Angel Falls

by Connie Mann

  She shifted a sleeping Eduardo to her shoulder and tried to stretch her cramped legs and ease muscles that had been in one position far too long. She marveled at how much heat little Eduardo generated. Cradling him was like holding a portable heater, and though the night was cool, his sweat had left a damp circle on her skirt.

  Or was that sweat? A hasty diaper check confirmed her first diagnosis.

  Brooks must have heard her sigh, for he slanted a hooded gaze her way before resuming his careful scanning of the countryside.

  “Are we going all the way to Passo Fundo tonight?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She waited for more information, but none was forthcoming. Well, wasn’t the man just a brimming fount of information. “So where are we staying? We’ll pass Lagoa Vermelha, but it’s even less impressive than Vacaria.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Regina clamped her jaws together and reminded herself that she had asked, no begged, for this man’s help. But would it hurt for him to tell her what was going on?

  Several minutes later, he pulled off the road into a heavily forested area. The little car heaved and bucked as he wove through the trees and took them deeper and deeper into the dense undergrowth. Finally, she couldn’t see anything but trees. Even the night sky was obscured.

  “Where are we?” she asked, exasperated.

  “Here,” he tossed over his shoulder as he got out of the car and came around to open her door. She could have sworn she saw a spark of humor glinting in his eyes as he helped her and Eduardo out.

  She jumped when he put his large hand under her elbow as she exited the car. But as time went by, she had started to worry that her reactions to his touch had less and less to do with fear and more with something else. Something nameless she refused to examine too closely.

  Regina stood beside the car and her mouth dropped open in shock when he produced a light blanket from the trunk and handed it to her.

  “You might want to wrap the kid up in this. It’s chilly out here.”

  After tucking the blanket around Eduardo, she looked up to see Brooks pull two sleeping bags from the trunk. She wondered what else he’d purchased while she slept.

  He turned off the headlights and turned a battery-operated lantern on low. It provided just enough light to see one step in front of her. Mercy, she’d forgotten how dark the woods could be. Irene had railroaded her into one camping trip in her life, and that had been quite enough, thank you very much. Give her a big city any day. Sure, the wildlife walked on two feet there, but it was familiar. She knew how to handle the things that went bump in the night in a big city.

  But out here . . . she suppressed a shudder.

  Brooks moved several feet away, swept the light over a relatively flat little clearing, and set the lantern down. Dropping to his haunches, he unzipped the first sleeping bag.

  A suspicion began to take root in her mind. “What are you doing?”

  “Zipping the bags together.”

  “Oh, no, Senhor. We may be out here in the middle of nowhere, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

  He didn’t bother to turn around. “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “Then what . . . ?”

  “We’re up pretty high. It’s already cool and will get a lot colder before morning. We need to keep the kid warm.”

  Her face flamed, and she was very glad he couldn’t see it. Why did she always jump to conclusions?

  Finished, he spread the makeshift bed on the ground, then turned to her. When those long arms reached out, she stiffened, prepared for him to assert his masculinity, even though he’d told her he wouldn’t. Instead, he took the sleeping child from her. Before he turned back to the sleeping bags, he leaned in close to her ear.

  “If I want a quick roll in the hay, Senhorita, I’ll let you know. But you’re not my type.”

  Regina stiffened. “Not your type! And what, pray tell Senhor, is your type?”

  He merely raised a brow. His arrogance made her so mad she forgot she didn’t want him to want her. She didn’t want any man to want her. Still, it was an affront to her gender that he didn’t. Men wanted women, unless there was something really wrong with them. It was the women’s job to say no. Wasn’t it?

  Fear rushed back as she remembered that night had fallen and she was in the woods, alone with a man she didn’t really know. She hunched farther into her sweater and kept her gaze trained on him, watching for any sudden moves. She didn’t want his attention. She wanted to be left alone. If men found her attractive, they took more than she wanted to give. Lots more. She shuddered at the memories.

