by Ann Major
Her tears were strangling her. When she tried to speak, only disjointed sounds came forth. He kissed her eyelids, her fevered brow, and she clung to him.
He was so tough. Yet so gentle.
She wasn’t hysterical! Or scared! Why were the tears running freely from her eyes? She could feel them scalding her cheeks. She turned her face from his, not wanting him to see.
But he saw her terrible vulnerability, and instead of laughing at her in triumph as she expected him to, his dark, rugged face was gravely tender. It almost made her forget who he was, all that he’d done.
“Nobody’s ever stuck by me—nobody except for Kirk,” she sobbed.
“I know,” came that unbelievably gentle male tone.
“He’s all I have. Everybody else, everything else is gone. First Julia, and Kirk blaming himself for it. Then Mother. After that Kirk went away and joined the Marines and then the CIA. When he came back he was so hard and bitter. You took our ranch and Daddy went away. Everybody said the MacKays were wild and no good. It seems like I’ve always been alone. And never more than now!”
Jeb’s hands felt so warm as they caressed her neck. All the hot, angry feelings flowed out of her. “Kirk could be dying. Maybe he’s already dead. I don’t know what to do. I feel so alone. There’s no one I can turn to. You don’t know what it’s like, not having things or people in your life, not having power. You’ve always had everything. Family. Money. You were born with it all.”
He thought of the invoices on his desk, the new loans he needed to keep the ranch going, the medical career he’d given up because his father had wanted him to run the ranch. “Did it ever occur to you that people can’t help who they’re born to, Megan?” Jeb asked softly. “Not even someone as mean and awful as me.”
His irony was lost on her.
Her tear-filled eyes sought his. “I don’t care about any of it except for Kirk. Jeb, don’t you dare try to stop me from helping him. Don’t you dare! I swear I’ll kill you if you try to. I’d kill anybody—”
“I’m not going to stop you, Megan. I want to help you. Haven’t I always helped you, even when you didn’t want to be helped?”
His words didn’t make sense and yet somehow they did.
“Even if it means breaking laws? You’ve always been so straitlaced about the law.”
“Honey, I want to save Kirk as much as you do.”
“You could wind up in a Mexican jail.”
“I’ve been in worse places.”
She knew it was crazy not to push him away, but she held him tighter.
She felt his lips on her cheeks, tasting the saltiness of her tears, and she liked the soft feeling of his hard mouth moving across her hot skin. Nothing in all her life had ever felt so good.
“I’ve never seen you cry,” he said gently.
He had never been so nice, so kind. She had never realized how much she had longed for his kindness.
“I’ve cried before,” she admitted weakly, “lots of times, but when I was alone… because I was too proud to let you know.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of—crying. Most women do, you know.”
“I never wanted to be like most women.”
“You damn sure succeeded there.” He spoke forcefully, but he was smiling at her, too.
She stared into his eyes, and she felt herself drowning in those blazing pools. “I—I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she stammered.
“I don’t know, either,” he growled fiercely, lowering his mouth to her lips.
“I—I don’t want to want you,” she whispered against his mouth. She felt his warm breath against her face. “Oh, Jeb, I don’t want to.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” he replied grimly, but his hands tightened possessively on her body, and he arched her closer.
Her breasts pressed into his chest, and her own fluttering pulse sped madly.
“Then why?” She gasped. “What are we doing? Have we both gone crazy?”
“Seems like it.” Jeb’s voice was as soft as velvet. His eyes were deep and dark, concealing his emotions.
“You’re going to marry Janelle,” Megan reminded him frantically as his lips moved closer. The very thought brought a little moan of pain from her lips.
He frowned, fighting to concentrate on Janelle, but the vision of her soft, cool beauty blurred. The hot fragrance of wild roses filled his nostrils; the longing to taste lush, honeyed lips tempted him. All he could feel was the fire and the wild sweetness of the woman he held in his arms.
“No, honey,” he muttered. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Megan tried to twist away, but he caught her to him. “It’s too late to fight it. Way too late—for both of us.” His mouth came down on hers, frightening, greedy in its demand. Yet no greedier than her own.
She could feel his pulse pounding like a savage jungle drum. Her own leapt at the same rhythm. Her hands tightened around his neck, feeling his hard muscles as well as the silken texture of his hair.
He was trembling, and so was she. She could feel the harsh rumble of his ragged breathing, and his wildness was in her as well. They were caught in a storm, lashed by its force. He ground her against his immense body.
What happened was like nothing either of them had ever known before.
Lips slid against lips, flesh against flesh, man against woman, but with an inner magical explosion of primitive sensation that left them both shaken.
He had kissed many women. She had been kissed by other men.
But this was different for them both.
His tongue slid inside her mouth.
One taste, and he knew that every moment in his life had led him to this instant, to this woman. She had always possessed him. He had always fought it. He had always wondered if she could be soft, like other women. He discovered that she was soft, but she was not like other women.
One kiss and he was lost. His two-year courtship of Janelle was as nothing to this. There was only Megan and this moment.
Only Megan, who hated him.
Never had a woman tasted sweeter, wilder.
