Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (10 page)

Wiping his sweaty brow again, he moved quickly down the hill. At one point, he slid because of the dampness. Here in this humid country the rains would come and go, keeping the ground beneath the fallen leaves slick and muddy. Landing on his butt, he slid down to the bottom of the hill, where there was a small, clean pool of water. Laughing out loud over his lack of athleticism, Julian was very glad his father hadn’t seen his awkward, unmanly descent. Or his men. Julian knew they tolerated him because his father was a colonel. He saw the amused and disdainful looks they traded when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Remaining in a sitting position, Julian raised up enough to push his helmet beneath him. At least his butt would stay dry. Drawn to the beauty of the deep blue oval pool, of the orchids suspended above it on branches, he sighed again. Most of the noise of the company had faded in the distance. Here there was peace. A peace he craved. Plac
ing his elbows on his thighs, he rested his jaw against his hands and simply drank in the beauty of the landscape. Being in Amazonia was turning out to be a wonderful, surprising gift to him.

Inca watched the soldier. She sat very still against a tree, hidden by the extended roots that stretched out like flying buttresses. When he’d appeared at the top of the hill, she had focused in on the soldier instantly. She had been eating her lunch, her back against one of the sturdy roots, when her guardian had warned her of his approach.

He was young looking. No threat to her. His face was babyish, his lips full. His eyes were wide with awe as he slowly absorbed the scene around him. The pistol he carried at his side indicated he was an officer, not an enlisted soldier. Snorting softly, she finished her mango and wiped her glistening lips with the back of her hand. Rolling over onto her hands and knees, she continued to watch the man. There was a bright red bromeliad on a dead log near where he sat. She watched as he reached out, his gesture graceful, the tips of his fingers barely grazing one of the many bright red bracts, which were really leaves and not petals. The way he touched the plant piqued Inca’s interest. Most men would not even pay attention to it, much less touch it with such respect and reverence.

His hair was black, short and close cropped like Roan’s. His ears were large and stuck out from the sides of his head, which was probably why he looked more like a boy growing through an awkward stage than a man. Inca smiled mirthlessly. She felt no threat from this young whelp. He looked out of place in a uniform. The way he touched the bromeliad again and again, and raptly studied it, made her decide to reveal her presence.

Julian heard a sound across the pool. It wasn’t loud, just enough to snag his attention. As he lifted his chin, he gasped reflexively. There on the other side of the pond was a woman in military gear. Her willow-green eyes ruthlessly captured and held his gaze. She stood with her head high, a challenging look on her face, her hands resting arrogantly on her hips. And then, just as quickly, he realized
who
she was.

Inca laughed, the sound carrying around the pool. She felt the young man’s shock when he realized who she was.

Lifting her hands, she said, “I am unarmed,
Tenente.
I come in peace. Do you?”

He saw the laughter in her willow-green eyes. He heard the derision and challenge in her sultry tone. Her hair was unbound and flowed freely across her proud shoulders and the bandoliers of ammunition she wore crisscrossed on her chest. Swallowing hard, he leaped to his feet. The heel of his boot caught and he slipped hard to the ground once more. Julian felt a rush of shame and humiliation. He expected her to deride him for floundering around like a fish out of water.

But she did not. Scrambling to his feet, he spread his boots far enough apart to give him some stability on the soft, damp leaves near the lip of the pond. Breathing hard, he stared across the hundred feet that separated them.

“Y-you’re Inca…the jaguar goddess….” he croaked. “Aren’t you?”

Julian had seen rough sketches of the woman on Wanted posters. She was supposed to have murdered his brother. He had never believed it. In person, she was shockingly beautiful. Just looking at her Indian features, the light shining in her eyes and the way she smiled at
him, he rejected even more strongly the possibility that she had murdered Rafael. She had the face of an angel. Never had he seen anyone as beautiful as her! Even his fiancée, Elizabeth, who was truly lovely, could not match Inca’s wild, natural beauty.

“I am,” Inca purred. She removed her hands from her hips. “So, you are from the company that I am to lead?”

Gulping, his heart pounding, Julian stammered, “Er, y-yes…we are. I mean, I am….”

