by Anna Hackett
Percy nodded. “Because the bad guys will follow us, instead.”
Ben shook his head and Cheryl looked shocked.
“Be careful, Oliver,” Ben said.
“Always.”
Oliver tugged Percy away. Out on the street, they headed toward the main footbridge across the river. Percy waved at several kids playing in the street. Down by the water’s edge, lots of men stood by their boats—some fishermen, others for hire.
“Let me deal with this.” With a smile, Percy strode forward and struck up a conversation with the men. It wasn’t long before she had them all laughing. Oliver shook his head. There was just something about her that drew people.
Before he knew it, Percy was waving him over to a boat. The vessel wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small, either. Made from wood, it was long and narrow, with a spindly-looking canopy on top. A sturdy engine sat at the back.
“This is Roberto,” she told him.
Oliver shook the man’s hand. The man was in his mid-twenties, with a wide smile.
“Come on, Ward.” Persephone climbed into the boat. “Adventure awaits. I’m going to make a treasure hunter out of you, yet.”
It was almost peaceful.
Persephone sat in the prow of the boat, watching it glide through the dark waters of the Rio Napo. She knew the river was a tributary of the mighty Amazon, and farther down, it joined with other waterways to become the majestic river.
On the water’s edge, trees and vegetation grew thick. She heard birds squawk overhead and looked up as a flock of them took flight. Nearby, sitting in a tree growing out over the water, perched a red howler monkey, watching them curiously. She breathed deep, pulling in the smell of rotting leaves and the lush scent of the jungle.
She imagined Connelly passing through here, filled with excitement to find the Inca mine. Of course, the poor guy had ended up swimming across the Napo naked. She shuddered. She sure as hell wasn’t planning to do that.
The quiet rustle of clothing caught her ear, and she became conscious of Oliver sitting close behind her. Okay, she’d been excruciatingly conscious of him the entire time. He’d been quiet for a while, and she liked that he seemed easy with the silence. He had a patience about him that Persephone envied. From the time she was little, she’d always felt a need to move and do and go. Her dad had always cursed her inability to sit still.
Oliver appeared to be a calming influence on her. Sitting beside him, she felt like she could just take a deep breath and enjoy the breeze on her face.
“So, any chance Roberto knows where this river of blood might be?” Oliver asked.
She shook her head, swiveling to look at him. “I asked him, but he didn’t know of any rivers with red water.”
More silence.
“How did you get into treasure hunting?”
Her chest tightened. “My mom.”
His eyebrows rose. “She’s a treasure hunter?”
“No.” Persephone’s hands tightened on the side of the boat. “She’s a con artist and thief.” Persephone glanced away, not wanting to see the shock and disgust on his face. “Once, she stole this gorgeous little amethyst brooch. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and when I learned how old it was—crafted in England at the turn of the century—I was even more fascinated. I looked at that damn thing every day before she sold it off.”
Persephone risked a glance at his face. There was a bit of shock there, but, as always, he just looked steady and considering.
“Don’t worry, professor. I draw the line at being an outright criminal.” Especially one who destroyed lives with a smile. Athena Blake used whatever means she could to get her job done. She didn’t care who she hurt in the process.
There was a lot of her mother in her, Persephone knew that. But even she drew the line at most of the things her mother happily did for a job. Still, there was nothing you could do to escape your blood.
“Mom wasn’t really around much. Dad raised me. He worked in mining, or oil and gas jobs, all around the world, but we spent a lot of time here in South America.”
Oliver made a humming noise, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She ignored her rolling stomach and forced herself to grin at him.
“I’m sure my sordid life is a whole lot different from being a golden son raised by a wealthy father and socialite mother in Denver.”
“I’m sure it is. You did your research.”
“Of course.”
“My parents aren’t snobs.” A wry smile. “Okay, maybe a little, but they aren’t mean people. They were shocked, but supportive, when both of their sons went their own way. My brother is a cop and I’m an archeologist. Dad never did get the lawyer son he wanted.”
“I’m sure they’ll swallow their sons upholding the law and being an esteemed history professor,” she said dryly. “Especially when you both eventually marry pretty socialites and give them grandkids with big, blue eyes.”
Oliver laughed and Persephone couldn’t look away. He had a good laugh—deep and rich. Her gaze ran down the strong column of his throat, her hands itching to touch. Something inside her tightened and warmed.
“You have it all worked out,” he said.
Persephone hunched her shoulders. “It’s good to know where you’re headed in life.”
He shifted closer. “And where are you headed, Percy?”
“I’m going to sell you the Emerald Tear and add the proceeds to my nest egg. Soon, I’m going to retire to a white-sand beach in the Caribbean. Or maybe in Polynesia. I’m not too fussy.”
She pulled out her envelope and removed the picture of the beach. As Oliver reached for it, their fingers brushed. The zing of heat made her almost drop her things, and the picture of the house fell out before she could grab it. He snatched it up off the wooden bottom of the boat.
“What’s this?” he asked, turning it over.
“Nothing.” She tried to reach for it. “Just a house I thought looked pretty.”
He eyed her. “Not sure there are many Victorian houses like this one on the beach.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing. I need to throw it out. I don’t even know why I kept it.”
