Heart of the Hunter

by Lindsay McKenna

  Once Reid was satisfied there was no danger, he slowly moved forward, and Casey forced herself to do the same.

  As her boot touched the green of the dewy grass, she flinched. From the black-and-white photos she’d seen of the place, she knew exactly where Vince and Stan had been shot and had fallen to their deaths. Her throat closed up. Breathing became an effort. Hunter was already in the center of the clearing and had shed his backpack. He’d drawn out the pistol, and the intensity on his face left no question that he was in his guard dog mode, making sure they weren’t in jeopardy.

  Hunter moved rapidly around the perimeter of the clearing. It took nearly twenty minutes for him to do his job and do it thoroughly. First, he listened for sounds in the jungle that surrounded the area. Then he looked for evidence of fresh footprints, freshly broken branches or any possible indication that Black Dawn could be hiding, or may have been lurking. When he found nothing, relief thrummed through him and he put the pistol into his shoulder holster and turned around.

  His heart clenched painfully in his chest. His breathing hitched momentarily. There in the center of the clearing was Casey, kneeling on the ground. One hand was pressed to the green earth, the other to her face, her head bowed. Off to the left was her backpack. Releasing an explosive breath, Reid wavered. He saw her shoulders shaking. She was crying—hard. But there was no sound. In an instant, he realized she wanted to sob out loud, but wouldn’t. Instead, he saw the racking motions working up her back, saw her shoulders tremble. She was weeping for the loss of two very dear friends.

  His mouth went dry. His feet wanted to hurry forward toward Casey, but panic seized him. Should he? Should he reach out as he had in the jet and touch her, try to comfort her? At what cost to himself? It had nearly unstrung him to touch her in the aircraft. He’d been so scared, but something had driven him to it. That same obsession captured him again. How badly he wanted to hurry to Casey, lean down and—oh, to hell with it.

  Hunter strode toward her. He couldn’t help himself. Approaching her from the rear, he knew Casey wasn’t aware of his presence. Recalling the photos of the site, he knew that where she had placed her hand was where Stan had fallen and bled to death.

  Reid’s heart was pounding hard in his chest. He jerked to a halt, mere inches from where she knelt, her head bowed, her face hidden. From this distance, he could hear soft sobs being torn from her. He saw her fingers dig convulsively into the dark, rich soil.

  Touch her. Help her.

  Reid cursed himself. Like a robot, he moved his hand out toward her shaking shoulder. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated. A part of him wanted to rear back, as if burned. Another part screamed at him to make contact with Casey. Damn it, man, she needs your help! Comfort her. You can at least do that much for her.

  Reid stood over her, his shadow falling across her, his fingers stretched outward, a bare inch separating them. Fear ate at him. He couldn’t do it. He just didn’t have what it took to reach out, fold Casey in his arms and hold her, simply hold her. That was what she needed. Why couldn’t he give her that? Why? He was such a coward. A coward about living life. About risking his own worthless hide to help another person who was hurting so terribly.

  Turning away, Hunter felt bitterness assail him. He hated himself. He hated the fact that he had no heart. No ability to feel, just as Janet had declared that day a year ago. Damn it. Damn his inability to be human. A cry like that of a wounded animal rose violently within him. It hit his throat and he swallowed convulsively as he moved morosely toward his backpack. He had to do something— anything—to not feel this pain of hers. The soft sobs from Casey tore at him. Each sob was like someone placing a red-hot meat hook into his heart and jerking it, as if trying to tear the organ out of his chest. He hurt with anguish. Her anguish. It felt as if someone had slammed a scalding brand across the flesh of his massive chest. Reid could barely breathe, barely move. Leaning down, he jerked at the buckles on the backpack. He didn’t see the pack. All he could hear and feel were Casey’s sobs of grief, her goodbye to her very close friends who’d been murdered for no reason at all.

