Curse of the Condor (6 page)

He still felt the knot in his stomach from her comment in the hut. He knew his life would be over as soon as Jetta Fitzgerald found out his secret. She'd bring the authorities back and they'd lock him up for good and throw away the key. But maybe he deserved whatever he got. Just like his parents going after a treasure they never should have.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding and face the truth. Face himself as well. The missionaries had found one of Conrado's poison darts in Ryder's neck. What more proof did he need? But damned if Conrado could remember doing it. If only he could go back to that night and relive it. This time sober.

He rubbed the condor tattoo on his arm, willing it to disappear. The Jivaro had told him years ago he was the savior mentioned in their prophecy. He was no savior, and he knew it. Everywhere he went, death and destruction followed. Didn’t they understand the condor wasn’t a good omen, but an evil one that had taken over his life?

The sound of singing dragged him from his thoughts, and he realized Jetta was using the shower. She had a beautiful voice as she sang
Bungle in the Jungle
, - her version of it anyway as she'd inserted a few choice phrases of her own.

He smiled to himself, hearing her relaxed tone. That was good. He'd need her relaxed before he brought up the subject of Ryder again. He pulled out a can of chili and used his machete to cut off the top. He poured the beans into a pot and then mixed up some manioc flour for bread. Chatter accidentally dipped his tail into the batter and squealed as he hopped away.

"Serves you right," Conrado told him. "Maybe you need a shower too, seeing as we're all getting our turn around here lately."

The monkey scolded him and ran off. Conrado laughed and went back to preparing breakfast.

Jetta basked in the comfort of heaven. Where in the world had Conrado gotten this fresh water? He must have hauled it with his supplies yesterday. What a great alternative to the muddy, disgusting waters of the Amazon. She closed her eyes and rinsed the rest of the lather from her hair. It felt so wonderful to be clean that she almost felt like she was back home. But then the bag emptied, and she was snapped from heaven to the hells of the jungle once again.

Well, she was finished anyway. She squeezed out her long hair and wiped the water from her eyes with the back of her hand.

It was when she reopened them, that she realized she didn't have a towel. She planned on just donning the long sleeved shirt she'd worn to bed but when she went to reach for it hanging on the curtain, she found it missing.

Did Conrado think she’d appreciate this joke? Or maybe it wasn't a joke at all. Maybe he wanted something from her that a man living alone in the jungle for the last three months obviously wasn't getting.

"Damn!" she cursed herself. He'd fooled her into getting into the shower just so he could get her naked and have his evil way with her.

"Hurry up and get out here," yelled Conrado. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

There was a pause and then an answer. "Sì. I wouldn't mind a little company for breakfast. After all, I get bored listening to Chatter all the time."

"Well, then, listen to this, you pervert. If you think I'm going to come out there and strut around naked so you can have your way with me, you've got another guess coming."

"What?" She heard his footsteps hurrying over toward the shower and she picked up the razor she'd used to shave her legs and held it over her head. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but all she had.

His hand reached inside the curtain, and she slashed out, nicking him across the top of his knuckles.

"Ow! Dammit, what are you doing, woman?"

She picked up the wash rag and held it in front of her chest as his face appeared through the curtains. It was then she realized his other hand was holding up a towel so her naked body was hidden from his view.

"Oh. Thank you." She dropped the wash rag and grabbed the towel, quickly wrapping it around herself. Her fingers loosened on the razor as she met his angry eyes. She felt something drip on her toes and glanced down, seeing his own spilt blood upon her.

"If you want me to cut my hair shorter, just ask," he told her in a calm voice.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Really? Well with the way you're still clutching that razor, I'd say you intend to do it again."

She threw the razor down on the table. "I just thought - I thought that - "

"Well, you thought wrong," he said. "I'm not that kind of guy. Now if you want breakfast, get out here. I plan on being on the trail as soon as we're finished, and you've already slept half the morning away."