She felt his gaze on her like a physical thing. He was studying her like she was some shard of pottery he’d found in the mud and was trying to piece together.
“This looks like the restored Victorian houses in Denver.”
She managed to snatch the picture out of his hand, and shoved it back into the plastic sleeve.
Roberto called out then, pointing to a sloth hanging out over the water by the river’s edge, and the moment was broken.
“Oh, my God,” Persephone said with a grin. “He’s so cute.”
The day wore on, and a couple of times, they passed other boats. The fishermen all lifted their hands in friendly waves. They spotted several small tributaries, and briefly investigated each one, but they didn’t find any rivers of blood.
Soon, the sun started to set, the shadows between the trees deepening, and the sounds of the jungle changed. Persephone took her time reapplying some insect repellent, and Oliver pulled out some of the food he’d packed. She munched quietly on the trail mix, watching the jungle around them settle in for the evening. By the edge of the river, several heads popped up to watch them pass. Giant river otters.
“Oliver.” She nudged him.
When he saw them, he smiled. They watched the animals until they disappeared from view.
It wasn’t long before the jungle was drenched in darkness. Roberto pulled out a small flashlight and steered them over to the riverbank, where he tied the boat off on a sturdy tree branch.
“Time to get some rest,” Oliver said.
Oliver pulled out his sleeping bag, and Persephone did the same. At the end of the boat, Roberto pulled out a blanket and curled up on the wooden bottom, looking like he’d done it a hundred times before.
The boat wasn’t large, so there wasn’t a lot of room. Oliver was already lying down, an
d Persephone had no choice but to lie beside him.
The sleeping bag didn’t give much protection from the wooden floor, and she wiggled around to get comfortable. She’d slept in far worse places. She shifted again, her body brushing against Oliver. She went still.
A strong arm wrapped around her and yanked her back. His chest was pressed to her back, and he pressed his legs against hers. “Quit moving.”
“Trying to get comfortable.”
“This is comfortable.” He rested his face against her hair. “Go to sleep.”
There was no way she could sleep all tangled up with sexy Oliver Ward. She felt his hand move and then he was playing with her hair. It felt…nice.
Before she knew it, Persephone dozed off.
When she woke, she was drenched in sunlight and her face was pressed into a hard wall of male chest.
She blinked. Oh, God. They were wrapped up in each other, his arm draped over her waist, her leg nestled between his. Damn, they fit together perfectly.
“Good morning.” His voice was a deep rumble.
Desire shot through her. He was so damn gorgeous, and with him right there in her face, how the hell was she supposed to resist him?
He fiddled with her hair again and she dragged in a deep breath. Touching him just a little bit wouldn’t hurt, right? “Morning.”
Then she heard whistling. She turned her head and spotted their guide cheerfully tinkering with the boat’s motor.
Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Oliver’s body and sat up. Sunlight glinted brilliantly off the water, and the air was thick with humidity today.
As Oliver pulled his boots on and rolled away from the sleeping bags, Persephone washed her face and ran her fingers through her hair. She snorted. She bet Cheryl was spending more time doing her hair.
After a quick, simple breakfast, Roberto started the engine and pulled them out onto the river.
“We might find it today,” Oliver said.
She nodded. If the damn river of blood was around here, they’d damn well find it.
No more than an hour had passed, when they rounded a wide curve in the river. Suddenly, a larger boat appeared, black smoke chugging out of its stack. There was a large machine gun mounted on the front.
“Bandidos.” Roberto waved at Oliver and Persephone to sit down lower.
“Shit.” Oliver grabbed her and they sank lower, trying not to draw any attention to themselves.
But the gunboat turned, aiming directly at them. Roberto leaned out, shouting and waving his arms.
The gunboat didn’t slow down. Persephone saw men in fatigues on the deck, one of them moving in behind the machine gun.
“Oliver!”
“I see.” His fingers tightened on her hand.
The gunboat opened fire.
The roar of the machine gun drowned out everything else. Persephone couldn’t even scream. In horror, she watched bullets tear into Roberto’s body.
Suddenly, Oliver grabbed Persephone and yanked her backward over the side of their boat. They fell into the river with a splash.
Chapter Five
Oliver kicked hard, cursing as he gulped in and spat out river water. He kept a tight hold on Percy as her head popped up and she dragged in air.
Behind them, the roar of machine-gun fire was deafening, as bullets tore into their boat.
“Swim.” He shoved Persephone toward the shore. “Head for the bank.”
The boat gave them some protection, but they needed to get out of there. Fast. He tried not to think of the caimans in the river.
Together, he and Percy stayed low in the water and swam hard.
Bullets whizzed into the water nearby, and Percy yelped. He shoved her ahead of him, and a second later, they reached the bank. Thankfully, it was flatter here than by the dig, and they easily scrambled out of the water. More bullets slammed into the mud at their feet, and this time, Percy cried out.
Oliver gave her another push and they charged into the foliage.
Thank God he’d had the presence of mind to grab his backpack before he’d pulled Percy into the water. He pulled his machete off it and then slung the sodden pack onto his back.
