Man of Passion (20 page)

Nodding, Ari remembered Inca's warning that things hadn't gone well for
Rafe
at the village. Her stomach knotted in anticipation of possible bad news.

"I wonder how Inca can know something without hearing it," she said, mystified. "She told me you'd be coming home at dusk today, so we left the waterfall a little early to get back here to make a pot of fresh beans for your arrival."

Rafe
set the tin plate aside and picked up his coffee, holding it in both his hands. If he didn't, he was going to slide his one hand around Ari's shoulders and draw her to him. He ached to hold her. He
needed
to hold her. She couldn't know. Not ever. "Inca is a member of the Jaguar Clan, Ari. The members of the clan are clairvoyant."

"Humph," Ari said, "I think she can read my mind, too."

Grinning slightly as he lifted the cup,
Rafe
said, "Oh, she's well known for that."

"Sometimes she'd say something about what I was thinking about or mulling over in my mind. She'd pop up with a response when I hadn't even asked my question out loud yet."

"Did you get used to her ways as the week wore on?" he asked with a grin.

Laughing, Ari said, "Yes. She's a wonderful person,
Rafe
. She taught me so much!"

"I can see that," he murmured, pleased. "You appear much
more sure
of yourself. And I see when you
walk,
your shoulders are thrown back with pride."

Wrinkling her nose, she murmured, "Oh, that. Inca was on me mercilessly to hold my chin up, walk with my shoulders back. She was like a drill sergeant all week about my posture."

Chuckling pleasantly,
Rafe
drained the rest of his coffee and set the cup down by his boots. "If Inca cares about you, you get on the receiving end of her ‘tough love.' If she didn't care about you, she wouldn't say a thing."

"She taught me so much,
Rafe
." Ari opened her hands, excitement in her voice. "I know you're tired, so I don't want to avalanche you with all that happened. I think you need to take a hot shower now and go to sleep. Why don't you use my bed? I'll just curl up out here in your hammock."

Grateful for her care and sensitivity, he said, "You know what I would like?" He reached out and briefly touched her hand.

"No. What?"

"Let me make up that second bed across the aisle from you. It's supposed to rain tonight." He looked up at the sky, which was becoming inky as the blue and purple shadows of night rapidly skimmed across it. He saw flashes of lightning in the distance. "And I need to get some sleep to bounce back from the hell of the last seven days."

Ari watched the lightning dance across the sky to the west of them. Although it was the dry season, sometimes a thunderstorm would crop up unexpectedly, producing a half-hour downpour. It had happened once while Inca was with her, and she had slept across the aisle from her in the houseboat.

"Of course, it's your boat. I'm just a guest."

Rafe
wanted her to be so much more to him. This last week had hammered home how lonely he was without Ari's sunlit presence in his life. It had burdened his grief-stricken heart even more. "You're never a guest,
mi
flor
.
You're a part of this rain forest." And then he added silently
and a part of me.
He bit back the rest of what he was going to say.

Touched beyond words, Ari reached over and squeezed his hand. "Let me go get you a fresh towel and cloth. While you're showering, I'll make up your bed for you. You look like you're ready to keel over."

Grateful, his hand tingling where she'd grazed it with her fingertips, he could only nod. A well of grief, of emotion, rose like a huge, pressurized ball in the center of his chest. He swallowed hard.
Swallowed against the need to weep.
Ari brought out all his emotions, and he was nearly helpless to stop them.

As she rose and quickly moved toward the houseboat, he reached over and poured himself another cup of coffee. He wanted something stronger.
A
helluva
lot stronger.
As exhausted as he was, he wanted nothing more than to pull Ari into his bed, hold her in his arms and sob. He knew she could be strong for him when he was weak. And right now, he was at low ebb. Usually when things such as this happened he was alone at his camp. He could go out on the bow of his boat, deep in the night, and sob out the pain he carried. What was he going to do now? His heart ached to have Ari in his arms, to tell her the terrible story he held inside, to ease the burden of sadness.

Sternly,
Rafe
told himself that could never be. To be that intimate with Ari was to take advantage of her good nature. She was a woman who was here for a short amount of time, and then she would return to her world and leave him behind. For him to share so much with her was a form of commitment to
her
and he didn't dare trip that lever open. No, somehow—for her sake—he must try and grapple with the pressure within his chest, the wildly clamoring emotions that pleaded to be released differently this time.

Ari awoke with a jerk. What was that sound? Sitting up, the light sheet falling away and exposing the pale lavender, cotton nightgown she wore, she quickly looked around. A sound had awakened her from her deep sleep. Thunder rumbled nearby. One storm had already passed shortly before they had gone to bed in the hold of the houseboat. Now slivers of moonlight filtered in through the windows. The sluggish, humid air stirred, cooling the interior of the boat.

Looking across the aisle, Ari pushed several strands of hair away from her face.
Rafe
lay sprawled on his back, his pale blue pajamas twisted and the sheet tangled about his feet from his tossing and turning. In the moonlight, his smoothly shaved face looked gaunt, the hollows under his high cheekbones pronounced. There was something terribly vulnerable about him lying
there,
his arms flung outward, his legs tangled in bedding, a lock of hair dipping across his furrowed, sweaty brow.