  After settling Eduardo snugly in the middle of the sleeping bags, Brooks straightened and subjected her to a very slow and thorough perusal, from the crown of her head to the tips of her serviceable shoes. “There are two kinds of women in this world. Nice women who become wives and mothers, and pretty little things just out for a good time. I don’t plan to marry. Ever.” He turned and disappeared into the woods.

  When he returned, Regina still didn’t know which category she fit into, and he didn’t say. Instead, he handed her a penlight, a small packet of tissues and a foil-wrapped moist towelette.

  “You might want to keep a sharp eye out for snakes.”

  She accepted his offering and backed away. She would not show her fear. She wouldn’t. So what if snakes terrified her. He must be kidding. They weren’t in the rain forest or anything. They were just off a two-lane highway, for heaven’s sake.

  The thought did little to comfort her, but since her bladder had been protesting loudly for the last fifty kilometers, she marched off into the brush. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that if you made lots of noise, snakes and other critters would run away, or slither, or whatever it is they did? She shivered.

  The little penlight’s minuscule beam forced her to walk with her head down. She pushed her glasses up her nose and immediately tripped over an exposed root. Gracious, the vegetation grew thick out here. Penlight in one hand, she held the other out in front of her and pushed low hanging branches and vines aside. She had gone too far. She couldn’t see the lantern’s glow anymore, which meant he couldn’t see her, either. The thought should have been comforting, but instead she noticed all the chirping and rustling in the underbrush, and her knees began knocking.

  Calm down. Stop. Take a deep breath and then head back the way you came.

  Regina turned to do just that, but a hand reached down and grabbed hold of her hair, holding it fast. She screamed and struggled, but it wouldn’t let go.

  “No! Let me go!” Her heart thundered in her chest as she realized the madman had found them. They were going to die. Eduardo, please God, don’t let him hurt Eduardo.

  Brooks suddenly appeared in a crouch, knife blade gleaming in the feeble glow of her penlight. While she continued to struggle, he scanned the area, then calmly stood, knife pointing toward the ground.

  “Stop screaming; you’ll wake the baby,” his voice sounded hoarse, angry.

  The baby? The madman had found them, and he was worried about waking the baby? Tears stung her eyes from the pain in her scalp, and she felt just like she had the time friends coaxed her into the fun house at a county fair. Reality had somehow shifted. Nothing was as it should be.

  Brooks advanced on her, slowly, deliberately. She thought her heart would thump right out of her chest. He was working with the madman. Nothing else made sense. They were working together and now he’d brought them out here to kill her. And Eduardo. No, God, no.

  Brooks reached out and grasped her chin. She tried to wrench away, but the grip on her hair wouldn’t let her. Fresh tears seeped from her eyes.

  “Hold still, while I cut you loose.”

  Regina wasn’t going without a fight. After all they’d been through, she would not stand by like a lamb at the slaughter and wait to feel the knife. She struggled harder, ignoring the increasing pain.

  Unperturbed by her struggles, Brooks pressed his body up ti
ght against hers and gripped her head with one hand. With the other, he raised the knife. “If you don’t stop fighting me, you’re going to have a mighty big bald spot.”

  The world seemed to shift again. “What are you talking about?” The words were a thread of sound. The terror all but choked her.

  “You’ve got your hair so tangled up in this branch, I’m going to have to cut some of it off just to get you loose.” He shifted his grip. “That’s it. I’ve almost got it.”

  Seconds later the terrible pain ended and had he not already been holding her, she would have toppled into his arms. The madman hadn’t found them. They were safe. She’d just gotten tangled in a tree. Without warning, thick sobs broke into free, noisy, embarrassing sobs that wouldn’t stop.

  He had been sure they’d be there. The San Bernardo Park Hotel was the nicest place for miles around. It would be just the place for a rich American to go. He cruised the parking lot once more just to be sure he hadn’t missed their car.

  He shifted against the stiffness in his shoulder. They weren’t far away. He could almost smell them. He’d find them. And when he did, Noah’s son would have one more thing to answer for—this hole in his shoulder.

