The shadows mixed, melted together. Light became dark, and dark light for Diana. The power, the consummation of his love for her was never questioned. He took her hard and fast, and she matched his fierce tide of love in return. Within moments, her world exploded into a bright, golden light deep within her body, and she cried out, gripping Wes hard, gasping for breath as she felt the absolute beauty and pleasure of what their love for each other produced. Moments later she heard him growl, felt him stiffen against her, his fingers tangled in her hair. Their hearts were thundering, their breath hot and moist. The moments melded, and Diana lost herself completely in Wes’s arms, held tightly against him, her head buried beneath his jaw.
The moments flowed together, and gradually Wes became aware of outside sounds—the creek babbling across the stones, the slight breeze lifting the lace curtains and cooling his damp body. He was hotly aware of Diana’s curved form against him, and he moved his hand with a newfound tenderness across her damp back, her rounded hip and thigh. She was like liquid sunlight in his arms, he realized with awe. Her skin was golden, her hair black as the night itself. More than anything, he liked the lustrous look in her half-closed eyes and the delicate curve of her lips that told him he’d pleased her.
Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, then tucked several strands of dark hair behind her ear. He liked it when she touched him in return, liked the feel of her slender hand caressing his chest, his shoulder and, finally, cupping his jaw. He could see such courage in her eyes, and a special knowing. He smiled a little.
“I dreamed. But not like this.”
“Me either.” Diana sighed, contentment thrumming through her. “I don’t want this moment ever to end, Wes. Not ever.”
He gave her a heated look and continued to stroke her long, thick hair, flowing like an ebony river across his arm. “It doesn’t have to.” He held her widening eyes. “I’m not into one-night stands, Diana. Never was.”
Did she dare hope? She tried not to kid herself. Wes was a mercenary, someone who traveled the world over. She knew her ex-husband had had a woman in every port of call. Drinking in Wes’s newly softened features, she wondered if Wes would really be so different from Bob.
“You looked worried,” he said, his voice thick.
“It’s nothing….”
With a short laugh, he shook his head. “Honey, ‘nothing’ is never nothing. What’s bothering you?” He held his breath. Did Diana not want a long-term relationship working toward the possibility of marriage? Wes did. He’d never been more sure of anything than he was of his feelings for her.
Sitting up, Diana remained in his arms as he settled his back against the brass headboard. “My ex-husband had a lot of affairs, Wes….”
He nodded. “A woman in every port. Yeah, I know the type.”
She frowned and searched for the right words. She felt his fingers tunneling through her hair and looked up at him.
“You want to know if I’m the same, don’t you?”
Marveling at his brutal honesty, Diana admitted, “I—yes. I know it’s not fair—”
He laughed derisively. “Nothing in life is fair. You have every right to wonder about me. I’m ex-army, like he was. I’m an itinerant wanderer who can be sent anywhere in the world.” Gently, he cupped her jaw and saw the worry, the apology, in her eyes. She could hide nothing from him, and it amazed him that he could intuitively sense her questions and worries. “Diana, I’ve never played around. When I’m in a relationship with a woman, she’s mine and I’m hers. I won’t cheat on you.”
With a sigh, Wes framed her face and stared deeply into her tear-filled eyes. “Honey, what I have in mind for us isn’t some throwaway relationship. I never was an eighties kind of man. I have my own rules of operation regarding relationships, and I live by them.” He knew his voice sounded harsh, and he felt frustrated because he only wanted to convey to Diana how much he loved her. “Look,” he began, a new desperation in his voice, “I love you. I’ve never said that to a woman before, Diana. In Delta Force, I never knew if I’d be coming back from a mission. I didn’t want some woman, a family, waiting to hear I didn’t make it.”
He held her more tightly. “I never wanted to put someone through that, Diana. So I kept things on a light level. If I did get involved with a woman, she knew going in what the score was. I never lied and I never will.” He tightened his arms around her when he felt her tremble. He closed his eyes, and his voice grew hoarse. “Something happened when I met you. I felt all these walls falling away from me, leaving me exposed, vulnerable. It’s you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I can’t fight this, Diana. I don’t want to.” Easing her away from him so he could see her expression, he said, “What I have in mind is marriage, honey. Nothing short of that. I know we haven’t had enough time, and I’m willing to wait, but my hope, my dream…is marriage—to you.”
