Kitabı oku: «Into the Wild», sayfa 3

He quirked his most persuasive smile. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I won’t force my company on you, but allow me to escort you to your hotel. It’s late. You’re exhausted. At the very least I could tell my sister that we spoke and I saw you safely into the city.”

She moistened her lips and again he thought about kissing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard for a freaking kiss.

“So, you’d just see me to my hotel and then you’d be on your way?”

“Mmm.”

She blew out a weary breath. “Okay.”

He raised a brow.

“I don’t want to upset Kylie any more than you do. Plus,” she smiled a little, “God forbid I insult your old-fashioned sensibilities.”

He grinned. “God forbid.”

“Would you watch my bags for a second? I need…” She pointed to the nearby ladies’ room. “All that water I drank…”

“I’ll be right here.” Spenser waited until she’d disappeared into the bathroom, then snagged his cell phone. He planned on hitting an Internet café after dropping River at her hotel, but it wouldn’t hurt to double his efforts. Besides, Gordo was a wiz on the computer. “Feel like playing cyberdetective?”

“As opposed to sitting in Cajamarca with my thumb up my ass?”

“That bored, huh?”

His friend grunted. “What am I researching?”

“Not what. Who. I want to know everything there is to know about River Kane.”

CHAPTER FOUR

NO SLEEP FOR THE WEARY. No sleep, or at least restful sleep, for those fostering sinful thoughts.

She should have been obsessed with Henry’s unknown whereabouts. Or contemplating Professor Bovedine’s untimely death. Or analyzing her wrecked wedding. Instead, River had spent a fitful night fixated on Spenser McGraw.

Why did he have to be so nice? So confident and capable? So…gorgeous?

When she’d spotted him on that billboard last fall, she hadn’t given him a second thought. First of all, she only had eyes for David. Second, Spenser’s profession was a personal turnoff. Third, driving by at fifty-five miles per hour, all she’d seen was a cocky-looking pretty boy. A less contrived photo might have made a stronger impression. Whoever had made the decision to airbrush the character and ruggedness out of Spenser McGraw was an idiot. Why mess with perfection? It wasn’t just his handsome face. It was the entire package. As. Is.

The man exuded a raw sexuality that set her nerves on edge. He’d burned an indelible image into her brain. Teased her artistic nature. She ached to photograph him…naked.

He was a prime example of masculinity. A perfect gentlemen. In hindsight, even his bossiness was sexy, in a caveman me-protect-you kind of way. For some reason it was only easy to take exception in the heat of the moment. In hindsight…he’d been trying to help and she’d been overly sensitive.

She’d never met anyone like him. Or at least she’d never been affected by a man like him. He was dangerous. She didn’t go for dangerous. She went for safe. Stable. Dependable. Men like David…before he’d flipped out.

Still, she couldn’t remember ever looking at David and aching for him as she ached for Spenser. As much as she tried to rationalize the visceral encounter, she couldn’t dispel it.

Feeling weirdly unfaithful, she’d finally dozed off after recalling a dozen special memories involving David. Their first date. The first time they’d kissed. The first time they’d made love.

Yet, she’d dreamed of Spenser.

After waking and showering, her mind was still crowded by thoughts of the six-foot hunk of walking charisma.

That wouldn’t do.

She was in love with David. Yes, he’d crushed her when he’d jilted her, but he hadn’t obliterated her tender feelings. They’d dated for three years and had been engaged for two. Two weeks ago, she’d almost been Mrs. Snodgrass. She didn’t even mind taking his god-awful last name. That’s how much she loved him. She was certain—when he worked through this life crisis or whatever it was that caused him to choose an old college buddy and an adrenaline-charged jungle expedition over her and their romantic honeymoon cruise—he’d realize his mistake. They were good together. They belonged together. As soon as she found Henry and sorted through this treasure mess, she’d find David and sort through their mess. This trip was about closure and new beginnings.

As for Spenser…well, it wasn’t like she was ever going to see him again.

Two hours, a banana muffin and three cups of coffee later, River ventured out of the hotel and hailed a taxi for the Terminal Terrestre. She attributed her rapid breathing to the altitude and not an impending panic attack. Even though she felt like an alien in this bustling foreign city, she wasn’t lost. She had her cell phone, her GPS unit, paper maps and, most importantly, a plan.

