by Dana Marton
“I’m naked!”
“I noticed.” His voice was a notch lower as he said that. “Think of it as natural.”
“As long as you don’t think of it at all.”
A second passed. His fingers brushed against the spot between her shoulder blades. “You have a tattoo.”
“Not going to talk about that right now.”
He brushed over it again. “Okay. But we’re definitely talking about it later.”
The woman prepared a thicker concoction, also red, and dipped her fingers into it to draw circles around Melanie’s stomach, then her breasts, all the while murmuring. Then she drew geometric signs over the circles, until her skin was covered and she looked like she was wearing paint-on clothes.
It kind of made her feel a little less naked. Or maybe she was beyond the point of caring.
The contractions were hard enough by now that she could no longer focus on anything other than the baby coming. She gripped Jase’s hands, feeling as if she were about to burst.
The woman pulled out another roll of bunched-up dried herbs, took a beat-up cigarette lighter out of her pocket that seemed ridiculously out of place and lit the end of the bundle, then circled the smoke around Melanie.
She tried to hold her breath at first, but could only do it for so long. With the next contraction, she had to breathe. The smoke smelled sweet. Settled into her lungs. And eased the pain.
The woman’s incantations got louder, not shouting but rather vibrating, into her, through her. The sound waves rocked her, soothed her. Soon she felt as if her body bobbed on top of ocean waves. She could feel her baby and his strong heartbeat, felt Jase’s heart beat against her back, mixing with hers and the baby’s, the three distinct rhythms harmonizing.
For a second she felt that she was melding with Jase’s body, even as the baby melded with hers.
Then a sudden urge came to push, and she did, bracing her back against Jase, pushing back against him, holding on to his hands, digging her heels into the floor.
“There you go. You can do this,” he murmured into her ear, his voice soft and encouraging.
The urge passed and she rested for a minute before the next came. And the next, and the next.
She grunted hard with the last one.
Then the baby was in her arms, naked and slippery against her skin.
She looked into her son’s eyes. She reveled in the sight of his perfect nose and lips as the medicine woman tied off the umbilical cord and took care of everything.
Her son—small, but alert and breathing just fine, holding on to her pinky finger. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jase. He looked stunned, his eyes suspiciously glistening, filled with awe and wonder.
All his hard edges were gone, all his shadows. He looked as if he’d just witnessed a miracle.
She was pretty sure they all did.
* * *
HE FELT AS if he’d just given birth, a darn strange thing, not something he would have believed if anyone had said something like this to him. Melanie held her baby, and he held Melanie. The sense of oneness was palpable, an overwhelming, almost surreal feeling.
She was naked and in his arms, but there was nothing sexual about the moment. The emotions he felt were primal, elemental, overpowering.
Dozens of half-formed thoughts swirled in his mind, but only one was coherent: they were his.
The old woman cleaned the baby without removing him from Melanie’s arm, took care of the afterbirth, said more prayers or whatever it was she was doing. He didn’t move, unwilling to break the bond, but when the sound of a chopper filled the air, he did let them go at last, laying her down gently before he pushed to his feet.
“I better check outside.”
Melanie just looked at him, as if not registering his words. He couldn’t blame her.
He walked out to the balcony, his knees shaky for the first time that he could remember, then stepped up onto the railing and from there onto the roof, and searched the sky, a different man from the one who’d called for rescue.
Somehow the last hour had changed everything.
He spotted the chopper, waved, and the camouflaged bird began to lower toward the clearing in the middle of the camp. Men holding guns poured out, secured the area immediately before heading for the hacienda.
By the time he climbed down and went back to Melanie, she was wrapped in a clean sheet, her baby bundled in with her. She looked up at him, her eyes moist. “Isn’t he perfect?”
“Perfect.”
“Thank you. We wouldn’t have made it without you,” she told him.
But the tender moment they shared ended too quickly.
Soldiers rushed in with guns drawn. Jase identified himself and waved them right back out, letting only the medic in. The guy looked at the blood seeping from Jase’s side and reached for his bag.
“Touch me and lose the hand,” Jase warned him. “You can look at me when she’s safe in a hospital bed. Your patient is over there.”
The man held up his hands and backed toward Melanie.
Jase went outside with the others and told them what had happened, told them about the dogs and where the drugs and guns were hidden, then he dragged the Don out to them. Two men picked up the drug boss and carried him to the chopper unceremoniously while the Don threatened every one of them, alternating with offers of bribes, the size of which would have made the average man gasp. They all ignored him.
Jase stood on the hacienda’s steps and looked out at the dozen men who were clearing the compound building by building, looking for enemy fighters who might still be alive despite their injuries.
The carnage had been incredible. Between himself and Mochi’s people, they’d taken out a hundred drug runners. If he hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have thought it possible.
The Don was in custody. Cristobal, if he had somehow survived, might never recover from his losses. There were others like them out there, too many to count, but for now, for here, there would be peace. The days of gunfire had ended, the jungle around them was quiet.
