“Must be that Texas breeding?” Ty chuckled.
Morgan lightened momentarily. “Maybe. But in this arena, we need someone with Dr. Alborak’s gutsiness. Casey said she can shoot and spit with the best of ’em. I guess that’s a Texas euphemism?”
Ty headed toward the door. “I don’t know. I’m from Colorado, remember? But Texans do have a helluva reputation.”
Morgan raised his brows. “Just don’t tangle with this hellion, all right? Work with her, not against her. I just hope she can take well-meaning direction from you.”
“My taste in women has always run to the independent types,” Ty assured him smoothly. “I’ll find a bridgehead with Dr. Alborak and make it work. Too much is at stake not to.”
Morgan raised his hand. “Rafe is expecting you. He’s the only one who knows who you really are. He’ll do all he can to assist you. Just ask. Trust him and rely on what he knows. After ten years, he knows that area like the back of his hand. Literally.”
“Yes, sir.” Ty opened the door. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Come home in one piece,” Morgan growled in warning. “Or else…”
Nodding, Ty quietly closed the door behind him. As he moved through the darkened passage to concrete stairs that led up to the first floor of the house, his heartbeat quickened. He reveled in the opportunity to be on a mission where so much was at stake. He had no idea what he was going to step into. If Black Dawn had delivered a deadly biological disease via aerosol spraying, that meant he and everyone on the OID team were also in jeopardy until they could verify what it was.
As he reached the top of the stairs, opened the door and stepped into a carpeted room at the rear of the house, Ty wondered what Texas hellion Catt Alborak was like. A brief smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. She might be the best part of this mission. Was she married? He resisted the temptation to open her file. Once he was on board the Perseus jet, he’d sift through all the information, commit it to memory and then try to get some sleep during the long journey south to Brazil.
Stepping out on the ornately carved front porch and automatically eyeing the thick cape of snow on the shoulders of the Rocky Mountains rising above the tiny hamlet of Philipsburg, Ty smiled. He was between relationships. Dr. Alborak sounded alluring. He liked a woman who knew her own mind, who had a definite sense of herself, who she was and where she was going in life. And if she was a little spicy and hotheaded, well, all the better. Ty liked women who challenged him. And he never ran from a fight. He stepped off the porch into the glare of bright sunlight. Putting on a pair of sunglasses, he hurried to a dark blue car parked out front.
As he settled in the back seat, the driver took off for the airport. Frowning, Ty amended his earlier musings. He had run from one relationship, he remembered now. A twinge in his heart made him unconsciously rub his chest. But that was a long time ago. He was thirty-one now and that relationship had happened ten years before. Long gone, but somehow, never forgotten. With a sigh, Ty opened up the file, his curiosity getting the better of him. The facts collected there were meager, but one of them piqued his interest. Dr. Alborak had attended Stanford University. So had the woman he’d loved so many years ago. Ty considered that a sign of good luck, if nothing else. He smiled to himself. Soon he’d be on Brazilian soil again. And he’d be facing this infamous Texas hellion in the flesh….
“Where the hell is that tugboat!?” Catt Alborak paced up and down the old, weathered wooden dock that jutted fifty feet out into the muddy headwaters of the Amazon. To her right was the distant skyline of Manaus. To her left was jungle. She saw her assistant, Maria Sanchez, pick up the cellular phone. Standing for a moment, her fists jammed on her hips, Catt glared up and down the river. There were a number of docks scattered along the bank, and plenty of tugs and tugboat captains. But where was their tug? Arrangements had been made before they arrived. A tug was to meet them at dock six and take them downriver for five hours, to the affected Juma village, where people were dying from some unknown bacterial or viral epidemic. Damn! People were suffering, and she and her team were standing here like they didn’t have a better thing in the world to do. Frustration ate viciously at Catt. She was never in good humor when things went wrong. She didn’t get paid to sit back, smile and be passive. No, responsibility for the lives of her team and those they were racing to help rested squarely on her shoulders.