Next stop Baños.

On the trip south, she’d either study Henry’s journal or catch the shut-eye that had eluded her last night. She would not think about Spenser McGraw.

“WHY WOULD SHE go to Baños when her boyfriend’s in Peru?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Gordo. I called Kylie hoping for a clue. She didn’t have one, but said she’d contact River’s assistant. I’m still waiting for the callback.” Spenser popped a Tylenol and downed it with a swallow of Inca Kola, his South American soft drink of choice. His sister’s huge favor had turned into a massive pain. He still couldn’t believe his shit luck.

“Are you absolutely positive the bus she got on is bound for Baños?”

“Unfortunately.” He’d been waiting outside the hotel in his rented jeep when River had exited right on schedule. Last night, in her attempt to assure him she was prepared and capable, she’d mentioned she’d booked a nine a.m. bus out of town. She didn’t mention her destination. He didn’t figure Peru. But he didn’t figure Baños. Of all the damned towns.

“You’re not following her, are you?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“But you haven’t been in Baños since—”

“I know.”

“You said you’d never—”

“Goes to show.”

“Never say never. Still…”

Spenser adjusted his Bluetooth headset while passing a slow-ass car in order to keep the tour bus in sight. He’d been following at a discreet distance for the last hour. “I promised Kylie I’d look out for this woman.”

“Yeah, but Baños? Are you sure about this, Spense?”

He quirked a mirthless smile. “Maybe it’s time to face my demons.”

“Maybe I should fly up and help.”

“Hell, no.”

“If I didn’t know your history, I’d be insulted.” After a thoughtful pause, Gordo added, “What if I promise not to catch the fever?”

Spenser flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. Just talking about this made him uneasy. “You’re a treasure hunter, Gordo. Of course you’ll catch the fever.”

“Not if we don’t go into the Llanganatis.”

The name taunted him, called to him. Instead of glancing at the formidable mountain range to his left, Spenser stared straight ahead at an exhaust-belching bus. “Did you dig up any more info on River?”

“If you don’t want me to join you, just say so.”

“I did.”

“Right.” Gordo blew out a breath. “Let me just say it’s hard to dig up dirt on a squeaky-clean person who leads a low-profile life. These days most people belong to some social network—MySpace, Facebook, Bebo, Twitter, LiveJournal. Not River Kane. Aside from the website for Forever Photography, she has zilch Internet presence.”

Spenser had discovered the same thing last night when he’d used a computer at an Internet café. “Kylie said she’s a private person.”

“Maybe she’s one of those technophobes.”

“Don’t think so. Last night in the taxi, she checked text messages on her cell and thumbed coordinates into a Garmin Colorado.”

Gordo whistled. “That’s a pretty advanced GPS unit.”

“Mmm.” Spenser signaled to make a turn when the tour bus veered off the main highway and headed for the entrance of the Cotopaxi Volcano National Park. Miles back it had stopped at the Pasochoa Volcano reserve—another tourist hotspot. He wondered if River would disembark to stretch her legs and take a few pictures as she had before. He hoped so. He felt better seeing her, knowing she was safe and managing the altitude. Although she still looked weary and pale, at least she didn’t look like she was going to faint.

Just like before, Spenser parked a safe distance away and watched several tourists stream off the bus, including—thank you, Jesus—River. After nodding to the man who handed her down, she veered off and squirted liquid sanitizer into her palms.

“So she’s not a technophobe,” Gordo said.

“No, but she might be a germaphobe.” Between last night and today, Spenser had watched her apply that hand sanitizer at least a dozen times. “She’s obsessive about washing her hands. Every time she touches something or someone.”

“Maybe she’s worried about catching a tropical disease. You said she’d never been to South America. Who knows what misconceptions she has about yellow fever and malaria?”

“I’m sure she did her homework.” She’d made a point of letting him know she’d researched and prepped for this trip even though it had been spontaneous.

“Speaking of homework, since I couldn’t find much on the Internet, I e-mailed a friend, a P.I. who has some shifty ways of obtaining background information.”

“And?”

“I’ve been waiting to hear back and, lucky you,” Gordo said, sounding distracted, “I just got an e-mail.”