He hadn’t envisioned his mission ending like this, but he couldn’t say he was disappointed.
He walked up to the packaging building, where men were digging up the carefully packaged bricks of cocaine.
“We can use the hole to bury the dead,” he told them. “There are indigenous tribes around here. We don’t want to leave any decomposing bodies around to spread disease.”
Then he moved on to inspect the bodies, looking for Cristobal. But he couldn’t find the man anywhere inside the camp, and not out in the forest, either.
Still, they had closed down the compound and captured the Don. A huge step in the right direction. The blow dealt to the drug and gun trade would reverberate through the organization.
By the time he walked back to the hacienda, men were carrying Melanie and the baby to the chopper on a stretcher.
Mochi followed.
The kid had saved their lives, no doubt about it.
“Gracias.” Jase put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pointed to the chopper with a questioning look. He had an aunt back in the States who lived on a farm—lots of green, lots of trees, animals. A kid could be happy there, he thought. He would stop by every chance he got. He would take care of Mochi. He would do whatever it took to make sure he was cared for and safe.
They could go hiking together when he was on leave. Now that he thought of it, he liked that picture, looked forward to introducing Mochi to another kind of forest. The boy could discover things along with his aunt’s grandkids.
But Mochi simply touched his hand to the baby’s shoulder, then Melanie’s. Then he gave a solemn look to Jase and turned back toward the forest where the warriors waited for him. They might have been from another village, but they were likely the same tribe, an extended family.
A sharp sense of loss sliced through Jase, but he held still, didn’t call Mochi back. Even he could see that this was better for the kid. He blinked once. Hard.
“Wait,” he called after the boy, then pulled his best knife from his boot and presented it to the kid.
Not something he would have done back home, but this was a different world. Here, Mochi was a warrior now at age six, doubly so because he’d saved lives and taken them, too. He had to have fought in the battle, otherwise he wouldn’t be here now. The warriors didn’t bring along spectators.
He accepted the knife with the biggest smile on his face and seemed to grow an inch. A warrior’s weapons added greatly to his status. And now he had the best knife in a hundred-mile radius, probably. A valued warrior like that would have no problem being adopted into any family in any of the villages around here.
“I wish you good journey,” he told Jase in halting Spanish.
He smiled at the kid. “I wish you peace.”
The boy had had to grow up way too early, way too fast. But with the camp gone and the drug trade pushed back, the villages in the area might be safe at last. Especially if the Don gave up enough information so further strikes could be carried out against his other captains, and against even bigger bosses than him.
Mochi ran back into the forest with one last look at the foreigners, holding the knife as if it were made of gold. Then in the blink of an eye he disappeared, as if the forest had swallowed him.
Jase stood looking at the spot where he’d last stood, then turned and helped the men lift Melanie and the baby up into the chopper. He jumped up after them and settled in next to her, took her hand.
There were tears in her eyes. She kept craning her neck, hoping to catch another glimpse of Mochi.
“How are they?” Jase asked the medic.
“Stable. They’ll need a thorough checkup when we get them to the hospital, but I can’t see anything that would cause concern.” He flashed Jase an impressed look. “I can’t believe you made it out of all this alive. I guess there’s nothing a man wouldn’t do for his family.”
His family. The words echoed in Jase’s head. He looked at Melanie and the baby, and didn’t correct the man.
Epilogue
Rio pulsed with life; spicy scents and music filled the air. She’d instantly loved this dramatic, vibrant city the moment she’d arrived here five years ago. Someday she would move back home to be near her sisters. But not until she finished her work here.
Melanie ran up to her first-floor apartment and unlocked the door. She worked on her housing project only part-time now, but since it was nearing the end, she made tremendous progress every day.
Maria, the babysitter, hurried to greet her. “You have a visitor, señora.”
And as she stepped forward, she could see Jase sitting at her kitchen table, her son riding on his knee.
Laka, her ten-year-old daughter, was serving them Play-Doh cookies. Her three-legged dog lay across his feet.
The smile Jase gave her took her breath away. God, he looked good. Even better than she’d remembered.
He held her gaze. “I see you’ve been growing your family.”
“This is my daughter, Laka,” Melanie introduced the girl. “She has Mochi’s smile, doesn’t she?” A day hadn’t passed in the past six months that she hadn’t thought of Mochi. She’d even sent a care package to the Jesuit mission through the church, with a letter asking the priest to find the boy if he could and pass on her box of goodies.
“There are definite similarities,” Jase was saying. “She’s probably from the same tribe. How did she get here?”
“Found her when we were surveying the slums for the high-density housing project. She was all alone.”
He seemed thoughtful for a second. “Could have been kidnapped by loggers and sold to one of the beggar bosses.”
Beggar bosses ran groups of dozens of children, forcing them to beg on the streets in exchange for protection and one measly meal a day.
“She doesn’t remember. She’s been fending for herself for years. I couldn’t leave her there.”
“So you adopted her.”