Stunned, Diana sat very still. She not only heard Wes’s strained words, his sincerity moving her as nothing ever had before, but she felt each word in her heart. His honesty was refreshing, because she’d met so many men ready to lie to her or give her a line—men who were afraid of a real commitment. But Diana couldn’t doubt Wes’s words; she could see the fierce, burning light of honesty in his eyes. Reaching out, she touched his clenched jaw.
“I feel the same way,” she quavered. “When this mission is over, I want you to come home with me, Wes. Come home and find out who I am.”
He grinned a little. “Morgan isn’t going to be happy about that, but I’m allowed thirty days off between missions. I’ve got about a hundred twenty days coming to me at this point and I’m going to take them all.” He touched her warm, flushed cheek. “I’d like nothing better, Diana.”
Looking around the room, she smiled gently. “I wish, in some ways, this mission was already over.”
“So do I,” he murmured, taking her into his arms and lying down with her. “But tomorrow morning isn’t here yet, honey, and I want to love you again. This time slowly and thoroughly.”
A ribbon of heat uncoiled within Diana, and she sighed. “Tomorrow is tomorrow,” she agreed. Reaching up, she slid her arms around Wes’s broad shoulders and drew him down upon her.
*
The cool morning air seemed in direct contrast to their heated night of loving. Diana stood with Wes at the entrance to Boynton Canyon. Her body still tingled, and she was vibrantly aware of him standing at her side, map in hand. It was nearly 6:00 a.m., the sky a cloudless blue, early sunlight striking the thousand-foot red-and-white cliffs before them. Boynton was a box canyon, they’d discovered. Although it was long and rectangular, a high rock wall prevented exit at the other end.
“This path seems familiar,” she told Wes, pointing to a well-trodden trail of red dirt littered with red, white and black stones.
He frowned and looked at the entrance. “I don’t see any singer in the rock face.”
“I know, but can we hike down the trail a little bit? Officer Thomas said the actual entrance to the canyon is a mile and a half away.”
With a nod, Wes refolded the map and tucked it away in his knapsack. Today they both wore jeans and loose cotton shirts. Wes had given Diana a baseball cap to protect her head from the sun that would soon be blistering down on them from overhead. In the knapsack he carried a knife, several bottles of water and some trail mix. His revolver was hidden beneath the lightweight cotton jacket he wore.
Motioning to the left, he growled, “I see some enterprising businessman put a fancy resort at the entrance of this canyon. What made him do something like that? It ruins the atmosphere of the place.”
Answering anger sizzled through Diana. “As I understand it, this entire canyon is sacred to the Apache and Yavapai people. It was Forest Service land until they sold it to a rich white man. Now, with this resort, the canyon’s sacredness has been desecrated.”
The monstrosity looked painfully out of place in the natural beauty that surrounded it. Wes put an arm around Diana’s
shoulder momentarily. “I wish they could have left something this special alone and untouched.”
She shook her head. “Greedy businessmen see this beauty and want to put something man-made right in the middle, Wes.” She took in a ragged breath. “They see only dollar signs and growth potential, not the deeper, more sacred needs of others. This path was made by Native Americans who would not be turned away from coming here to pray, to perform the ceremonies of their people deep in the canyon, beyond the resort.”
“Then let’s get going. We’ll hike to the canyon mouth,” Wes murmured, giving her a quick hug and releasing her. He felt guilty. After all, he was a white man, too. But he quickly separated himself from that stereotype as they hiked the rugged path. The beauty of the canyon was stunning—he could certainly see why some astute businessman would want to place a resort at Boynton. Dark green juniper lined the path, and century plants with their long, thin spiked leaves grew everywhere. The red-barked manzanita bushes were swollen with dark brown berries that had hardened beneath the hot sun. Prickly pear cactus also proliferated in the area, its purple “pears” ripe for the picking. Dozens of birds flew and rested and sang in the natural cover the terrain presented.
