# # #
Sitting on that cold, hard floor, staring at the remnants of the cabin, Jack suddenly felt angry at himself for his fatalistic thoughts. He was hanging up his gloves before the match was over, writing off Carson too easily. Carson seemed to hold the luck of the devil, why should that have changed now?
"I need to be sure," he said aloud. "I need to see... a body."
"What can we do?" Vivian asked gently.
"Help me search. If... if they tried to make it on foot, maybe they're out there somewhere. We need to scour the area."
Roger stood up and held up a hand for Jack to take. "Come on, ol' dog. Let's go find Carson."
Jack grasped his friend's hand tightly, letting Roger pull him to his feet. "Thanks."
"He's part of the team now," Vivian said, squeezing his shoulder. "And our friend. We want him back too."
They left the ruined shack, and Jack noticed for the first time that Matunde was standing discreetly by the jeeps. The tribesman had remained behind, offering them what little privacy he could and for that Jack was grateful. The last thing he needed was another witness to his breakdown.
"The drums talk," Matunde said when he saw them.
Jack turned around slowly, trying to listen for the sound of the drums. It was very faint, but it was there.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" Jarod asked.
Matunde shook his head. "Sound too far. No villages nearby now."
"Might be a call for help." Brendan looked at Jack questionably. "Should we try to get closer?"
Hating the delay, but knowing this was something they had to do, Jack nodded curtly. "Yes. Keep your eyes open. Even if we don't find Carson, there might be others in the area in need of assistance."
He sat behind the wheel with a soft exhalation. Giving himself a few seconds to get his wayward emotions under control, he turned the key in the ignition and drove off. They kept going for a while, driving through the same desolate landscape, until they were close enough to a tribe for the drum talking to be heard over the rumbling of the engines.
He stopped the Wrangler, and turned to Matunde. "Can you understand now?"
Matunde listened for a minute. "Yes. The Bolaji tribe found white man." He tilted his head curiously. "They need humanitarian tribe. You."
"Us? Since when are we a tribe?" Roger asked surprised.
Matunde laughed. "We all hear about MacKenzie tribe, the humanitarians."
Brendan chuckled. "I'll be. That's probably the best compliment we could've gotten from the tribesfolk. But why would the Bolaji need us? Tourists stumble into villages all the time."
Jack barely heard them. He was too busy replaying Matunde's words in his mind. A white man had been found. A white man. And they wanted Jack there for some reason.
"Matunde," he whispered. "Do you know where we are?"
Matunde looked around. "I guess, yes."
"How far to the Bolaji village?"
"In this?" Matunde patted the jeep. "Not far. Go, I show."
"Jack?" Jack could hear the question in Roger's voice.
"It's Carson, Rog," he replied. "It's got to be."
He gunned the engine and with Matunde's help set out to reach Bolaji's village as fast as possible. He was sure he would find Carson there waiting.
# # #
Carson had been dozing against a tree, when he was hauled up to his feet and crushed in a bear hug. He relaxed in Jack's enveloping arms, feeling love, and warmth, and safety, for the first time that day.
"Hey, Jack," he breathed, the strain from the day causing him to melt further into the other man.
He felt lips brush over his hair, then Jack's choked voice, "God, I'm so fucking glad to see you."
Carson lifted his head from Jack's shoulder, touching his cheek soothingly. "I'm sorry. It's been quite a day, huh?"
Jack snorted good-humoredly. "You could say that."
Carson kissed him lightly, the caress meant to comfort, not arouse. They stayed locked in the tender embrace for a long time, Carson soaking up strength from his lover, feeling Jack's hands rubbing his back and arms in a lulling way, both of them swaying back and forth slightly. The clearing of a throat finally registered and Carson groaned against Jack's neck.
"Roger's going to make fun of my loincloth, isn't he?"
Jack's body shook with mirth. "I think so, yeah. You're keeping that thing, though, no matter what he says. I can think of one or two of my favorite fantasies involving dense vegetation, lianas and you in that getup."