"I will. Right away. I just need my clothes."

The monkey appeared next to Conrado, the shirt she'd slept in on its head as he danced around in circles.

"Chatter, quit playing games," snapped Conrado. "Go put that in the hut and I'll get her dry clothes."

Conrado disappeared from sight, and Jetta reached down and grabbed the shirt from the monkey.

"It was you who took it. And I was blaming your master. You bad little monkey. What must Conrado think of me now that I've accused him of doing something he didn't do? You were the guilty one, not him."

Conrado heard
Jetta's words loud and clear as he made his way to the box where her clothes laid fresh, clean and dry, after he'd washed and dried them the night before. If only his problems could be blamed on a monkey and his guilt could be washed away as easily as the dirt that soiled him earlier. He put some powdered root on his cut to stop the bleeding. It ceased almost instantly. He wiped the excess blood with a leaf before he continued.

He picked up the bundle of clothes that consisted of her shorts, tank top and underwear, and headed for the shower. Her bra and panties fell out and to the ground. He picked them up and shook the dust from them. She wore size six panties and a size 36 C bra. He could have guessed that just by surveying her body. And Lord knows he’d done enough of that in the past day. She had his thoughts so preoccupied, he no longer felt tuned in to the jungle around him.

His hand trembled as he watched the lacy pink bra dangle from his fingertips. Her panties were pink too. Soft cotton. Or maybe part polyester. Hell, he didn't know and he didn't care. Just touching a woman's intimate apparel already had his mind racing with exotic fantasies.

It had been a while since he'd had a woman. Jetta looked awfully alluring as she stood before him half-naked in the shower. He'd glimpsed her bare back and a little of her thigh, but she'd been quick in covering up, and he was trying to be a gentlemen by not looking.

But as he held her bra and panties in his hands, he fantasized what it would feel like to run his fingers through her long, blond hair. Or touch her bare skin, or cover her with kisses down her neck all the way to her toes.

He stopped himself from continuing, and handed her her clothes through the curtain. He half expected her to cut him again, but instead he felt her fingers rubbing gently over his wound. Her soft, warm fingers were caressing his skin and he found himself liking it a bit too much.

"You heal fast," she said.

He pulled his hand away as soon as she took the clothes. "Lots of things are different out here," he told her, and walked back to the fire.

He poured the chili into two wooden bowls he'd carved from balsa wood, wishing he had carved up spoons too. Well, she’d just have to eat with her fingers the way he did. This was the jungle, not the classy
Rosa Nautica
restaurant in Lima. It was already a luxury having canned chili.

"That was refreshing," she said as she emerged from the shower fully clothed. She'd even managed to find her sandals, or maybe the monkey brought them to her since he couldn't remember where they were. She really set his head reeling.

"So you liked the shower?" he asked as he pulled the flat bread off the fire.

"I did. Mmmm, something smells good. By the way, that fresh water in the shower was so nice. Thank you."

"That was Amazon water, honey."

"Was not," she challenged him.

"Have it your way," he said and handed her a bowl of chili.

She was quiet for a moment, and the sudden silence became uncomfortable. He was glad when Chatter sneaked up and stole some bread.

She laughed, and he noticed her whole face light up when she did so. Her beauty shown forth like an angel’s glow. Even with the wet, scraggly hair. She had an inner warmth about her that reached out and touched a person when she smiled. Her eyes reflected the blue summer sky, and her cheeks deepened in a blush that reminded him of the bromeliad plants.

"You should smile more," he told her.

"Why?" she asked as she took the bread he handed her.

"Because you're pretty when you smile."

She put her head down a little, but he noticed her entire face flush. She took a bite of the bread.

"This is good. What's it called?"

"Manioc bread," he told her. "It's from the manioc root that grows in the jungle."

"How do you make it?" she asked. "Maybe I could try doing it next time."

