Jungle of Deceit (6 page)

It was the heat. It had to be the incessant heat. Mitch felt as if his head was going to explode. Incensed, he grabbed Alex’s arm and drew her against him. He didn’t know what motivated the gesture—perhaps the male need to intimidate−but the action shocked them both. For a second he stared down at fawn-colored lashes that veiled provoking sparks of gold, and then his gaze lowered to her lips. Whether they were parted to rebuke him—whether they were moist from the recent pass of her tongue—whether they looked so damn inviting in this inhospitable jungle—
he wanted them.

Her heart pounded against his ribcage. She seemed shocked into compliance, or was she waiting to see his next move? Her eyes were wide−watching him. Watching his mouth.
What had been a baiting move intended to aggravate her ended up backfiring as he whispered, “Point taken, Doctor.”

***

“
Look…” Mitch stepped back and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Chalk that up to this godforsaken sauna, combined with my frustration over many things. You probably aren’t going to believe it, but I
am
very sorry about that.”

For all intents and purposes, he appeared outwardly agitated…maybe even downright contrite, Alex thought. For a moment she nearly felt sorry for him, aware that she had been goading him.

“
I’ll do my job,” he added. “And I will get out of your jungle, alright?”

“
Just like you said.” She cleared her throat and tried in vain to feel the ice everyone assumed ran through her veins. “Do your job and get out of my jungle.”

Whatever thought went through Mitch’s mind at that moment, Alex was certain it wasn’t anger. There was a spasm at the corner of his mouth and a roguish spark in his eyes.

“
You know what, Alex?” His grin grew.

God, he looked sinful like that. It didn’t help that she could still feel the friction of her breasts pressed up against his chest.

No. That didn’t help at all.

“
What?”

He leaned in closer, and for one delirious second she thought he was going to kiss her. How would she react? The professional in her said that she would knee him in the groin and send him back on the first plane. The woman in her said that she would slide her arms up behind his neck and taste that masculinity, and ply her body to his in an attempt to satisfy the burning itch that still clung to her breasts.

“
I don’t think you want me to go,” he whispered close enough to elicit a chill.

Her head tilted back to take in his profile, now eclipsed by the midday sun. Trouble was something she didn’t need in her life. And temptation—well temptation was something she outright refused.

But looking at Mitch Hasslet, she was certain that she was staring at over six feet of both of them.

“
I do,” she murmured back. “I do want you to go.”

***

Mitch woke in a foul mood. He was nowhere closer to locating the Museum pieces and attributed that fact to the distracting fair-haired doctor. Yesterday, when they had returned to camp, aside from Wes’s lingering glance, he and Alex were ignored. The crew must have assumed from Mitch’s expression that he had been rejected in the jungle—a common upshot with Alex.

Well, let them think he was a statistic. It took away the attention and allowed him to travel under the radar—at least, by the men. The doctor, on the other hand, was a different story.

Though her attention was rapt by trail maps sprawled across a foldout card table, he caught her furtive glances in his direction. From this distance it was difficult to gauge if there was mistrust or lust in those quick looks. The latter thought drove all the blood in his body in a single southerly region, but his brain recognized that they stemmed from suspicion.

Dammit.

To hell with it all. Play the role. Shoot the photos. Find this godforsaken shipment, and get the hell out of Dodge.

Mitch punched his fist into his case and extracted two rolls of film. He grabbed his camera and made his way towards the perimeter of the camp.

“
Chuck.” The sound of Alex’s sexy rasp drew his attention.

“
Take Hasslet to the new coordinates,” she addressed Chuck, but kept her eyes trained on Mitch. “Who knows…maybe film will capture something we missed.”

Chuck’s eyebrows hauled together. His disapproval was ignored by Alex as she stooped down to address her maps again.

Mitch nearly smiled at the exchange. This group listened to Alex, whether they liked it or not.

“
So,
Chuck
,” Mitch drawled, stepping forward. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Chuck tossed a chilled look over his shoulder as he moved into the dense rainforest, unconcerned whether Mitch followed or not.

Trailing after Chuck’s worn USC shirt, Mitch avoided the backlash of tree branches with counteractive arm motions akin to karate. By this time, he thought he had grown accustomed to the jungle, but the terrain was so variable he could barely delineate between underbrush and overhead foliage. Even in this dense greenery, the flash of red and gold from Chuck’s shirt could easily be mistaken as a disgruntled macaw.

“
And what made the doctor move to this sector?” Mitch asked when he was knee-deep in ferns and unable to spot the ground beneath him.

Chuck stopped, lifting the bottom of his shirt to swipe the perspiration from his forehead. “You mean you don’t know?”

“
Know what?”

“
That no one else has been here.”

One glimpse up at the ceiling of writhing limbs, uncertain whether they were branches or indigenous reptiles, Mitch observed, “Understandable. But you sound cryptic. Why does no one come here?”

“
Well…” Chuck seemed reluctant to embellish, “−there have been others—others who have.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder as if to confirm no one had followed them. “But they never returned. Not one single member of any party that traveled to this region ever returned. The area is marked on the map as
No Man’s Land
.”

At that moment, a macaw screeched an eerie warning, and Mitch flinched.

“
You’re pulling my leg.” He tried to sound composed. “Let’s spook the photographer, huh?”

“
Would I purposely try to scare you?” Chuck grinned. “I wish I had thought of that.”

He pushed a branch aside and looked back. “Personally, I believe that a group or two have come in here, ran into some problems…hell, get bit by the right thing, or have a run in with a Fer-de-lance, and you’re doomed. Anyway, over the years, those little tales have escalated into hordes of archeologists gone missing. It’s become nothing more than campfire fodder,” Chuck frowned. “You know what I’m saying?”

