Primitive Nights
Page 16
He chucked the little girl beneath the chin and said something that made the girl smile. Myla watched the girl run off and pressed her hand to his chest. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were a sister to Hounta. That you were my brave angel.”
She slipped her hands up and around his neck and ran her fingers over the taut muscles to snuggle into his embrace. “When will the council decide?”
“Tonight.”
She couldn’t contain a groan. Night was still hours away. The soft tickle of his lips across her ear sent shivers down her spine, and she stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “What should we do until then?”
His arms tightened around her waist. “A bath?”
“Mmmm. With you?”
He nodded and scooped her into his arms. She didn’t care that his people stared as they passed. There was no shame in wanting him. She felt no embarrassment knowing his people probably knew what they would do together. She would take every moment with him and enjoy it to the fullest.
Damon leaned back against the rocks of the shallow pool and let his eyes wander over her body. She smiled before disappearing beneath the surface. When she came up for air, the shadows from the trees danced over her skin. The scent of hibiscus filled the air, and the warmth of the water against his feet soothed the aches of their lengthy travel.
He enjoyed the pleasure she experienced. “You are more lovely than the most brilliant flower.”
“Ummm. Was that flattery?”
She stood, water pouring down over her skin in rivulets that drew his gaze. The water reached only to midthigh, revealing her naked body to his hungry gaze. “Flattery? What is this?”
He pushed away from the rocks and stepped down into the water. “It means to say something nice to someone.” He was ready to nod when she added, “Usually with the intent to gain something wanted.”
Her eyes were dark, hungry. He recognized the signs of her desire. “I said it because it is the truth, not to gain what I want. I already have that.”
“Do you?” She turned away and scooped handfuls of water over her shoulders.
He moved closer to run his fingers down the long column of her spine. Reaching around her waist, he splayed his hand over her belly and pulled her back against him. “Yes.” He whispered the word along her neck, taking her shudders against his body and held her tight when she would have turned. “And I want you to stay with me.”
“I wish—” Her voice cracked. “I wish there was a way. If I remain here, there is no one else to tell of InterCorp’s crimes. Your people will suffer and eventually die.”
Her words were true, and yet… “You will be in danger, far away, where I cannot protect you.” He pressed his lips to her neck. “But I cannot leave my people.”
She turned and pressed her cheek to his chest, her hands sliding up and down his back. The sharp tips of her fingernails bit into his skin but there was no pain, only fierce need that boiled through his blood, setting fire to every portion of his body.
“Make love to me.” Her lips met his, and he inhaled her whispered plea.
He crushed her to him, desperate for her touch. The sadness he saw in her eyes matched the heaviness that surrounded his heart. No matter what the elders decided, he would lose her.
“Maglayo! Maglayo!”
Damon turned when the panicked voice of a child came to them. Pushing Myla behind him, he faced the direction the voice had come from and called out. Siyda rushed down over the embankment and skidded to a stop before him, his small chest heaving with his ragged breaths.
He grasped the boy’s shoulders. “Siyda, what is wrong?”
“Come. You must come quickly. There is sickness.”
“Go! Tell my mother.”
Siyda’s expression fell. “It is your mother, Maglayo.”
The boy rushed off then, and Myla walked around to stand before him, concern arching her eyebrows. “Damon, what’s happening?”
“My mother is ill.” He climbed from the pool, wrapping his cloth around his hips.
Myla followed and started to pull her clothes on. “Go, Damon. I’ll be right there. Have someone heat water and make sure there is plenty of clean water for her to drink.” She yanked on her pants as she spoke. “Go!”
Chapter Fifteen
Her fever was high.
Myla took her hand away from Michelle’s head and sat back to meet Damon’s worried expression. “We need to keep her cool. Have Seiret bring more water and fruit, anything we can squeeze the juice from will help keep fluids inside her body.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Go and check on the others as well. You can see your mother later.”
Damon left the hut reluctantly and she couldn’t have been more grateful for his absence. Since they’d returned from the spring pools, he’d hovered over his mother with terror in his eyes. She didn’t blame him, but he was more in the way than a help at the moment.
Dipping a cloth through the bucket of cool water next to Michelle’s cot, she wiped at the older woman’s forehead. “Michelle? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I hurt all over.” Her soft voice cracked. “My head hurts as well.”
“Any other symptoms?”
“I cannot hold anything down.”
Myla’s concern grew. There were so many reasons she could be sick, but the flu could spread through the entire camp. “For how long now?”
Michelle attempted to shrug. “A couple of days. I thought it was bad food—” Her gaze lifted to the ceiling. “Oh, God. What have I done?”
“You can’t help becoming sick, Michelle.” The older woman tried to sit up, and Myla held her down to the cot. “Please, you have to rest.”
“No. Don’t you see? I brought this sickness here.” She licked her dry lips. “I helped Tinjtol. We brought the men’s belongings here.”
Myla shook her head, confused. “What men?”
