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“That big goon of his was going to pick you up by your collar and probably throw you into the Amazon. Then what would you have done? Gotten eaten by piranhas?” Jake was teasing her, hoping she’d lower the gun.
Scowling, Shah kept the long wooden table covered with plant specimens waiting to be cataloged between them. The lab had no electricity and had to rely on the natural light that filtered through the three large windows. “I swim in the Amazon and the channels all the time, and the piranhas don’t attack me.”
Allowing himself a bit of a grin, Jake said, “Because you’re the meanest junkyard dog in the neighborhood?” He liked Shah. He sensed she was trying to bluff her way out of the situation. But in her eyes he could see a gamut of very real emotions bubbling close to the surface. He saw fear, real fear, in her eyes, a little anger, and a whole lot of wariness. More than anything, he liked the soft fullness of her lips and those flawless high cheekbones. Her wide, lovely eyes took on a slightly tilted appearance in her oval face. Jaguar eyes.
Jake Randolph’s teasing lessened some of Shah’s primal fear of him. She ignored his smile and tried to pretend she didn’t like the strong shape of his mouth. Despite his craggy features, there was a gentleness to him that threw her off guard. How could anyone who looked that harsh have a gentle bone in his body? Her experience with men had taught her that none of them were to be trusted, anyway—regardless of their looks. “Sit down. Over there, in that wooden chair. And don’t try any funny stuff.”
Jake nodded, moving unhurriedly so as not to alarm her. He quickly scanned the lab. It was swept clean, and the walls were whitewashed, but green mold still clung stubbornly to the corners near the ceiling, speaking eloquently of the tropics’ high humidity. The building held many tables, as well as a microscope and other scientific equipment. He saw a small glass of water with a lovely pink-and-white strand of small orchids in it. It gave off a faint perfume that was light and delicate—like Shah. He sat down.
“Now, with your left hand, very slowly take that gun out of your holster and place it on the floor. Kick it away from you with your foot.”
“I’m a southpaw,” he offered, giving her a slight smile.
Irritated, Shah moved closer, always keeping the table as a barrier between them. “Then use your right hand.”
Jake unsnapped the leather safety, withdrew the Beretta and laid it at his feet. “See? If I was really out to get you, I wouldn’t have told you that, would I?”
“On the other hand,” Shah snapped waspishly, “you could be lying. You could really be right-handed. Most people are.”
He straightened and laughed. It was a deep, rolling laugh that filled the lab. “Your logic is faultless.” He held her distrustful gaze. “You know, you ought to think about working for Perseus. They could use someone like you. You think like a marine.”
Shah fought to shake off his sudden and unexpected laughter. She saw the light dancing in his gray eyes, as if he truly enjoyed their repartee. Her hands were sweaty, and the gun was heavy. Shah hated guns, but they were a way of life down here in the Amazon. “If that’s supposed to be a compliment, then I don’t accept it. Now, push that gun away with the toe of your boot.”
Jake gave the Beretta a healthy shove, and the pistol slid across the wooden floor. He watched as Shah started to move toward it. If he was going to get her to realize he wasn’t her enemy, he had to earn her trust.
“Don’t you want me to put my knife on the floor and kick it away, too?”
Shah halted and frowned. “Yes—I guess so. Do it—please.”
“Right or left hand?”
There was amusement in his eyes, and Shah knew he was playing her for a fool. “When you get done laughing at me, you can use your right hand.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“Really?”
Jake placed the knife on the floor. “It’s rude to laugh at people. At least that’s what my mother taught me.”
“Then what did I see in your eyes?”
“Admiration.”
Shah watched him kick the knife away. It landed near the pistol. This Randolph stymied her. “Now you stay still while I pick up your weapons,” she told him. “One move and I’ll blow your head off.”