Mitch doubted the man’s levity. And it was hard for him to form any conjecture without knowing the facts. “How many people are you talking? How many have gone missing?”

“
Five that I know of. There have been reports of others, but like I said, the frenzy of gossip could have jacked the count up.”

“
Word of mouth can spread faster than a rash from these damn mosquitoes.” Mitch swiped at the offensive swarm.

Confident now in his role as the leader, Chuck charged through the shrub. “So, you got shot down by Doc?” he tossed back a blue-eyed grin.

“
What makes you say that?”

“
Well, hell, it was written all over your face when you came back to camp. We all know that expression. Don’t sweat it, bro. You’re not alone. No one’s ever gotten a piece of that.”

I’m not going to have the time to try, because I’m not staying here.

And, I’m not interested in a piece of that, dammit.

“
Not my type.”

Chuck searched his face to see if he was kidding and seemed satisfied enough to proceed.

“
Well, Wes sure as hell looked jealous. I mean, not like there’s anything going on between them, but he is protective,” he paused. “Big time crush, I guess.”

Mitch nodded, although somehow the conjecture on Wes didn’t sit well with him.

“
Anyway, as for me…” Chuck cut into his thoughts, “−I’m just biding my time. I know we’re on the verge of an amazing discovery here.” Intensity overtook Chuck’s face. “And I intend to go home with something other than a notch in my belt. Yeah, the doctor is hot, but that’s not what I’m here for, you know what I’m saying?”

Lost in recollection, Mitch thought of the charged exchange with Alex in the jungle.

“
Yeah,” he coughed into his fist. “I know what you mean.”

Still distracted, he nearly crashed into Chuck, unaware that the man was standing still, his hand raised in caution. His fingers beckoned Mitch forward.

Chuck swept aside a stag fern and peered through the gap.

“
Look what we have here.”

Across an expanse of trodden dirt and rock, a cement barrier erupted from the ground. It was a foreboding barricade, tall enough to nearly conceal the rooftops of the compound behind it. The bunker was rimmed with spiraling lengths of barbed wire, a seemingly comical gesture when the forest alone proved enough of a deterrent.

“
Did you know about this?” Mitch inched forward to hold aside a clump of leaves.

“
No.” Chuck’s voice wavered. “I wonder if Doc does.”

Mitch brushed his arm wider for a better view and found that the cement wall extended over fifty yards in each direction. It made him wonder if this colossal blockade was meant to discourage the outside world, or to ensure that what was inside did not escape.

“
I’m not one much for coincidences,” Chuck said. “I’d venture to guess this monster has something to do with our missing archeologists.”

“
Yeah, I’m not big on coincidences either.” Mitch muttered, thinking about the coincidence that the Mayan shipment had been traced back to this region of the forest.

Apprehension crept up his spine and lodged between his shoulder blades. “Alex had maps spread out on the table this morning…none of them referenced this place?”

“
Hell no.” Chuck pulled back behind the veil of vegetation. “Maybe it’s leftover from the civil war. It could have belonged to the Guatemalan army.”

Twenty-four hours hadn’t been enough time for Mitch to collect information on the current political strife of this small Central American country. Generally before any assignment, research was critical to his survival. In countries embittered by war, his camera didn’t serve as a weapon. Knowledge was his only defense.

Given the reputation of the region, Mitch knew that a concrete, barbed-wire compound in the middle of the jungle spelled trouble, but what he
didn’t
know was one damn thing else.

Phillip had been adamant that Alex should not be told anything about the stolen shipment. Why? Obviously, her mere presence here placed her in jeopardy.

“
Son of a bitch,” he hissed and ran a hand across his sore jaw.

Nicholson sent him to this jungle knowing full-well what was here to greet him.

Why me
?

An army was needed to take on whatever occupied this compound.

So, why the hell me?

“
Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”

“
Huh?”

“
Son of a bitch,” Chuck repeated.

“
Yeah, right.”

Conversation was halted at the sound of a snapping twig as Chuck and Mitch crouched down in the brush. The rustle of leaves could have come from a bird taking flight, but it was Alex that emerged from the forest.

“
Well, hell.” She stopped with her hands on her hips. “I expect the total look of horror on your face, Mr. Hasslet, but Chuck, I thought by now you were used to me.”

***

Alex felt Mitch’s eyes trace her with a vivid indication that yesterday’s incident remained fresh in his mind. She cleared her throat and turned towards Chuck. “What are you two up to that’s got you looking so guilty?”

Chuck reached back and pushed aside a clump of balmy leaves. “See for yourself.”

Alex had no choice but to brush against Mitch as she stooped forward to peer through the foliage. That sensation was disregarded at the first glimpse of the disturbing tableau.

By relocating to this portion of the rain forest, she had intended to search for a temple, but this structure was not what she had in mind.

“
I take it you weren’t aware of this four-star resort?” Mitch’s deep voice sounded beside her.

Letting the leaves fall back into place, Alex met his eyes. “No, I wasn’t.”

Outwardly, she strove for composure. Inside, her body trembled with the repercussions of her miscalculation. By all rights she should be at least forty miles away from the last reported missing persons case. A husband and wife team—private citizens who chose archeology as a hobby. Their journal had been discovered some fifty miles from here. It documented their trek through the Tikal, but nowhere did it infer any trouble or signs of a secreted compound.

The Pastorellis’ last contact with the outside world was nearly a year ago.