“Some men he killed. InterCorp men.” Michelle grabbed her hand and the temperature of the touch scared Myla as much as the woman’s admission. “One of them was sick, but Tinjtol didn’t tell me until after we’d brought all their things back.”
Terror raced through Myla. If the men were sick and Tinjtol’s exposure to Michelle had given her the illness, anyone else they came in contact with could have been exposed as well. The people of the tribe, the Hountas…Damon.
Seiret pushed through the fronds suddenly, and Myla jumped to her feet. She couldn’t speak to the man, but there had to be a way to make him understand. “Where is Maglayo?” She held her hands up and pointed, repeating, “Where. Maglayo?”
He looked down at Michelle and spoke to her. Michelle’s gaze held Myla’s and she could see the panic there. “He’s gone to the Hountas. To warn them of the sickness. It is his fault, his weakness. His need to save even our enemies. His kindness will get him killed.”
Myla paced. What was she going to do? If the Hountas were ill, it was only a matter of time before the sickness ran rampant through Damon’s tribe. Sitting back and waiting wasn’t an option. She turned to Seiret and placed the cloth in his hand. “Wash.”
He stared at her in confusion so she pulled him over to Michelle’s cot and grabbed his hand. She showed him how to keep her cool then said to Michelle, “Tell your son I’ve gone for help.”
Michelle shook her head. “No. He will be furious.”
“Probably no more so than I am at finding out he went to the Hountas after they nearly killed us.” There was no helping it. If there was potential for an epidemic, the tribes would need medicine, food, fluids. She had to go back to E.I. and get supplies. Waiting for Damon wasn’t an option. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
Michelle said something to Seiret, and he jumped to his feet, shaking his head. Myla tried to push past him but he blocked her path.
“Michelle, tell him I must go for help or everyone could die.”
Michelle’s eyes closed. “Take him with you. He will be able to get you there and back much
faster by canoe.”
Myla knew she was right, and as much as she hated to endanger Damon’s friend, alternate options were nonexistent. Knowing she might regret her choice, she closed her eyes for a moment. “Ask him if he is willing.”
Michelle did as she asked, and when Seiret nodded, Myla slid the bucket closer to the cot. “Drink, Michelle. You have to keep drinking. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The trip down the river seemed to last forever. Myla helped paddle through the calm areas in the river and Seiret turned out to be a very effective communicator, using signs with his hands. Several hours later, with Seiret’s help, Myla had mastered the basics of the small wooden canoe.
The rapids they encountered still scared her, but with each drop and dip through the turbulent water, she became more certain of her skill. Hour after hour passed. She lost track of time as the water fought them, threatening to end their journey numerous times through the day. They stopped only when necessary, and Seiret stayed alert, his body tense until they were in motion again. Every muscle in her body hurt. The blisters on her palms had ruptured but she welcomed the pain. It helped force her through the exhaustion swallowing her.
She was near to screaming with frustration when Seiret grunted. He pointed ahead, and through the growing darkness she could make out the subtle flicker of lights.
So close. Now all she needed to do was get to the E.I. storage building and load up with emergency provisions. If they started out again immediately, they would arrive back at the camp sometime late the next day. Later than she would have liked, but it would have to do.
An hour later Seiret stood next to the canoe, his eyes wide. He stared at Myla as though she’d grown an extra head. She tried to make him understand. “Seiret, please. You—” she pointed at him, “—stay here.” She pointed at the canoe then held her hands out, palms toward him. “Stay.”
She backed up a bit and again he stepped forward as if to follow. The sounds he uttered meant nothing to her, though the frustration in his voice broke any language barrier. Words fell in rapid succession from his thick lips, and he pressed a fist to his chest before pointing at her.
She assumed he meant to protect her. She’d recognized the words leader and brave, but that was all. His intent seemed to be to protect her in Damon’s place. She shook her head and pointed at the lights. “Bad. Danger.”
He smiled, plainly misunderstanding her. She sat down on a rock near the river and dropped her head into her hand. This was a waste of valuable time. There had to be a way…
Then an idea formed in her mind.
She stood and walked toward the bushes. When he called out, she smiled and held a hand to her lower abdomen. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she imitated a child’s pee pee dance and pointed to the bushes, squashing the small voice in her head that said she was an idiot. She waited. After a moment, he nodded, his brows knit with skepticism. But it gained her the distance she needed. As soon as she was far enough away to make a break for it, she did, praying that he wouldn’t be brave—or foolish—enough to follow.
“Thank you so much, sir.”
The gentleman who’d stopped to offer her a ride smiled as she closed the door of his V.W. Bug. “You’re very welcome, my dear. I hope all works out for you now.”
“I’m certain it will.”
“Very good. Off to find my hotel. Left after the embassy, correct?”
“That’ll take you right past Upton Suites. Have a wonderful vacation.”
“This heat is going to send me back to New York sooner than I’d planned.” He chuckled. “Good luck, then.”