"I don't think so. Manioc root is poisonous if not prepared right. So I think I'll do the cooking. Maybe next time I'll make tapioca out of it if you'd like."

"Okay," she said. "Next time."

Her words led him to believe she no longer wanted to get away quickly. It almost sounded as if she were getting situated in her new surroundings. Conrado handed her some boiled water in a carved cup, and she took it eagerly.

She drank it, and smiled again, and he felt her warmth mixed with the coldness in his heart. He liked her. And he thought she was starting to like him too. He couldn't have that, as much as he wanted it. He had to remain distant from her so when he told her about her brother she could hate him the way he deserved.

"Eat up," he growled. "And we'll set off to find your brother."

She looked at him as he scooped up some of the chili onto his flat bread and brought it to his mouth. She hesitated, then smiled once more before sloppily trying to do the same. He held back a grin when it slipped off the bread and to the ground without ever reaching her mouth.

Chapter 6

Jetta held the photo of her family encased in the brass frame to her heart. Her mother, father and Ryder stood with her, arm in arm on the beach. It was one of the best vacations they’d taken. That was the summer they’d spent in Greece before Ryder left on his missions.

She missed him dearly and could only hope they’d get to his dwellings soon. She picked up the last letter he’d written, scanned it once more, then slipped it back into the envelope. Then she pulled from under her tank top, the flat crystal condor attached to her fourteen carat gold chain, fingering it, wondering how he was ever able to afford something like this when she knew he hadn’t much money. Her family was well-off, but Ryder took his vow of poverty so to speak, once he’d joined the missions. He refused to take money from her or her parents, and when he’d sent a token of his love for her, she knew he’d sacrificed much to do it.

But this gift was so different. It was a real treasure. It looked ancient, like some kind of artifact, though she knew it couldn’t be. Ryder would never have access to something like that. She felt her stomach twist, thinking something wasn’t right here. Her brother sounded troubled and wrote of danger, his message short as if rushed, his writing messy. And then he’d told her not to tell anyone about the letter or the trinket. She respected his wishes, but still she wished she could tell his friend, Conrado.

She sighed, telling herself to just be patient and ask Ryder about it herself. She slipped the condor back under her shirt and had just finished putting her things back into her straw purse when Conrado
hoisted himself up the ladder with several boxes balanced on his shoulder. He marched into the room with his monkey at his heels. He placed the boxes on the floor next to a roughly carved purple wooden trunk she hadn't noticed the night before. He opened it and started to unpack the contents of the boxes into it. Chatter jumped up to investigate the top of the dresser.

"I never saw purple wood before. Did you make the trunk?" she asked surveying the piece.

"I did. It's called
amaranth
, or purpleheart wood. The dresser is carved from
figueroa
, or as you may know it, crabwood. It's kind of like mahogany, but inferior."

She looked at the dresser and noticed the cracks and splits in the wood that added to its character. "Is that why it's cracked?"

"It dries slowly," he explained. "This sometimes causes the wood to split."

"How did you put it together?" she asked. "I doubt you have a hammer and nails with the primitive way you live."

"We have gums and resins from trees that work just as good as nails," he explained. That’s how these are made, and the hut is mainly tied together with jungle vine and a little resin to hold it in place.”

"Resourceful," she commented, satisfied and impressed at his abilities to survive with virtually nothing, but suddenly wanting to get out of the hut before it fell apart. He continued to load the supplies into the trunk.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Putting the supplies in here for safe keeping while we're gone. If I don't secure them, the animals will get into everything and ruin it."

"But aren't we taking those with us?" She noticed the packs of toilet paper disappearing over the rim of the trunk.

"We can't carry all of this. It'll not only slow us down but tire us out. We don't want to lose our resistance and get sick while we're traveling."

"Still, I think we should at least bring the toilet paper."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "All right,
Señorita
. I guess we can take one with. But that's all."

"Thank you. And please, call me Jetta."

