Hush (21 page)

“Give me my clothes and pack up camp. We need to make tracks. We'll find some civilization and I'll call the hotel where we're meeting Gideon.”

Hell, even talking wore him out. Never happened before. Zak knew he had a fever, and knew he'd be fucking lucky to make it anywhere before he passed out again. Or, hell, died. He had to get her to safety before that happened.

“
You're
meeting your brother,” she corrected. “I have to contact my friends and let them know I'm all right. Then hook up with them either here or at home.”

“Not here. You have to go back to Kansas, Dorothy.”

“Fortunately, you aren't the boss of me. As soon as we hit a town, you're on your own, Rambo.”

“As soon as I know you'll be safe, you can be on
your
own,” he told her, closing his eyes. “Until then, consider me your bodyguard.”

“Who's been guarding whom for the past two days?”

Ah … hell. “Your point.” Black sparklers obscured his vision as he opened his eyes. “What can I do to help?”

“I'll know what you can do when you try to do it,” she said briskly. She let go of his hand, making Zak feel strangely bereft, and handed him a folding cup filled with something lukewarm and disgustingly salty.

He made a face. “Trying to poison me?”

“Damn. Why didn't I think of doing that while you were sleeping?” Acadia slipped her hand under his head and lifted it, touching the cup to his parched lips. “It's
beef bouillon. Drink it or chew on a protein bar. I saved you half.”

“Any water?”

She deposited the folding cup on his bare chest and reached over to bring a little plastic box to his lips. It tasted strongly of wintergreen, and was merely a small sip, but it was wonderful.

“More?” she asked.

“Please.” Just that one word wrung him out.

Another hard surface brushed his mouth. This time it was a little more water. He drained whatever she gave him. The movement sent the black sparkles in his vision into a flurry. He kept his eyes focused on her face until they cleared. She tilted the cup to his lips, and Zak drank greedily, his mouth and throat parched. The water was lukewarm, and absolutely delicious. He drained the cup, wanting more. A gallon or two would maybe put a dent in his overwhelming thirst. The fever, he supposed.

“More?” she asked, still cradling the back of his head. He was inches from the soft mounds unfettered beneath her thin pink T-shirt. He had a vague memory of lifting the cotton and licking her warm breasts. He suspected that was more wishful thinking than reality.

Fever dreams.

“Please.” His voice faded annoyingly. He had to get his shit together. The hand supporting his head felt cool. Couldn't be, they were in a steamy tropical jungle, but compared to the temperature of his skin, her fingers soothed his hot flesh like nothing else. Not even the water.

“You really are a Girl Scout.” Zak was surprised at how weak he sounded. He cleared his throat. “How come some Boy Scout hasn't snapped you up?”

She shrugged. “My father was sick a long time …”

She tilted the little folding cup to his mouth, letting him drain that too before getting him to sip the bouillon. She gently lowered his head to the pillow she'd made out of his folded clothes. “Sorry. The bouillon makes you even thirstier, I know, but you need the protein to get better. There's plenty of water, the containers are just small.”

A swimming pool would be too small, but she was clearly exhausted, and the frown between her pretty eyes seemed to be permanently etched there.

She'd been talking about her father. “There are places he could've gone—”

“Never.” Her eyes flared. “I dated. Had a couple of fairly serious relationships. But in the end”—she shrugged—“different kind of lifestyle than you're used to, I guess. Junction City is pretty quiet and low-key.
I
'
m
pretty quiet and low-key.”

“Bossy as hell.” He wasn't sure how the words sounded more like a caress than an accusation.

“I have more containers outside,” she said without her usually sassy comeback. “I'll get those so you can drink your fill. I wasn't able to get you to do much swallowing yesterday; that and the fever have made you dehydrated. I think you'll feel better when you can drink more. I'll be right back.”

She maneuvered out of the small tent backward,
taking the containers with her. He had a nice flash of her pale, bare ass.

Acadia Gray was a remarkable woman, Zak mused, closing his eyes against the throb in his head and arm. God only knew what else she carried in all those hidden pockets, but he'd help her as soon as—

Darkness fell on him like a dense black fog.

“Okay,” Acadia said as the tent rustled, “there's plenty more water. If you can come outside, I'll take down the tent, and we can be on … Oh no!”

Zak heard her voice as if through a dark tunnel and struggled to surface.

“Zak?” His name was accompanied by a small slap to the cheek. “Come on, Zak. Wake up.”

He forced his eyes open. The pale oval of her face was a blur. “Out of here.”

“Yes. I know. But maybe you need to rest one more day.”

“No. H-help m'up.”

“Lie still. I'll get everything ready and see how you're doing.”

“'M good.”

Acadia smoothed her cool fingers across his burning hot cheek. He wanted to press his mouth against her palm, but her hand moved to his forehead for a too-brief moment before falling away. “I see that.” She let out a shaky sigh. “Close your eyes. I'll be back in a few.”

Since he didn't have any choice, he let his lids drop. God. This was bad. Really bad. He was too weak to move, his brain too fuddled to hold on to any one
cohesive thought. The only thing Zak knew was that they were both screwed.

THEY WERE IN BIG,
big trouble.

