Get a grip, girl. Trevor Grant doesn’t even like you, remember. He’s just a man who possesses an instinct to protect, take charge of and defend. His attitude has nothing to do with you personally. Don’t be stupid and read any more into it than that. You mean nothing to him.
“And you think he’ll come?” she finally asked.
“He’ll come.”
She nodded. “But will he be able to find us out here?”
“He’ll find us. That’s the least of my worries. Now come on, we need to leave this place. It isn’t safe for us to hang around here any longer.” After she stepped out of his way, he reached down and effortlessly picked up his overnight bag.
Corinthians sighed, feeling dispirited. “I wish there was some way we could let our families and friends know that we’re okay. Once news of the terrorist attack hits the airwaves and we’re listed as missing, they’ll think the worst.”
Trevor nodded. He thought about his parents; his sister, Regina; and his close friends the Madaris brothers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to worry for long.”
But even as he said the words, he had a gut feeling it would be longer than he hoped.
Houston, Texas
Maurice Grant entered the barbershop where he had been getting his hair cut for well over forty years. Most of the men who came here had started coming as teenagers. And later as grown men they had eventually brought their sons here. Those sons were now bringing their own sons. It wasn’t uncommon to find three generations of men patronizing Mister P’s Barbershop.
“Good morning, Zack.”
“Same to you, Maurice. Go ahead and take a seat. You’re next in the chair.”
Maurice nodded. It seemed to him that Zack Peterson had worked here forever. He had originally opened the shop back in the early fifties. During that time a mom-and-pop drugstore had operated out of the building next door and had had a reputation of selling the best soda fountain drinks around. Unfortunately, the drugstore hadn’t been able to compete with the super–chain store pharmacy that had opened around the corner, and had been forced to close its doors a few years back. Now the building had been turned into a hair and beauty supply store.
Survivorship hadn’t been a problem for Mister P’s Barbershop. Even during the late sixties and early seventies when the Afro was popular and haircuts had been on the decline, business at Mister P’s hadn’t suffered. No one around town could wear a “‘fro” and not let Zack give it a neat tapering or a smooth trim. He had a way of giving your Afro that special Mister P’s look. Now, although Zack was getting on up in age, he was still a very popular barber around town. Everyone knew that during his lifetime he had cut the hair of such notables who’d passed through Houston as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Thurgood Marshall, Sidney Poitier, Smokey Robinson and most recently, actor Sterling Hamilton and movie producer, Spike Lee. One wall in the shop was plastered with photos of Zack with all those famous people and quite a few others.
Before taking a seat, Maurice went over to a counter and picked up the current issue of Jet. The television set in the shop was turned on to the Jerry Springer Show. The talk-show host was interviewing a couple claiming to have been kidnapped by space aliens last year. Having no desire to listen to what the couple was saying, Maurice flipped through the magazine to find an interesting article to read.
“How’s the family, Maurice?” Zack called out to him.
A pain cut through Maurice like it always did whenever he thought about his family. Although he maintained a very close relationship with his son, Trevor, and his daughter, Regina, he and his wife, Stella, had been living apart for more than twenty years.
“Everybody’s fine,” he said, taking his seat. Maurice began reading an article about movie star Sterling Hamilton’s recent marriage. He looked up when Zack turned up the volume on the television set.
“There’s some kind of news flash, and I want to hear what it’s about,” Zack said by way of an explanation. “These days I can’t hear as well as I used to.”
Maurice nodded an understanding and was about to return to reading the article when the news anchorman appeared on the television screen. “We have just gotten word that terrorists stormed the La Grande Hotel in Rio de Janeiro before daybreak, taking several hostages, all of them Americans, and leaving others in a room with a bomb set to go off at the slightest movement. We understand the bomb has been found and discharged without any injuries. We are, however, awaiting word on the identities of those six Americans that were taken as hostages. We will keep you updated on…”
The magazine Maurice had been reading fell to the floor when he suddenly jumped from his seat.
“Maurice? What’s wrong?”
Maurice stared numbly at the television. In the back of his mind he heard Zack talking to him, calling his name.
“Maurice? Maurice, are you all right?”
He turned and looked at Zack. “It’s Trevor.”
Zack frowned. He knew Maurice’s son, Trevor, very well. He had given Trevor his very first haircut and had continued to take care of his head all the way through high school. Even now he considered himself Trevor’s barber. “What about Trevor?”
“He’s there,” Maurice said, pointing to the television.
Zack’s frown deepened as he tried to make sense of what Maurice was saying. “Trevor’s where?”
Maurice’s gaze bored into Zack, imploring him to understand. “Trevor’s over there in Rio de Janeiro on a business trip. And he was staying at that hotel.”
“The one that got hit by terrorists?” Zack asked in alarm.
“Yes.” Maurice frantically searched his pants pockets for his car keys. “I’ve got to go and tell Stella. I hope I can get to her before she sees any of this on television.”
Without saying another word, Maurice Grant rushed out of the barbershop.
“Since you’re the one who invited me to lunch, I assume you’re picking up the tab.”
