Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (16 page)

“More soup?” Roan asked as he came back to her and knelt down beside her.

“No…thank you….” Inca sighed deeply.

“You almost died,” Roan said as he sat down.

Inca avoided his hooded look. She felt terribly vulnerable right now. “Yes. Thanks to you and your spirit guide, I will live.”

His heart told him to move closer and take her into his arms. After almost losing her, he no longer tried to shield himself from Inca. Roan wasn’t sure when his guard had come down, only that the crisis earlier had slammed that fact home to him. “Come here,” he murmured, and eased her against him. She came without a fight, relieved that he was going to hold her. Her flesh was goose pimpled. As Roan settled his bulk against the tree with Inca at his side, her head resting wearily on his shoulder, he’d never felt happier.

“Okay?” he asked, his lips pressed to her long, flowing hair. She felt good in his arms, fitting against him perfectly, as if they had always been matched puzzle pieces just waiting to be put together.

Sighing softly, Inca nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. “Yes…” And she closed her eyes. Risking everything, she lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. The moment was so warm, so full of life. She could hear the insects singing around them, the howl of some monkeys in the distance. All that mattered right now was Roan.

“You are so brave,” she whispered unsteadily. “I needed help and you knew it. I was told before I took Julian’s hand to help him return that it might kill me.”

Roan frowned. “And you did it anyway?”

Barely opening her eyes, she absorbed Roan’s warmth, felt his hand moving gently across her shoulders. “What choice did I have? He had not finished his life’s mission on this side. He had to come back. He drew the snake to him to create a crisis that would overcome his father’s reserve.”

“Well,” Roan muttered, “that certainly did the trick. The man was crying like a baby when Julian returned.”

“Good,” Inca purred. She nuzzled against his shoulder and jaw, a soft smile on her lips. She felt the caress of Roan’s fingers along her neck and across her cheek and temple. How wonderful it felt to be touched by him! All these years, Inca had been missing something. She couldn’t verbalize it. She hadn’t known what it was until now. It was the natural intimacy that Roan had effortlessly established with her. The warmth, the love she felt pouring from him brought tears to her eyes. Was this what love felt like? Inca had no way of knowing for sure. She’d read many books by famous authors and many poems about love. To read it was one thing. To experience it was something new to her.

“Do you often get into this kind of a predicament with someone you’re going to heal?”

Inca shook her head. “No.”

“Good.”

She smiled a little. Roan’s fingers settled over the hand she had pressed to his heart. She could feel the thudding, drumlike pounding of it beneath her sensitive palm. “Someday you must go with me to the Jaguar Clan village. I would like you to meet the elders. I think you have powerful medicine. All you need is some training to understand it and work with it more clearly.”

Roan nodded. He lay there in the darkness, near the dancing fire, and told her what he’d felt and seen when he’d taken her into his arms. When he was done, he felt Inca reach up, her fingertips trailing along his jaw.

“You are a very brave warrior,” she told him. Lifting her head so that she could look up at him, she saw the smoldering longing in his eyes—for her. Because she was weak and feeling defenseless, or perhaps because she’d nearly died and she was more vulnerable than usual, Inca leaned up…up to press her lips to his. It wasn’t something she thought about first, for she was completely instinctual, in touch with her primal urges. As her lips grazed the hard line of his mouth, she saw his eyes turn predatory. Something hot and swift moved through her, stirring her, and she yearned for a more complete union with the softening line of his mouth.

Surprised at first, Roan felt her tentative, searching lips touching his like a butterfly. Her actions were completely unexpected. It took precious seconds for him to respond—appropriately. Primally, his lower body hardened instantly. He wanted to take her savagely and mate with her
and claim and brand her. But his heart cautioned him not to, and instead of devouring her with a searing kiss, Roan hauled back on his white-hot desires.

If anything, he needed to be gentle with Inca. As her lips tentatively grazed his once more, he felt the tenuousness of her exploration of him, as a man to her woman. He understood on a very deep level that people did odd things after they almost died. Making love was one of them. It confirmed life over death. All those thoughts collided within his whirling mind as her lips slid softly across his. She did not know how to kiss.