  He pulled over and changed the bandage. The wound had turned red and angry looking. He’d have to keep a close eye on it. He’d seen too many men in prison die of blood poisoning.

  The streets of Vacaria were dark and quiet this late at night. He used the same method he had in Porto Alegre to patrol the streets. Up one street and down the other in an ever-widening grid. He’d find them.

  And then they would pay.

  It was only right. An eye for an eye.

  Almost, Teresa. Almost.

  Brooks gathered Regina close before they both fell headlong into the underbrush. He couldn’t decide if he was more surprised by her sobs or by the way she clung to him. Weeping women made him nervous. Not knowing what to say, he settled for soothing noises like the ones she made whenever the kid squalled, and then patted her back, too, for good measure.

  When the sobs slowed to a trickle, he began to relax. He eased her away from him and cupped her face in his hands. Tears sparkled on her cheeks and terror lingered in her eyes, but this was the first time she’d let him touch her without recoiling from the brush of his hands.

  “Where are your glasses?” he asked gently, amazed that there was any tenderness left in him at all. But she looked so small and fragile, not at all like the little spitfire he’d been traveling with up till now.

  She blinked slowly, like someone waking from a dream, and flicked her tongue over her bottom lip. “I-I don’t know. I must have lost them.”

  “I’ll find them. Go on back to camp.” He reached for the penlight she’d dropped on the ground, but she clamped a hand on his arm.

  “No. Please. I, um . . .” her voice trailed off.

  So she wasn’t a country mouse. Who would’ve thought it? He picked up tissues, towelette, and penlight and handed them to her. “Just go behind that bush. I’ll stay here, but I’ll keep my back turned.”

  She nodded once, and he could have sworn she blushed, but in the dark he couldn’t be sure.

  In an amazingly short period of time, they were back in camp, her glasses perched on her nose. She rushed right over to Eduardo, who seemed to have slept right through the hullabaloo.

  Satisfied that he was all right, Regina fetched a brush from her bag and then settled on the sleeping bag to brush her hair, carefully keeping her back to him. In the light from the lantern he saw that the section he’d hacked off barely brushed her shoulder, while the rest hung a good five inches longer.

  Kneeling beside her, he reached back and drew his knife from its sheath. She eyed him warily and leaned away from him. His temper strained its leash. “How many more times am I going to have to pull your fanny from the fire before you stop worrying I’m going to skin you alive?”

  “I’m sorry, Senhor. It’s a reflex.”

  “Yeah, well that doesn’t say much for the company you keep, does it?”

  “No, Senhor.”

  “Stop with the Senhor, already. It’s Brooks.”

  “Okay, Senhor Brooks.”

  He ground his teeth. “Just Brooks.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Why not Nathaniel?”

  “I won’t answer to it.”

  She wanted to ask more questions, he could tell, but apparently her Brazilian manners overcame her American curiosity.

  Before she peppered him with more questions, he settled behind her and grabbed her mass of curls in one hand. “I had to cut off some of your hair to free you. Let me straighten it out.”

  He took her barely perceptible nod for a yes and carefully pulled his knife through the thick mass he held in his hands. He spread her hair out over her shoulders. It was still pretty ragged at the tips, but it looked a lot better than before.

  On impulse, he reached over, picked up the brush from the blanket, and began running it through her hair in slow, smooth strokes, stopping every now and then to untangle a snarl.

  Who would have thought such a big man could be so gentle? Regina wondered. For an instant, jealousy reared its ugly head. How many other women had he done this for? The thought formed before she remembered she didn’t care. Didn’t want him to do anything for her. But right now, it felt too good to be pampered. Had anyone ever treated her so tenderly? Not that she could remember. A sigh escaped and she allowed her shoulders to relax. “You’ve done this before.”

  “A time or two. My sister has hair like yours and it was forever in a hopeless tangle. I sometimes helped her out.”

