deeply, but the long cut would need to be closed somehow. “This may hurt,” she said, as she wet a piece of gauze with antiseptic.
“I think I can handle it,” he replied, but he flinched, and his muscles tensed as she applied the gauze to his wound. He muttered a curse beneath his breath, even though her touch was gentle as she cleaned the area.
She told herself this was not the time to appreciate his amazing body as she worked, but it was nearly impossible to ignore so much lean muscle and creamy skin so enticingly close. She hurried as much as she could, using the butterfly bandages in her kit to close the gaping edges of the wound before taping a piece of gauze over the injury.
Lightly, she smoothed the tape around the edges of the gauze, trying to ignore his physical presence. Trying not to see how the reddish rosette patterns fo the achiote played across his skin and the palm bands hugged an impossibly lean waist and thick-muscled chest.
As she shot a glance up at him, she realized that he was as affected as she, despite their earlier enmity. His breath was ragged, but not with pain.
With desire.
He bent from his greater height until the edge of his jaw brushed the side of her forehead. His breath was warm against the sweat-damp skin at her temple.
She stroked her hand over the gauze covering the wound, but he laid his hand there and stilled the motion.
His hand was hot, his palm deliciously rough, and the pull came between her legs again as she imagined him touching her. Her nipples tightened in anticipation, and to battle that feeling, she asked, “Who was that man who attacked us?”
Javier stroked her hand lightly, slowly shifted his hand upward to caress her forearm. “One of Armando’s goons.”
Needing to touch him as he caressed her, she mimicked his action, laying her hand on the sculpted biceps of his arm. “Is the timber valuable enough—”
“To kill for? No. Armando has other reasons for hurting the tribe,” he said, moving his hand up to cup the top of her arm, where he lightly caressed her shoulders with the pad of his thumb.
Her gaze locked with his, searching the strange gold-green gaze, which revealed nothing but desire.
“What kinds of reasons?” she asked, as she shifted her hand to his chest and traced the edge of the palm band encircling it. As she did, she fingered the hard nub of his nipple, dragging a ragged breath from him.
“Isn’t it enough for you to know you need to watch out for yourself?” Even as he said it, he cradled her breast and tweaked her nipple through the thin cotton, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger. His actions caused a shudder to rip through her body.
“Well?” he challenged, as he snaked his hand upward, slipping beneath the edge of her tank top. He caressed her as he drew down both the shirt and her bra to reveal her breast to the warm evening air.
“Do you think you’re owed this little look because you came to my rescue?” she asked, but she didn’t stop him as he lowered his mouth to taste the nipple he had exposed. If anything, she held him closer, cradling the back of his head with her hand as she said, “Or do you think this is how to say thanks for my tending to you?”
He chuckled against her breast and gave her nipple an enticing lick with a cat-rough tongue before pulling away.
“You’re quite different from what I expected,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his lips before easing his mouth over hers. He tasted of the fruity guarana punch as she opened her mouth to his and licked his lips. They were soft and warm. He gave her a hint of a smile as she traced the edges of them with her tongue and then eased past the seam of his mouth to taste him fully.
The kiss went on and on as they sampled each other and eased close, passion rising until they were both breathing raggedly.
Jessica finally stepped back to break contact with him as she rearranged her clothing, suddenly embarrassed by the unexpected interlude and the force of her reaction. It had to be the alcohol and the guarana, she told herself, denying her attraction to him was based on anything else.
“So I’m not what you expected? Why?” she asked, crossing her arms before her as if to provide some defense against his still-hungry gaze.
“Because you’ve got more balls than most men I’ve met. Regardless, remember to be careful in the jungle tomorrow. Armando and his goons are getting bolder every day.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the hut, leaving her to ponder just what had gone so wrong that she already had someone out to get her and why Javier had been in such a hurry to leave the room, just when things were starting to heat up.
She had come to the jungle for answers. To find out about the plant with the healing powers. To learn more about Victor’s death.
After today’s run-ins with Armando and his men, she was wondering if they had anything to do with her friend’s death and vowed to find out.
The next morning, Javier’s uncle was waiting for her in the center of the village, close to the remnants of the previous night’s bonfire. Javier stood at his side, a rifle cradled in his arms, his face impassive. He did not reveal a scintilla of the passion present the night before or the slightest bit of injury from the knife would she’d dressed. It surprised her.
No one could heal that fast.
“Good morning,” she said, earning a welcome from his uncle but only an annoyed grunt from Javier. It bothered her, but what had she expected? A good-morning kiss?
Whatever had happened last night had probably been ill advised no matter how good it had felt.
With a curt nod in Javier’s direction, she adjusted the straps on her knapsack, wanting the load to be balanced for their trip into the rain forest. It was just supposed to be a day trip, but she had decided to carry a small tent and sleeping bag in addition to other supplies, just in case. She had learned in her many adventures that you didn’t take any chances.
Javier seemed to understand that, since he tossed her the rifle. “You should take this, assuming you know how to use it.”
With practiced ease, she
drew back the bolt, made sure the rifle was loaded, and slid the bolt back home, making the weapon ready to be fired. “Do you have any extra ammo?”
He reached for a small bag on the ground beside him and tossed it to her. “This should be more than enough.”
She hadn’t planned on arming herself, but after last night’s incident, it seemed to make sense.
“Will you be joining us after all?” she asked. As far as she knew, his uncle would be her only guide.
“No, but I won’t be far,” he replied cryptically, and embraced his uncle, murmuring something to him in tones too low for her to understand.
He stalked off, leaving her and his uncle by the fire pit.
As she slung the ammo over her shoulder and the rifle under her arm, she looked at the tribal shaman, who was examining her intently.
“Are you sure you want to go ahead with this after last night? I am worried about Armando and his people. They may be close to where we are going.”
She thought of Victor lying dead on the floor of the hut, his body maimed by the jungle cat, his skull crushed.
Hesitation filled her for a moment but was quickly replaced by the image of her sister’s fever-ravaged face and the sounds of her struggling to breathe as the infection robbed her of life. This plant could have saved her and it will save others, Jessica thought.
“I’m sure,” she repeated.
“Then I will take you there.”
Antonio led her out into the jungle. He plunged into the underbrush but quickly found a path that had been trodden down by the passage of feet. He explained, “My people have been going to this place for many, many years to gather the plants and animals we use.”
“The plant you showed Victor?” she asked as she plodded behind him, having to bend on occasion to avoid a branch or a dangling vine.
“Yes. Also a small tree frog and some leeches from one of the streams,” he explained, but he became silent afterward, as if speaking somehow violated the spirits of the jungle, which swallowed them up the farther they got from the village.
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