Part 8 (2/2)
”I don't know,” she answered, gaze darting through the trees. What she wouldn't do for her own weapon right now. ”I don't know.””How can you not know?” he demanded. Then he softened his tone, and added, ”If you were being followed, how far back would your pursuer be?”
”Fifty feet, maybe.” Her voice barely rose above whisper. ”Is there anyone out there?”
”Not that I can see. Robert,” he shouted, gaze boring into the trees.
”Yeah,” came a distant, rough voice. She couldn't see the one who had uttered the response and figured he was hidden in the thick stumps and leaves.
”Robert is one of our guards,” Jason explained to her. To Robert he called, ”See anyone out there?”
”No, sir.”
”You sure?”
”One hundred percent.”
After Jason put on the gun's safety, he anch.o.r.ed the weapon in the waist of his jeans. ”No one's after you,” he told Grace. ”You can relax.”
”But-”
”Even if there were someone out there, we've got scouts all around us and they'd never make it anywhere near you.”
So Darius hadn't followed her. Why hadn't Darius followed her? The question echoed through her mind, plaguing her, confusing her. ”You're sure there's not a large, half-dressed man out there?” she asked. ”With a sword?”
”A sword?” Dark intensity filled Jason's eyes, and he studied her. His body seemed to loom around her, bigger than she'd thought. ”A man with a sword was chasing you?”
”I meant a spear,” she lied, not sure why she did so.
Jason relaxed. ”No one's out there but my men,” he said confidently. ”The tribes out here won't bother us.”
This didn't make sense. Darius had been so intent on catching her. Why hadn't he followed her? She was torn between fear and-surely not-disappointment.
Her thoughts scattered as a wave of dizziness swept through her. She swayed and scrubbed a hand across her forehead.
”How long have you been out here?” Jason asked. He wrapped a parka around her shoulders. ”You might have been bitten by a mosquito. You're shaky and flushed, and I'm willing to bet you've got a fever.”
Malaria? He thought she had malaria? She laughed humorlessly, fighting the knot twisting her stomach. She was tired and weak, but she knew she didn't have malaria. Before flying into Brazil, she'd taken medication to prevent the disease.
”I'm not sick,” she said.
”Then why-You're scared of us,” he said. He grinned. ”You don't have anything to fear from us. Like you, we're Americans.
Hardly dangerous.”
Another wave of dizziness overtook her. She clutched the parka closer to her chest, drawing on its warmth as she recovered her equilibrium. ”You work for Argonauts, right?” she asked weakly.”That's right,” he said, losing his smile. ”How did you know?”
”My brother works there, too. Alex Carlyle. Is he here with you?”
”Alex?” came another male voice. ”Alex Carlyle?”
Grace turned her attention to... what was his name? Mitch, she recalled. ”Yes.”
”You're Alex's sister?” Mitch asked.
”That's right. Where is he?”
Mitch was older than Jason, with salt and pepper hair and slightly weathered features. Lines of tension branched from his eyes.
”Why are you here?” he asked.
”Answer me first. Where's my brother?”
The two men exchanged a glance, and Mitch s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably on his feet. When she returned her attention to Jason, he arched one of his brows. He appeared calm and casual, but there was a speculative gleam in his eyes.
”Do you have any identification?” he asked.
She blinked at him and spread her arms wide. ”Do I look like I have identification?”
His gaze roamed over her, lingering on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and thighs, barely visible under the camouflage slicker. ”No,” he said. ”You don't.”
Unease stole through her. She was a lone woman, days away from civilization, in the company of men she didn't know. They're Argonauts, she reminded herself. They work with Alex. You're fine. Hands shaky, she pushed wet hair back from her face.
”Where's my brother?”
Mitch sighed and wiped a trickle of rain from his brow. ”To be honest, we don't know. That's why we're here. We want to find him.”
”Have you seen him?” Jason asked.
Disappointed, worried, Grace rubbed her eyes. Clouds were beginning to fill her vision. ”No. I haven't,” she said. ”I haven't heard from him in a while.”
”Is that why you're here? Looking for him?”
She nodded, then pressed her fingertips to her temple. The simple action had caused a sharp, unabating ache. What was wrong with her? Even as she wondered, the pain in her temples knifed to her abdomen. She moaned. The next thing she knew, she was hunched over vomiting, every fiber of her being clenched in rebellion.
Jason and Mitch leapt away from her as if she were nuclear waste. When she at last finished, she wiped her mouth with her palm and closed her eyes. Mitch skirted around and handed her another canteen of water. He remained a safe distance away.
”Are you all right?” he asked.
Stomach still churning, she sipped. ”No. Yes,” she answered. ”I don't know.” Where the h.e.l.l was her brother? ”Were you part of Alex's team?”
”No, but we do work with him. Unfortunately, like you, we haven't heard from him in a while. He simply stopped checking in.” Jason paused. ”What's your name?”
”Grace. Did you just arrive in Brazil?”
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