He cared about this woman and he couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to her. The tenderness soaking through him scared the hell out of him. He didn’t want it, but he had no idea how to go back to the way things had been before she stumbled into his life.
He had the odd thought as he held her that he was like one of his turtles, that he had been hiding under his carapace since Mercedes died, unwilling to creep out and see if the world had gone on without him.
But somehow Olivia Lambert had lifted up his shell, exposing the man he used to be underneath.
“We should go,” he murmured.
She drew in a deep breath and stepped away. “I’m ready.”
He knew his high-dollar survival pack would look incongruent carried by someone dressed in rough farm worker clothes, so he’d condensed their most essential items into one of the cinch sacks from his pack.
Now he hefted the cinch sack over his shoulder and headed toward the main dirt road that followed the river the seven miles between El Tigre and Puerto Jiménez.
They might have been better off sticking to the rain forest and away from populated areas the rest of the way to Puerto Jiménez. If he were by himself, that’s probably what he would have done: just hiked to town. But she was reaching her limit and he couldn’t put her through more than necessary.
He just had to keep his fingers crossed that he’d made the right choice for both of them.
They skirted the dozen or so buildings of El Tigre and headed out of town. He kept a careful eye out for Rafferty’s men.
To his vast relief, they caught their second break of the day after only a few moments of walking along the road when he heard the rumble of an engine. A moment later, the colectivo rattled into view, heading in the right direction.
His heart pounding as he considered all the possibilities of who else might be aboard, Ren kept Olivia out of sight in the bushes while he flagged it down.
The driver stopped, looking disgruntled at the delay. A quick glance in the back of the pickup told him it was full of the usual assortment of villagers and hikers coming out of Coronado National Park. Ren gestured to Olivia to come out of the bushes, then bickered with the driver, who didn’t look thrilled at picking up two new passengers.
“My wife is having her baby soon and she goes to stay with her sister in Golfito near the hospital,” he said. “You have to take us.”
After a rousing argument, the driver finally relented and Ren handed her into the back of the truck. They squeezed onto the bench seats along the side and he pulled her close, trying to act the concerned husband.
The driver barely waited for them to sit down before grinding the truck into gear and rumbling down the road. She jolted against him and hung on tight, turning her face into his chest.
It was all he could do not to kiss her right then for having the common sense to conceal her features, just in case.
A nice bonus, Ren thought, having one last chance to hold her. He liked having her close to him, he admitted. He probably liked it far too much for their safety—and he definitely liked it too much for his peace of mind!
After everything they had been through so far, how was it possible she smelled so good?
The other occupants of the colectivo looked at him with interest.
“Every day she is sick,” he said in Spanish.
The pair of hikers on her other side grimaced a little and slid away slightly, but the villagers didn’t seem to mind.
“I do not know how she can grow so big with the baby when no food stays down,” he went on.
“You will have a good strong boy, then.” A large, matronly woman in a pink dress and rubber boots smiled at them.
“God willing,” he answered, giving Olivia a squeeze.
For the next forty minutes, they bumped along with the other passengers as the colectivo rumbled along the dirt road toward the gulf and Puerto Jiménez. The truck was stuck in mud several times along the journey and at one point it slid precariously close to the river’s edge as the driver tried to extricate the tires.
Olivia gasped and Ren pulled her closer. “It’s okay,” he whispered in her ear and she immediately relaxed. Again, he was humbled and overwhelmed by her complete trust in him.
For most of the ride, they didn’t pass another vehicle on the road. When traffic increased, he knew they were reaching Puerto Jiménez.
A sense of relief washed through him. Almost there, though he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. That was reinforced as they reached the outskirts of town and the public transit vehicle suddenly slowed.
They were approaching a queue of other vehicles and Ren’s unease blossomed. He craned to see what was causing the delay and then hissed an oath in her ear.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Roadblock up ahead,” he murmured tightly.
She stiffened and began to tremble. His mind raced trying to come up with some way to get them both off the colectivo.
“What’s going on?” he asked the woman across from them in Spanish.
She shrugged. “I heard on the radio some crazy man kidnapped a rich American woman outside Carate. They are looking everywhere for her.”
One of the young hikers—from Australia, judging by their accents—translated the woman’s words to his companion.
“She said it’s probably about the missing woman we heard about on the radio in El Tigre,” he said in English.
“Didn’t they say she was some kind of heiress?” the other hiker asked.
“Right. Worth millions. I’d love to find her. Her old man’s in the prescription drug business. He’d probably be willing to pay a pretty penny to get her back.”
Ren didn’t have time to absorb that stunning information or the new dimension it added to this whole damn mess. The pickup truck pulled closer, now about five vehicles from the checkpoint.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” he whispered to her. “Can you come up with a distraction?”
Her floppy hat bumped his chin as she nodded against his chest. An instant later, she straightened and started making retching sounds.