The simple reminder of her virginal innocence forced Roan to tightly control his violent male reaction. Instead, he lifted his hands and gently framed her face. He saw her eyes go wide at first, and then grow drowsy with desire—for him. That discovery just tightened the knot of pain in his lower body even more so. Swallowing a groan, Roan repositioned her face slightly, leaned over and captured her parted lips. The pleasure of just feeling her full mouth beneath his sent shock waves of heat cascading through him. He felt her gasp a little, her hands wrapping around his thick, hairy wrists. Easing back, Roan tried to read Inca and what her reaction meant.

He saw her eyes turn golden-green. The heat in them burned him. She trembled violently as he leaned down and once more tasted her lips. This time, he captured her firmly beneath his mouth. He felt her hesitantly return his kiss. Smiling to himself, he broke it off and moved his tongue slowly across her lower lip. Again, surprise and pleasure shone in her half-closed eyes. Smiling tenderly, he leaned over and moved his mouth against hers once
more. This time her lips blossomed strongly beneath his. She caught on fast.

Inca purred with pleasure as Roan’s mouth settled against hers. This was a kiss. The type she’d seen other people give to one another. And now she understood the beauty and sensual pleasure of it, too. Now she knew why people kissed one another so often. A flood of heat flowed through her. She felt the caresses of his mouth upon her lips, the gliding heat created by their touching one another. Her heart was skipping beats. Lightning settled in her lower body, and like a hot, uncoiling snake, she felt a burning, scalding sensation flowing through her. The feeling was startling. Intensely pleasurable.

Shocked by all that she was feeling, Inca tore her mouth from his. She blinked. Breath ragged, she whispered, “Enough…I feel as if I will explode….”

He gave her a lazy, knowing smile. Brushing several strands of hair from her cheek, he rasped, “That’s good. A kiss should make you feel that way.” Indeed, the flush in Inca’s cheeks, the golden light dancing in her widening eyes told Roan just how much she’d enjoyed their first, tentative kiss. Exploration with her was going to be hell on earth for him. He felt tied in painful knots. Inca could not know that, however. She was a child in the adult world of hot lovemaking and boiling desire. It would be up to him to be her teacher and not a selfish pig, taking her in lust. If nothing else, today had taught Roan that he felt far more toward Inca than lust, but because of his past, he had denied it. He told himself their relationship was only temporary, that when the mission was over, their torrid longing for one another would come to an end.

Inca shyly looked up at him, and then looked away.
Her lips were throbbing in pleasure. She touched them in awe. “I did not know a kiss could do all this. Now I know why people kiss so much….”

Laughter rolled through Roan’s chest. He embraced her a little more tightly and then released her. “I’m not laughing at you, Inca. I agree with your observation.”

She smiled a little tentatively. Touching her lips once more, she looked up at him. “I liked it.”

He grinned. “So did I.”

“The feelings…” she sighed and touched her heart and her abdomen with her hand “…are so different, so wonderful…as if a fire is bursting to life within me.”

“Oh,” Roan said wryly, “it is. But it’s a fire of a different kind.”

“And it will not burn me?”

He shook his head solemnly. He would burn in the fires of hell while she explored her sensual nature, but he was more than willing to sacrifice himself for her. “No, it won’t hurt you. It will feel good. Better than anything you can imagine.”

Stymied, Inca lay content in his arms. “Being like this with you is natural,” she whispered. “It feels good to me. Does it for you?”

“You feel good in my arms,” Roan told her, pressing a small kiss to her hair. “Like you’ve always belonged here….” And she did as far as he was concerned. He was old enough, experienced enough to realize that Inca owed him nothing. He was her first man, and he understood that it didn’t mean she would stay with him. No, he expected nothing from her in that regard. Inca was the kind of wild spirit no man could capture and keep to himself. She had to be free to come and go as her wild heart bade her.
Selfishly, he wanted to keep her forever. But Inca’s life was a day-by-day affair. And in his own philosophy of life, Roan tried to live in the moment, not in the past and not trying to see what the future might bring him.

Inca nuzzled beneath his hard jaw. She closed her eyes. “You saved my life today. And you gave me life tonight. I do not know how to thank you.”

Grazing her shoulder, Roan whispered, “Just keep being who you are, sweetheart. That’s more than enough of a gift to me.”