Behind them, shouts echoed near the river bank. The bastards were following them.
“Keep moving,” he said. “We need to put as much distance between them and us as we can.”
She nodded, pushing her sopping hair back off her forehead. Her shirt was plastered to her chest, outlining her breasts.
God, Ward, not the time.
“Are you going to cut a path for us?” she asked.
He shook his head. “We’ll go as far as we can without doing that. I don’t want to leave them an easy trail to follow.”
She straightened her shoulders and set off, pushing vines out of her way. Oliver followed, smiling. She was a trooper, his Percy. No crying, no complaining, she just got on with it.
They went for an hour, both of them sweating heavily. The vegetation had thickened, and the air was heavy and still, with no breeze to ease the pressure. He stopped and made her take a drink. When they were moving again, he started using the machete.
It took a few swings, but he finally found a rhythm, hacking at the vines and branches. Where they could ease through, he didn’t slash, trying to obscure their trail.
As they continued onward, they paused frequently to listen. There were no sounds of pursuit. He hoped to hell the bastards in the gunboat had given up.
“Poor Roberto.” There was grief on Percy’s face.
Her chin was on her chest, and Oliver took a second to wrap an arm around her and give her a quick hug. “When we get back to Tena, we’ll alert the authorities and contact his family.”
She nodded. They trekked on, but Oliver knew the adrenaline that had initially fueled them was draining away. Still, they needed to keep moving for now.
Suddenly, thunder cracked overhead and the rain started. It wasn’t long before they were both soaked. Percy looked miserable, although she didn’t utter a single complaint.
He tried to estimate how much distance they’d put between them and their attackers. Was it enough? He sure as hell didn’t want to risk her life.
“I have never been this wet and muddy before,” Percy said with a scowl.
They hadn’t gone much farther when the muted roar he thought was the rain got louder. He tilted his head and listened. No, not the rain. He knew what it was.
He grabbed Persephone’s hand and yanked her onward. They broke out of the foliage, and up ahead, he saw a gorgeous waterfall tumbling down over dark rocks.
“Holy shit,” she breathed.
He smiled at her reaction, but when he looked at her, he realized she wasn’t entranced by the waterfall. In fact, she was staring in the opposite direction.
Oliver turned. The rain had stopped now, the sun valiantly trying to break out from behind the thick clouds. Every muscle in his body locked.
They were looking down at a narrow valley, and the beautiful sweep of a river. A red river.
“The rocks down there must have iron or something in them,” Percy said. “It turns the water red.”
Oliver stared at the dark crimson ribbon. “Hell.”
She turned, grinning widely at him. “We found it! The river of blood.”
She leaped on him, her legs wrapping around his hips, and her lips smacking against his.
Oliver wrapped his arms around her, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. She tasted so good and he wanted more. She smelled like rain and tasted like honey.
They broke apart, but he kept an arm wrapped around her. “What’s the next clue after the river of blood?”
“It said to follow the river to some black cliffs.” Her lips turned into a frown.
“Hmm.”
She peered at him, her brow creased. “What?”
He gripped her shoulders and turned her toward the waterfall. “You mean, like those cliffs?”
She sucked in a breath, taking i
n the dark rocks. They both looked up, staring at the long, graceful fall of water that was sliding over black cliffs.
“Oh, my God.” Her smile was incandescent, excitement shining off her. “We’re so close!”
“Maybe, but right now, we need to clean off, eat, and get some fresh clothes on.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but finally nodded. Together, they made their way over to the waterfall. The falls landed on smooth, flat rocks, which slanted downward, creating a shallow pool.
Oliver dropped his pack. That water looked damned good.
“You wash up first.” Percy pulled some things from his backpack. “You’ve been the one swinging the machete for hours.”
“You saying I smell?”
She grinned. “I didn’t say that, professor.”
With a nod, he waded into the water and headed for the waterfall. He watched the mud slide off his clothes. He’d need to rinse them off and see if he could get them dry. He had a spare set in his bag, and he could loan Percy a shirt, but not trousers.
Stepping under the edge of the spray, he tilted his face up and stripped off his shirt. His trousers and underwear followed, and he tossed them on a rock. Naked, he stepped under the spray. Damn, what a day. They’d been shot at, and an innocent man had died. He and Percy had almost been killed. And it was likely the bad guys were still after them.
He let the spray beat down over his body. Even with everything they’d faced over the last few hours, Oliver had never felt so alive.
He opened his eyes, and his gaze landed on Persephone, perched on a rock by the water’s edge. Gray eyes were locked on him. She was watching him—completely unashamed and unabashed.
His cock hardened. Every cell in his body roared to life. Okay, now he felt alive.
He finished washing out his hair, and he watched the way her gaze followed his movements. There was hunger on her pretty face.
This wild, vibrant woman wanted him.
Desire beat hotly in Oliver’s blood. He slid his palm over his stomach and took his cock in hand. He stroked himself.
Percy’s lips parted, her hungry gaze on his hand.
Unable to stop, Oliver kept pumping his cock. He imagined it was her touching him. Her gaze never wavered from his hand and cock. She didn’t look away shyly or pretend she hadn’t seen.