She nodded. A single mother of two. Not the way she’d pictured her life, but she was very happy with her two amazing children.
“And the dog?”
“Another slum find.” She couldn’t help it. Although much older, the dog reminded her of Mochi’s puppy. Except this one was missing a hind leg. Not that it slowed her down any.
“Your daughter says you named the dog Chico.”
“It’s a perfectly good name.”
“Your dog is a girl.”
So what if Chico meant “boy” in Spanish. “She doesn’t complain.”
Jase shook his head, still grinning, giving her a look that made her a little dizzy.
The baby gurgled and reached for her, and she took him. Kissed the top of his fuzzy head. “Did you have a good day?”
He smacked his lips.
“He ate well and slept well, señora,” Maria said, heading for the door. “See you Monday morning.”
“Thank you. Have a good weekend.”
Then she was alone with Jase, save the dog and the kids.
He stood. And looked great. Clean-scrubbed, wide-shouldered and a warrior, truly, even in a black T-shirt and blue jeans. A shiny new scar stretched above the eyelid a bullet had nearly ripped off back in that insane fight in the jungle.
“You look good,” he told her. “Happy.”
“I am. I’ve grown up some.” She’d had time to reevaluate her life; what she had, what she wanted. She knew that she didn’t need the attention or validation of others to feel worthy or loved. And she was loved, anyway.
Unconditionally. By her children, by her friends, by her sisters who checked in via the internet almost daily and had flown down twice already to visit.
As for men… Two of the men who worked on the project had asked her out since she’d gotten back. But the truth was, no one compared to Jase.
He was here. Did that mean anything?
“I just got back from an op last night,” he said. “My first leave since I last saw you. I missed you.”
Her heart fluttered. “I missed you, too.”
He smiled.
“Will you stay for dinner?”
“I’d love to.”
“When you say you just got in that means…”
“Came here straight from the airport. My luggage is in the rental car outside. Actually, I would love to use your internet if I could. Haven’t had a chance yet to find a hotel.”
He was giving her an out, she suspected. In case she wasn’t remembering their time together the same way as he did.
They had spent so much time apart already. She didn’t want to waste any more by playing needless games.
“You can stay here.”
* * *
NIGHT HAD SETTLED on the city. Faraway music filtered in through his open window. The children were asleep in their room, the apartment quiet.
Jase lay in his bed, his arms folded under his head, and stared at the ceiling.
He’d told himself that seeing Melanie, making sure that she and her son were all right, would be enough.
It wasn’t.
He got out of bed, shrugged into his shorts and padded across the living room. He liked her place: homey and fun, every corner filled with toys, baby paraphernalia all over the place. Not messy, just comfortable, a place where he could see himself spending time and liking it.
The dog came around to investigate, hobbling along cheerfully, tail wagging. Jase scratched behind her ear and patted her. If he hadn’t been in love with Melanie already, he would have fallen for her the moment he’d walked into her apartment and seen that dog.
He knocked on her bedroom door.
“Come in.”
He opened the door, stepped inside and found himself in the jungle.
Her apartment had a lot of potted plants, but her bedroom took the cake, the walls lined with potted palm trees. More stood on her balcony; the door was open, the balmy night breeze blowing in, playing with the sheer white curtains.
/> She stood in the middle of the room, as if she’d been on her way somewhere. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders, the moonlight coming from behind her, outlining her figure under the sheer material of her nightgown that fell above her knees.
He gently pushed the dog back out, locked the door then stepped forward. So did she. They met in the middle.
He took her hands and held her gaze. “Hey,” he said softly, making sure not to wake the kids.
“You’re here,” she whispered.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve been dreaming about this.”
A smile stretched her lips.
He kissed the tip of her nose.
And then he took her mouth.
He meant to take it slow. She wasn’t just anyone. She was the woman of his dreams. She was a mother of two, and had all his respect for that. She was someone special.
But when her soft lips settled against his, primal heat washed over him, and all he wanted to do was brand her as his.
He held his desire in check and kissed along the seam of her lips, from corner to corner. Man, he’d missed this.
She opened to him softly, on a sigh, setting his blood on fire.
He tasted her.
Sweet.
Enthralling.
He gathered her closer.
Her hardened nipples pressed against his chest through the thin nightgown. The sensation sent waves of desire through him.
He let go of her hand and set his palms on her slim hips, bunched the sheer silk up, and up and up, then drew the nightgown over her head, just barely breaking the kiss.
Long moments passed while the two of them stood there, skin to skin. He tore himself away at last, when he could, to look at her.
She looked like a jungle goddess in the moonlight, perfect in every way, her full breasts teasing him.
He dipped his head to one of her nipples and sucked it between his lips.
Her fingers dug into his hair.
“Jase,” she said on a sigh, as he rolled the nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t nearly sated when he switched to the other breast, then back to her mouth again, hooking his hands under her thighs and lifting her.
Her arms folded around his neck as he carried her to the bed, pushing the mosquito netting aside and laying her on the cool, white sheets.