“I
nca…you’ve come….” Julian weakly raised up on the pallet where he lay. Shortly, two soldiers were going to carry him out of the swamp and back to the Amazon, where a helicopter would take him to a hospital in Manaus for recovery. He smiled shyly and lifted his hand to her as she drew near.

Inca ignored the soldiers who stood agape as she approached the
tenente
’s litter. There was admiration and wariness in their eyes. They didn’t know what to make of her, and that was fine; she liked keeping people off balance where she was concerned. She’d known intuitively that Julian would be gone as the sun rose this morning, and she wanted to say goodbye to him. In her usual garb, she removed the rifle from her shoulder and knelt down beside the young officer, who was still looking pale. Inca knew that the colonel didn’t want her in camp with weapons, but that was too bad.

“
Bom dia,
good day,” she said, reaching out and gripping his fingers. “You are better, eh?”

Julian’s mouth moved with emotion. His lower lip trembled. The strength in Inca’s hand surprised him. He held her hand as if it were a cherished gift. “Yes, much…I owe you everything, Inca.” His eyes grew soft with gratefulness. “I understand from talking to the men earlier that you risked your life to save mine. I don’t recall much…just bits and pieces. I was so shocked when I walked out of my tent. The snake was waiting for me at the flap. I never saw him until it was too late. After he sank his fangs into my leg, I screamed. I remember pulling my pistol and firing off a lot of shots at it. And then…I fell. I don’t remember much more.” His eyes narrowed on hers. “But I do remember being in the light, and you were there.” His voice lowered. “And so was your jaguar. I saw him.”

Julian glanced about, wanting to make sure the men of his platoon couldn’t hear his whispered words. “I felt myself on the brink, Inca. I wanted to leave, and you brought me back.” He squeezed her hand gently and closed his eyes. “I’m glad you did. Don’t think for a moment that I wasn’t glad to open my eyes and find myself in my father’s arms.” He looked at her, the words filled with emotion. “He was holding me, Inca. Me. And I owe it all to you, to your strength and goodness.”

She saw the tears well up in his eyes. Touched to the point of tears herself, she whispered, “Yours was a life worth saving, my friend.”

Julian pressed a soft kiss to the back of her scarred hand and then reluctantly released her strong fingers. Sighing, he self-consciously wiped the tears from the corners of
his eyes. “I shouldn’t be crying. I feel very emotional right now.”

Inca nodded. “That always happens after a near death event. Let your tears fall.” She smiled a little. “I see you and your father have connected again?”

Julian’s eyes grew watery. “Yes…and again, I have you to thank.”

Shaking her head, Inca sensed the crush of soldiers who had begun to crowd around to get a closer look at her and to try and hear what they were talking about. “No, Julian, I had nothing to do with that. I am glad that it happened, though.”

Julian kept his voice down. “Yes, we are really talking to one another for the first time since Rafael’s death.” Choking up, he rasped, “Last night, my father told me he loved me. It’s the first time I can recall him saying that to me. It’s a miracle, Inca.”

Smiling tenderly, Inca nodded. “That is wonderful. And so, you go to Manaus to recover, my friend?”

Nodding, Julian said unhappily, “Yes. I want to stay…. I want to lead my men into that valley, but my father says I must go.” With a wry movement of his mouth, he said, “I shouldn’t complain. He cares openly for me, and he wants to see me safe. He told me that I was their only son and now it is my turn to carry the family’s honor and heritage forward.”

“A wise man,” she murmured. Patting Julian’s hand, she rose. “I wish you an uneventful journey, Julian. Because where we go, it will be dangerous and interesting.”

Julian’s gaze clung to hers. “I’ll never forget you, Inca. The legend about you being the jaguar goddess is true.
I’ll speak your name with blessings. People will know of your goodness. Your generous heart…”

She felt heat tunnel up her neck and into her face. Praise was something she could never get used to. “Just keep what you have with your father alive and well. That is all the thanks I need. Family is important. More than most people realize. Goodbye…” She lifted her hand.

The men parted automatically for her exit. Inca looked at them with disdain as she strode through the crowd toward Roan, who stood waiting for her at the rear of the crowd. Her heart pounded briefly beneath the smoldering look of welcome he gave her. When his gaze moved to her mouth, her lips parted in memory of that scorching, life-changing kiss they’d shared last night. She had left camp early this morning to bathe and then find Julian. At that time, Roan had still been asleep in his hammock as she moved silently around their camp.