  At times such as this, Hunter didn’t like himself. The ugliness in him, the shortcomings, were all too visible right now. Any decent human being, any other man, would have gone over to her, knelt by her and put his arms around her to assuage the terrible anguish she was going through. Janet was right: he was only half-human. The other half of him was dead. Numb to the world and to the people who needed him. Kneeling down, he continued to pull angrily at the release buckles on the backpack. Someone had to set up camp. Someone had to be a guard dog. Well, those were two things he could do right and do well. Yanking the pack upright, Reid began to take pieces of equipment out of it one at a time and put them in neat rows for use later.

  Let Casey cry. He was no good at comforting others. He never had been. A huge part of him wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how. He was sure he’d bumble it, embarrass himself and screw it up for her. And in the end, he told himself with dark, seething anger, all he would do was make Casey feel worse, not better. At least let her have this cry, this final goodbye, without his messing it up, as he had every other intimate relationship he’d ever started in the past.

  In those serrating minutes that followed, with Casey’s soft sobs filling the clearing, Reid moved in a haze of self-loathing. Janet was right: he was worthless.

  Chapter Seven

  Casey’s skin tingled as Reid made himself comfortable beneath the protective mosquito netting over their beds. Without it, they’d be eaten alive by insects. Right now, Casey seriously considered that option. Last night sharing the small sleeping area hadn’t turned out to be an issue. Both of them were so exhausted from traveling they’d fallen fast asleep. But tonight Casey felt gutted. Her weeping in the clearing today for Stan and Vince had been unexpected. But Casey couldn’t help how she felt. Hunter had acted like she was a leper for baring her emotions at all, but that was too bad. Then later, after he’d set up the tables and gotten out the equipment they needed to begin their research, he’d been solicitous. Even at the dinner feast Henri had prepared that evening in her honor, he’d acted strangely.

  But Casey couldn’t be angry with him. She understood that Hunter had a problem with showing his feelings. He was afraid to expose how he felt. Most men were. Reid, however, seemed to have more walls to surmount than most, she realized, feeling exhausted. He’d tried to make up for his lack of humanity in many ways during the rest of that day, and Casey had absorbed each little nuance greedily. She’d cried so hard out there that her stomach still felt tied in knots, and she unconsciously rubbed the area. More than anything, she’d craved a little care from Hunter, but he’d been unable to provide it. He’d busied himself instead with setting up their base camp. She tried very hard not to expect anything of this hardened warrior, but her heart kept crying out for him, reaching for him.

  So many times today Casey had wanted to find an excuse to have her hand touch his. Or to pretend to bump into him by accident. Casey couldn’t bring herself to do that. She was an honest person, not a manipulative one, and she knew it was grief that was making her consider such an action. A part of her understood that despite Hunter’s toughness, he was far more fragile in an emotional sense than she was presently, and that was why Casey didn’t chew herself out about how she’d felt with Reid today.

  As he shifted in his bed beside her, she sighed. Why did he have to look so damn appealing in his light blue pajama bottoms? Why couldn’t he have worn the top instead of revealing his massive, dark-haired chest, which begged her to slide her fingers across it and enjoy? The air was hot in the hut, almost stifling. Casey wished one of the thunderstorms rolling across the savanna would lift the oppressive heat and humidity from the village. Anything to take her mind off the fact that she needed his touch, craved his embrace and simply wanted to sink against him and be held for just a little while.

  Her pale pink cotton nightie seemed little protection
against his powerful sexual appeal. The lace bordering the deep V-neck accentuated her femininity, suggesting a hint of her breasts beneath the lightweight material. Casey lamely realized that the normal nightly attire she’d thrown into her suitcase, while practical in this humidity, wasn’t suited to sleeping in a hut with a man next to her. It was too late to do anything about it. Tugging in frustration on the hem, she wished it fell far below her knees.

  She lay on her side, her back to Hunter and her arm beneath her head. Even the cotton nightie clung to her. She had to adjust to Africa’s sweltering humidity again. Until then, she’d perspire just as Reid was doing. The windows in the hut were open, but the air was sluggish at best. She felt trapped by Reid’s closeness. Casey swore she could feel his masculine heat rolling off him like bright sunlight. She itched to move. But where? They had anchored down the netting so insects couldn’t crawl beneath it. She was as close as she could get to the barrier and yet her heart palpitated wildly in her breast.