Nostrils flaring, Catt started pacing again. Taking off her sunglasses, she stared out across the massive, slow-moving expanse of the Amazon. Two major rivers combined at Manaus, the largest city in northern Brazil. Once, there had been a very rich rubber trade here, which had made this city experience an economic boom for the first half the century. As the need for natural rubber died, so had the industry. Since then, Manaus had remade itself into a very profitable white-collar city, and with its high-tech computer companies, it was a leader in communications in South America.
“I could scream,” Catt muttered as she moved back to her team waiting on the bank. All around them were portable trunks filled with dry ice and antibiotics, boxes of lab equipment and laptop computers. The software contained information on every possible epidemic. The database would help them as they collected information about symptoms that would, she hoped, help them identify the killer of the Juma people. All would be needed to fight this epidemic. If they got to the Juma village at all!
“We’ve got to get a tug,” she said firmly to Maria, who had just gotten off the cell phone.
“You aren’t going to like this, Catt. The man who was hired to take us said he won’t do it. He doesn’t care how much money is involved. Word’s gotten out that half the people in the Juma village have died in the last two days. He’s scared,” Maria said unhappily, “and he said he loves his wife and kids too much to take us out there.”
“He’s afraid he’ll get infected and die,” Andy Foltz said. “Understandable, but that puts us in a hell of a fix.”
Catt’s patience was rapidly thinning. She ran her fingers through her short red hair in an aggravated motion. Her eyes burned with anger. “Maria, you call the city of Manaus. Get the mayor on the line. I’ll talk to him. I’m not going to beat around the bush. We’ll go to the top and take ’em apart one at a time if that’s what we have to do in order to get down there to help those people.”
Maria nodded sympathetically and rapidly punched in some numbers. She was of Hispanic blood and knew Spanish, which was a close cousin of Portuguese. Catt knew some Spanish because her father’s spread near Del Rio, Texas, was right across the border from Mexico. Still, Maria’s command of the language was stronger, and whether Catt liked it or not, Maria was her intercessor at the moment. Unfortunately, Maria wasn’t pushy like her, and Catt knew in order to get Manaus officials to help them, push was going to come to shove.
None of the team spoke Brazil’s first language, and they were at a decided disadvantage because of it. Now, Catt wished fervently that OID had either sent along an interpreter or brought in someone with field experience who spoke the language. It was too late now.
Catt saw a cab moving rapidly toward them, much like the one that had dropped off them and their medical supplies. This dock was out in the middle of nowhere. They’d been waiting for this tug for over an hour. A precious hour during which they could have been heading down the Amazon toward those suffering people.
Andy Foltz and Steve Tucker sat on large olive-green metal lockers, looking glum. They were just as frustrated as she was at not being able to get to those dying people. Aggravated to the point of blowing her infamous temper, Catt moved quickly back onto the dock. Immune to the beauty surrounding her, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her beige slacks as she walked quickly, her head down and filled with the turmoil of how to get out of this jam. Hearing the squealing of brakes, she stopped, turned and looked to where the asphalt ended, about a tenth of a mile from where she stood. The cab was delivering a passenger to their dock. Who? The tugboat captain? An official
envoy from Manaus to help them? The man who emerged from the cab was tall and well muscled. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt, jeans and work boots, from what she could tell at this distance.
He looked vaguely familiar, Catt thought, then shrugged off the notion. Worried for the dying people downriver, she turned her attention back to them and their ongoing plight. She shouldn’t just be standing here! She and her team should be on their way downstream right now. She snarled unhappily under her breath, spun around and headed back toward her team again. Maybe this man really was an official come to help them, someone who could get them out of this miserable mess. Catt wasn’t sure, but he looked like he knew what he was doing just by his proud carriage and the confident way he walked toward them. Her heart skipped a beat. Who was he? She frowned and halted near her team, waiting impatiently for him.