The warm connection between her heart and his was so strong and beautiful. Inca felt as if she were not walking on Mother Earth but rather on air. Just the way he looked at her made her joyful. A slight smile curved her lips as she drew near.

“I see what you are thinking,” she teased in a husky voice meant for his ears only.

Roan’s mouth moved wryly upward. He slid his hand around her shoulder and turned her in another direction. “And feeling,” he murmured. His gesture was not missed by the soldiers, for they watched Inca as if mesmerized by her presence and power. “Come on, Colonel Marcellino wants to see you—personally and privately.”

Instantly, Inca was on guard. She resisted his hand.

Roan felt her go rigid. He saw the distrust in her eyes,
and the wariness. “It’s not what you think, Inca. The man has changed since yesterday. What you did for Julian has made the difference. He’s no longer out to kill you.”

“Humph, we will see.” She shouldered the rifle and moved with Roan through the stirring camp. There were a hundred and twenty men left in the company, thanks to the colonel’s poor judgment in taking them through this infested swamp. Inca was angry about that. Julian would not have been bitten by the bushmaster had they gone around the swamp.

Inca tried to steady her pounding heart as they approached the opened tent, where Colonel Marcellino sat at his makeshift desk. His attaché, Captain Braga, bowed his head in greeting to Inca.

“Colonel Marcellino would speak privately with you,” he said with great deference, and he lifted his hand to indicate she was to step forward. Inca looked over at Roan, a question in her eyes.

“I’m staying here.”

“Coward.”

Roan grinned. “This isn’t what you think it is. Trust me.”

Flashing a disdainful look at him, Inca muttered, “I will. And I will see where it leads me.”

Chuckling, Roan touched her proud shoulder. “Sweetheart, this isn’t going to be painful. It’s not that bad.”

Inca thrilled to the endearment that rolled off his tongue. She liked the way it made her feel, as if physically embraced. Roan was not aware of his power at all, but she was, and Inca indulged herself in allowing the wonderful feelings that came with that word to wrap around her softly beating heart.

Turning, she scowled and pushed forward. Might as well get this confrontation with the colonel out of the way so they could get out of this dreaded swamp today.

Jaime Marcellino looked up. He felt Inca’s considerable presence long before she ducked beneath the open tent flaps to face him. She stood expectantly, her hands tense on her hips, her chin lifted with pride and her eyes narrowed with distrust.

“You wanted to see me?” Inca demanded in a dark voice. She steeled herself, for she knew Marcellino was her enemy.

With great deliberation, Jaime placed the gold pen aside, folded his hands in front of him and looked up at her. “Yes, I asked for you to come so that we may talk.” Flexing his thin mouth, he said with great effort, “Most important, I need to thank you for saving my son’s life. I saw firsthand what you did. I cannot explain
how
you saved him. I only know that you did.”

Inca held herself at rigid attention. She did not trust the colonel. Yet she saw the older man’s face, which was gray this morning and much older looking, lose some of its authoritarian expression. His dark brown eyes were watery with tears, and she heard him choking them back. It had to be hard for him to thank her, since he accused her of murdering his eldest son.

Her flat look of surprise cut through him. Her facial expression was one of continued distrust. Jaime wanted to reach inside that hard armor she wore. What could he expect? He’d treated her badly. Lifting his hands in a gesture of peace and understanding, he whispered, “I wish to table my earlier words to you, my earlier accusations that you murdered my eldest son. Because of what
has happened here, I intend, when this mission is over, to go back to Brasilia and interrogate the drug runner who accused you of shooting Rafael. And I will use a lie detector test on him to see if indeed he is telling the truth or not.” His brows drew downward and he held Inca’s surprised gaze.

“I owe you that much,” he said unsteadily. “My logic says that if you saved Julian, why would you have murdered my firstborn? All that I hear about you, from the gossip of my soldiers, as well as the villagers we have passed on this march, is that you heal, you do not kill.”