  “Good night,” Reid rumbled.

  “Sweet dreams,” Casey replied unhappily. He sounded like he was already half-asleep. And why not? They were both still drunk with jet lag and travel fatigue. So why wasn’t she sleepy? Scrunching her eyes shut, Casey forced herself to stop thinking, but she couldn’t help being aware of Reid’s closeness. His obvious male aura beckoned her and she fought it with panic.

  I’m afraid of him, she realized, while another voice taunted her: You wimp, Morrow! Come on, you’re made of stemer stuff than this! You ‘re like a teenage girl with a crush on the first boy you loved. What gives? He hasn’t touched you and you ‘re acting like a drama queen! Sighing loudly, Casey flattened her lips, very unhappy with herself and her reaction to Reid. It was those damnable heated, smoldering looks he gave her from time to time that were stimulating her, whether she wanted the stimulation or not. Her body certainly entertained the thought of his hands moving across her. And she couldn’t deny that her feelings were growing by the second for this… Neanderthal man. Of all men to be drawn to! A caveman throwback! Casey snorted at the ridiculousness of the situation.

  Hunter snored.

  Well, at least he was getting some sleep! Casey was disgruntled with herself and her jumbled feelings. Reid was obviously not interested in her or he wouldn’t have fallen asleep so quickly, logic told her. Casey heard thunder rumbling again in the distance. If only it would rain! Then maybe she could go to sleep. She needed to rest up before they returned to the site. She didn’t want to feel her need for Reid’s touch to heal her broken, torn heart again. Just being out in that clearing today and knowing her friends had met their death there had nearly sapped the last of Casey’s strength. Could she go out there tomorrow and work? Her heart whispered that Hunter could give her the necessary, sustaining strength she needed, but he wasn’t about to touch her in any way, shape or form. Casey fell asleep wondering what it would be like to kiss that strong mouth of his. She found herself smiling faintly as she dropped off into the spiraling darkness, finding temporary relief in dreams that comforted her just a little after the brutal reality of her day.

  Casey’s dream of a pleasant, heated response to Reid’s mouth pressed hotly against her lips changed. Soon a nightmare stalked her and darkness overtook her. As she plunged downward at a dizzying rate, she heard her own screams, her own cries of anguish. Pain replaced the too brief pleasure of Reid’s mouth upon her own. She saw dark, crawling worms coming toward her. She heard harsh breathing. The stench of death cloaked her. A crashing sound ripped through her grief and pain. Casey fought to run away from it. The worms caught up with her, slithered around her and began squeezing her. She felt hot blood pouring out of her nose and mouth. No! Oh, God, no!

  Reid snapped upright as Casey screamed. Sleep was torn from him as her cry echoed rawly through the darkened hut. What? Where? He instantly went into action, thrusting his hand toward the revolver that lay next to his pillow. An intruder? Where? He was on his knees instantly, hands on the pistol. As he aimed it toward the door, lightning flashed and thunder caromed right above them. The hut shook violently. Rain was slashing through the open windows. Gusts of wind funneled through the hut.

  Once Reid was assured there were no intruders, Casey’s sob distracted him. Breathing harshly, he twisted toward her. The lightning illuminated her huddled form. She was sitting up, sobbing wildly, her hands pressed to her face. Reid threw the netting aside. Closing the windows so the rain would stop pouring in, he yanked the rest of the netting away from Casey. Breathing hard, he hunkered above her, inches separating them. What should he do? Her cries were tearing him apart. He shut his eyes as his world tilted out of control. Heat burst across his chest. How badly he wanted to help her! If only… if only he could… if only he wouldn’t screw it up and hurt her more… What should he do?

