His Mysterious Ways

by Amanda Stevens

  He plunged his hands into her hair. “Melanie…”

  After a few moments, she lifted herself just enough to settle over him, and then tightening her thighs against his hips, she began to move slowly. Very slowly. She had to. Because all it really took was for him to be inside her…

  But it happened before she could stop it. Melanie began to shudder violently, and Lassiter drew her down against him, holding her close until it was over.

  And then he took control…

  THE PHONE WOKE Melanie. She had no idea what time it was, but when she reached across the bed to answer it, she realized that Lassiter had left while she’d been asleep.

  Since he didn’t have to worry about being missed from the compound, she had no idea where he’d gone. Anywhere, presumably, away from her. Spending a few hours in bed together was one thing, but waking up together in the morning…that was taking things just a little too far for a guy like him.

  But as Melanie lifted the phone from the hook, the bathroom door opened and he stepped out, his dark hair glistening in the moonlight from the shower he’d just taken.

  He walked naked to the bed, and for a moment, Melanie was distracted by the sight of him. Then slowly she lifted the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Happy birthday, Melanie.”

  A tremor shot through her at the sound of her father’s voice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the Pacific side of Cartéga, the cloud forest began at an elevation of about five thousand feet, cresting at the top of Las Montañas de las Hermanas Escondidas, the Hidden Sisters Mountains, at nearly six thousand feet, and then sloping down to the Atlantic at roughly forty-five hundred feet.

  According to local legend, the mountains were named for an unusual formation at the summit—three women kneeling in a circle—but the sisters were rarely revealed through the veil of clouds that draped them.

  As per her father’s instructions the night before, Melanie and Lassiter headed north, toward the cloud-forest preserve where they would leave their vehicle and hike through the forest to El Puente de Sueños—one of the many suspension bridges that spanned a valley lush with orchids, mosses, ferns and bromeliads.

  The road was terrible, little more than a goat track in places as it wound around breathtakingly beautiful lakes and waterfalls, then crept over bridges that placed them a hundred feet above the valley floor. At times it almost seemed as if they were driving in the treetops, and once, Melanie saw a pair of the elusive Quetzal birds land in a tree branch not twenty feet from the road, at almost eye level.

  They were in Lassiter’s jeep and had been driving with the top down until it started to rain. The higher the elevation, the cooler the temperature. Melanie was glad she’d worn jeans and a jacket. She’d seen tourists come back to the hotel from their tours in shorts and camisoles, remarking to each other how surprisingly cold the weather had been.

  Lassiter wore camouflage pants and a dark green T-shirt that stretched tautly over his chest and shoulders, revealing the bulging muscles in his forearms as he drove. Dressed as el guerrero del demonio, he was one dangerously attractive man.

  Melanie lay her head back against the seat and studied his profile as she flashed back to the shower that morning. He’d climbed in with her, surprising her, and then thrilling her as he’d pulled her against him, reaching around to smooth slick, soapy hands over her breasts, down her sides, reaching lower and lower until Melanie’s legs began to tremble.

  And then he’d turned her, lifted her, pressed her against the cool tile wall as he pushed inside her, making her cling to him in desperation.

  Melanie’s heart fluttered in excitement at the memory. It was amazing to her that after all the times they’d been together, she could still want him so badly.

  She wanted him now. Her desire for him was like an obsession.

  He turned to stare at her through his sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew they were dark, intense, smoldering.

  Without a word, she unfastened her seat belt and leaned toward him. He cupped a hand around the back of her neck, drawing her to him for a kiss that was deeply thrilling and utterly devastating. Melanie slipped her hand up under his T-shirt, letting her palm ride over the hard muscles in his abdomen.

  They hit a pothole and jerked apart while Lassiter struggled to get the vehicle back under control. “Maybe I’d better keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel,” he muttered.

  “Maybe you’d better,” Melanie agreed as she slid her hand inside his pants.

  THEY LEFT the jeep at the entrance to the preserve and struck out on foot. Lassiter had strapped on a gun and holster. Slung over his shoulder was a rifle he’d grabbed from behind his seat.

  They both knew full well they could be walking into a trap. Melanie had no proof that the man on the phone was her father, other than the fact that he’d asked her to meet him in the clouds.

  But even though “touching the clouds” had been a secret between them, it wasn’t much proof. Someone else could have read her father’s letters and then arranged the meeting in order to lure her to a remote location.

  For now, however, Melanie and Lassiter weren’t alone in the preserve. They met several tourists hiking along the trails, and at one point, they stopped to watch a canopy tour traveling from one overhead platform to another, using zip lines, glides and rappels.

  But once they left the preserve, they also left civilization. The rain forest became progressively denser and more beautiful. In any given spot, Melanie could see at least a dozen varieties of orchids, growing in profusion and rivaled in color and beauty only by the exotic birds that flitted through the trees.

  “This place is incredible,” she said breathlessly. “Like a paradise.”

  An unworldly noise exploded just over her head, and Melanie jumped, completely unnerved. “What the hell was that?”