“What’s it say?”

“Hold on. I’m reading.”

Spenser massaged the back of his neck and watched as River photographed the distant slopes of the Cotopaxi Volcano. She was so intent on her subject, she didn’t notice various men looking her way. Even though her attire was far from provocative—cargo pants, crew-neck T-shirt, denim jacket and a looped scarf—she was a damned beautiful sight. Ivory skin, golden curls, wide green eyes. An angelic aura that drew some devilish attention. Spenser tensed when one of the men approached. He couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to make time with River, but if he laid a hand on her…

“Not a lot here,” Gordo said, “but it’s interesting. I’ll forward it to you so—”

“Hold on,” Spenser said. “I’ve got an incoming call.” He thumbed over. “Morning, kitten. What have you got?”

“Not much. I heard back from Ella. She said River got a package the day before yesterday. It was postmarked Baños, Ecuador. Knowing River’s ex was in South America, Ella assumed it was from him.”

“What was in it?”

“Don’t know. River wanted to open it in private. But Ella said it felt like a book. Less than an hour later, River called Ella and told her the same thing she told me. That she was flying to South America to get back the man she loved.”

Spenser flexed his hands on the wheel. A decent night’s sleep hadn’t cured him of his infatuation. Knowing River pined for the guy who’d dumped her made his balls twitch, and not in a good way.

“If the package was from David,” Kylie went on, “why did River tell me David was in Peru?”

“Don’t know, hon.” He watched as River sidestepped the touch of the man who’d been speaking with her for the last three minutes. When she turned to leave, the creep made a lewd gesture to his friend. Spenser reached for his door handle, then eased off. Get a grip, McGraw. “Listen, I gotta go, Kylie. Gordo’s on the other line.”

“Promise me you’ll look out for River.”

“I already did.”

“Yes, but that was before you knew you’d end up in Ecuador. I know this can’t be easy, Spenser, but—”

“I promise.” Not wanting to have the conversation, he said goodbye and transferred over to Gordo. “What’s the scoop?”

“All I can say is, this is one fricking small world.”

Bothered by the surge of jealousy he’d just experienced, Spenser snapped at his friend, even as River hotfooted it back onto the bus. “Spit it out, dammit.”

“River’s dad.”

“What about him?”

“He’s Professor Henry Kane.”

Spenser frowned. “Our Professor Henry Kane?”

“Looks like.”

They’d crossed paths with the eccentric archaeologist three years ago. They’d had dinner and drinks in a desert cantina. He hadn’t mentioned a daughter. Then again, Kane had talked of nothing but the Seven Cities of Cibola. The man was obsessed with legendary treasure.

Llanganatis.

Baños.

“Shit.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Quito, Ecuador

Altitude 9,214 feet

“CAN’T…BREATHE.”

“Don’t. Care.”

Gator tried to pry his employer’s fingers from his throat. It was the first time he’d come face-to-face with the man known to him only as The Conquistador. It could well be his last.

“I don’t care that you had to kill Bovedine,” the eccentric man said. “Collateral damage. But you only brought me half of the damned map.”

“All there…was.”

The Conquistador tightened his grip. “Atahualpa’s ransom eluded Valverde. It eluded Guzmán and Spruce and Blake. Generations of adventurers. It’s inconceivable that a bleeding-heart archaeologist succeeded where they failed. That he’ll profit from the historical find.” He rammed Gator’s head against the wall. “If anyone profits, it will be me!”

Gator knew nothing of this Atahualpa or those other three fucks. He didn’t care about a historical find. He just wanted to live. “Boss,” he croaked. Asshole, he thought. But speaking his mind would be deadly. Gator was a lot of things—most of them bad according to good folk—but he wasn’t stupid.

With a vicious curse, The Conquistador eased his grip.

Gator slumped to the floor. He was as quick and strong as his attacker, but cold fury and a touch of in sanity gave The Conquistador a powerful edge. Sucking air into his burning lungs, Gator massaged his bruised neck and watched in anxious silence as his employer snatched up the box he’d stolen from that pompous ass Bovedine.

The Conquistador sank down on the hotel suite’s brown leather couch and reexamined the contents: half of a treasure map and a silver sacrificial ceremonial knife. “Tears of the moon,” he’d said, when he’d first opened the package. “Proof Kane’s discovered genuine Incan treasure.” Then he’d gone for Gator’s throat.