Carson sighed, reluctantly moving away from Jack. His gaze fell on a grinning Roger.
"You wanted something?" Carson asked, trying to censor an answering smile.
Roger motioned to Carson's loincloth. "Why are you wearing a belt?"
Carson wiggled a finger in his direction. "Don't start. And it's not a belt, it's a loincloth."
"A very short loincloth," Jackie added with a leer.
"Geez, you guys," Carson muttered, feeling his face heating up. "You mind if I sit down?"
"Wait a second." Jack sat leaning against the tree and waved Carson over. "Come sit between my legs and lean against my chest."
Carson obeyed, exhaling softly when Jack wrapped his arms around his waist. "This feels great." He watched as Brendan ran up to the jeep to grab a blanket, which Carson gratefully accepted. "Thanks, doc." He covered his chest and legs with it, waiting until the others settled down to ask, "Who's that guy you brought with you?"
"That's Matunde. He was helping us search for you," Jarod said. "You want to tell us how you ended up here?"
"Kenan Batho showed up at the apartment this morning, searching for you," he said, looking at Jack. "You know the Alitash are in your jeep?"
"Not anymore," Jack said. "Jackie found them and I gave them to Kit. They're in her safe. You were saying about Batho?"
"Yeah. So, when he didn't see your jeep and couldn't find you, I guess he thought it was easier to trade me for the stones than spending the day looking for you. He took me to this cabin in the jungle. I smelled smoke and charred wood, but he said it was probably a village burning down. Next thing I know the fire's on top of us and we had to leave the cabin."
"We found what was left of Batho's truck," Vivian said.
Carson nodded. "It was already on fire when we got to it. So, we ran." He shuddered. "I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. All I could think was that I was going to die." He met Jack's gaze candidly. "Batho saved my life, you know? I fell down and the smoke started to make me feel sleepy. I never would've made it if he hadn't picked me up and carried me off."
"But how did you end up here?" Jackie insisted.
"Well, my memory's kind of hazy, I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders because of the smoke. But I think he must've been looking back at the fire or something and didn't see the cliff. I realized we were airborne about two seconds before we plunged into a river." Carson shook his head. "I should be dead twice over. Tied up and with my clothes on, the current strong as it was, I should've drowned. Instead, I woke up on a bank, and Batho's body was lying a few feet away."
"Damn," Brendan cursed under his breath. "If he's dead, he can't confirm who he was working for."
"Jabulani," Carson said. "Apparently he has a buyer for the diamonds."
"So it really was a coincidence? That the diamonds ended up in Jack's jeep?" Jackie sounded disappointed. "We thought it might be a set-up."
Carson laughed. "You mean like someone planted the diamonds in the jeep for the cops to find? Nah. Remember yesterday at the airport that guy that bumped into Vivian? The cops were chasing after him? That was Batho. The police found his hideout in town, so he had to run. When the cops got too close, he knew he had to get rid of the diamonds, so he threw them into the jeep. He memorized the plates, found out who owned it, and the rest you know."
"I thought there was no such thing as coincidences," Vivian grumbled. "I guess I know better now."
"Anyway, getting back t
o how I got here," Carson continued. "I got up and began walking, figuring I should stick by the river. I don't think I walked that far, when some warriors found me. They scared the shit out of me. I thought the third time was the charm; I'd escaped the fire, survived the river, but the warriors would get me for sure." He grinned. "Turns out they were the good guys."
Jack squeezed Carson's lightly. "It's been quite a day, huh?" he asked, echoing Carson's words.
"Yeah." Carson sighed. "Can we go home now? Oh," he exclaimed, suddenly remembering the damage Batho had done to the apartment. "The flat."
"It's all right," Jarod said. "We cleaned it up. It'll need some new furniture and the usual bric-a-brac, but it doesn't look too bad. We're all sleeping there tonight. It'll be dark before we get back to town."
"Can we come back here soon?" Carson asked Jack. "These people helped me out, fed me, saw to my injuries... I owe them."
"Sure. We'll bring them extra supplies."
Carson smiled. "Thanks, Jack."