The way he walked reminded Catt of a lithe animal—a jaguar, perhaps. The man had dark brown hair, cut short and close to his skull. He wore sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, which to her were the most important feature in a person’s face. Catt knew from experience that looking into someone’s eyes told her everything she needed to know. What was this man hiding? Suddenly the sun was masked behind veils of misty clouds that moved sluggishly above them. The heat was oppressive and she was perspiring profusely beneath her white cotton shirt. Still, she couldn’t help but notice the way his own shirt clung to his upper body, shouting of his athletic shape. His chest was well sprung, his arms lean and tightly muscled, the dark hair thick upon them.
It was his face, though, that drew her gaze—an oval face with a hard, uncompromising jaw. His mouth was pleasant to look at—full, with the corners tipped slightly upward, so she knew he smiled a lot. Maybe he was a joker, someone who liked to laugh. His brows were thick and straight. There wasn’t a handsome bone in this man’s face, Catt decided. Instead, it was a face carved by crisis; she could see the heavy, indented lines between his brows and the slashes at either side of his pursed lips. He hadn’t shaved for a while and the darkness of his beard gave him a dangerous look, warning her that he was someone to be wary of. Who was he? She didn’t like the way he strode confidently toward them, as if he knew them. But unless he was a tugboat captain or someone who could get them one, Catt didn’t have time for him—at all.
He carried a large canvas bag slung over his broad shoulder. Olive-green in color, it reminded Catt of the military. In fact, she realized now, he walked like he was in the military. Her mind spun with questions. Had he been sent down by OID? Or some other governmental agency? Observing the deep tan of his skin, Catt wondered if he was an official from Manaus come to help them. Warning bells went off within her. She was no stranger to CIA or military types, because she frequently rubbed elbows with them out in the field, especially during outbreaks in foreign countries. They were instrumental and necessary—even if they were often arrogant about the crucial role they played in helping Catt get medical attention to those who suffered.
This man most definitely had an air of danger around him. She could sense it. And why, oh why, did he look so familiar to her? Catt found her attention torn between getting them downstream to the people who needed her and searching her memory in regard to this stranger.
The rest of her group stood up in anticipation as the stranger approached. Catt lifted her chin at an imperious angle and allowed all her internal radar systems, which she relied on so heavily, to focus directly on him. Her heart sped up. The shape of his face, that arrogant, confident walk…she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him. But from where? Where? She was almost ready to hurl the question at him, demand to know his name when he slowed down and took off his sunglasses. His icy-cold, cinnamon-colored eyes locking onto hers made Catt gasp.
Everyone in the team heard her strangled cry. They all turned in unison, bewilderment and surprise on their features.
Catt’s eyes widened. Her hands fell nervelessly from her hips. Her lips parted. And then her anger surged through her like a volcanic explosion, her voice cutting through the lazy, humid afternoon air.
“You bastard. I told you I never wanted to see you again!”
Chapter Two
Ty’s heart slammed against his rib cage with the force of a punch being delivered by a boxer. He halted, his mouth dropping open before he quickly snapped it shut. The woman glaring at him like an Amazon warrior was Cathy Simpson. Not Dr. Catt Alborak. Or was it? His mind spun. Fingers tightening around the dark glasses in his left hand, he met and held her sizzling glare.
“Cathy Simpson?” he growled, on guard. It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t. Ty tried to take in a deep breath, but it was impossible. Ten years ago, when he was just a shavetail lieutenant, fresh out of the naval academy, he’d fallen hopelessly in love with a red-haired woman who was going to medical school at Stanford University. Was this Cathy? She’d changed. Her once-long, gloriously thick hair had been cut short and her athletic frame had filled out. She was more beautiful, if that was possible.
She’d winced visibly when he’d called out her name, and now Ty saw the pain, anger and desperation in her narrowed blue eyes, the anguish in the way her full mouth compressed. More than anything, he saw in her expression the devastating effect of his sudden appearance. She didn’t need to say a thing. He knew this was Cathy Simpson.
As he stood there, every set of eyes on him, Ty felt horribly vulnerable in front of this group of strangers. His heart reeled. His emotions exploded violently within him when he realized the woman he’d loved and lost so long ago was standing here, now, in front of him—and that she was furious. What kind of torturous trick was being played on him—and her? Ty saw all too clearly that Catt, as she called herself now, wanted nothing to do with him. Her face had flushed a dull red, and now that it was whitening, he recalled all too well her hair-trigger temper. Whenever she turned pale again, that meant all hell was going to break loose. This time at him.