“Let’s review your previous trip to Baños,” he said, while stroking the hilt of the intricately decorated knife. “You interviewed Kane’s guide.”

“One of his guides,” Gator rasped, wondering how he was going to get out of here with his skin intact. “Alberto.”

“After some…persuading, Alberto admitted to mailing a package to Professor Bovedine. He said Kane had sworn him to secrecy. He assumed it had to do with the location of the treasure. You thanked Alberto by stabbing him to death.”

Gator nodded, coughed. Pain ravaged his throat. Had the bastard damaged his windpipe?

“No loose ends or tongues. I appreciate that.” His employer frowned. “But it seems there’s more to the story. The other half of the map. Someone must have it. Who?”

How the hell would he know? Gator shrugged. “Maybe it’s still with Professor Kane.”

“Or maybe Kane mailed it to another for safekeeping. If that person knows Bovedine, if they know he’s dead and suspect foul play, they may feel the need to contact Kane. Tracking Kane means tracking the treasure. My treasure.”

“But no one knows where Kane is,” Gator said, ignoring the wild look in the other man’s eyes. Someone had to be the voice of reason.

“He’s wherever the X is on the second half of the map. That old codger couldn’t possibly move seven hundred and fifty tons of gold and silver single-handedly. And if my sources are correct, Kane is very much alone.”

“X marks the spot,” said Gator as he awkwardly rose to his feet. Seven hundred fifty tons of treasure? Maybe this precarious association with a madman was worth pursuing.

The Conquistador narrowed his eyes. Deep in thought? Crazy as a shithouse rat? Did it matter? Did Gator care? Hell, no. Not considering the windfall.

“I have eyes and ears in Quito, Baños and the Cotopaxi region,” the other man said. “If any outsider expresses interest in Kane or Atahualpa’s ransom, I’ll know about it.”

“I’d like a chance to redeem myself,” Gator said. He didn’t mind groveling. Not with a fortune at stake.

The Conquistador eyed the knife, the partial map.

Gator braced himself for another attack, but then his employer’s cell phone rang.

“Talk to me,” he said into the phone, then angled away as he listened. “Kane’s daughter? Are you sure? Is she alone?” His shoulders tensed. “I’ll be damned.” He exchanged muffled words, then disconnected. He faced Gator and smiled. “This is your lucky day.”

CHAPTER SIX

Baños, Ecuador

Altitude 5,905 feet

RIVER’S HEAD SPUN and it wasn’t due to altitude sickness.

No one knew anything about her father’s whereabouts. More accurately, no one had even heard of Professor Henry Kane. Either they were lying or she’d asked the wrong people.

Henry had mentioned Baños in his journal. He’d mailed the package containing the journal from Baños. Gateway to the Amazon—a prime location for stocking up on supplies before setting off on a jungle expedition. He’d definitely been in this quaint, colorful town. Yet, when River had flashed his picture at the post office, no one recognized him.

“What about a package addressed to Maple Grove, Indiana, in the USA?” she’d asked, adding the date of the postmark to give them a time frame. Ben remembered everything about the mail he carried and delivered. He’d definitely remember a package from a foreign country. It’s not like Baños was a sprawling metropolitan city. It was pretty dinky, not a whole lot larger than Maple Grove. But no one remembered the package.

Disappointed, she’d moved on to a few cheap hotels, bars and restaurants. Her father was always broke or close to it. He wouldn’t hang out anywhere upscale. Even though he had his head in the clouds, Henry Kane was a down-to-earth man.

Frustrated, she grabbed a vacant seat in an outdoor café. It was late afternoon and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She was in need of sustenance and a few moments to gather her thoughts. Although the café served Ecuadorian fare, the waiter was Italian and, luckily, spoke fluent English. That had been another problem for River in her search for her dad—a language barrier. Although there was plenty of written information available in English—maps, menus, signs—the locals she’d encountered didn’t speak her native language well. Either that or they pretended not to speak it well. She’d gotten the distinct impression they’d been annoyed with her and her questions. More than once she’d wondered if Spenser would have made more headway.

Don’t think about Spenser McGraw.