Laughing, Inca watched as his face flushed crimson. “Do not worry. I will not harm you,
Tenente.
” She held up her hands. “I was finishing my lunch. Would you care for a mango? I have one left.”

Stunned by her pleasant demeanor, Julian found himself utterly tongue-tied. Maybe it was her beauty. Or maybe it was all the whispered legends about her filling his head in a jumble that made him cower before her obvious power and confident presence.

Inca leaned over, picked up the mango. “Here,” she called, “catch!”

Julian’s hands shot out. He caught the ripe mango.

“Good catch.” Inca laughed. She watched the young officer roll the fruit nervously in his hands. “You are quick. That is good. We will need that kind of reaction where I am going to lead you.”

“Th-thank you, Inca…or do you want to be called jaguar goddess?”

Inca felt the shame and humiliation coming from him. Why? Her heart went out to this young man, who really didn’t belong in the army. He belonged in a garden tending his vegetables. Or perhaps in a greenhouse tending
beautiful orchids. That would make him happy. Still, Inca respected him. “Call me Inca. And you are?”

Holding the mango gently in his hands, he said, “Y-you may call me Julian.” He hooked a thumb across his shoulder. “I’m a lieutenant with this company. I have a platoon that I’m responsible for. I was really looking forward to being here. I’ve never been out in the rain forest and I’ve always wanted to come….”

She smiled and said, “You are at home here.”

Julian was dumbfounded. “Why, yes…yes, I am. But—how could you know?”

“I read minds when I want to.”

Gulping, Julian nodded. “I believe you. I really do.” His heart was pounding hard with the thrill of getting to see this legendary woman in person.

“And the other men,” Inca called, “are they as friendly and unthreatening as you are toward me?” The corners of her mouth lifted in a barely disguised smile of sarcasm.

“Oh, them…well, they are all right, Inca. I mean…most of them have heard the legends about you. They are all hoping to see you, to get a glimpse of you—”

“Why? To put a bullet through my head?”

Wincing, Julian held up his hand. “Oh, no, no…not that. There’s been so much speculation, even excitement, about you…the possibility of seeing you. That’s all.”

She moved slowly toward the edge of the pond and said, “What about Colonel Marcellino? Does he still want to see me dead?” Her voice was flat and hard.

Gulping, Julian raised his eyes. “That…my father has mixed feelings about you. I mean, it’s understandable…I never believed you did it. Not ever. But he was so full of anguish and grief that he had to blame someone. I don’t
believe drug runners, and that is who said you killed Rafael.”

Inca froze. Her eyes narrowed to slits. The moment she heard Julian say “my father,” her hand went to the pistol at her side. “Colonel Marcellino is
your
father?” she demanded.

“Y-yes, he is. I’m Julian Marcellino. I apologize. I should have told you my last name. It’s just that…well, I’m a little shook up, afraid….” His voice drifted off.

Looking at him, Inca growled, “You do not believe I killed Rafael?”

Shaking his head adamantly, Julian said, “No…and now, seeing you in person, even more I do not believe you killed my older brother.”

Inca knew that something greater was at play here. What were the chances of the brother of Rafael showing up where she was hiding? Very slim. She understood the karma of the situation. The soldier was white-faced now, and stood stiffly, the fruit clutched in his hands. Buffeted by his tumultuous feelings, Inca ruthlessly entered his mind to see if he was, indeed, telling her the truth.

Julian winced. He took a step back, as if he’d been physically struck.

“Sorry,” Inca called. She moved more gently into his mind. Julian staggered and sat down unceremoniously. As she moved through his psyche, she saw and felt many things. That was the problem with telepathy—it wasn’t just about getting information, it meant feeling all the damnable emotions that came along with the information. It was so hard on her that she rarely read minds. She didn’t want to deal with many emotions.

In her mind, she saw Julian as a baby, a youngster, a
teenager during his time spent in the military academy. As she withdrew her energy from him, he uttered a sigh of relief. Inca squatted down on her haunches and stared at him across the pond. “You are not a soldier at heart. This is not a job you love. You are doing this to please your father, not yourself.”

