Heart of the Hunter

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Diamond runners, huh?” he asked, attempting to rein in his straying thoughts.

  “Yeah, terrorists of another sort, is all,” Casey muttered. “They don’t have any morals or values, either. Zaire is a hot spot for diamonds, and many times the gems are stolen and traded to these cartels. They won’t waste any time seeking revenge if you screw with them, believe me. It’s like signing your death warrant.”

  “Them dropping a crate of black mambas on those poor bastards in that other village is enough for me to believe you on that,” Hunter said.

  She gave him a derisive look. “I’m not a drama queen when it comes to Africa, Hunter. But Africa is drama. High drama. All the time. If you like living on the edge, if you like danger every time you place your foot in front of you, then you’ll love this place.”

  “Reminds me of a war zone,” he griped as he moved around a large thatched hut. “Only it’s not land mines we have to worry about, it’s black mambas. And we’ve got human enemies in Black Dawn possibly stalking us or watching our every move.”

  “And,” Casey said with a sigh as they approached their small, white-walled, thatched hut, “don’t forget Ebola. It is present in many things around here.”

  “Antelope meat, by any chance?” Reid asked. As they reached the truck, he reluctantly dropped his hand from her arm.

  There was no doubt that Casey was in top physical shape. The firmness of her arm attested to that. Then again, Africa demanded a person’s best, he thought grimly as he unlocked the rear of the vehicle to locate their luggage. A number of children came to silently observe him. They stood off to the right, their hands in front of them, their faces curious.

  Casey opened the front door of the truck. “Antelope isn’t a carrier of Ebola, so you can eat it without worrying.” She grinned as she pulled out her knapsack. “Instead you have to worry about food poisoning if the meat is out in the hot air too long, or parasites or worms that don’t get destroyed if the meat’s undercooked.”

  “Rations sound a helluva lot safer.” Reid chuckled as he lifted the two black, nylon suitcases from the rear of the vehicle and followed Casey to the hut.

  Casey pulled aside the colorful black-purple-and-red fabric that served as the door to their hut. Following Reid in, she noticed that the earthen floor was hard packed and there were handwoven grass mats over most of it. Opening each of the three square windows, she saw that wherever they slept, mosquito netting was going to be a must. Turning, she realized just how small the hut was. Swallowing hard, Casey felt her face go hot as she envisioned them lying down for the night on that hard earth floor.

  “This hut is really tiny,” she muttered, heading out to the vehicle once again.

  Reid crouched by his luggage and pulled out a small radio. The light was fading, the inner hut dim and he had a hard time seeing. Rising to his full height, he went outside to punch in the numbers that would link him with a satellite wheeling overhead. Several of the children followed him as he walked a little ways from the hut. He heard Casey calling them back in Bantu. Like frightened gazelles, they all scattered and raced back around the hut to where she was. He wondered what she’d said to them and grinned a little. Casey obviously adored children, and they, her.

  Casey was busy setting up “house” in the hut when Reid silently entered behind her a few minutes later. She was on her hands and knees, anchoring the thick, protective mosquito netting to the floor. It wasn’t so much that she heard him enter as she felt his considerably charismatic presence as he filled the confines of their hut. Twisting her head, she saw him standing there looking down at her. Instantly, her heart thudded with feminine awareness of the banked heat smoldering in his darkened gray eyes. Her mouth went dry. Momentarily frozen, she quickly shook off the reaction and went back to what she was doing.

  “You get that comsat link to Morgan?” she asked huskily.

  Reid placed the radio on a small wooden table that stood near a wall of the circular hut. A well-used hurricane lamp sitting on the table would provide light against the coming darkness. “Yeah, I did. All’s well.” He came over and bent down to help her anchor the rest of the very necessary protective netting. “Need help?” His fingers brushed hers.

  Casey quivered. Reid was so damn strong, confident and unflappable. Well, wasn’t that why he’d been chosen to guard her? Flames licked up her hand where he’d brushed it. “Uh, no, I can get the rest of this… .”