"They give you any Tamu?" Brendan asked.
"Tamu?"
"An herbal drink the Bolaji concocted," Roger explained. "Fires are pretty common in the country. Since most tribes don't own any cows and don't have access to milk, the Bolaji came up with this mix that helps with smoke inhalation problems. It clears your lungs, it has proteins and vitamins which balance your metabolism... They refuse to give anyone the recipe, but they trade Tamu for other goods with many tribes. It's known nationwide."
"Does it taste really sweet?" Carson asked. "A sort of greenish pulp drink?"
"That's it," Vivian confirmed. "It's made of herbs and the petals of certain flowers."
Carson nodded. "It tastes great, too. No wonder it's so popular." He looked at Jack. "Now what?"
"Now we go back to Jawara City. We'll take a quick trip to the hospital to make sure you're okay, and then we'll go home. You look like you need about twenty-four hours sleep. Tomorrow we'll return the Alitash to the museum, go exchange your plane ticket again and while you stay in bed resting, the rest of us'll check the area destroyed by the fire, see if anybody needs help."
Carson made a face. "Do I have to go to the hospital? And why do I need to rest tomorrow?"
"Carson, you said it yourself, you nearly died twice today," Brendan admonished. "Your body needs a break."
"I guess," Carson conceded. "I don't suppose any of you brought any clothes with you? I'd prefer not to entertain the hospital staff dressed like this."
"Sorry," Roger grinned, not sounding sorry at all.
"I've got a t-shirt in the jeep," Jackie said with a grin. "It looks huge on me, so it'll fit you. It's a little greasy from the last time I fixed the engine, though. I use it as a sort of coverall for when I tinker around with the jeeps. But at least you won't give the whole city a show."
"I'll take it," Carson said eagerly.
"We'll drive by the flat to get you some clean clothes before going to the hospital. Let's say our goodbyes and go," Jack said, rising to his feet and helping Carson up as well.
Ten minutes later they were leaving the Bolaji, after thanking them for all their help. Matunde declined to go with them, claiming it wasn't that far to his own village, so Jack had them driving directly to town. The rest of the day went by in a blur for Carson. The trip to the ER was relatively quick, and he was released under Jack's supervision.
Once at the apartment, the team shared a few hastily made sandwiches, washing them down with beer--or ice tea in Jackie's case--and quiet conversation. Afterwards, they said their goodbyes and adjourned to their rooms, Jack locking the door and turning off the lights while Carson got ready for bed. He laid down in the big bed, practically melting into the mattress, determined to wait up for Jack. When he opened his eyes again, dawn was breaking.
# # #
It was the sound of his cell phone ringing that woke Carson up. He forced his eyes open, blinking sleepily at the window as he noticed the sky was only now beginning to turn a lighter shade of blue. Who the hell would be calling him at that hour?
"Will you please answer that thing before I shoot it to pieces?" Jack's raspy voice muttered from under the covers.
Jack was definitely not a morning person, Carson decided, smothering an amused chuckle. He reached for his phone, hearing the laughter in his voice as he answered.
"Hello?"
"Carson, I trust I'm not keeping you from your new job?"
Amazing how a cold voice could belie the casual words being spoken. All of a sudden Carson was wide awake, his good mood evaporating. He sat up slowly, feeling Jack doing the same, probably sensing the tension Carson knew he was displaying.
"Father. Why are you calling at this hour? It must be past midnight there. Is everything okay? Mother--"
His father cut him off. "Both your mother and I are well, or as well as can be expected, considering."
Carson frowned. "Considering what?"
"I have been trying to get a hold of you for days now, but apparently whatever adventure you're on is more important than your family as you obviously never check your messages. Something could've happened to your mother and, once again, you'd be unavailable."
Carson winced at the dig; trust his father to hit below the belt. "Jawara's communications grid leaves a lot to be desired, father. I was probably out of range." Two could play the aloof game, and Carson'd had lots of practice at it during his lifetime with this particular parent. "Was there something you wanted?"