Abruptly he released her.
But his eyes sought hers.
Her face was still, upturned. Her hair had come loose and was blowing in the wind. In her blazing eyes he saw brief bewilderment. The vulnerable look was gone in a flash.
She buried her face in her hands, sick with shame to have let him kiss her, to have burst into flame when he had.
“We might as well have that talk in my office now,” he muttered, as uncomfortable as she was.
Through her fingers, her eyes sparked with desperation.
He touched her elbow to guide her toward his Cadillac, but she jerked away and raced defiantly ahead of him, opened the car door and hurled herself inside.
He knelt and picked up his hat and slapped it against his thigh.
They drove silently, sitting stiffly beside each other, neither of them speaking, both of them seeking something outside the car to look at.
The scenery was flat desert punctuated by pockets of brush and mesquite. It was too familiar, and it held no interest for either of them. She fiddled with her hair for a while; then she switched on the radio. It was set to his favorite kicker station, and a country singer’s melancholy croon filled the car. Megan twirled the dial until she found a rock station.
The tense, metallic twanging seemed to make the taut nerve ends explode in Jeb’s brain. He glanced toward her and saw her fingers patting out the rhythm on her knee. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure it.
She turned the volume up.
He was aware of those tapping fingers. It was as if they pounded a tattoo in every nerve cell of his body. What was she trying to do, blast him out of his own car?
He didn’t say anything. He just lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
She grabbed his cigarette and put it out.
“What the hell?” he sputtered.
She opened her window. “I can’t stand the smell.”
They drove in mutual misery to his ranch office. When they reached it, they both sprang out of the Cadillac. Their doors slammed in unison.
Inside his office they regarded each other warily. Then she went to the window and looked out as if she were searching for some avenue of escape.
Her silence was oppressive, but Jeb decided there was nothing to do but to launch his attack. “Kirk must be in Mexico, and we’ve got to risk our own necks to go down and get him out.” She glared out the window and pretended to ignore him, so he went on. “You and I have been at war for years. I just kissed you, and you kissed me back. Maybe it shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I don’t like it any more than you!” Silence. “It’s been a helluva morning. I don’t usually drink this time of the day, but what would you say to a shot of whiskey?”
She turned stiffly. “What I always say—no.”
His mouth quirked. “Sorry I don’t have any herbal tea.” He poured a glass for her and set it in front of her. Then a glass for himself.
Haughtily she ignored hers.
“And I thought you were the girl with bad habits?”
She didn’t smile. He pulled out his cigarettes and lighter.
“Don’t you dare! You know you’re supposed to be quitting.”
“That’s my business.”
“Not when I’m in the same room. Besides, those things are killing you,” she whispered. “Each one you smoke takes seconds off your life.”
“I’d think that would be a point in their favor as far as you’re concerned.”
She watched him—white-faced.
He threw the pack of cigarettes into the trash. Then he grabbed the glass he’d poured and downed his whiskey in a single draught.
“That’s something else you shouldn’t do.”
“Apparently I do a lot of things I shouldn’t,” he muttered fiercely.
Her ashen face, her slanting green eyes watching him like a doe at bay—these things got to him.
Damn! He wanted to taste her again, but he knew one kiss wouldn’t be enough. As if nothing extraordinary had happened between them, he pulled a chair out for her, and she sat down. He sprawled nonchalantly behind his desk.
“So where’s Kirk?” Jeb demanded. Even though he wanted a cigarette, he felt better after the whiskey.
There was silence. She stared at him warily.
“You can take away all my licenses,” she said quietly. “They mean nothing compared to Kirk’s life.”
“You’re the hardest woman on earth to help, Megan. All I’ve ever tried to do is help you. That’s all I want to do now.”
“Really?” There was disbelief in her shaking tone.
“You’re either the stupidest or the stubbornest woman alive. You’ve got no choice but to trust me. There’s no one else.”
She chewed her lip. “There’s no way I can trust you, but you’re right about there not being a choice.” She stared at him for a long while. At last she sighed in defeat. “Okay. You win. Don’t you always?”
His mouth thinned. “Just tell me, Megan, without the usual bunch of insults.”
“Kirk’s hurt. He may be dying. He’s in Mexico like you thought. So help me, Jeb, if you try to stop me—
“Just stick to the facts.”
“A man called Dwight Creighton hired him to go down there to get his wife and child. They had been kidnapped and were being held for ransom.”
“What’s your part in all this?”
“Yesterday morning a man called me on the phone. He said that the helicopter that was supposed to get Kirk, the woman and the child out had been shot down. He gave me the coordinates of an abandoned army strip in Mexico and told me to get there at eight last night. I picked up the woman and child and brought them back. But Kirk was too badly hurt to be moved, and the Piper was overloaded as it was. I barely cleared the treetops taking off. Jeb, I had to leave him. If he dies...”
“Did you see him?”
“No, but the helicopter pilot is with him. I’m supposed to go back tonight for them.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Jeb, no! There’s not enough room in my plane. I’ll be overloaded as it is!”