Rubbing his head, Julian felt a slight headache. The power that Inca possessed stunned him. “Yes, well, my father wanted me to carry on in Rafael’s place. How could I say no? He put such importance on me carrying on the family name and tradition. All the firstborn men went into the army and distinguished themselves. It is expected.”

Laughing harshly, Inca said, “Better that you go tend a garden, my young friend.” She knew now that Julian bore her no grudge. He wasn’t a killer. Inca seriously wondered if he could even pull the trigger of a rifle pointed toward an enemy. No, he was a peaceful, serene person who was not faring well in the military world. At all.

“I like gardening,” Julian said, slowly getting to his feet. He retrieved his helmet and settled it awkwardly on his head. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need supplies? Food?”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Inca said, “No…thank you. I am waiting for Roan Storm Walker to return with the map.”

“Oh, to see which direction we go tomorrow morning?” Julian smiled a little. “I’d give
anything
to be with you two as you take us into the rain forest.”

The eagerness in his voice was genuine. Inca slowly relaxed. “Your father would never let you near me and you know it. Go back. Go back to your men and say
nothing of our encounter. If your father finds out, he will be very upset about it.”

“Yes, he would,” Julian admitted ruefully. He smiled a little hesitantly. “Thank you for the fruit. That was very kind of you, Inca. And if there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know?”

She lifted her hand. “I will,
Tenente.
Go now.”

Inca watched the soldier clamber awkwardly up the incline. Shaking her head, she realized that the entire company would struggle like that on this slick, leafy terrain. Turning, she went back to her hiding spot between the roomy wings of the tree roots, more than adequate to protect her from prying eyes. Sitting back down, she leaned against the smooth gray bark and closed her eyes.

Missing Roan, Inca wondered if he was all right. She felt a connection to him, like an umbilical cord strung invisibly between them. She sighed. The fifteen-mile hike this morning had been hard on both of them. Wanting to take a nap now, but not daring to do so, Inca felt her jaguar guardian move around. Instantly, she sat up, her eyes flying open.

There on the edge of the hill above the pool was Roan. He carried a map in his hand. She smiled and felt heat rush through her. How handsome he was in her eyes. And this time he was dressed in jungle fatigues and had a good pair of black leather boots on his feet instead of the sandals. Standing, she left the tree to meet him halfway down the hillside.

“You look different.” She grinned and pointed to his face.

Rubbing his jaw, Roan absorbed her teasing expression. “Yeah, the colonel wanted me clean shaven. Now I know
why I got out of the Marine Corps.” He chuckled. Holding up the map, he said, “We’ve got work to do. Are you up to it?”

Inca nodded and fell into step beside him. There was something wonderful about his height, and that feeling of warmth and protection that always surrounded her when he was near. “Of course. Are
you?
”

Giving her an intimate look, Roan said, “Of course.” He saw she had some mangos for him in the small cotton knapsack tied to her web belt. It was spring in Amazonia, and far too early for such fruit to be ripe. When she’d reached into it and brought out fruit and nuts earlier, during one of the rests they had taken on their march, Roan had considered asking about them.

“Where do you get this fruit? It’s out of season,” he said now, sitting down against the tree with her.

Inca picked out a mango and handed it to him. “I will it into being.”

Opening the map before her, he glanced up. “What do you mean?”

“We are taught how to move and use energy in the Jaguar Clan village. If I will a mango into existence, it occurs. Or nuts.” With a shrug, Inca said, “Our will, our intent is pushed and ruled by our emotions. If I am in alignment with my feelings and really desire something, I can manifest it on a good day.” She grinned mirthlessly. “And on a bad day, when my concentration is not good, or I am emotionally shredded, I forage on the rain forest floor like all the rest of our relations to find enough food to stop my stomach from growling.”

Taking the mango, Roan bit into it. “It’s real.”

“Of course it is!”

The flesh was juicy and sweet. He pointed to the map. “This is the army’s best attempt at defining the trails through Amazonia. We’re here—” he tapped his finger on the map “—and this is where we have to go. Now, you tell me—is there a better way to get there? I don’t see any trail marked between here and there.”

Studying the map, Inca grimaced. “This map is wrong. I expected as much.” She tapped her head. “I know how to get us there.”