Primitive Nights (10 page)

“No. But I would try to help them.”

Her shoulders slumped. “As we are.”

Realization burned through his mind. His people were his utmost concern. Not so for others. There was no fault in that. She was right. Other tribes died off, and even when he had tried to help, his own people had remained the most important. “We are more alike than I would have ever thought.”

Her hand covered his, the blue of her eyes bright. “We are all human. It’s natural to protect what is ours.”

And yet, she was putting herself in danger to protect his people. He traced his thumb over her fingers. “You are more human than most. More civilized. You endanger yourself to help my people when we have never asked for your assistance or offered anything in return.”

She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “While we are considered civilized, after experiencing your tribe, I have to admit your people and your way of life is much more so. You don’t pollute the earth or waste what you have. There are no murders or theft.”

“Tinjtol has killed the white men.”

“Was it to protect himself or others?”

“I do not know,” Damon admitted. Tinjtol’s actions were sporadic. “At one time, I believed he thought of our people. Now, I wonder if he has no more reason than hatred.”

She sighed and plucked a smooth stone from the ground to twirl it between her fingers. “Being here, seeing what you face and what has happened to your people makes me question everything I’ve ever known about who is civilized and who is wild.”

“Why do you care what happens to my tribe?”

The small stone she held sailed through the air to skip across the water. “I came here with a man who showed me that my life was not as bad as I’d once thought. The cruelty I’d suffered at my father’s heavy hand and ugly words was nothing compared to the suffering in these tribes.” She glanced at him before shaking her head. “John showed me that even if we come from harsh circumstances, there are always those who are worse off.”

“You love this man?”

She nodded. “Always.”

Their conversation had changed course, and he wanted to know more about how dangerous their situation really was and less about the man who held her heart. “What did you learn working with our enemy?”

“Where I’d hoped to find proof of InterCorp’s misuse of protected lands, which I did, I also discovered a completely separate issue. Innumerable barrels of oil are being stockpiled and shipped to a refinery, off the books. I never figured out what happened to it from there, but I assume someone is making a tidy profit.”

“Off the books?”

She pulled her hair over her shoulder and twisted it. “Sorry. I forget you’re not used to slang expressions. It means that the oil won’t be tracked by the company, not paid for, and no government or country will know it was taken.”

“Why does this matter?”

“Because there are restrictions on the amount of oil a company can take.” Her fingers smoothed over a pebble. “The government limits the amounts harvested so our natural resources aren’t depleted.”

He tried to form the pattern of her laws in his mind. “So taking oil—off the books—means they break laws?”

She smiled. “That is exactly what it means.”

He did not like the sound of that. At all. “This information sounds dangerous.”

She nodded and tossed the remaining rocks she held into the water. “What I discovered could be enough to shut down InterCorp’s operations for a long time. It certainly isn’t something they want publicized.”

“And that is what your—tribe—planned to do?”

She flashed him a quick smile. “Or use it against them to keep them away from your land.”

Damon leaned back against the rocks. The thought that there were people he did not even know—never would have known existed if not for Myla—working to protect his people, was oddly satisfying.

The white men’s scattered presence had increased over time. In a few short years the numbers were staggering. The limited encounters with them had not led him to believe there were many who wanted to help.

The white man who had come to him originally, years ago, had been the first of many, though the only one to make peaceful contact during his reign as
bajluk
. The rest rummaged through the land, killing as they went. They were not kind, like Myla. “This information you possess. Is it the reason you are here?”

“I spent a lot of time thinking last night. It was all I could do since sleep wasn’t going to happen.” She stretched her legs out in front of her. “And I wonder now if the crash was an accident. I thought I’d been very careful, but it’s possible someone figured out what I was doing and tried to get rid of me. The helicopter excursion was unscheduled, and I was told that I needed to plan a new drilling sight.”

He stood and held out a hand. “If someone wishes to harm you, they will kill me first. Until you are no longer in danger, you will stay with me?”

She stared at his hand for a moment, indecision written in the taut lines of her face. Her gaze shifted up the river then back, and Damon waited, disturbed by the need within him for her to agree. He was not ready for her to leave.

After a moment more, she reached out and took his hand. “I will have to return, but while I’m here, I might be able to convince your tribe of E.I.’s intentions to help. Maybe together, we can convince them that fighting InterCorp’s men is not the way.”

Damon helped her up the embankment, excitement burning in his chest. “With Tinjtol’s banishment, I am certain we can sway them. The elders would choose peace before any other option.”

She chewed at her lip as she stepped up next to him on the solid land that overlooked the water. “Damon?”

The concern in her voice worried him. “What troubles you?”

“Would you consider coming back with me when I return?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, her fingers smooth and warm on his skin. “You could speak to the government officials, make them understand what InterCorp has done and what devastation their actions have caused for your people.”

He looked around at the jungle. Could he leave his home to venture into her world? He had never known anything else. He would never leave permanently, but for such a cause, to help his tribe and maybe to be near her for a bit longer… “I will consider it.”

“That’s all I’ll ask from you.” Her smile brightened his mood, though there was a devilish light in her eyes when she added, “For now.”

He nodded and glanced down at her hand still pressed to his skin. Heat coursed through him from the simple touch. She started to pull away, but he closed his hand over hers, holding it still. “I like your touch.”