  Reid straightened as he watched her fumble with the material. “I’ll get the kerosene lamp going. Darkness falls pretty rapidly around here, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Casey whispered a little breathlessly. She stood up and brushed her hands nervously against one another. Their “beds” would be at one end of the hut. The netting was tacked to the walls and hung like a tent above the blankets she’d put down for each of them on the grass pallets. No matter how she moved them around, a mere two feet at the most separated their beds. Uneasy, she sighed and put her hands on her hips.

  “I don’t bite.”

  She whirled around, startled. Reid was watching her with that predatory intentness of his. A warm sensation lingered in her lower body, a purely feminine reaction to his look. “Uhh… ” She gestured nervously to their beds. “It was the best I could do. That netting only stretches so far, and believe me, you don’t want to try and sleep without it. The mosquitoes will drive you crazy.”

  Reid grinned slightly. “Right now, it looks like you’d rather have the mosquitoes feeding on you than sleep that close to me.”

  Heat suffused her face. Without realizing it, Casey touched her flaming cheek. “Well,” she muttered, “it’s just that I’m a rambler and rover when I sleep.”

  “We’ll work it out,” he soothed, seeing how genuinely distressed she was about his sleeping so near to her. Swallowing his smile, because he was actually anticipating sleeping close to Casey, Reid turned and left the hut. At the truck, he tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t enjoy Casey’s discomfort so much. Most men would read her response to mean that she wasn’t interested in them. But he saw the interest in her direct green gaze.

  As he dug through one of the OID boxes at the rear of the truck, lightning flashed warningly in the distance. The returning rumble of thunder told him he’d better hurry, because the storm looked like it was racing across the savanna directly toward the village. Locating a flashlight and a small tin of kerosene, he locked the car and moved back to the hut.

  He nearly ran into Casey at the doorway. She had a towel over her shoulder and a washcloth and soap in her hands.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded, stepping aside.

  “To the stream nearby,” she said, pointing down a well-used trail that disappeared into the forest.

  “Hold on, I’ll come with you.”

  Giving him a pained look, Casey said, “I’ll be safe enough, Reid. I’m not going to have you watch me strip naked and wash up in that stream.”

  He set the can of kerosene down on the table. “My orders are not to let you out of my sight.” He turned and met her defiant gaze. “So don’t give me that look. It won’t do any good.”

  “Hunter, this is ridiculous!” Casey heard her voice go off key. “I’ve bathed in that stream hundreds of times! Nothing has ever happened to me. It won’t now.”

  “Do black mambas range around at dusk?”

  “No, they don’t. They’re cold-blooded and need the heat of the sun to get them up to speed. Right now, they’re all tucked up for the night in their various burrows.” She sounded childish even to herself. “Look, I’ll be okay!”

  He smiled gently and led her out of the hut. “It’s going to be pouring rain in the next hour or so if that storm drifts our way. I could use a bath myself. Got enough soap for two?”

  Panic set in. Her eyes narrowed on his darkened, dangerous-looking features. If Casey didn’t know any better, she’d think he was enjoying her discomfort. “Hunter—”

  “Doctor, I’m coming with yo
u. So let’s not waste any more time arguing about this, shall we? I’ll turn my back at the appropriate time, fair enough?”

  Her mouth snapped shut as she was propelled forward by Reid. His hand was steadying on her left arm as he walked her down the path that led into the forest.

  “This is ridiculous! We’re safe here at the village.”

  “No,” Reid whispered, his mouth very close to her ear, “we’re not safe anywhere, so get used to it. You didn’t have Black Dawn crawling around before. This village is a target because you’re here, and you know that.” He straightened and scanned the darkening forest that enclosed them as they walked quickly down the path. “Wasn’t it you who called me a guard dog?” he teased, trying to get her to relax.

  “I guess,” Casey muttered defiantly. She wrested her arm from his hand. “I can walk on my own, Hunter. You act like a broody old mother hen!”

  “Now I’m a chicken.”

  Giving him a dark look of warning, Casey growled, “You are dangerous.”