His mind was racing, making quick rough calculations. “We’re taking the Mooney. It’s faster. More dependable. We’ll have radar. We’ll get in and out before they even know we’re there. Hell, the Mexican-American border is like a sieve, you know that. Surely one little plane can make it. I still can’t believe you went down there alone in your Piper. That thing’s hardly more than a toy.”
Her brows flashed together. “I’ll have you know my plane’s no toy! With a landing speed of only thirty-eight knots I can put down almost anywhere. My landing gear’s more dependable on a rough strip. Besides, four peoples’ lives were at stake.” She hesitated. “Jeb, there’s a group of guerrilla bandits who’ll shoot us if they catch us landing, unless we pay them an exorbitant landing fee. They’re used to dealing with drug runners. They might shoot up your plane. You could get killed.”
Jeb got up and came to Megan. “You really are blind to me, aren’t you? How could we have grown up together, lived together, worked together for years, with you not knowing me at all? Kirk is like a big brother to me, and ever since Julia disappeared, I’ve always thought of you as a little sister. I’m not letting you go down there alone. You were crazy to do what you did last night. In fact, if things are as dangerous as you say, I don’t want you going down there at all. You give me the location of that strip, and I’ll get Tim Collins to fly me.”
“No.”
“Megan, if they capture you... I don’t like the thought of what they’d do to a woman.”
She shuddered. “The answer’s still no.”
He remembered how obstinate she could be. He couldn’t risk what she might try if he didn’t agree. “Okay,” he muttered softly. “You’re going.”
“Why are you so determined to go, Jeb?”
“Let’s just say I’ll be protecting the lives of the two best people on this ranch.”
Megan blinked hard, her heart pounding fiercely. She remembered the passionate kiss they’d shared. “I’ve hated you for years.”
“I know.”
“But, in spite of everything, I feel better... just knowing you’re coming with me. I never needed a friend more.”
Jeb folded his large callused hand around hers possessively. “It’s a helluva thing to accept help from your worst enemy,” he said with a slow grin.
“A helluva thing,” she whispered, but instead of pulling her hand from his, she clung to it.
Four
Night rose in a thick, black smoke from the earth, making the valleys indistinguishable from the plains and hills. The occasional villages were lit up like constellations. Single houses were shining beacons lost in the inky vastness.
The Mooney was less than the tiniest pinprick in the eye of heaven.
Other than the roar of the engine, it was silent in the snug cockpit as Jeb and Megan scanned the darkness for any flares that would indicate the strip. They were deep over Mexico, flying low, with only the stars above, the lights beneath from the villages and the luminous dials on the instruments to guide them.
Megan felt the chill fingers of fear creep up and down her spine as she stared down into the yawning darkness and sensed the plane’s terrible aloneness. Her eyes were glued to the dark earth. Dear God! It seemed she’d been in the plane for hours. Why weren’t the flares down there? Her heart pounded in her throat. Did it mean Kirk was already dead?
She could feel Jeb’s tension as he silently searched the darkness. He hated flying, almost more than he hated anything, and he was bound to be more nervous than usual tonight. In the bluish-gray glow of the instruments, his hard features seemed etched from marble. How long would Jeb let her search before he made her give up?
Suddenly beneath them there were two rows of flickering lights.
Her heart lurched as she studied the angle of the s
trip. There was a nasty crosswind. The lights wobbled, and she realized raindrops had begun to splatter lightly against the windshield.
There was a jungle down there, dense, black and impenetrable. The thick night seemed to ooze up out of the mud.
She didn’t like the rain. It would only make the short strip more dangerous.
She tried to concentrate on her instruments. But thoughts of drug runners and bandits and her wounded brother intruded. The flares could be a deadly trap.
She set up her approach.
What if someone had thrown a tree across the strip to wreck her plane? Men could be waiting down there to murder and rob them.
“Look down,” she commanded, “and see if the strip’s clear.”
The plane buzzed the strip. The flares flickered brightly.
“Nothing,” Jeb muttered.
“Okay,” she whispered.
At eighty miles an hour, they whistled down over the jungle.
The strip was short, too short for the Mooney, especially with the rain. She had to come in low over the trees, so close that the top branches brushed the belly of the plane.
One quick sideslip, and she lost the last of her altitude and made the final commitment to land on that short, black river between glimmering oil pots.
The trees were behind her. The flares rushed past in a frightening blur.
She was running out of runway.
For better or worse— She slammed the Mooney down into the sodden earth. The landing gear shot geysers of mud, slinging a storm of oozing dark liquid all over the plane.
Steering blind, Megan fought to keep the reeling plane in a straight path. One wheel jounced over something, and the Mooney slid to a stop. Her hand went to the master switch.
“Leave it on,” Jeb whispered as he opened the door, “and stay near the plane.” He jumped to the ground and held out his hand.
She stepped outside into the tropical heat and the shock of cool, crisping rain against her skin and clothes. The jungle was deep and dark, silently menacing as it encroached upon the strip. Despite the shower, she could see stars.
A yellow beam bobbed in the trees and was gone. Two running figures loomed out of the darkness.
She saw the involuntary tightening of Jeb’s hand on his gun.