Jetta was relieved to hear they could take with a four-pack of toilet paper. Relieved, until she realized he pulled one roll only from the wrapper and tossed it toward her.

"You carry it in that big bag of yours. I plan on using leaves."

She caught the end, but the roll fell to the floor and started to unwind. She hurried over and picked it up, winding it up as she spoke.

"We're bringing food, too. Aren't we?"

"
Sí
. Native food. Some roots and berries. The rest we'll find along the way."

"Not even a can of chili?" she asked, downhearted.

"Too heavy," he said, and finished unpacking the things into the trunk and slammed the lid closed. He got to his feet and walked over to her. "How much room do you have in that purse of yours?" He pulled it from her hands.

"A woman's purse is private," she said and tried to grab it back, uselessly.

"This is so heavy," he said. "What have you got in here?"

He invited himself to dig through her bag as he started pulling items from the purse and laying them on the dresser. She knew it would be fruitless to try to stop him.

"A hair brush, keys, three nail files, your wallet, two tampons, a makeup bag -" he rattled off as he dug through her purse like he was looking for buried treasure. "You won't need any of these things.”

"I can't leave them here."

"I'll put them in the trunk and you can get them on the return trip."

"No. I need those things."

He looked at her and shook his head. The monkey imitated him by doing the same.

"You don't need to brush your hair or put on makeup or file your nails for
me. And I'm sure Chatter doesn't care either." Chatter jumped up and down and squealed as if he agreed.

"But my money!" She tried to grab for it as he threw it on the dresser with the rest of the things.

"It's useless in the jungle. The natives don't use money. It means nothing to them. They barter. They trade for what they want."

"I didn't know that."

“I’ve worked as a tour guide for the past five years. You’d be surprised what the tourists bring to trade with the Yagua.”

“Tour guide? I thought you lived in the jungle.”

He continued to make himself at home by going through her belongings. “I did. But I left the Jivaro when I turned twenty. I relocated in Lima where I found my father’s relatives. I stayed with them part time and served as tour guide through the Yagua camp in the jungle the rest of the time.”

“Why did you leave the Jivaro?”

He slowed what he was doing, but didn’t answer. She was almost getting used to the way he ignored her questions.

"I suppose you may need these, though." He picked up the tampons off the dresser and handed them to her. She grabbed them from him, feeling her face flush from embarrassment. It was bad enough having to buy them in the store, as she'd always hid them under the groceries in her cart and made sure she went to a woman checker. But now, Conrado Nievez had handed them to her as casually as if he were offering her a stick of gum.

"I won't be needing these again till next month," she said and slid them back onto the pile, hoping he wasn't watching.

"What is so heavy in here?" he asked as he continued to dig through her purse. The monkey picked up her hair brush and was touching the bristles carefully as if he were testing it for sharpness.

"Nothing else," she said and tried to grab the purse back from him.

It was too late. He'd found the brass frame that held the picture. She didn’t want him to see the photo, knowing the white bikini she wore left nothing to the imagination. It had been the first time she'd worn it in public and she didn't realize when the suit was wet you could basically see right through it. But still, she'd kept the picture for the memories. It was one of the best times they'd had as a family.

"No wonder," he said, taking a look at the heavy frame. "Why’d you bring this?"

She watched him focus on the picture and his features went rigid. "Your family means a lot to you, don't they?" he asked.

"They mean the world to me," she said. "Especially my brother. That's the year we spent our vacation in Greece. I'll never forget it."

“My vacations growing up in the jungle were when I got the day off from hunting and spent time with my tribal brother, Hoatzin, catching butterflies. Of course Motmot always pulled the wings off of them in front of us while they were still alive. But Hoatzin always made sure to catch a frog or mouse for me to make up for what his brother had done.”

“Hoatzin sounds like a great brother,” she said, politely avoiding mentioning Motmot.

"These your parents?" His eyes were glued to the photo when he spoke.

"Foster parents," she said. "Actually they adopted Ryder and myself as children when our parents died."