Clayton Madaris shook his head, grinning. “You can afford to pay for your own meal, Dex.”
Dex Madaris eyed his brother thoughtfully. “So, what’s up? What’s so important that you had to meet with me today?”
Clayton sat back in his chair. “I have a great idea. To be honest with you, it’s really Syneda’s idea, but I happen to think it’s great, too.”
Dex lifted a brow. “That’s scary.”
Clayton frowned. “What is?”
“The thought that you and Syneda actually agreed on something.”
Clayton’s frown turned into a wide grin. “Yeah, it is kind of scary when you think about it, isn’t it? Trust me, it doesn’t happen often.”
Dex nodded. He could believe that. Clayton and his wife Syneda rarely agreed on anything. “So what’s this great idea?”
“How does the Madaris Building sound?”
Now it was Dex’s turn to frown. “The Madaris Building? What are you talking about, Clayton?”
“I’m talking about me, you and Justin, along with Uncle Jake, of course, getting together and pooling our resources to build an office building somewhere in downtown Houston.”
Dex sat back in his chair. “An office building? Why?”
“Because during my and Syneda’s search for a place to accommodate our law firm, we discovered what a good investment rental property can be. We can build a nice building with at least three or four floors and use the area that we need, then lease out any unused space. You can even move your office there. Just think of the money you’ll save.”
Dex rubbed his chin, thinking about the possibility of being in the same building day after day with Clayton and Syneda. Their constant bickering would probably drive him batty. He would rather fork out the money and stay in his present building just to maintain his sanity. There were certain things in life that you couldn’t put a price tag on and his peace of mind was one of them. “I’ll pass on the idea of sharing office space with you and Syneda, but the idea concerning the building itself has merit.”
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“Excuse me. Mr. Madaris, you have a phone call.”
Both Dex and Clayton glanced up at the waiter.
“Which one of us?” Clayton asked, smiling.
“You, sir, Clayton Madaris,” was the waiter’s reply. “The telephone is located this way.”
“Where’s your mobile phone?” Dex asked Clayton when he stood to follow the waiter.
“Syneda has it. She, ah, kind of borrowed it for a while.”
Dex shook his head. Knowing Clayton and Syneda, there was probably more to the mobile phone story than Clayton was telling, but Dex decided the less he knew, the better. He resumed eating his food after Clayton left.
A few minutes later he looked up to see Clayton heading back to their table. There was an odd expression on his face. “Hey, man, what’s wrong with you?”
Clayton sighed deeply, wondering what would be the best way to break the news to Dex. He decided to just come right out and tell him. “That was Justin.”
Dex lifted a surprised brow. Their brother Justin was a physician who lived in a small town outside of Dallas. “Why would Justin be calling you here?”
“He called the office and Syneda told him where we were. There was a news flash on television.”
Dex frowned. “What sort of news flash?”
“Terrorists stormed a hotel in Brazil last night taking several Americans as hostages.”
An uneasy feeling settled over Dex. “Where exactly in Brazil did this attack take place?”
Clayton hesitated briefly before answering. He met his brother’s gaze directly. “Rio de Janeiro.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Clayton saw the immediate reaction they had on Dex. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Dex,” he rushed on to say.
“Like hell it doesn’t.”
Dex stood and reached into his pocket and pulled out several bills. He threw them on the table. When he met Clayton’s gaze, pure rage covered his face. “Come on, let’s go.”
Clayton lifted a brow. “Go where?”
“To Rio de Janeiro if we have to.”
The two Madaris brothers quickly left the restaurant.
Chapter 9
Corinthians put the canteen to her mouth and took another sip of the cool, refreshing liquid. It had a fruity taste that included some ingredients she did not recognize. A few hours ago Trevor had left her alone again to go on a jungle excursion in search of something for them to eat. He had returned a short while later with the frothy drink that she had desperately needed.
She asked him how he had put together such a cool, refreshing and delicious drink out here in the jungle. He’d told her about all the different kinds of fruit he’d come upon, as well as an ice-cold spring nearby. And he had further explained that in addition to being tasty and filling, the fruity beverage would provide her with vital nutrients that were needed to sustain her body for a while, since she hadn’t eaten anything solid since dinner last night.
Peering up at the sky, she figured it was close to early afternoon. They had plenty of daylight hours left, and the scorching heat and high humidity were getting the best of her. Her clothes were beginning to stick to her skin and her tired, sore feet were aching. They had walked most of the day at a pretty steady pace, moving farther and deeper into the jungle. Now, according to Trevor, they were in a part of the jungle he referred to as a tropical forest.
Corinthians glanced over to where Trevor was hard at work rubbing the tip of a bamboo rod against a huge rock, trying to give it a sharp, pointed edge. He had explained that he needed to make some sort of a weapon for their protection, and that he had felt inadequate and defenseless without one.
She couldn’t think of using words such as inadequate or defenseless to ever describe Trevor Grant. As far as she was concerned, his motto in life definitely had to be, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” The drink she was holding in her hand was a testimony to that, as well as the very fact that she was here with him and not a hostage like the others. He had literally, single-handedly, kept her safe. Even now he was busy seeing to her welfare.