  “Howler monkeys.” Lassiter pointed to the tree branches, and when Melanie glanced up, she had a brief glimpse of gleaming eyes staring back at her before they disappeared into the leaves.

  It began to rain again after that, and Melanie was soon soaked to the skin and shivering. She’d worn a jacket but no rain gear, which was stupid, considering where they were. Lassiter was wet, too, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him. Using a machete, he hacked a trail and set a pace that was difficult for Melanie to keep up with.

  Finally they emerged from the forest into a clearing, and Melanie saw a footbridge just ahead. Unlike the newer suspension bridges in the preserve, El Puente de Sueños was a more primitive design, constructed of wooden planks tied together with hemp and nothing but rope handrails to hang on to. A hundred feet below, the valley floor was shrouded in mist.

  “Bridge of Dreams,” Melanie murmured. She turned to Lassiter. “Do we go across?”

  “No. We find cover and wait.”

  He led her back into the forest to a spot where they could see the bridge, but were hidden from anyone approaching on either side.

  Melanie found a damp log and sat. She could feel the moisture seeping through her jeans all the way to her underwear, which did not bode well for the trip home.

  Meanwhile Lassiter prowled the perimeter of the clearing. He was in full demon-warrior mode, primed for battle. Jaw set. Eyes hard. Weapons locked and loaded. Melanie shivered as she watched him.

  “Can I ask you something, Lassiter?”

  He barely glanced at her. “Sure.”

  “What do you remember about your childhood? I know you said you were raised on a farm in Mississippi. Your father died when you were young, and you and your mother were close. But do you have specific memories? Like going to high school? Playing football? Do you remember your first car? Your first girl?” she added softly.

  “I remember a girl,” he said. “Her name was Sarah.”

  “Were you in love with her?”

  “I don’t know about being in love. But there were some pretty intense emotions, I think.”


  “Did you ever consider trying to contact her after you left the hospital?”

  He shrugged. “I knew her a long time ago.”

  “You don’t ever wonder what happened to her?”

  “I don’t even know if she was real, Melanie. So no. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

  There was an edge in his voice that didn’t invite more questions, but Melanie had never been one to take a subtle hint. “Lassiter, what happens if my father does show up here today?”

  He watched the bridge with a brooding frown. “We find out what he knows. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To learn the truth?”

  “I guess I’m asking about us,” she said slowly. “What happens to us?”

  He glanced over his shoulder with a scowl. “What are you getting at?”

  “After today, there may not be much point in my staying on in Santa Elena.”

  He turned back to the bridge. “What do you expect me to say to that? Don’t go? Move down here so we can keep right on doing what we’re doing? I can’t do that. How long would it take before that kind of arrangement wouldn’t be enough for you?”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’d want more,” she shot back. “Did you ever consider that?”

  He faced her with grim resolve. “I don’t think this is a good time to have this conversation, but you brought it up, so maybe we need to get a few things straight. I’m not looking for anything permanent here, Melanie. What we’ve got going…yeah, it’s great. But when my job with Kruger is over, I’ll be moving on to the next. And then the one after that, if I’m still alive. In my line of work, you don’t think much about the future, and you sure as hell don’t make promises you know you won’t keep.”

  Melanie refused to feel disappointed even though she couldn’t quite ignore the hollowness in her chest. “For someone who didn’t want to talk about this, you sure have a hell of a lot to say on the subject.”

  “No commitments, no promises, no expectations. That’s what we said. When it’s over, it’s over.”

  “So is it over, Lassiter? If my father shows up and we find out the truth, whatever that may be, is that it, then? I go back home and we never see each other again?”

  When he didn’t answer, Melanie got up and dusted off her damp seat. “I guess I’ll have to take that silence as a yes.”

  He knelt suddenly as if he hadn’t heard her, and lifted his binoculars to his eyes, using his forefinger to focus. “We’ve got movement.”

  Melanie tried valiantly not to feel hurt by his seeming lack of interest about whether or not he’d ever see her again because, after all, he was right. She’d gone into their…arrangement, as he called it, with her eyes wide open. No reason now to have regrets. She wasn’t looking for anything permanent, either, because she’d learned a long time ago that today, the here and now, was all you could count on.

  One day at a time, she reminded herself as she came up beside Lassiter. “What kind of movement?”

  “Someone’s coming out of the forest on the other side of the bridge.”

  Melanie’s pulse quickened. “Can you see who it is?”

  “Not yet. Wait a minute—”

  “What? Do you recognize him?” she asked anxiously.

  He handed her the binoculars without a word. She lifted the powerful lenses to her eyes and saw the man almost immediately. He was standing at the edge of the bridge, one hand on the rope rail as if ready to cross.

  “Melanie?” he suddenly called. “Are you here?”

  The sound traveled down into the valley and echoed back up to her. That voice—she’d heard it before. Last night on the phone. Years ago in her backyard. But it wasn’t the voice she was accustomed to hearing when Angus Bond spoke. The Australian accent had vanished.

  She lowered the binoculars, her heart pounding with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Elation? Fear? Anger? It was a mixture of all of them, she suspected.