The trail paralleled the edge of the resort property, where huge, glaring signs read Keep Out, Private Property. Violators Will Be Prosecuted. That alone, Wes mused, was enough to make everyone feel unwelcome.
Diana kept looking up at the stone walls that rose at least a thousand feet straight up on either side of the canyon. Just hiking with Wes was a pleasure, making the morning even more special. She walked ahead of him, her hiking stick in hand, careful to watch where she placed her feet on the rocky, dusty trail. They’d walked for another twenty minutes when she heard the caw of a raven.
Halting, Diana snapped her head upward toward the sound. Her mother’s chief spirit guide was a raven! Her jaw dropped and she called excitedly, “Wes! Look! Look!” as she pointed up toward the large black bird circling along the canyon wall.
Wes came to her side and looked in the direction she indicated. “I’ll be damned,” he breathed. There was the Aztec “singer,” just as Diana had described it. In awe, he marveled at the thousand-foot profile, carved out of the cliff face by rain, sun and wind, not by the hand of man. He grinned at her. “You’re pretty good.” And he meant it.
She smiled broadly. “The raven is our guide, Wes. She’s shown us where the cliff face is, now she’ll guide us to that cave.” Gripping his hand, she laughed. “Isn’t this synchronicity wonderful? The way it all works?”
Wes nodded, humbled. Clasping her hand in turn, he lifted it and kissed the back of it. “You’re wonderful. What you do is something else, too. I can’t explain it.”
“At least you believe me now.” It was so important that Wes believe in her abilities. Her ex-husband never had.
Becoming somber, Wes said, “Honey, I’ve come to the conclusion that just because I don’t know how your gifts work doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Fair enough?”
Glowing, Diana nodded. “Come on, let’s find that cave! I feel it’s very near!”
Wes followed her, staying hyperalert. He didn’t know who might be with Ruth Horner. A kidnapper? If so, there might be trouble. Or a sorcerer? Wes wasn’t going to take chances with either Diana’s life or his own. For the first time in his miserable life, he had something to live for, and he wasn’t about to have it torn from him.
The cawing of the raven grew muted, more distant as it flew around another bend in the canyon. Yet Wes could still hear the bird’s insistent call, as if it said “Follow me! Hurry up!”
Diana gave a shout of discovery as they rounded the next curve of the trail. She grinned and pointed upward, toward a cave carved out of the red sandstone high above the trail.
“Bingo,” Wes said. He took off his knapsack and pulled out a pair of powerful binoculars. “Let’s see if we can see anything,” he murmured. He quickly scanned the area. About half the cave wasn’t visible due to its elevation and the thick carpet of juniper trees blocking the way. “I see an ancient Indian dwelling up there,” he murmured, “but no people.”
Diana nodded. “Ruth is up there. I can feel her, Wes.”
“Is anyone with her?” he asked, handing her the binoculars.
Grimly, she nodded. “Yes.”
“What else do you pick up?”
“Nothing,” Diana said unhappily. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”
Wes no longer questioned Diana’s knowing. Taking the binoculars when she’d finished with them, he repacked them and shrugged into the knapsack. Pulling the bill of his baseball cap a little lower on his brow, he moved ahead of Diana. “From here on, you follow me. If I tell you to hit the deck, you hit it, no questions asked. All right?”
Her heart was pounding from the elevation and the climb. She nodded. “I wish I was more like my mother,” she complained under her breath.
Wes smiled and turned toward her. “I love you just the way you are.”
The words melted into her heart, her soul. How much she loved Wes for his courage to tell her. Without a word, she followed him up the steep, rocky trail, which twisted and wound like a mountain goat’s narrow, dangerous path. Sharp pebbles bit into her soft palms as she scrambled and sometimes fell. But Wes was always there to lend a hand and help her back to her feet. Finally, after nearly half an hour’s climb, they stood at the foot of the cliff-dwelling area.
