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Jane pushed her wet hair behind her ears and followed obediently, walking where he walked. For a while, she stared nervously at every tree limb they passed under, then made herself stop thinking about the snake. It was over; there was no use dwelling on it.
Instead she stared at his broad back, wondering how her father had found a man like Grant Sullivan. They obviously lived in two different worlds, so how had they met?
Then something clicked in her mind, and a chill went down her spine. Had they met? She couldn’t imagine her father knowing anyone like Sullivan. She also knew what her own position was. Everyone wanted to get their hands on her, and she had no way of knowing whose side Grant Sullivan was on. He’d called her Priscilla, which was her first name. If her father had sent him, wouldn’t he have known that she was never called Priscilla, that she’d been called Jane from birth? He hadn’t known her name!
Before he died, George had warned her not to trust anyone. She didn’t want to think that she was alone in the middle of the jungle with a man who would casually cut her throat when he had no further use for her. Still, the fact remained that she had no proof that her father had sent him. He’d simply knocked her out, put her over his shoulder and hauled her off into the jungle.
Then she realized that she had to trust this man; she had no alternative. He was all she had. It was dangerous, trusting him, but not as dangerous as trying to make it out of the jungle on her own. He had shown flashes of kindness. She felt a funny constriction in her chest as she remembered the way he’d cared for her after he’d killed the snake. Not just cared for her, kissed her—she was still shaken by the way he’d kissed her. Mercenary or not, enemy or not, he made her want him. Her mind wasn’t certain about him, but her body was.
She would have found it funny, if she hadn’t been so frightened.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEY MOVED DIRECTLY away from the stream at a forty-five-degree angle, and it wasn’t long before he stopped, looked around and unslung the packs from his shoulders. “We’ll camp here.”
Jane stood in silence, feeling awkward and useless, watching as he opened his pack and took out a small, rolled bundle. Under his skilled hands, the bundle was rapidly transformed into a small tent, complete with a polyethylene floor and a flap that could be zipped shut. When the tent was up he began stripping vines and limbs from the nearby trees to cover it, making it virtually invisible. He hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction, but after a moment she moved to help him. He did look at her then, and allowed her to gather more limbs while he positioned them over the tent.
When the job was completed, he said, “We can’t risk a fire, so we’ll just eat and turn in. After today, I’m ready for some sleep.”
Jane was, too, but she dreaded the thought of the night to come. The light was rapidly fading, and she knew that it would soon be completely dark. She remembered the total blackness of the night before and felt a cold finger of fear trace up her backbone. Well, there was nothing she could do about it; she’d have to tough it out.
She crouched beside her pack and dug out two more cans of orange juice, tossing one to him; he caught it deftly, and eyed her pack with growing irritation. “How many more cans of this do you
have in that traveling supermarket?” he asked sarcastically.
“That’s it. We’ll have to drink water from now on. How about a granola bar?” She handed it to him, refusing to let herself respond to the irritation in his voice. She was tired, she ached, and she was faced with a long night in total darkness. Given that, his irritation didn’t seem very important. He’d get over it.
She ate her own granola bar, but was still hungry, so she rummaged for something else to eat. “Want some cheese and crackers?” she offered, dragging the items out of the depths of the pack.
She looked up to find him watching her with an expression of raw disbelief on his face. He held out his hand, and she divided the cheese and crackers between them. He looked at her again, shook his head and silently ate his share.
Jane saved a little of her orange juice, and when she finished eating she took a small bottle from the pack. Opening it, she shook a pill into the palm of her hand, glanced at Grant, then shook out another one. “Here,” she said.
He looked at it, but made no move to take it. “What the hell’s that?”
“It’s a yeast pill.”
“Why should I want to take a yeast pill?”
“So the mosquitoes and things won’t bite you.”
“Sure they won’t.”
“They won’t! Look at me. I don’t have any insect bites, and it’s because I take yeast pills. It does something to your skin chemistry. Come on, take it. It won’t hurt you.”
He took the pill from her hand and held it with a pained expression on his face while she took her own, washing it down with a sip of the orange juice she’d saved. She passed the can to him, and he muttered something obscene before he tossed the pill into his mouth and slugged down the rest of the juice.
“Okay, bedtime,” he said, rising to his feet. He jerked his head toward a tree. “There’s your bathroom, if you want to go before we turn in.”
Jane stepped behind the tree. He was crude, he was rude, he was a little cruel—and he had saved her life. She didn’t know what to expect from him. No matter how rough he was, he would eventually disarm her with an unexpected act of kindness. On the other hand, when things were going smoothly between them, he would say things that stung, as if deliberately trying to start a quarrel.
He was waiting for her by the opening of the tent. “I’ve already put the blanket down. Crawl in.”
She knelt down and crawled into the small tent. He had spread the blanket over the floor, and she sat on it. He shoved their packs inside. “Put these out of the way,” he instructed. “I’m going to take a quick look around.”
She shoved the packs into the far corners of the tent, then lay down on her back and stared tensely at the thin walls. The light was almost gone; only a glimmer entered through the translucent fabric. It wasn’t quite as dark outside yet, but the limbs he’d used as camouflage made it darker inside. The flap parted, and he crawled in, then zipped the opening shut.
“Take your boots off and put them in the corner next to your feet.”