Inca slid her fingers along the smooth leather sling of her rifle. “Oh, I kill, Colonel,” she whispered rawly. “But I do it in self-defense. It is a law of my clan that we never attack. We only defend. Do you really think I
enjoy
killing? No. Does it make me feel good? Never. I see these men’s faces in my sleep.”

“You are a warrior as I am,” he replied. “Killing is not a pleasure for any of us. It is a duty. A terrible, terrible duty. Our sleep is not peaceful, is it?” He cleared his throat nervously. “I have heard legends surrounding you, of the lives you have taken.” Jaime rose, his fingers barely touching the table in front of him. “And judging from what I’ve seen, you do
not
enjoy killing, any more than I do.”

Inca’s nostrils flared. Her voice quavered. “What sane human being would?” She waved her hand toward the encampment. “Do any of us
enjoy
killing another human being? Only if you are insane, Colonel. And believe me, I have paid dearly…and will continue paying for the rest of my life, for each person’s life I have taken. Do you not see those you have killed in your sleep at night? Do
you not hear their last, choking cries as blood rushes up their throat to suffocate them?” Eyes turning hard, Inca felt the rage of injustice move strongly through her. “Even the idea that I would murder anyone in cold blood is beyond my comprehension. Yet you believed it of me.” She jabbed her finger at him. “I told you I did not kill your other son, Rafael. Father Titus has an affidavit, which is in your possession, that tells you I was nowhere near that part of Brasil on that day.”

The colonel hung his head and moved a soiled and damp sheet of paper to the center of his desk. “Yes…I have it here….”

“Since when did you think priests of your own faith would lie about such a thing?”

Wincing, Jaime rasped, “You are right, Inca….” He touched the crinkled, creased paper that held Father Titus’s trembling signature. “I have much to do to clear your name of my eldest son’s death. And I give you my word, as an officer and a gentleman, that once I return home, I will do exactly that.”

Inca felt her rage dissolving. Before her stood an old man worn down by grief and years of hatred aimed wrongly at her. “I will take your words with me. Is that all?”

Nodding, Jaime said wearily, “Yes, that is all. And I also want to let you know that you were right about this swamp. I’m afraid my arrogance, my anger toward you, got the better of me. From now on I will listen to you. You know this land, I do not. Fair enough?”

Inca hesitated at the tent opening, her fingers clenching the strap of the rifle on her shoulder. “Yes, Colonel. Fair
enough. In five more days we will reach the valley, if we follow my route through the jungle.”

Inca lay on her belly, the dampness feeling good against her flesh in the midday heat as she studied the valley below. Roan lay beside her, and his elbow brushed hers as he took the binoculars from her and swept the narrow, steeply walled valley.

“Do you see the factory?”

Roan kept his voice low. “Yes, I see it.”

Inca watched as the colonel’s company spread out in a long, thin line along the rim of the valley. They had a hundred men ready to march against the Valentino Brothers’ factory, which was half a mile away, nestled at one end of the valley. The factory was large, the tin roof painted dark green and tan so that it would not be easily spotted from the air. They had positioned it beneath the jungle canopy to further hide its whereabouts from prying satellite cameras.

Eyes narrowing, Inca watched as her Indian friends moved ceaselessly in and out of the opened doors of the huge factory. A dirt road led out of the area and down the center of the valley, more than likely to a well-hidden villa up the steep valley slopes. They carried bushel baskets of coca leaves, which would be boiled down to extract the cocaine. Other Indians were carrying large white blocks wrapped in plastic to awaiting trucks just outside the gates. That was the processed cocaine, ready for worldwide distribution. Guards would yell at any Indians who moved too slowly for them. She saw one guard lift his boot and kick out savagely at a young boy. Her rage soared at the bondage of her people.

“It looks like an airplane hangar,” Roan muttered, adjusting the sights on the binoculars. “Big enough to house a C-130 Hercules cargo plane.”

“I estimate there are over a hundred Indians in chains down there,” she said, anger tinging her quavering tone.

“There’s a lot of guards with military weapons watching every move they make,” Roan stated. “A high fence, maybe ten feet tall, with concertina wire on top to discourage any of them from trying to escape.”

“At night, the Indians are forced to live within the fence. Sebastian and Faro Valentino are down there. Look near that black Mercedes at the gate.” She jabbed her index finger down at them. “That is them.”