Trying to prepare himself, Ty felt an avalanche of old pain surge violently through him. The hurt from the past was alive in Catt’s eyes. And he’d been the bastard to hurt her but good. Helplessly, he stood there. This was the kind of emotional assault he had absolutely no defense against—nor did he try to shield himself from what was justly his to take. The ugly past, the sordid details, all started to rise with vivid clarity into his conscious mind. Lord knew, he’d buried them deeply, but with the beautiful, furious Catt standing before him, they were all coming back with the speed of a laser-fired rocket.
“I used to be Cathy Simpson,” Catt snarled in a low, throttled tone. She found herself trying to hate Ty, but how could she when she saw the absolute surprise and unsettled pain in his expression, the agony in his cinnamon-colored eyes? She wanted so hard to hate him, but her heart was pounding and crying out for him! Choking, she rasped, “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but whatever the reason, just do an about-face and march back from wherever you came. I don’t ever want to see you again, Hunter. I thought I made that clear a long time ago.”
The sudden prick of tears made Catt blink strongly. Tears! Not now. Not ever! Oh, Ty Hunter had such a vulnerable-looking face! Wasn’t that what had snagged her, entrapped her before—that helpless expression that he was now wearing for her benefit? Well, it was a damned game that he was very good at playing. She’d been a greenhorn of a sophomore in medical school when she’d fallen for him heart, body and soul. And Lord knew, he’d taken her soul, used her and then thrown her away when it came time to take responsibility for their choices. No, Hunter was a user, a manipulator of the worst kind. In her hour of greatest need, Ty Hunter had abandoned her. He’d left her. He’d said to hell with her and had walked away, pleading more important duties to take care of than the predicament she’d suddenly and inexplicably found herself in.
Ty opened his hand in a gesture of conciliation. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. He could almost feel Catt’s fury pummeling him as she stood tensely, as if prepared for combat. S
o much of the past, the bittersweetness of their torrid love affair, came smashing back to him. How much he’d tried to forget! And now he realized he’d forgotten nothing about her. Not the thick, silky quality of one strand of her auburn hair. Not the way her soft, firm skin smelled and tasted as he grazed it with his fingertips or tongue. Worse, he remembered her hungry lovemaking and how they’d met, matched and soared to the heights together like two eagles in mating season, high in the sky, hooking claws and tumbling thousands of exhilarating feet in the lovemaking process.
A serrating pain gutted him. What kind of awful trick was being played out here? “Look,” he managed to say in a low, soothing tone. “I don’t know anything about this, Catt—”
“It’s Dr. Alborak to you.”
He winced at the coldness of her words. She meant business—he could tell by the iciness in her eyes.
“Yes…Dr. Alborak.” Ty dragged in a ragged breath. He was reeling so badly from this terrible surprise that, for once in his life, he didn’t have the glib words, the quick comebacks he normally employed to defuse such situations. Lifting his hand in a pleading gesture, he rasped, “I’ve been sent here by OID. I’m your assistant.”
“That’s impossible! What the hell do you know about epidemic lab facilities? Last I heard, you were still in love with your precious Marine Corps. There’s no way you’re part of OID, so don’t try and get me to swallow that lie.” Catt tried to steady her shattered emotions, but it was impossible. Her heart was pounding wildly in her breast. Her breathing was shallow. Her employees were glancing back and forth between her and Ty Hunter with more than mild curiosity. Steve and Andy, who had been with her on just about every mission she’d been assigned to handle in the last five years, really looked baffled. Fortunately, they were smart enough to let her handle the situation. Catt was sure they would have questions later—questions she wouldn’t want to answer. Ty Hunter showing up was the worst possible thing that could have happened in her life—other than the painful tragedy she’d suffered through alone, so long ago.
Hunter's Woman Page 2