She waved as he pulled away then ran up the steps to her small apartment. The door hung open, the ancient deadbolt ripped through the rotted wooden frame. She gave the door a nudge and it swung farther, crashing into a huge bookshelf lying in the middle of the floor. Her heart skipped.
She shimmied inside, flipping on the light. Stepping over the shelf to survey the destroyed interior of her apartment, she shivered. Every piece of furniture was overturned, the cushions ripped and pulled apart. Curtains lay in heaps near the windows, and not a single picture or painting remained on the walls.
Her books and files were scattered across the room, and she rushed to the small desk where her computer sat. Not a single disk remained. The drawers of the desk were empty as well. They’d found her backup drives. Damn. They’d taken everything!
The stench of unrefrigerated food hung heavy in the air, and she pulled her shirt over her nose as she bypassed the mess that was the kitchen. Her bedroom matched the rest of the house, and after stuffing a bag with clean clothes, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom on her way back to the front door. A shower and change of clothing would have to wait. She didn’t dare stay any longer.
She walked to the door and glanced back at the remains of her apartment. The small red light on the answering machine caught her attention. She didn’t have the time to bother. But the blinking light drew her. She stared at it, an oddly disconnected sensation pouring through her mind.
She was home.
It wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to want to stay. Would it? The jungle held nothing but danger. Hadn’t she nearly died, several times? Who would blame her for staying right where she was?
Her hand tightened on the doorknob. She could call someone at E.I. to help. The danger of Damon’s world was far more than she’d bargained for, after all. And the proof of InterCorp’s illegal drilling and scouting was gone with her journal. If her suspicions were correct, and her apartment affirmed such, Intercorp had discovered her real purpose and destroyed any evidence she’d gathered.
With nothing remaining to prove InterCorp did anything wrong, her life could go back to normal. She could walk away now, go back home to her mother, to the calm and safety that waited in her cozy childhood home. She could get a plane ticket today and by the end of the week, wake safe in her bed. Far away from all this violence.
Go about her life as if all of this were nothing more than a dream…
She pushed the thought away. What was she thinking? She wasn’t dreaming. The threat was real. InterCorp’s crimes were real. Damon was real. The way she felt about him—that was as real as it got.
There had to be a way to prove the oil company’s misdeeds. And more importantly, there had to be a way to protect Damon and his tribe. They could die.
He could die.
Even if he wasn’t sick when she’d left, he might be now. And the others. There was no telling how far the sickness would spread. If she did nothing, there was no one else who would. “Get a hold of yourself.”
She’d run away from her father’s violence. Gone away to college, not for the education, but to hide from his dangerous temper. She’d abandoned her mother then, just as her brother had abandoned them to run from their father’s temper. She’d never blamed him. But she blamed herself. She wouldn’t do that to someone again. With a firm nod, the determination that had pushed her down the river returned. She had to get back. It was up to her to do what she could. The door slammed behind her as she made her way back down the steps and out onto the sidewalk.
The streetlights cast her shadow out in several directions. The buildings blocked out the starry sky, and for the first time in a long time, she realized how much natural beauty she’d missed living in cities. She couldn’t wait to get back to it. To him.
Glancing at the empty streets, she forced herself to focus. It would take less time to travel the back alleys through the streets than to try to get a cab, so she pulled the bag over her shoulder and headed for the E.I. storage buildings. Her boots thumped against the sidewalk, echoing against the walls of the buildings and homes around her.
The alleys were pitch-black with only an occasional light from a window to brighten her path. For the first time since she’d tricked Seiret and left him waiting at the canoe, she wished he was with her. More than that, she wished Damon was by her side. He would make her feel safe.
She sighed and pulled the bag farther up on her shoulder. Hard probably didn’t quite cover how much his life would have to change. The clothing alone would do him in. She smiled then. It didn’t seem right to cover such a perfect body anyway.
It was no use considering a future with Damon. When she went back to him, no matter how much she wished things could be different, it would be better to end their wilderness romance. Hanging on, savoring his touch and the taste of his lips wouldn’t do either of them any good.
The sad thoughts carried her through the streets, and when she finally turned the corner that opened up to the main street, some of the pressure crushing in on her chest alleviated. The two-story storage building across the street stood like a beacon of hope.
It took a few minutes to key herself into the coded doors that led to the pharmaceutical closet, but once she was inside she filled a large bag with any medical equipment she thought might be helpful. Then she turned to stare at the medication cabinet. This was a problem. She had no idea what medications would be needed.
Her eyes settled on the phone hanging next to the door. Carrie would know, but it was a risk calling her. The less people who knew she’d returned, the better. At this point, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. It was possible someone connected with E.I. had blown her cover.
But there really weren’t any other options.
Her hands shook as she picked up the phone and dialed the number. The phone rang twice before Carrie picked up. “Hello.”
Myla took a deep breath. “Carrie, it’s Myla—”
Carrie’s cry of pleasure reverberated through the phone. “Oh, my God. InterCorp did a press release saying you were dead. A helicopter crash. Where are you? Where have you been?”
Myla rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “Carrie, listen. I need your help.”