  Reid chuckled indulgently and kept up with her lengthening stride. “A dangerous chicken?” The trail led to a small pool of dark but clear water. Opposite them was a waterfall about five feet high. The pleasant sound of water tumbling and falling into the oval pool was nice and could easily lull them into a sense of security. However, Reid knew better. Scanning the area once more, his hand under his jacket where the pistol rested, he said, “How am I dangerous, good doctor?”

  Sitting down on a flat, smooth stone near the pond, Casey began to unlace her hiking boots. She flung them to one side and yanked off her socks. “You just are! Now, will you turn around?”

  Chuckling, Reid spotted a huge, smooth red boulder nearby. He found a place to sit with his back toward the pond. From between the branches of the surrounding forest, he could see flashes of lightning now and then.

  “How am I dangerous?” he called over his shoulder.

  As Casey stripped out of her one-piece cotton suit, her heart pounded in her breast. “Just take my word for it, you are, okay?” She moved quickly into the waist-deep water. It was cooling and welcoming to her hot, perspiring flesh. Taking the washcloth, she dipped it into the water and quickly washed her face. How wonderful the water felt! With a little moan of pleasure, she crouched down, the water flowing over her head and wetting her hair. She was fatigued and the water revived her once more. Standing up, sputtering, Casey scrubbed herself. Stealing a look over her shoulder, she saw that Hunter sat with his back to her. She could tell by his posture that he was alert and on constant guard.

  “I’ve never had a woman tell me 1 was dangerous before,” Reid called out, grinning.

  “No?” Casey said archly. Lathering soap on the washcloth, she cleaned her neck, shoulders and arms.

  “No. Should I take that as a compliment?”

  Casey choked on her laughter.

  “Why not?”

  “Your kind would,” Casey retorted as she quickly rinsed off and moved out of the pool. “You’re all so damn overconfident. Male testosterone at its finest—or some such thing… .” she muttered. Finding the towel, which she’d hung on a nearby branch, Casey dried herself off. She’d brought a sleeveless cotton shift, socks and a pair of leather loafers to wear on the way back.

  Sitting down, she quickly slipped into the white cotton socks and pushed her feet into the loafers. Standing, she said, “It’s your turn… and I’m not staying here and playing guard dog for you. Okay?”

  Reid slid off the rock and turned around. His grin widened into a smile. “You look like Raggedy Ann.”

  The warmth burning in his eyes, the sense that he was embracing her with his gaze, caught Casey off guard-again. She nervously ran her fingers through her red hair and tried to tame it into some kind of order. “My hair is always messy looking,” she said lamely, “no matter what I try to do with it. It’s naturally curly. It has a mind of its own… .”

  “Like you,” Reid said with a quiet laugh. “I know a lot of women who would kill to have naturally curly hair like you have,” he said as he approached her, his gaze moving over her. The red-pink-and-white shift hung to her knees and revealed her fine, thin collarbone and hinted at the swell of her breasts before it fell loosely to her knees.

  Casey stepped to the side. Reid was too close. Way too close. Thrusting the towel into his hand, she muttered, “Here. The washcloth and soap are over there on the rock. I’ll see you when you get back. All I want to do is go to sleep and get rid of this jet lag.”

  Chuckling, Reid watched her take off down the path. Now that he’d had a chance to survey the area, he decided not to push the guard dog thing too much with her. When there was danger around, the hairs on the back of his neck always stood up in silent warning. Right now, he sensed nothing but a sleepy village preparing for nightfall. The illumination of lightning skittered across the sky to the west of them. Not long afterward, thunder growled.

  Turning, he began to strip off his clothes. A quick dip in this refreshing pool was just what he needed to wash away some of the jet lag lapping at his senses. As he waded in, the thought of lying down to sleep with Casey no more than a foot or two away snagged his attention. Could he keep his hands to himself? Reid wasn’t sure, but he knew what he had to do. No matter how badly he wanted to touch Casey, taste her and feel her pressed up against his hard male body, it couldn’t happen. One woman had stood him up at the altar. He was damned if he was going to be hurt by a woman again. To make sure that wouldn’t happen, he had to remain immune to Casey. On all levels…

  The next morning they drove across the emerald savanna, which was covered with thousands of animals grazing eagerly on the rich, green offering. Casey took the wheel because she knew where the last scientific site had been set up. Hunter was on guard, his gaze constantly shifting. If he was honest, he’d admit he wanted to center his attention on her. She wore that comfortable, one-piece, olive green suit and sensible shoes, and her mop of red hair was a glorious crown to her drab outfit.