  His hand ached to reach out for her tousled hair, illuminated by the lightning once again. A thunderous crash caromed above them and he winced. She was crying like a frightened child. A child, not a woman. He remembered all too well how scared he’d been as a child. As a four-year-old, he’d hidden in the broom closet to get away from a violent storm that had frightened him. No one had been there for him. His mother had been at work, and so had his father. The baby-sitter was somewhere else—where, he didn’t know. He’d been alone. Alone in the dark, hurting badly and crying so hard for Mama and Papa.

  Cursing softly, Reid threw caution aside. If Casey was feeling half of what he’d felt as that little four-year-old kid, then anything was better than nothing. All he could do was reach out to her and try. Driven by memories from his past, Reid moved forward.

  “Hey… ” he soothed as he knelt down beside her. His reactions were purely instinctual. He was still fatigued, his senses spinning, his adrenaline high from the attack that hadn’t materialized. Blindly reaching out, Hunter brought her into the shelter of his arms and used his body to protect her as he nestled her between his thighs. “Come here, it’s all right, sweetheart… it’s all right,” he whispered roughly. To his utter surprise, Casey collapsed against him. Without hesitation, she pressed her cheek against his damp chest and her arms went around his naked torso. The sobs tearing from her stripped away his grogginess. As he sat there holding her, feeling each shaky sob work its way through her, Reid pressed his hand against her hair and tried to simply soothe her. She must have had one helluva bad dream, he decided distractedly. Probably about Stan and Vince. He knew that this morning Casey had worked valiantly to stifle her sobs and hide her grief from him. Guiltily, he knew she was more than aware of his discomfort over her crying. She’d tried so hard all day to keep her feelings from him. Now her sorrow was stalking her again, and this time he hoped he could be of help in allowing her the time she needed to cry, to heal the wounds deep within her heart over the loss of her two friends.

  But his other senses were registering the feel of her soft hair against his jaw. The scent of her as a woman filled his flaring nostrils. He placed his mouth against her head and kissed her hair. It felt vibrant and soft—like she did. Gently rubbing his hand in a slow up and down motion across her back, he felt the accumulated tension in her.

  “It’s okay,” he rasped, “let it go, just let it go… . I’m here, I’ll take care of you… .” And he would. Reid knew he was only a guard dog, a protector. Right now, that’s what Casey needed: his help. His care. Nothing had ever seemed so right or so good to him as when he began to rock her gently in his arms. She was like a hurt child whose sadness wouldn’t be assuaged.

  Driven by her grief-filled sobs, by the way she clung to him as if releasing him would mean drowning in a sea of virulent pain, Reid kept murmuring her name and tenderly stroking her hair, shoulders and back as he held her tightly with his other arm. She felt so damn good against him, the willowy length of her against his chest and torso, and trapped between his thighs. Heat and hardness began to gather in his lower body to a painful degree. He felt the firm softness of her breasts against his chest. Felt the heat of
her tears as they dribbled down through the thick hair there. With trembling fingers, he awkwardly tried to remove the tears from her cheek. She only cried harder.

  Another bolt of lightning flashed across the village. The hut trembled violently, as if mirroring the throes of agony that Casey was caught up in. He kissed her hair again, mesmerized by her sweet, womanly fragrance. He felt her arms tighten as he sought and found her damp cheek. Without meaning to, because he was no longer thinking, just instinctively reacting to her needs, he pressed his mouth against the soft curve of her cheekbone. She tasted sweet and salty. He felt her release him, her fingers dragging across his chest, as if asking for more of what he was giving her.

  It was so easy to give Casey solace in this form. Reid surrendered to the explosive moment as her fingers trailed shyly across his shoulder and then encircled the back of his neck. She wanted him to kiss her. The realization was galvanizing. Necessary. Life-giving. His whole self, his normal reactions, were in chaos. In those seconds, Reid surrendered to the craziness of the situation and followed the cry of his heart. Leaning down those scant inches that still separated them, he sought and found her parted lips, bathed in tears. He took his tongue and gently ran it across her full lower lip. The salt mingled with her taste as a woman. The texture of her mouth met his. She trembled violently. He hesitated as he heard a sob catch in her throat. Driven by the need to help her, Reid slid his hand beneath her jaw and guided her face upward to meet his descending mouth.