  “Melanie! If you can hear me, please say something. I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”

  She started to stand up, but Lassiter grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “Not yet.”

  “Should I answer him?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m over here!” she called.

  “Is Lassiter with you?” Bond asked.

  He nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Bond waited a moment, then said, “Shall I come across?”

  “Stay where you are,” Lassiter answered, watching Bond through the binoculars. “We can hear you just fine.”

  “We need to talk, Melanie. I’ve got so much to explain.”

  Melanie rose. Lassiter tried to stop her again, but she shook off his arm. “Let me go. I have to do this. I came all the way down here to face him.”

  She walked out of the forest to the edge of the bridge and paused. Thirty feet of rope and wooden planks was all that stood between her and a man who could be her father. Between her and a lifetime of betrayal and loneliness. “If you’re my father, why didn’t you tell me yesterday? I gave you every chance.”

  “They were watching us. I couldn’t tell you then.” Bond spread his arms in supplication. “Please, Melanie. Just give me a chance to explain. Let me look into your eyes when I beg for your forgiveness.”

  He wasn’t her father.

  Melanie didn’t know how she knew, but the revelation came to her suddenly, with a certainty that stiffened her spine and brought anger surging through her veins. “You’re not my father.”

  He spread his arms again. “I am, Melanie. If you’ll give me a chance, I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  He put a foot on the bridge. “Just let me come across—”

  Lassiter was suddenly at her side, rifle butt pressed to his shoulder as he stared down the barrel at Bond. “I said stay where you are.”

  Something changed in Bond then. The sorrow drained from his voice, leaving behind a quality that was cold and emotionless. And possibly deadly. “All right,” he said with a shrug. “You’re a very clever girl, Melanie, so let’s just be straight with each other, shall we?”

  “What do you want?” she asked angrily.

  “I want you to come across the bridge and join me. In fact, I really must insist on it. We can either do it the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Your choice.”

  Lassiter’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Or we can do it my way.”

  “It’s not your decision to make, Lassiter. Melanie has to make the choice.” Bond turned and said something over his shoulder, and instantly a young woman appeared out of the forest behind him. Melanie recognized her at once. It was Blanca. And the child she clung to was Angel.

  The little girl tried to struggle free, but Blanca held her fast. Melanie could hear Angel’s terrified sobs, and the sound tore at her heart.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and for a moment, her mind went back to the dream she’d had last night. To another terrified, sobbing little girl…

  It hit Melanie then why she’d felt so close to Angel. Why she cared about this child more than any other. Melanie hadn’t been able to save herself all those years ago, but she could save this little girl. She could save Angel. And in so doing, she might just be able to save herself.

  “Está bien, Angel,” she soothed. “No tengas miedo. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  The little girl was crying hysterically now, but every now and then between sobs, she called out Melanie’s name.

  “Let her go, Bond,” Melanie said desperately. “I’ll do anything you ask.” She moved toward the bridge.

  Lassiter grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? That’s exactly what they want.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Melanie,” Bond said. “If you come across, the child can go back with him. If not…she’s coming with me.”

  Somehow Angel managed to tear herself free of Blanca’s hold and like quicksilver, she darted onto the bridge, crying Melanie’s na
me.

  The suspension ropes swung crazily at the sudden movement, and Angel lost her balance as she was pitched from side to side. She was too small to reach the rope handrail, and Melanie watched in horror as she slipped over the edge. Dangling in midair and screaming in terror, the little girl clung to one of the wooden planks with her fingers.

  Her heart in her throat, Melanie started across. Her every instinct told her to reach the child as quickly as she could, but the bridge swayed dangerously with every footstep. Every movement brought Angel closer to the brink.

  Melanie was not halfway across when the ropes that bound together the planks beneath her feet snapped, and a section of the floor literally fell out from under her. She tumbled through the wood and ropes, frantically grasping for a handhold.

  Like Angel, she managed to grab hold of the side. Her breath coming in painful gasps, she tried to pull herself up.

  Lassiter was there in an instant, kneeling on the collapsing floorboards, unmindful of the danger to him as he reached down to grab her. His hands closed over hers, and he lifted her easily as she tried to fight off her panic.

  But as he hauled her up, one of the suspension ropes snapped on their side of the bridge, and the floor dipped crazily.

  Both of them grabbed for the rope handrail, but it came loose from the bridge and they were suddenly in a terrifying freefall. Melanie’s first thought was of Angel. Oh, God, had she fallen, too? Even the part of the bridge that remained intact would have been swinging wildly when the support rope snapped.

  Melanie hadn’t even realized that she was still clutching the handrail until her and Lassiter’s downward momentum was abruptly halted with a painful jerk. The rope had caught on something, and for the moment, they were left dangling ten feet or more from the bridge by only a thin strand of frayed roped that probably wouldn’t hold their weight for more than a few seconds.

  They were hanging face-to-face, and Melanie could see the grit and determination in Lassiter’s eyes as he surveyed the situation.

  “Lassiter…” she said breathlessly.