After Antonio took her order, River focused on the scenery rather than the hunky treasure hunter, Bovedine’s funeral or Henry’s well-being. She’d been in Baños, this small town tucked in a lush, humid valley, for several hours. Her breathing had eased at this lower altitude, but she’d yet to adjust to the spectacular view. She was still riding high from the bus trip down.

Ecuador, in the light of day, was captivating.

River had lied when she’d told Spenser she’d opted to travel by bus in order to soak in the scenery. She’d chosen the bus because it had been the only way to get to Baños aside from renting a car or hiring a private plane. She wasn’t keen on soaring over the wild in a puddle-jumper and, even though she had her GPS unit, she preferred to leave the driving to someone who knew the area.

Still, even though safety had been her main motivator, she’d been unable to tear her gaze from the window as the tour bus had whizzed south on the Pan-American Highway.

The bustling city of Quito had soon given way to a rugged landscape, and then eventually to vivid green mountains whose peaks jutted into the clouds. An odd and arresting sight.

Then there were the volcanoes. From what she’d seen so far, Ecuador was a flipping volcanic chain. The Pan-American Highway meandered between the snowcapped wonders on a plateau that ran north to south down the middle of the country. As a photographer, River was drawn to the visual splendor. Unfortunately, she had minimal experience photographing landscapes. She photographed people. She’d felt like an amateur, snapping shot after shot, without her usual practiced forethought to lighting and composition, but she’d been unable to stop herself. She’d never seen a volcano. Today, she’d seen three. Two on the ride down. One here in Baños. The latter, Tungurahua, was the largest and most awe-inspiring because it was active and therefore potentially dangerous. Odd that she had been attracted to danger since landing in South America.

Or maybe it was simply the need to push herself beyond what anyone expected of her. Beyond what her family, and David, believed her capable of.

The longer she was in this unfamiliar region, the more intense her ingrained fears, the greater the need to slay them. Even now she ignored the creepy feeling that she was being watched. She’d had that feeling earlier today. But instead of obsessing, instead of looking over her shoulder, she chalked the sensation up to paranoia. She was out of her element and prone to old issues. She shoved them down and focused on her agenda.

Find Henry. Save Henry. Maybe salvage their relationship.

Find David…and talk.

Closure one way or another in order to move forward.

Antonio returned with her meal. River tore her gaze from the town’s famous basilica and, beyond that, Tungurahua. She took advantage of the waiter’s friendly smile and language skills. “I’m wondering if you can help,” she said. “I’m in need of a translator and guide. Someone who knows the area. Someone who knows the jungle.”

She offered as little information as possible. Just as she’d been doing all day. Henry had insisted she not share his journal with anyone except Bovedine. She assumed that meant the information inside. Not that she’d been able to dissect his cryptic notes, but she was pretty sure the treasure he spoke of was connected to a place or person named Llanganatis. The one time she’d mentioned the word today, the old woman she’d been trying to speak with had scurried away, muttering, maldición. River still didn’t know what that meant.

Antonio flashed a smile that said he got this question a hundred times a day. “Baños is a popular starting place for expeditions into the Amazon rain forest and Andes Mountains. There are several tour companies—”

“I’m not interested in a group tour.” River moistened her lips and tried not to betray the panic whispering through her veins at the thought of navigating a jungle. “I need a private guide.”

The waiter raised a brow. He assessed her petite form and, as David had called them, dainty features.

River sighed. “I know. I don’t look like I’m cut out for primitive situations.” If she had a nickel for every time she’d heard some variation on that theme. “Regardless, I’m on a mission.”

“If I may be so bold, signorina.” Antonio looked over both shoulders before continuing in a lower voice. “In Ecuador, Americans are increasingly targeted for crimes. Robberies and assaults—”

“And worse. I know. I read the warnings on a few travel sites. I’ll be careful.”

“It is just that you are a woman. A very pretty, very—”

“Please don’t say delicate.”

He chuckled. “Ah, sí. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye.”

She was counting on it.

“Check with the tourist center, two blocks down on the right,” he said. “If not there, try El Dosel. It is a popular drinking hole for guides and treasure seekers.”

“Treasure seekers?”

Beware of the hunters.

River forked her rice and chicken and tried her best to look nonchalant.

