Midnight Rainbow by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

released and a hand on her hip
urged her forward.
                  They were moving away from the soldier at a
right angle. Perhaps they were going to try to get behind their pursuers, then take off in the helicopter while the soldiers were
still deep in the jungle. She wanted to know where they were going, what they
would do, who the soldiers were and what they wanted—but the questions had to
remain bottled up inside her. Now was definitely not the time for talking, not
with this man—what was his name?—practically
shoving her through the undergrowth. Abruptly the forest cleared somewhat,
allowing small patches of sunlight to filter through. Grasping her arm, he
hauled her to her feet. "Run, but be as quiet as you can," he hissed
in her ear. Great. Run, but do it quietly. She threw
him a dirty look, then ran, taking off like a startled
deer. The most disgusting thing was that he was right behind her, and she
couldn't hear him making a sound, while her own feet seemed to pound the earth
like a drum. But her body seemed cheered by the small amount of sunlight,
because she felt her energy level surge despite her sleepless night. The pack
on her shoulders seemed lighter, and her steps became quick and effortless as
adrenaline began pumping through her veins.
                  The brush became thicker, and they had to slow
their pace. After about fifteen minutes he stopped her with a hand on her
shoulder and pulled her behind the trunk of a tree. "Rest a minute,"
he whispered.
                  "The humidity will wipe you out if you
aren't used to it." Until that moment Jane hadn't noticed that she was
wringing wet with sweat. She'd been too intent on saving her skin to worry
about its dampness. Now, she became aware of the intense humidity of the rain
forest pressing down on her, making every breath she drew lie heavily in her
lungs. She wiped the moisture from her face, the salt of her perspiration
stinging the small scratches on her cheeks. He took a canteen from his pack.
"Take a drink; you look like you need it." She had a very good idea
what she looked like, and she smiled wryly. She accepted the canteen and drank
a little of the water, then capped it and returned it to him.
"Thanks." He looked at her quizzically. "You can have more if
you want."
                  "I'm okay." She looked at him,
seeing now that his eyes were a peculiar golden brown color, like amber. His
pupils seemed piercingly black against that tawny background. He was streaked
with sweat, too, but he wasn't even breathing hard. Whoever he was, whatever he
was, he was damned good at this. "What's your name?" she asked him, desperately needing to call him something, as if that
would give him more substance, make him more familiar.
                  He looked a little wary, and she sensed that
he disliked giving even that much of himself away. A name was only a small
thing, but it was a chink in his armor, a link to another person that he didn't
want.
                  "Sullivan," he finally said
reluctantly.
                  "First or last?"
                  "Last."
                  "What's your first name?"
                  "Grant."
                  Grant Sullivan. She liked the name. It wasn't
fancy; he wasn't fancy. He was a far cry from the sleekly sophisticated men she
usually met, but the difference was exciting. He was hard and dangerous, mean
when he had to be, but he wasn't vicious. The contrast between him and Turego , who was a truly vicious man, couldn't have been
more clear-cut.
                  "Let's go," he said. "We need
to put a lot more space between the hounds and the foxes." Obediently she
followed his direction, but found that her burst of adrenaline was already
dissipating. She felt more exhausted now than she had before the short rest.
She stumbled once, catching her booted foot in a liana vine, but he rescued