  “Your mother didn’t do it?”

  “Sometimes. But Mom was often busy with other things.”

  She heard the trace of irony behind the words, but thought better of probing. This rare peace was not something she was anxious to end.

  The silence lengthened, but it was not the tense silence of before. This was the calm of friends who don’t have to fill every moment with sound. It seemed odd to think of him as a friend. Until now, Irene had been her only friend. She really knew very little about him. Wasn’t sure, exactly, if she wanted to know more.

  The slow stroking continued until her eyelids drooped. When he set the brush down and slipped off her glasses, she wanted to beg him not to stop, but bit her tongue. It wouldn’t do to get too dependent. Or to let her guard down too far. He was still a man, after all.

  Slowly, gently, those big hands crept up under her hair and began to massage her scalp. The sensation was unlike any she’d ever felt. He applied pressure here and then made small circles there with his fingertips. Unconsciously, she pushed back into his hands.

  “Feel good?”

  “Umm.” She didn’t think she’d ever been so relaxed in her life.

  Before he gave himself time to consider the stupidity of his actions, Brooks tightened his hold on her head and eased her back into his lap. Her eyes blinked languidly at him, questioning. They were beautiful brown eyes. With those ugly glasses hiding them all the time, he’d never gotten a good look. He ran a finger over each finely sculpted eyebrow, and then traced the curve of her cheekbones.

  His gaze steady on hers, he inched closer, drawn to the warmth in her eyes like a hapless moth to a flame. Before the action completely registered, he’d lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers.

  They were soft and warm and giving, and for one drawn-out minute, responsive.

  Then she bit him. Hard.

  He yelped and wiped a hand over his lower lip, furious to see blood there.

  She scrambled to her feet and towered over him, her knife pointed right at his heart.

  He slowly unfolded his length from the sleeping bag and took a careful step toward her. “I warned you once, Reggie, about pointing a knife unless you’re prepared to use it.”

  “Feel free to call my bluff,” she tossed back, and took a step closer.

  She was beautiful when she was riled. Her sh
orter hair swirled like a cloud around her head, and without those buttugly specs the woman was traffic-stopping gorgeous. She was also madder than a wet hen.

  Eyes directly on hers, he made his move. In two steps, he had the knife out of her grasp, and both her hands behind her back, held tightly in one of his. With the other he drew her up against him.

  “Let me go.”

  “When I’m good and ready.”

  They stared each other down for several more heartbeats. He couldn’t tell if that thundering heart belonged to her or to him. She was furious, but he would swear he’d seen attraction in her eyes moments ago, too. He ran his tongue experimentally over his lip. He still tasted blood, which made him mad all over again.

  “It was just a friendly little kiss, lady.” And darned if he knew where the impulse had come from. She wasn’t his type.

  “If I want to be kissed, I’ll let you know.”

  Their gazes locked, clashed, for several long seconds. He hated the wounded rabbit look that was back in her eyes. Her anger he could readily accept, but her fear of him was something else.

  “Get some sleep. We’ll have to be up and gone early.”

  He abruptly released her, re-sheathed the knife and, tossing aside his boots and jeans, climbed into the sleeping bag.

  12

  REGINA REMOVED HER SHOES AND CLIMBED INTO THE SLEEPING BAG, INCHING back until the zipper dug into her spine. She curled her knees up and reached over to pull Eduardo closer, snuggling him into the curve of her body.

  “I won’t attack you while you’re sleeping.”

  Regina wanted to snap and snarl at him, but she just couldn’t summon the energy. Besides, he sounded more weary than annoyed. So was she. Her body craved sleep. She spent her days running after energetic children from dawn to dusk, but she’d never, ever spent a twenty-four-hour period like this one. From phone calls, to being shot at, to fleeing across the country with a complete stranger.

  She hoped all was well with Jorge and Olga and the children. She should call them. She knew Brooks had a cell phone. She’d seen it when she’d taken his passport. She reached down into her pocket to reassure herself it was still there.