His father rarely called himself. More often than not, Carson would get summoned to the family ancestral home by his father's very efficient, very impersonal secretary.
"I was hoping we could talk about this decision of yours to stay in Jawara."
In another words, Carson should come to his senses, return home and stop embarrassing the family. He could read between the lines just fine. For a second Carson wondered how his father had known he was staying in Jawara, then he realized only Bruce could have told him.
Carson had wanted to tell the news to his parents in person, hoping to speak with them both when he went to New York, but it was too late for that now. Served him right for postponing the inevitable.
"What about it?" he asked, choosing to ignore the hidden message in his father's words.
"I've spoken with Bruce, Carson. He told me you have joined a band of mercenaries, hired killers, that you're living with the natives. Worse, that you're... involved... with one of the mercenaries."
Carson sighed. He should have known Bruce would get even with him somehow. "Jack and his team aren't hired killers, they're a humanitarian group. And no, I'm not living with the natives, although I don't see what the problem would be if I was. Also, involved probably isn't the right word. I'm in love with Jack."
"Carson, this isn't the way we raised you." There was anger behind the words now, and Carson felt spitefully glad for it. It wasn't every day that he managed to ruffle his father's steel-armored feathers.
He snorted. "You didn't raise me at all, father. I spent most of my life in boarding schools, remember? And I really don't get this... thing you and Bruce have going. You always hated that I was gay, and God forbid that I should bring anybody home. But the moment you heard he had more money than God, suddenly he was okay. He's more your son than I ever was."
"Carson, you're being absurd. You know perfectly well this isn't the life I had envisioned for you. And yes, I have a hard time accepting your lifestyle, but at least Bruce isn't a mercenary."
"The mercenary, as you call him, is more of a human being than Bruce will ever be," Carson snapped, angry himself now.
There was a brief pause, then, "So you're really staying? Nothing I can say will change your mind?"
"My mind's made up, father. I'll go back to New York in a day or two, stay for mother's birthday--"
"Don't bother," his father interrupted bitingly.
"What?" Carson asked surprised.
"Don't bother to come to your mother's birthday. If you insi
st on being an embarrassment to the family, perhaps it will be better if we sever all ties. It's clear we will never see eye-to-eye on anything, so perhaps it's for the best."
For a moment Carson was too stunned to speak. "Aren't you overreacting a little?" he finally asked. "How is my trying to be happy, to live my life the way I want to, an embarrassment to the family?"
"Your place should be with the family, working at the firm by my side, married to a good woman and with children to carry on the Bodine name. This... constant need of yours to rebel against what's expected of you is getting tiresome. If you see fit to forget your obligations to your own flesh and blood, I have no choice but to cut you off."
But you're still my family, Carson wanted to shout, hurt that his father could dismiss him so easily. Instead, he just rasped, "If that's what you want..."
"Perhaps one day, if you reconsider... maybe we can try again."
Carson laughed humorlessly, understanding what his father was really saying. "You mean, all I'd have to do to be welcomed back into the family with open arms would be to give up everything I am, and become a puppet on a string for you to play with? No, thank you. I think you're right, we should end this right now. Goodbye, father." He disconnected the call and threw the phone against the wall, fiercely glad when it shattered into a thousand pieces.
Jack's arms wrapped around Carson's waist from behind, resting his chin on Carson's shoulder. "So, the family's fine?" he joked weakly.
Carson exhaled slowly, doing his best to let go of the anger and hurt. He relaxed into Jack's hold, taking comfort in the warm embrace. "Yeah. Just my father being a bastard, nothing new there." He was silent for a moment, then said, "He basically told me not to bother coming home. I know there's always been this emotional distance between us, but..."
"But he's still your father and no matter what, you still wanted his approval, for him to care," Jack finished, understanding. "That's normal, Carson. I got most of it from your side of the conversation. How did he found out about us?"
"Bruce," Carson replied with a grimace. "He spoke to my father and he didn't exactly paint a happy picture. I really hope he's gone back to the States, because if I see him, I may go medieval on his ass."
The Ripple Effect Page 17