The tourists from Down Under edged further away. Ren didn’t have to pretend much to look panic-stricken. He jumped out of the truck and helped her out while the villagers looked on in concern.
Olivia stumbled to the bushes and pretended to throw up while Ren stood by trying to look like a concerned husband. “I cannot take much more of this,” he said to no one in particular. “Pobrecita. I hope she has this baby soon.”
The villagers looked on in sympathy.
“The bumping, it is making her sick,” Ren said. “We will walk to the port from here to catch the water taxi to Golfito. It’s not far.”
No one on the colectivo seemed to think anything of it. Ren slung an arm around her shoulders and walked across the road. It was easy enough when they were out of view of the vehicle, concealed by a large water truck, to slip through the first break in the trees they could find.
Ren had to use his machete for several yards but quickly found a trail through the thick growth. Finally when they were several hundred yards away from the roadblock, he let loose.
“A damn heiress. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She bristled, though she didn’t stop walking. “Excuse me, but I’ve been a little busy running for my life here.”
He had no idea why he found the discovery so upsetting. All he could think about was how this complicated an already tangled situation.
“Let’s define our terms here. How much of an heiress are we talking about?”
She looked reluctant to answer him but finally gave in. “Have you heard of Lambert Pharmaceuticals? My father is Wallace Lambert, the, um, founder of the company.”
Lambert frigging Pharmaceuticals? He would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so damn ridiculous. The company was one of the big boys. Her father had to be worth hundreds of millions, if not billions.
She had to be used to a life
of luxury. Boarding schools, private yachts, silk sheets. And he had just dragged her miles through the jungle, feeding her MREs and granola bars and dying her hair with genipa that might or might not wash out, for hell’s sake.
He felt like a fool. Worse, he felt betrayed that she hadn’t mentioned this little detail of her life to him. The distance between them had just become a huge, unbreachable chasm.
“Your father probably has the whole country looking for you by now. He’s probably frantic with worry.”
“I really doubt that,” she muttered.
He sighed, trying to figure out what the hell to do with her now. Things were much easier when he thought only Rafferty and maybe the rural police in this area might be looking for them. With her father’s resources, God knows who else might be on their trail.
He’d love to turn her over to her father or her father’s minions and wash his hands of this whole mess. He would still have to deal with Rafferty, but at least Olivia would be out of it.
But he still didn’t know who to trust. Until he figured that out, he figured they were best just to stick with their original plan to contact Manny Solera at the Jiménez police station.
They passed a house that looked familiar and Ren suddenly realized where their escape route had led them.
“I know this area,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of friends with a beach bungalow not far from here. Bobbi and Al Fremont. Expats from Chicago. They’ve gone back to the States during the rainy season but I’m sure they won’t mind us using their place for a few hours to clean up. Maybe you can crash for a bit while I call Mañuel Solera to see about arranging a flight out of here for you.”
“You’re just going to break in?”
The doubt in her voice—such a contrast to her complete trust of the last few hours—grated. “We’re not going to steal anything, except maybe a change of clothes. If it bothers your conscience so much, you can always have Daddy pay them back.”
She flashed him a quick look but said nothing, just followed as he took off down the trail.
* * *
She couldn’t understand this man.
Okay, she had never been all that brilliant about figuring out the way any man’s mind worked. They were all a baffling mystery to her. But Ren Galvez was in a class by himself when it came to murky, indecipherable male behavior.
He seemed a completely different man now than he’d been all day. For most of the day since leaving the tree house that morning, he had joked with her and teased her and pushed her along.
Now he barely looked at her, and he seemed to simmer with anger for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault her father was Wallace Lambert. She would have vastly preferred a normal suburban father who pulled into the garage from work at five every afternoon and came to her dance recitals and helped her with her math homework.
“This is it,” he said tersely when they reached a bungalow set back from the gravel road. There were no other houses in sight, as far as she could tell. The Gulfo Dulce couldn’t be far off. Though she couldn’t see it through the thick trees, she could smell the sea, a low, salty undertone to the sweeter, earthier scents of the rain forest.
“You’re sure they won’t mind?” she was compelled to ask.
“Positive. Just keep your fingers crossed that I can remember where they keep a spare key.”
He finally found one under a loose board on the porch steps and unlocked the door, then held it open for her to proceed him.
The air inside the house had a close, steamy feel to it, but Ren quickly opened the windows and a breeze heavy with impending evening rain washed through.
It was a lovely home, with what looked to be native wood walls and floors covered in bright area rugs and comfortable furnishings.
She wouldn’t have cared if it was a hovel. She was just so glad to finally be indoors, she wanted to stretch out on one of those area rugs and not move for a month.
“I’m going to call Manny. Why don’t you take a shower and get cleaned up? I’m sure you can find something clean of Bobbi’s in the bedroom to put on.”