Jake didn’t believe Shah’s blustering. To disarm her distrust of him, he said, “I admire your courage under the circumstances. Not many women would be living in the Amazon jungle alone.” She was shaken, he could tell, and he saw the pistol tremble in her hand. Carefully she moved toward his weapons, all the while keeping her gun trained on him.
With the toe of her boot, Shah kicked the weapons beneath the table. Finally she lowered the gun. There was a good ten feet between the two of them. “Father must have really gotten lucky snagging you. His last two tries failed miserably, so he must have put up a lot of money to hire the best kidnapper he could find—you.” She allowed the pistol to hang at her side as she wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her left hand. “Too bad he couldn’t have put all that wasted money into a nice donation to save the rain forest here, instead. But then, he wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s sent two other teams down here to kidnap you?” Jake asked. There was indignation in his voice—and anger, too. He and Morgan instinctively hadn’t trusted Travers. Now he was beginning to understand why.
Wearily Shah leaned against the wall, tense and on guard.
“I don’t know why I’m wasting my time talking with you. I’ve got a million things to do. Just stand up and go back down to the wharf. I’ll have Red Feather take you by canoe to the nearest village where the tugs dock when they’re working for Hernandez, pushing the logs down the river.”
“I don’t want to go.”
Her spine stiffened, and she glared at him. “You don’t have a choice!”
“Sure I do.” Jake held up his hands in a peace-making gesture. “I’m not here to kidnap you. Your father hired me to try to talk you into coming home.”
With a bitter laugh, Shah said, “Sure he did! He’s a cold, hard businessman, Randolph. Anyone who gets in the way of his greedy progress is a liability, and he gets rid of them pronto. I’m a liability.”
“Why would he want you out of here?” Jake asked reasonably, purposely keeping his voice low and soothing. Every minute spent with Shah convinced him that he should stay around. For the first time, Jake saw the slight shadows beneath her glorious golden eyes. There was tiredness around her mouth, too. Even the clothes she wore seemed a size too big for her. Was she working herself to death down here?
“Because,” Shah said wearily, “he probably wants to protect his investment. I’m fighting a one-woman war to stop the destruction of the rain forest. Not that I’m the only one. There are other groups. But this area is especially important. Hernandez is particularly adept at slash-and-burn techniques.”
Jake gave her a long look. “That’s a hell of an indictment against anyone, especially your father.”
Just the roughened tone of his voice soothed Shah’s frayed nerves. He had a way of defusing her, and it made her relax.
She straightened, making sure the pistol fit snugly in the palm of her hand. She couldn’t trust this giant of a man. He could jump her if he got her off guard. His size alone would overwhelm her ability to defend herself and escape.
“Unfortunately, I am his daughter, but that’s where any connection between him and me ends,” Shah told him tightly. “My mother divorced him when I was twelve years old, and I couldn’t have been happier.”
“Why?”
Shah gave him a wide-eyed look. “Why would you want to know?”
“Because I care.”
He did. It was on the tip of Shah’s tongue to deny Randolph’s words, but she saw genuine caring in his eyes, and felt that same powerful sense of protection emanating from him that she had on the dock when Hernandez’s bodyguard grabbed her. Fighting the feeling, because it was foreign to her, Shah resurrected what little anger was left and snapped, “You care because he’s paid you some fantastic sum of money! I know your kind, and I’m not about to trust you, so forget it! Now stand up!”
“I’m telling you the truth, Shah.” Jake purposely used her first name to defuse her intent. It worked. He saw a startled expression momentarily flit across her features.
“Truth!” Shah spit out. “The only truth I see is you’re a hired gun of my father’s!”
“What was it someone said? Truth hurts, but it’s the lie that leaves scars? Why can’t you believe me? I’m not here to kidnap you. Your father asked me to try to persuade you to come home, but if I couldn’t, then I was to become your bodyguard instead.”
Rolling her eyes, Shah moved behind the table. She placed the heavy gun on the wooden surface. Her hand had grown tired from holding it. Wiping the sweat from her upper lip, she glared at him. “Don’t quote philosophy to me. The most dangerous kind of lie is the type that resembles the truth!”