The huge slope directly below the dwelling was powdery with light brown dust scattered with chunks of black lava. Here and there Diana could see potsherds sticking up out of the earth. At the top of the slope, they could see three rooms fashioned from long, thin pieces of red sandstone. The back of Diana’s neck prickled. It was a warning. She gripped Wes’s arm to get his attention. He’d told her to communicate by hand signals in order not to give their presence away.
He leaned down, placing his ear near her mouth, and Diana whispered, “I sense two people up there. They’re in the dwelling.”
With a nod, he straightened. Sliding his hand into the fold of his jacket, he unhooked his Berretta 9 mm pistol from its holster. Snapping off the safety, he put a round in the chamber. Wes saw the terror in Diana’s eyes, and he was sorry she had to see this side of him—the mercenary, the soldier. But above all, he didn’t want her harmed. Gripping her arm, he pressed her back against the smooth sandstone cliff, a huge alligator juniper providing them some cover.
“Stay here,” he rasped in a low tone. “Whatever happens, you stay here until I call for you to come up.”
Diana nodded. She reached out, gripping Wes’s arm. “Be careful. Please…”
“You can bet on it, honey.” Leaning over, he captured her lips, kissing her deeply.
Then he was gone, silently climbing the slope toward the cave dwelling. Diana touched her tingling lips where he’d branded them with his molten kiss. She knelt down, allowing the juniper to keep her hidden from view. She was seeing Wes in action, and he was like a lithe, dangerous cougar moving silently toward the cave. Her heart was thundering in her chest. Diana could taste the fear in her mouth as he quickly moved into the cave, his pistol drawn and ready to fire, and disappeared from view.
Swallows sailed effortlessly around the opening to the large-mouthed cave. The raven, perched high atop the canyon wall, was cawing nonstop. Diana froze with anxiety. What had Wes found? She tried to brace herself for the sound of gunshots. Terror paralyzed her. What if Wes was shot? Killed? Tears blinded her, but she anxiously wiped them away.
Wes reappeared. He had holstered his gun and was waving for her to come up. Releasing her breath, Diana quickly scrambled from her hiding place. What had he found? As she carefully made her way up the sucking, sliding sand of the slope, she wondered if he’d found anything at all.
SHAD11006SEEING IS BELIEVING
Chapter Six
Diana joined Wes just outside the three-room Indian dwelling, gasping for breath, and he quickly guided her to th
e second room of the complex. Ruth Horner was sitting on the ground, next to a large, heavy set Native American dressed in a white cotton shirt and jeans. He held a blue-painted rattle in one hand and a brown-and-white eagle feather in the other. Ruth wore a pale pink tank top, a pair of jeans and sensible hiking boots. Both stared up at Diana and Wes accusingly, their privacy obviously disturbed. Diana felt heat rush to her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, opening her hands. “We didn’t mean to intrude upon your ceremony.” She looked to Ruth, who had piercing green eyes. The woman’s gray-and-brown hair had been fashioned into short braids, and without a doubt, she looked different and better than the picture of her in the lab coat that Wes had shown Diana days ago. Happier, perhaps.
Wes placed his hand on his hips. “Psi-Lab sent us after you.”
Ruth’s face crumpled. “I didn’t think you’d find me,” she said in a low voice. She glanced at her companion. “I thought the red gourd would throw you off my trail.”
Wes sat down on a flat rock, keeping his eyes on the scowling Indian. He introduced Diana. Ruth Horner’s face was taut with distrust and unhappiness.
Diana hesitantly took a seat on a nearby rock. She could feel such sadness around Ruth. When the tears glimmered in the woman’s eyes, she wanted to weep in empathy. “Could you tell me why you put that dangerous gourd in your room?”
Ruth rubbed her eyes and shrugged. “I knew Psi-Lab would send out guard dogs to find me. I bought the rattle from a Navajo sorcerer in Gallup, New Mexico. I was hoping that it would throw them off my trail.” She gave Diana a strange look. “But neither of you are from Psi-Lab.”
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