She almost burst into tears at the miraculous concept of indoor plumbing. “A shower would be nice,” she murmured, which was possibly the most blatant understatement she had ever uttered.
He hadn’t looked at her once since they entered the house. She didn’t care, she told herself. Soon this would all be over and she would be on her way home.
The thought had no appeal whatsoever so she pushed it away for the more immediate pleasure of flush toilets and running water.
She quickly shrugged out of her clothes and for the first time caught sight of herself in the wood-framed mirror above the sink.
Oh. My. Word.
No wonder he didn’t want to look at her. She didn’t want to look either! She looked atrocious, a bedraggled, pathetic stranger with sunburned skin and hair the color of old coconut husks.
Please, God, let this gunk wash out, she prayed as she stepped into the shower, then she forgot all about her hair in the sheer ecstasy of heated jets of water hitting her skin.
She washed her hair five times using apple-scented shampoo she found in the shower, until no more brown dye and leftover mud washed into the drain.
She used up all the warm water in the process, too bad for Ren. Let him think she was a spoiled heiress, she thought. He probably did anyway.
A half hour later, she felt almost human again. She brushed her damp hair and slipped into a pale yellow sleeveless dress she found hanging in the bedroom closet, then padded barefoot to the open living area.
She found Ren standing in the kitchen sipping what looked like imported American beer and gazing out the open window at the evening rain that had started up again.
He must have heard her approach because he lowered his bottle and turned. Then he simply stared at her, something wild and dark and alluring that she didn’t recognize at first kindling to life in his eyes.
“The, uh, shower’s all yours,” she managed, in a voice that came out scratchy and rough.
Hunger, she realized. That was what she saw in the dark depths of his eyes.
Ren Galvez was looking at her like he wanted to devour her in one big bite.
CHAPTER 9
The silence stretched between them, so taut the air seemed to quiver with it.
Suddenly she was back in the rain forest with him, once more in his arms as his mouth explored hers with heartbreaking tenderness, his body hard and possessive against hers.
Her breathing quickened and heat flickered through her. She wanted to be there again, wanted it with a fierce ache, though she would willingly forgo the mud of the trail for nice clean carpet.
While the rain sizzled and crackled outside, their gazes held. She thought for a moment he would reach for her but instead he looked away, shifting his attention to the rain outside and the darkening sky.
“Uh, bad news,” he said, his voice gruff. “Solera isn’t available until morning. According to the desk sergeant, he’s on a case. Yours, I would guess. All the rural police on the peninsula are probably working your kidnapping case, too bad for us.”
She drew in a breath, ordering her unruly hormones to settle. With his glum tone, he couldn’t have made it more clear that he was anxious to be rid of her, despite the heat between them.
“What do we do now?” she finally asked.
“Wait here until morning when he’s back in the office, I guess. I don’t know what else to do. Manny is the only one I know and trust on the police force. I would hate to talk to the wrong person and end up with you back in Rafferty’s hands.”
At least he wasn’t so eager to be rid of her that he would turn her over to just anyone.
“I’m sorry,” he went on. “I know you’re anxious to be on your way, but I’m afraid you’re stuck here for another day.”
She wasn’t sorry. She was in no hurry to return to Fort Worth and her
father and the recriminations she knew she would face for placing herself in harm’s way and putting others to all the bother and fuss of having to look for her.
She cringed just thinking about it, then caught herself. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have come on her honeymoon alone. She had been running away, escaping the social and emotional upheaval from breaking her engagement. It had been selfish and cowardly to leave.
But none of the rest of this was her fault.
Bradley Swidell was to blame, and she would be damned if she would let her father make her feel guilty.
“I don’t mind,” she finally answered Ren. “It will be lovely to sleep in a real bed tonight.”
He cleared his throat, that glittery look in his eyes again. “Uh, right.”
She had a vivid mental picture of sharing that bed with him, bodies entwined and mouths tangled under the mosquito netting. Hunger and need washed through her like that hard tropical rain outside, and she could feel heat soaking her cheeks.
“How was your shower?” he asked after a long, charged moment, then immediately looked as if he hadn’t said anything.
“Heavenly,” she answered. “I’m afraid I used up all the hot water washing my hair.”
“Looks like most of the genipa came out.”
“Most. Not quite all. A few more shampoos and I’m sure it will, though.”
Were they really having a conversation about hair dye, she wondered, while what she really wanted to do was jump him right here in the kitchen?
“After I get cleaned up, I’ll work on raiding the cupboards for something to eat.”
“I’ll see what I can find while you’re showering.”
“You don’t have to do that. I don’t know much about proper kidnapping etiquette here but I’m pretty sure it’s my responsibility to feed you.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t kidnap me, Ren. You rescued me. I might be a spoiled rich heiress, but even I know the difference.”
Something warm kindled in his eyes, and his mouth twisted into his first smile since finding out her father was Wallace Lambert.
She basked in that smile, in the slight lessening of the tension between them.
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