  Still, he saw the strain and tension in her. They were going back to where her two friends had just been murdered weeks before, and as a result Casey wasn’t herself. As beautiful as Africa was on this sunlit morning, Reid knew she didn’t see beauty; she saw only death. Her full mouth was pursed, and as much as he fought against it, the suffering in her green eyes reached out and seared his heart. How could he handle all the emotions he saw in her? She was too raw, always leaving herself wide-open to more pain and suffering.

  The jungle loomed before them as they approached the old scientific site. Casey parked the truck at the edge of the savanna. A red flag nearby indicated the start of the trail to the site itself. She moved jerkily as they transferred necessary items into large backpacks. Her usual camaraderie was nowhere to be found, and Hunter felt pressed to say something to relieve the tension that hung around them.

  As he helped her into her backpack and then shrugged into his own, he turned to her and said, “Let me lead.”

  Casey opened her mouth to disagree, then compressed her lips once again. “Fine. Go ahead.” Her heart was throbbing with pain. She was trying to prepare herself to walk into that clearing where the temporary lab had been set up.

  “Not even a fight to take the lead?” Reid teased. He lifted one corner of his mouth.

  Casey knew what he was trying to do. “I’m not good at hiding anything,” she muttered by way of an apology.

  He wanted to reach out, to tell her it was all right, but he resisted. Standing less than a foot away from her, he nodded and forced himself to keep his hands at his sides. “Yeah, I understand. When you lose good friends in combat, it hurts.”

  Casey studied him. “Have you lost friends that way?”

  “In the Gulf War? Yes, I did.”

  “Did you have to return to the site where they died and continue your work?”

  He saw her point. Clearly. Looking down at the damp grass between them, he rasped, “No, I didn’t have to do that… not like y
ou have to now… .”

  Damn. There was no getting around Casey. Around her pain and grief. Hunter turned on his heel, at a loss for what else to say or do. He felt ill equipped to deal with this whole situation. And it was only going to get worse.

  They moved into the jungle. Large-leafed bushes swatted at them as he followed a small, well-trodden path back into the gloomy depths. Many sounds and smells surrounded them as they walked in the fragrance of orchids hanging from trees or growing on rotting logs they crossed, the screech of monkeys, the calls of birds. His senses were awake and ready for Black Dawn. Almost unthinking, he touched the holster at his left side, where the pistol rested, unstrapped, locked and loaded.

  Casey followed, lost in a fog of grief. Her friends’ faces danced before her. She didn’t see the beauty of sunlight cascading in golden sheets through the trees and palms. Normally, the melody of the birds enthralled her, but it didn’t today. The loss of Stan and Vince blanketed her until her vision blurred. When Casey realized she was going to start crying, she fought back the tears. She knew Hunter didn’t like to see women cry. Besides, she had a job to do. The camp needed to be reclaimed, set back up, and the work had to begin, regardless. Girding herself, she did her best to shove down her morass of grief and doggedly follow Reid up the gentle incline leading to the clearing.

  It took nearly twenty minutes for them to reach the site. Casey halted when Reid stopped and held out his arm in warning. She didn’t want to look up, but forced herself to anyway. In front of them was an oblong clearing about the size of a football field. It was here that Stan and Vince had been working for nearly three months, sifting through the remains of animals and reptiles in an effort to find the Ebola reservoir. Her stomach clenched painfully as she gazed across the clearing. The folding tables were still there, the worse for wear, all of them tipped over, their aluminum legs aimed at the sky. There was evidence of where Stan and Vince had maintained a campfire, and Casey knew from long experience that near the charred hole in the ground there had also been two tents. The grass had grown a lot in the last few weeks and she knew it was because of all the rain.