“Who said that?” Jake asked, truly impressed by her philosophical bent. He was delighted with the discovery; it was just one more amazing facet to Shah Travers.
“Oh, please! I had six years of college. Don’t you think I took a course or two in philosophy? Kant? Descartes?”
“Great, we have a lot more in common than even I thought. We’ll get along fine.”
“You aren’t staying!”
“Now, Shah, I told you the truth. It’s obvious to me you need me to stay. Fine. I’ll just hang around like a big guard dog and protect you from the likes of Hernandez and his goons.” Jake grinned, but inwardly he felt sorry for Shah. She appeared unsettled and exhausted. And why shouldn’t she feel that way? Hernandez had been ready to have her beaten up if Jake hadn’t arrived in the nick of time. She knew it, too, he suspected. Shah was nobody’s fool.
“You can’t stay because I don’t want you to stay.”
“I can be of help to you.”
“I suppose you have a degree in biology?”
“No, but I have a degree in philosophy.”
“That doesn’t get these plants identified and cataloged.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“You’re impossible!”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment, Randolph, so don’t sit there preening about it.”
He tilted his head. “Are you mad at all men, or just your father?”
The question, spoken so softly, caught Shah off guard. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Hernandez was wearing off, and she felt shaky, mushy-kneed. She pulled over a four-legged wooden stool and sat down. What was it about Jake Randolph that threw her off-balance? Maybe it was his grave features, which looked carved out of granite, or his powerful physical presence. One look into those light gray eyes and Shah had realized she was dealing with a highly perceptive man. She had no experience with his type, so she didn’t know how to react to him. Instinctively, she felt him trying to get her to relent and trust him.
Rubbing her brow, Shah muttered, “My track record with men isn’t great. I don’t trust any of them farther than I can throw them.”
“Beginning with your father?” Jake needed to know the truth about Shah’s background. It would give him understanding of her distrust toward him.
“I don’t owe you my life story.”
“That’s true.” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “I was born and raised in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but it’s one of the most beautiful places on the face of Mother Earth.”
Shah’s eyes narrowed. He’d used the term Mother Earth. What was Randolph up to? No one used that term unless they were Native American or some of the ecologically responsible people who believed in the Gaia theory, which held that the planet was indeed, a living being.
Ah, success! Jake mentally patted himself on the back for using the term Mother Earth. Shah had sat up. He had her full, undivided attention. Perhaps the more he revealed of himself the more she’d learn to trust him. Inwardly Jake laughed at the thought. He had been a typical male bastion of silence before marrying Bess. He’d been unable to communicate, unable to share what he was feeling with her. However, Bess wouldn’t stand for the one-way communication system, and she’d insisted he open up. He was glad, because their marriage had deepened with joy and sharing as a result. Still, he wasn’t used to baring his soul to just anyone, and on one level Shah was a stranger to him. On another level, however, Jake sensed, with a knowing that frightened him, that they were very much alike.
“I grew up on a small farm in a valley where my dad made a living for us by growing pears. We had a huge orchard, and my two sisters and I worked with him when we didn’t have school. Dad was a real philosopher. He saw everything in terms of seasonal changes, the earth being alive, and respecting the environment. We never dumped oil on the ground, threw away a battery in the woods or put fertilizer on the soil. Instead, we had a couple of cows for milk, three horses because we kids liked to ride, and plenty of rabbits and chickens for food. He used to compost all the garbage from our household and spread it through the orchard twice a year as fertilizer. Dad had the finest pears in Oregon.”
“You said ‘Mother Earth,’” Shah growled, uncomfortable.
Jake nodded, placing his hands on his knees. He saw the curiosity burning in her eyes and realized he’d struck a responsive chord in Shah. Jake hadn’t felt so excited in years. Shah was a challenge, yet he sensed a fierce, caring passion lurking just beneath her prickly exterior. She had a passion for living life, Jake realized, and that excited him as little had since Bess’s and the children’s deaths.