It was the look on
Rafe's
face that made Ari
bite
back a cry. His features were frozen in a grimace, as if he was captured within a terrible nightmare. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his lips parted in a soundless cry. She saw his large hands open and close spasmodically, the tension in his body very real. A moan tore from him.

That was the noise that had dragged Ari from her sleep. It was a terrible sound, one of desperation and grief. She watched as
Rafe
turned on his side, and saw a trickle of perspiration course down his temple toward his tightened jaw. Ari felt helpless, unsure of what to do, but something in her heart drove her to her feet. She found herself sitting hesitantly on the edge of his bed, her hands reaching for his shoulder and arm to comfort him.

"
Rafe
?" she whispered urgently. "
Rafe
, wake up. You're having a nightmare…." She shook him gently.

Jerking awake,
Rafe
reared back, sleep torn from him. He blinked several times, orienting himself to the fact that he was here, in the houseboat, and not out on the trail chasing drug runners. He felt Ari's cool touch on the overheated flesh of his arm.

"Ari?"
He looked around, confused. What was she doing here on his bed? Why was that look of worry etched in her wide, sleepy eyes? "What's wrong? Did you hear something?" he asked anxiously.
Rafe
had been attacked by drug runners before. And after what had happened on this last mission, he wouldn't be surprised if they were paying him a visit.

"It's you," Ari said apologetically. "You were crying out.
Like you needed help.
It woke me up. I came over to try and help you. Nothing's wrong,
Rafe
…everything's quiet around here except for the storm coming."

Raking his fingers through his hair, he sat up, leaning with relief against the bulkhead. "Good…"

"I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have woken you."

Looking over at her, he realized how close she was, and how innocent she looked in the pale lavender gown with lace across the front. He forced a partial smile. "No, it's all right. I was having a nightmare…just reliving what happened. I'm the one who is sorry,
mi
flor
.
" And he reached out because he needed to touch her, to feel her life connecting with his. As he slid his fingers along the line of her jaw, her lips parted. Ari's eyes
closed,
the blond lashes delicate against her smooth, warm skin. How beautiful she looked with her hair mussed and tangled around her face and shoulders.

"Lord
help
me," he muttered savagely, "but I need you, Ari. Just let me hold you for a moment? Please?" It was all he could do to stop himself from dragging her into his arms.

Stunned by his low growl, she eased forward, lifting her arms and sliding them around his broad shoulders. As she moved over, her hip and thigh meeting his, she felt him tense momentarily. Giving him a small smile, she said, "I won't bite,
Rafe
. Just let me hold you. I know I can do that much for you."

Exhaustion muddled his mind and silenced his doubts. Right now, coming out of the terror of his nightmare, remembering how close to death he'd nearly come himself this past week, he more than welcomed her boldness. This was the new Ari, he thought as she, with her diminutive body, wrapped her arms around him and held him as best she could with her womanly strength.

So much of him felt relief from her ministrations, the way she gently threaded her fingers through his damp hair and positioned his head against her shoulder. She was surprisingly strong as she held him. But then weren't women stronger than men in many surprising ways? Rubbing his cheek against her shoulder, which was naked except for the thin strap of her gown, he released a long, shaky breath. The driving urge to tell her what had happened overwhelmed him. With his cheek pressed against her shoulder, her arms around his torso, he slid his hands around her waist and closed his eyes.

"I feel like I'm still trapped in hell," he muttered hoarsely.

"Tell me about it," Ari urged softly. She felt him tremble once, violently, as the silence deepened. The fact that
Rafe
entrusted himself to her arms, to her, made her spirit soar with joy. She rocked him gently back and forth as she might a baby that needed comforting.
Rafe
needed her now as never before, she knew.

"It was hell," he managed to relate in a low, hoarse tone. "The little boy who was kidnapped by the Valentino Brothers…we went after him.
Me, the chief of the village and the men of the family from which he was stolen.
The trail was fresh. We trotted or ran where we could, to try and make up the distance. But all the time, the kidnappers evaded us. They knew we were hot on their trail." He inhaled the sweet jasmine scent that lingered on her flesh and it eased his tightening stomach. Relaxing his grip from around her waist,
Rafe
moved his hand up the length of her arm and cupped her shoulder. She was soft and firm and incredibly appealing to his hungry senses.

"Did you ever catch them?"

His hand stilled on her shoulder. "Yes…on the third day. We knew we were getting close to one of the cocaine factories they have hidden down in some of the deepest valleys. We knew we were in a lot of danger—that the
Valentinos
' soldiers could intercept us and wipe us out in minutes flat. I had a hunch, and we played it. We left their trail and decided to head in at an angle to intercept them." He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out the words. "The child tried to escape. We heard shots. Close. Very close. I knew what had happened when we went crashing into their midst. The boy, just twelve,
lay
twisting and screaming on the rain forest floor. A firefight broke out. Most of the chief's men were killed. I managed to drag the boy out of the line of fire and then we retreated and ran."

Ari shut her eyes and rested her head against his. "I'm so sorry,
Rafe
. Did he live?"

A tremor shook him. "The father of the boy was killed in the firefight. So was an uncle. I carried the boy. Blood was running down my arms, down my pants. I watched his face go from a healthy brown color to no color, and I knew he was dying…. We finally stopped. I gently put him down and cradled him in my arms. The chief came over. He was crying. So was the other uncle. We all cried as we watched that little, innocent boy die."