Acadia wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees and stared at a tangled forest of green. She knew she hadn't moved for a while, because when she was in motion the jungle went silent. Now small black-faced monkeys chattered to one another as they scampered from limb to limb overhead. A large yellow-and-brilliant-blue parrot perched on a branch directly over their small tent. Its plumage sported white circles on its head that looked like eyes, and it watched her, head cocked. A black spider the size of a tennis ball, with a garish red mouth, waited right in the middle of its giant web for a buzzing, shiny-winged bug to land.

Business as usual in the jungle.

Early-morning sunlight filtered through the treetops high overhead, and the moisture on the leaves from yesterday's rain was evaporating in tendrils of mist that hung low to the ground like diaphanous wisps of pale chiffon. She knew she should put out the empty containers to gather whatever water she could, that she should check on Zak and do whatever else she could possibly come up with to even pretend to help. But she was paralyzed with fear, her thoughts running like rats in a maze. Sweat trickled down her temples and gathered in the small of her back under her already damp T-shirt.

Zak wasn't going to walk out of the jungle on his own. Absently she scratched several red bites running up
her arm. She couldn't carry him. She was back to square one, only now getting him to medical care was even more imperative. His dull eyes and flushed skin were clear signals, even with her novice medical skills, that he wasn't getting better on his own.

“I suppose I could sit here feeling sorry for myself for another day or two,” she told the monkey, who ignored her. “His health would be taken out of my hands for sure. If he doesn't get proper medical attention, he's going to die. I could just wait until something comes to eat me. Or shoot me, or until the kidnappers come back and hold me for ransom again. I could do any or all, or …” She rubbed at her forehead. “Damned well nothing.”

But that wasn't her, either. Acadia got to her feet, and the jungle fell silent around her. “Or I could leave my pity party and go in search of help,” she told the suddenly hushed air. Because any and all of the things she was scared of could still happen, but in the meantime at least she'd be proactive.

“Right?” she asked the parrot, who gave her an unblinking stare. “Glad you agree.” She dusted twigs and leaves off her butt and looked around. She'd leave everything with Zak. First, water. He'd wake up and be thirsty again.

She filled the various small containers and set them in a row along the wall of the tent within easy reach. Then she placed the last half of a protein bar, broken off into bite-size chunks, where he'd see them
when
he opened his eyes. She added the long machete as well. She didn't
know how to use the damned thing, and it was much too heavy for her, even when she'd tried hacking at branches with both hands.

The Uzi joined the machete. Even if she knew how to use it, she wouldn't want to waste what strength she had toting it.

After refreshing the leaves she'd used days before to hide the tent from prying human eyes, Acadia stood back and surveyed the camp. She didn't want to leave him. The very idea was scaring her beyond anything else they'd been through so far, but she couldn't help him by staying. She wasn't helping herself by staying either.

She wished to God—not for the first time—that she were a different kind of person. Oh, she was organized, and certainly resourceful, but she wished she were braver and more daring. The most daring thing, aside from this trip, that she'd ever planned had involved moving out of Junction City to begin college at thirty years old. Up until now, the scariest thing she'd considered in her future was sitting next to a bunch of nineteen- and twenty-somethings.

Boy, did she have it wrong.

Jennifer Stark would have aced this test, and baked brownies at the same time. Too bad, she wasn't Jennifer Stark. But poor substitute that she was, Acadia Gray was the only game in town.

She crawled back inside the tent, delaying the inevitable. The flaps were open, but there wasn't a wisp of a breeze coming through the fine mesh, and Zak's naked body gleamed with sweat.

“I'm going to get help,” she told him, taking out a couple of wipes to run over his body to cool him down. “You have water, food, and the machete, right here, okay?” The area around the wound was red and hot to the touch. Redder and hotter than yesterday? “I won't be long. Bandages. Only a little alcohol gel left, so don't have a party while I'm gone. I'm taking your watch so I can use the GPS—don't go wandering off without me.”

Acadia bent down to place a lingering kiss on his mouth, running her fingers through the wet strands of dark hair clinging to his cheeks and strong brown throat.

He had to be all right. She'd make sure of that.

She kissed him again. Faster, this time, as if sipping from that font of strength he seemed to carry within. She removed the chain holding her St. Christopher medallion around her neck, cupped the coin in her palm, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Please
, she thought, and then didn't know how to finish. Carefully, she slipped the long chain over Zak's head.

“This'll keep you safe.” Her fingers shook a little as she straightened the medal where it glinted amidst the dark hair on his chest. “I'll be back before you know it.”

The alternative was unthinkable.

NINE

A
s it turned out, Acadia had pitched the tent less than a mile from a settlement. Unfortunately, it took her the better part of a terrifying day to stumble across the small Yanomami village, and that was by accident, not design. No one spoke English, and her rudimentary Spanish wasn't enough for easy conversation.

Still, through gestures and the very real threat of hyperventilation, she managed to instill a sense of urgency in the locals and got four men to follow her back to where she'd left Zak. It took only an hour to return, as the four men weren't slowed down by the wildlife, indecision, hunger, or thirst. True, the men did exchange some comments that she suspected weren't entirely complimentary, when it became obvious that she'd gone in circles at least twice, but they knew how to cut through her vague directions, and that was what mattered.