Myla sucked in a deep breath. Her excitement at his consideration of speaking for his people took a quick turn. It was a bit like shifting gears. He liked her touch. And oh, how she liked touching. “Thank you for coming to find me.”

He shrugged and the simple movement rippled the muscles beneath her fingers. “My mother sent you on a dangerous path. We should be going before we are discovered.”

Definitely like shifting gears, though he seemed to have an issue with his transmission. He’d gone from warm to hot to cold with jarring rapidity. “Are we in danger?”

He glanced around. “We are on Hounta land. If discovered, we will be killed.”

She cringed. A simple yes would have sufficed. “Then let’s go.”

He pulled her hand from his shoulder. “This way.”

If she hadn’t noticed the slight grimace, his injury would have continued to escape her. As it was, she looked him over, angry when she saw the ugly puncture wound on his thigh. “Damon, you’re hurt! Let me look at it.”

Blood trickled from the wound. He glanced down and swiped at the blood, smearing it across his thigh. “It will heal. You can fuss later.”

She would have argued, but the look in his eyes said he wouldn’t tolerate it. Funny how she could read him so easily. He obviously couldn’t read her as easily.

“We’re not going anywhere until you let me bandage it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet.

A few minutes later, Myla hid a smile as she followed her newly bandaged native into the jungle. Leaves and a portion of her boot lace was less than the first aid she would have liked, but it was something.

Myla held tighter to his arm as they moved slowly over the dilapidated bridge. “Are you sure there isn’t another way?”

If it hadn’t been for the necessary crossing of the ancient rope bridge, she would have loved the beautiful scene before her.

The river had widened into rapids that rushed past at a violent clip. Smooth boulders worn down by erosion dotted the shores, and exotic flowers bloomed to line both sides of the water. Huge roots from the trees arced down to wrap around rocks in fingerlike patterns before they disappeared into the muddy riverbed.

High earthen walls blocked out the sun, but the warmth of the day permeated the ravine. The musical call of hidden birds drifted along the stilted air from every direction. It was enchanting, or would have been, if not for the bridge suspending them nearly a hundred feet over the rapids.

Damon’s throaty laughter drifted back to her. “No,
alogu
. This is the safest path.”

Safe?
“You’ve got to be joking.” She could almost swear she heard him laugh—again. “And what is an Al-oo-goo anyway?” Each step took her several moments since there was no way she would put her weight onto the decrepit boards without testing them first.

“Angel.”

She tried to ignore his small chuckle, certain it was at her butchered attempt at his language. “Why do you call me that?”

He pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Keep moving. One step at a time. You will see it is sturdy, safe.”

It looked and felt anything but. The bridge shifted and groaned with each step, and when she looked across to the other side, she realized they were swaying. There was no way she would look down. The dizzying height would certainly be her undoing. “Safe is relative to what one is used to.”

This time his chuckle rumbled down her side. “You are doing well.”

She concentrated on her steps, placing each foot squarely on a board. Focusing on her footing kept the scenery below in a constant blur. Being deathly afraid of heights made it difficult to fly, but at least in an airplane she couldn’t see her death directly below her feet. “How much farther?”

She glanced up when Damon stopped, and the air left her lungs. Men stood at the other end of the bridge. Painted men with spears and very unfriendly expressions. She turned to look back, fear racing through her body. There were men there too. “Who are they?”

Damon pulled her against his chest. “Hountas.”

Oh, they were so going to die. “What are we going to do?”

He ignored the question and called out in his native language. One of the men yelled back, his response angry, harsh. Damon’s rapid heartbeat drummed against her chest and he uttered a word that sounded remarkably like a curse.

“They want you.”

Once again, he was in trouble because of her. “I don’t belong here.” She said it more to herself, but he ran a hand up her back and curved his hand under her arm to brace on her ribs.

“No, you do not.”

The Hountas on either side of them began calling out. The rope under her hand tightened when the men moved onto the bridge, and Damon drew an audible, deep breath. “This isn’t good, is it?”

He bent his head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “No, but what is good is that you can swim.”

She only had a second to consider the meaning of those words before her feet left the bridge and she was plummeting over the side. A scream lodged in her throat. The scenery around her slowed. Air rushed by and she was weightless, falling. It was ethereal actually, peaceful. She closed her eyes and held tight to Damon.
Let it end without pain.

But the pain came. They slammed into the water with such force that the air was knocked from her lungs. The impact of her flesh against the water stung. Turbulent water sucked her down, tossing her over and against rocks until stars burst at the corners of her vision. Damon slipped from her arms, jerked away by the raging water.

The swirling black depths made it impossible to see anything as she was plunged beneath the surface. She kicked frantically, trying to determine which way was up. Her lungs ached. Panic filled her. Then she broke the surface. Sucking in as much air as water, she struggled against the desperation suffocating her lungs.

Land raced by in rapid, blurry flashes. She caught sight of Damon farther ahead and swam in his direction. He pointed toward the shore. Broad strokes moved him across the current. He’d nearly reached the side when a violent swell pushed him back. He disappeared beneath the water before surging up again.

She swam as close as she could, riding the current until she came within a couple of feet of him. His hand brushed over hers but she wasn’t able to grab hold. “Take my hand, Myla.”

Her legs scraped the rocky riverbed, and she kicked herself forward. This time her hand closed around his and he dragged her close. A large tree lay across half of the river to their right. She pointed to it. “Damon, there!”