It suddenly occurred to her just how little she knew about him personally other than what he had shared with her about his time in the Marines. She knew he and Dex were childhood friends, and that he had a rather close relationship with the other two Madaris brothers, Justin and Clayton, as well. The one other thing she knew about Trevor was that more times than not, he unnerved her.
Corinthians sighed. There was so much about Trevor that she didn’t know. And she wasn’t sure why, but there was so much about him that she wanted to know. Except for when he occasionally educated her on their surroundings, there had been little conversation between the two of them as they had moved through the jungle. And now, as she sat with her back resting against the trunk of a huge tree and sipped her drink, she couldn’t help but watch him. She was incredibly aware of him physically. He had a magnificent body, lean, strong and dark-toned.
Her gaze followed his every movement with interest. He had removed his shirt and the taut, hard muscles of his shoulders and chest outright fascinated her. They seemed to flex with each and every movement he made, whether it was bending down, leaning over or reaching upward. He moved with the kind of sure agility that came from a man who evidently enjoyed the outdoors and the physical side of life. The man definitely possessed an attractive male physique. And without his shirt, his jeans showed the force of his thighs and the firm slimness of his hips.
Corinthians took another sip of her drink, suddenly feeling hot. She blotted moisture from her face with the palm of her hand and tried ignoring the tingling sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach. You would think she had never seen a man with a good-looking body before. She had to get a grip. Trevor’s body had been the cause of many sleepless nights over the past two years. And it seemed she was getting herself in even more trouble by being out here alone with him in the wilderness. She was beginning to have plenty of wild and primitive thoughts about him. They were thoughts she did not need and could not afford to have. It bothered her that he could inspire such thoughts from her. She couldn’t help but remember the feelings she got whenever he touched her. When he had placed his body over hers to protect her, she had marveled at the hard strength of him. She couldn’t help but wonder how that strength would feel lying in his arms.
Annoyed at the way her thoughts were going, she looked away from him. She drew up her legs, hugged her knees and rested her head on them. She wanted to think of something else besides Trevor. She wondered if the police had been able to dismantle the bomb and if everyone was all right. She thought about the men who’d been taken as hostages and sent up a silent prayer for their safe return. She then wondered if her parents, Josh and Brenna had heard about the terrorist attack yet.
Corinthians began thinking of even more things to occupy her mind, and the next thing she knew she’d begun feeling overly tired and sleepy.
“Don’t go to sleep on me now. You have to take a dip first.”
Corinthians’s drooping eyelids shot up. She lifted her head and looked up into Trevor’s face. At times he could move as silently as a cat. She had not heard him approach.
“A dip?”
“Yeah. I think we’ve done enough walking for one day. This might be a good spot for us to settle down for the night. But first we need to take a dip in that stream over there to refresh our sweaty bodies and to wash away our scent. That way we won’t make it easy for those guys looking for you to find us. Out here in the jungle your body’s scent can give away your location.”
Corinthians nodded. “How much longer do you think it will be before your friend at the embassy comes looking for us?”
“He’ll come as soon as he gets my message,” he replied, holding up the bamboo rod that had now taken the shape of a spear. “Come on, let’s go. I think you need to cool off a bit. It’s been a long day,” Trevor said, extending his hand to her.
Corinthians accepted it and he p
ulled her to her feet. She accidently brushed her chest against his. The body contact almost took her breath away, and she took an immediate step back. The sudden movement nearly made her lose her balance. Instinctively and instantly, Trevor reached out an arm to place around her shoulders to steady her.
“Be careful,” he said huskily.
His touch sent an unwelcome surge of pleasure through her, and she grudgingly admitted it also provided her with the comfort of his nearness. She felt remarkably safe with his strong arms on her shoulders. She gazed up into his eyes to find he was staring back at her. She watched as his gaze shifted from her eyes and dropped to her mouth.
“You said I needed to take a dip,” she said shakily, dropping her gaze from his and saying the only thing she could think of at the moment. It was all she could do to force herself not to reach up and run her fingers along the strong, firm angle of his stubbly chin.
For a tense moment he just stood there, saying nothing. Then he spoke; his words were murmured low in his throat. “Yes, I did, didn’t I.” He lowered his hand from her shoulders. “We both need to take a dip. You go first and I’ll watch.”
Corinthians’s brows drew together. “What do you mean you’ll watch?”
Trevor’s face broke into an irresistibly devastating grin. “I’m not going to watch you take a bath, if that’s what you think. I’m going to be the lookout to make sure we don’t get any unwanted company.”
Corinthians nodded, feeling like a fool for having jumped to conclusions.
“Besides,” Trevor continued. “You need to take the dip with your clothes on then change out of them after you’re through.”
“Why?”
“That way you’ll wash your scent out of your clothes. You can lay them across the tree branches overnight to dry.”
“All right.” Corinthians felt a lot better knowing she wouldn’t have to get undressed around him. When she did have to change out of her wet things, he would be occupied by taking his own turn in the stream.
Fire and Desire (Arabesque) Page 9