“Yes, I did.”
“Are you Native American?”
“No, just a combination of Irish, Dutch and English.”
“Then why did you use that term?”
“Because my parents always spoke about the planet that way.”
Shah sat back, trying to gauge whether Randolph was giving her a line or was really telling her the truth. “Oh…” she murmured.
Pleased that Shah was softening toward him, Jake continued in his rumbling voice. “I think Mom might have had a little Native American in her. Cherokee, maybe, somewhere a long ways back.”
“Then that would give you some Native American blood.”
Chuckling, Jake held up his hand. “Darlin’, I’m about as white as a man can get. No, if I’ve got a drop of Cherokee in me, it’s so washed out that it wouldn’t matter.”
Shah pointedly ignored the endearment that rolled off his tongue. It had felt like a cat licking her hand. “But it does,” she said fervently. “It’s a gene type. Even if you have just a drop of Cherokee blood, it would be enough. Genes have memory, and it’s possible that your Cherokee gene is a dominant gene, which would give you an understanding that our planet is more than just a planet. She’s alive. She communicates, and she breathes, just like us.”
There was such burning hope in her eyes that Jake couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. Then again, she was a biologist, and she knew all about genes and such, so she could be right. If that meant something important and vital to Shah, then Jake was willing to go along with her logic. “Well, I feel what matters is what we do on a daily basis,” he demurred.
“Your walk is your talk. That’s a Lakota saying.” Thrilled that she was actually communicating with him, Jake heaved an inner sigh of relief. The gold in Shah’s eyes danced with sunlight now, as if she’d met a brother of like mind. However, Jake didn’t want to be her brother. Far from it.
“Lakota?” he asked, fighting back his less-than-professional thoughts.
“Yes.”
“What’s that?”
“Whites call us Sioux, but that’s an Iroquois word that means ‘enemy.’ We call ourselves Lakota, Nakota and Dakota. There are three separate tribes, depending upon where you were born and the heritage passed down through your family. My mother is Santee, and that’s Lakota.”
“I see.” Jake smiled. “I like learning these things.”
“In Brazil,” Shah went on enthusiastically, “the people are a combination of Portuguese, African and native. Brazil is a melting pot, and they certainly don’t worry what color you are. And on top of that, the largest concentration of Japanese outside of Japan live in SÃo Paulo. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“I like Brazil because of that. You aren’t judged on your skin color down here.” Shah held out her hand. “My skin looks tan in comparison to yours. But a Brazilian wouldn’t care.”
“You have golden skin,” Jake told her. Her skin was a dusky color, and he wondered what it would be like to lightly explore its texture—to slide his fingertips along her arm. The thought was so powerful that Jake was stunned into silence. There was such innocence to Shah, to her simplified outlook on life in general.
Heat fled into Shah’s face, and she looked away from his kind gray eyes, momentarily embarrassed by her reaction to his statement. “Well,” she muttered, more defensively, “you know what I’m saying. Lakota people judge others by their walk being their talk.”
“It’s a good philosophy,” Jake said, meaning it. “So why don’t you let me prove myself to you the same way?”
Shah frowned. “What do you mean?” Why did she have the feeling that behind this man’s dangerous looks there was a steel-trap mind?
With a lazy shrug of his shoulders, Jake said, “I’ve already told you the truth about why I’m here. I accept that you don’t want to go home. So why don’t you let me be your bodyguard? It’s obvious you need one, with Hernandez around.”
Getting up, Shah began to pace nervously back and forth. “No!”
“I can’t go home,” Jake told her reasonably, opening his hands. “Your father has paid me for a month’s worth of work down here. I’m not the type to gyp someone out of work they’ve already paid me to do.”
“You should have been a lawyer,” Shah charged heatedly.
“Thanks. Was that a compliment?”