“Professionals and amateurs. We get them all.”

“What are they looking for?”

“Inca gold. You have not heard of the Lost Treasure of Llanganatis?”

Not directly. “No.” River unconsciously palmed her chest. Beneath her layered tees, she felt the amulet she’d secured on a black cord and looped around her neck. Not knowing its meaning or worth, she’d kept it hidden. Just now it burned into her breastbone.

“Google it,” Antonio said. “Interesting theory. If I thought there was a chance it was true, I’d be searching, too.”

She sipped juice to soothe her constricted throat. “So, you think it’s a myth.”

“It is safer that way.”

An odd choice of words. “Wait,” she called when he turned to leave. “Do you know what maldición means?”

He angled his head, processed. “I think so, sí. Cursed.”

River’s stomach twisted. “As in a bad word?”

“As in evil.”

SPENSER’S TEMPLES throbbed. He’d been blocking memories and emotions ever since he’d pulled into Baños. He’d joked with Gordo about facing his demons, but that would require wrestling with a shitload of suppressed guilt. He wasn’t sure if he could do that without getting drunk and staying drunk for a good week. Right now he needed to be sober and focused. He’d be damned if he’d lose another person to the curse and, the way things were going, River Kane was a prime candidate.

With the exception of the half hour he’d spent with Cyrus Lassiter, a crusty treasure hunter with a tarnished reputation, Spenser had been watching over the blond waif all day, albeit from a distance. He’d lost count of the times she’d washed her hands with sanitizer, doused herself with bug spray and slathered on sunscreen. Instead of being tuned in to the people—and danger—around her, she was obsessed with her skin and location. She’d constantly referred to a street map and her GPS unit, even though she’d only navigated the core of town. From what he could tell she was a mass of phobias, but that didn’t stop her from trying to locate her dad.

Much to Spenser’s disappointment.

Cyrus had confirmed his suspicions regarding the eccentric professor. He’d also supplied another troubling bit of information, one that had prodded Spenser into risking River’s wrath by revealing his presence.

He waited until she finished her meal—God knew the woman needed fortifying—then joined her as she left the café. She was so immersed in the map, she didn’t even sense his approach. Christ. “We need to talk, angel.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, then froze in her tracks. A dozen emotions flitted across that pale face. Surprise, relief, anger, worry and was that…?

Hell, yeah.

Desire.

He pondered that last one while she zoned in on anger.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“What?”

He hadn’t intended to provoke her, but damn he was pissed. Pissed he was attracted to her. Pissed she was flirting with danger. Pissed she’d put him in a shit position. Royally, irrationally pissed. “You said you were taking the bus to Lima.”

“No, I didn’t. I only said I was taking the bus. I didn’t specify where.”

He let that one slide. “You told Kylie and your assistant that your reason for flying to South America was to reunite with your ex.”

“It’s on my agenda.”

Damn. “David’s in Peru.”

“I know where he is, relatively, and I know where I am.”

“You damn well should,” Spenser said, frowning at the map in her hand. “You’ve consulted that map or your GPS every ten feet.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been spying on me!”

“Watching over you.”

“You said you’d go back to Peru.”

“I said I wouldn’t force my company on you.”

“What do you call this?”

“An intervention.”

She narrowed those mesmerizing green eyes and looked at him like he was crazy. “Listen, you—”

“Save it.” The longer he stood here, soaking in her fragile beauty, breathing in goddamned Skin So Soft Bug Guard (he’d know that laundry-fresh scent any where) and coconut sunscreen, the more his temper spiked. Along with his libido. “You’re in over your head, angel.”

Her milky skin flushed red. “Officer!”

Spenser looked over his shoulder, spotted the uniformed policía standing on the corner. “Don’t do it, River.”

She arched a stubborn brow.

He met her obstinate glare. “I have news about your father.”

She visibly faltered.

“Is this hombre bothering you, señorita?” the cop asked in broken English.

“No, I…” She tore her gaze from Spenser, smiled sweetly at the approaching lawman. “I just wanted to thank you for…keeping the streets safe.”

Spenser translated for the man, added his own praise, then guided River toward his jeep.

“This better be good,” she gritted out.

“Actually,” he said, fighting the mystic pull of the Llanganatis, “it’s bad.”