"So he's your natural brother, then?"

"Yes. He's the only blood relation I have. That's why I am so close to him. I care about him too much to let anything happen to him. That’s why I came looking for him. I want him to stop this nonsense of living in the jungle and come home where he belongs. I'm going to talk him into buying a beach house with me so we can always be as happy as we were that summer."

She saw a shadow darken his face and his features became rigid.

“What makes you think something might happen to him?” he asked without looking up.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking toward her purse, realizing he’d yet to find the letter. “I just have a feeling something might be wrong.”

He didn’t deny her feeling by assuring her Ryder was fine. Instead, he pulled the photo out of the frame and handed it to her. "Take this, but leave the frame.”

"What about the rest of the things in the bag?" she asked. "And I really do need the hairbrush."

"Then take it," he answered softly. Then said louder, "Take whatever the hell you want as long as you're going to carry it.” He shoved the purse into her arms. “Now let’s get going before it starts to rain."

Jetta watched him storm from the room as if something she'd said made him furious. She didn't understand this man and his moods. Most men that she knew wouldn't get so choked up over something like a family photo. Especially when it wasn’t even his own.

She pushed all the things back into her bag except for the brass frame, which she decided would be too heavy to cart around. Then she stuffed the roll of toilet paper in the top, hoping one roll would be enough to last their little excursion. Chatter picked up a tampon and was waving it in the air. She grabbed it from him and threw it down on the dresser.

"C'mon you little troublemaker," she said. "I can't wait to introduce you to my brother."

* * *

Conrado trudged through the jungle with the small amount of supplies tied up in a blanket on his back. He used his machete to chop a path through the overgrown foliage. He hoped he could still find the place he'd buried Ryder. It'd been three long months now and he'd never once went back to the grave. He couldn't. He didn't want to see where his best friend lay rotting beneath the earth because of him.

He thought of the photo of Jetta and Ryder, and the story she told him about her family. To make matters worse, she had to say she came here to bring him back so nothing would happen to her only brother - the last of her true family.

They looked so happy together in the photo. Not to mention, Jetta looked so sexy in that thin white bikini. She mustn't be as shy a schoolmarm as she pretended, to wear something that revealing on the open beach. He could see her pink nipples right through the wet material. Not to mention the shadow of a triangle down below.

He chopped at the vine, moving faster and faster, trying to vent his aggravation at the way his body responded every time he thought of her. He tried to remind himself she was going to hate him in a few days time, no matter how much she seemed to like him now.

She'd be better off to hate him. He didn't deserve anyone as good as Jetta Fitzgerald. He was starting to regret taking her to see Ryder. She had such plans for her brother. Such dreams of the future, and he was the one that would ruin them all.

He chopped furiously through the foliage and finally came to the conclusion he was just going to come out and tell her and end this charade once and for all. He stopped and turned to talk to her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Jetta? Jetta, where are you?" Damn! He’d once again been so preoccupied with his thoughts he didn’t even know she no longer followed. If his tribal father could see him now, he’d be severely disappointed. It was the Jivaro way to know everything that transpired around them. To be one with nature and one with all that is. He was once so in tune he could have heard an ant piss at fifty paces. Now he was lucky if he could hear anything above the noise of guilt and lust roaring in his head.

“Jetta?” he called again, listening more closely to the jungle. Still, she didn’t answer.

There was an odd silence, and he had a strange feeling he was being watched. He whipped around, machete raised and ready. That's when he noticed the condor flying from a dead tree that reached up to the sky behind him.

Danger. Trouble. His heart raced and he knew he had to get to Jetta before it was too late. He held tight to the machete as he ran back the way they'd come. Vines hit him in the head and branches seemed to reach out and grab him trying to slow his pace. He had to find her. She’d be so frightened all alone. He called her again, but still no answer. His heart raced as he stopped and searched the surroundings with a quick sweep of his gaze.