She tugged at the hair at the back of her neck, obviously used to it being much longer. “I was saying it doesn’t matter. No, I don’t want you prying into my past. I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did.”
She smiled at him because she couldn’t help herself. She was acting out of character, telling things best left unsaid. She shouldn’t have hurt feelings because he didn’t want to spill his life’s story to her. She doubted he would have been hiding out in the rain forest unless something traumatic had happened in his lif e. He made her want to tell him ever ything. “I’ m sorry I made you uncomfortable, Rio. I won’t do it again.”
“Damn it, Rachael. How do you manage to do that?” One minute he could work up anger and the next she disarmed him completely. “And, by the way, how is it that you escape the mosquitoes? I only use the netting because they annoy me buzzing around, but I thought you would be covered in bites.”
“Mosquitoes don’t find me quite as charming as you do. I noticed all the others in my group were having to use repellent all the time. I don’t think mosquitoes like the way I taste. Does it bother you that they leave me alone?”
He nodded. “It’s a rare phenomenon. The mosquitoes don’t bother the tribespeople. Your mother knows the stories of the leopard people. Were you born here? Is your mother from here?”
Rachael laughed again. “I thought we just agreed not to pry into one another ‘s business and you can’t let three seconds go by without asking questions. I’m beginning to think you have a double standard, Rio.”
A slow, answering smile curved his mouth. “You could be right. I never thought of it that way.”
“And all this time I thought you were a modern sensitive New Age man,” she teased.
Franz growled, coming to his feet. At the same time, Rio leapt to one side of the door in the nearly impossible way he had of covering long distances. He signaled the cat to silence, drew his gun and simply waited.
Seven
The whistle came again, a soft one-two note. The gun never moved atall, remaining steady and aimed at the entrance. Rio answered, using a different combination of sounds, but he stayed motionless, simply waiting.
“Put the gun away,” Kim Pang said and pushed open the door. He stepped into the house, his clothes torn, damp and bloody, his tough features a mask of weariness. He had obviously been traveling fast and light. There was no pack and no weapon that Rachael could see.
Still, Rio remained in the shadows, to one side of the door. “I don’t think so, Kim,” Rio said softly,
“you didn’t come alone. Who’s with you?”
“My brother, Tama, and Drake Donovan have come as well. You were slow in answering and Drake is scouting while Tama covers me.” Kim remained very still. His gaze shifted to take in Rachael, but he gave no acknowledgment that he recognized her.
“Tama isn’t doing a very good job, Kim,” Rio said, but Rachael could see him visibly relax, although he did not put away the gun. “Signal him to come in.” He lifted his head and coughed, a peculiar grunting cough that sounded much like that of animals Rachael had heard in the distance when she was trekking through the forest.
Kim called out loudly in another dialect, his voice raised and harsh, but when he turned back, he was smiling at Rachael. “Miss Wilson, it is good to see that you made it out of the river alive. Your apparent demise caused quite an uproar.”
Rachael glanced guiltily at Rio. She’d forgotten she had come to the rain forest as Rachael Wilson. Rio grinned at her, taunting male amusement that gave her the urge to do violence.
“How nice to meet you, Miss Rachael Los Smith-Wilson,” Rio said with a slight bow. “How fortunate that Kim remembered your name for you.”
“Oh shut up,” Rachael replied rudely. “Kim, you’re hurt. If you bring Rio’s medical kit over here, I’ll see if I can clean those lacerations.”
“You just sit there and don’t move, Miss Wilson,” Rio said. “Kim can stay where he is, and when Tama and Drake come in, I’ll fix him up. He doesn’t need a woman fussing over him.” He was ashamed of the tightness in his gut, the knots lying heavy in his belly. The black jealousy the males of his kind could exper ience. He fought down the natural inclination but couldn’t help the small, involuntary move that flushed him out of the advantage of the shadows and into the open as he placed himself slightly in front of Rachael.
Kim spread his fingers wide as if to show he held no weapons. His brother came into the room grinning sheepishly. “Sorr y, Kim, I slipped on the wet branch and nearly fell. I was so busy saving my own life, I couldn’t very well save yours.” He glanced at Rachael and then at Rio, then looked down at the gun in Rio’s hand. “Getting a little overprotective, aren’t you?”
“Getting a little old to be slipping off a perfectly wide branch, aren’t you?” Rio countered, but he was clearly listening for something outside the house.
With the door open, Rachael could easily hear the sudden change in the rhythm of the forest. Where ther e had been warning shrieks and calls and cries, now the forest once more vibrated with its natural sounds. The barking of deer, the croaking of frogs, the humming and twittering of insects and cicadas.
Ther e was always the continual call of birds, different notes, different songs, but all in harmony with the flutter of the wind and muffled and continual patter of rain.
Franz stood up and stretched, flattened his ears and hissed, facing toward the door. Rio coughed again, the sound slightly different. “Tama, toss a pair of pants to Drake. He doesn’t need to come in and scare the hell out of Miss Wilson.”
“Stop calling me that,” Rachael snapped. “And why didn’t Drake, whoever he is, wear clothes?”
“He didn’t know he’d be in the company of a woman,” Rio answered, as if that somehow cleared up the question.
Drake Donovan was tall and blond and swaggered in, dressed in a pair of Rio’s pants and nothing else but a grin. His chest was heavily muscled, his ar ms thick and roped and powerful, built much like Rio.
His grin widened when he saw Rachael. “No wonder you weren’t answering your radio, Rio. Introduce us.”