Man With A Mission

Trucha, Jake knew, was Spanish for trout. Every time Ana looked at him, he felt a little more of his nagging worry dissolving. As she delicately sipped the mocha latte, he saw an expression of enjoyment cross her face.

“Mmm, you have no idea how much I look forward to a little R and R here at Patrick’s restaurant. And if his bed and breakfast is full, I stay at Gringo Bill’s Hostel just across the plaza. Margarieta Kaiser is the owner and opens her arms to us. She knows how to take care of a war-weary soul.”

“From what I understand, you’re on a wartime footing at the base you fly out of all the time.”

Ana nodded. She set the cup down and curved her slender fingers around it. “Yes, we are.” She lifted her head and held his frank gaze. “And doing this is a very nice departure from my daily duties.” Sobering, she added quietly, “I’m very sorry to hear about your sister, Mr. Travers….”

“Call me Jake, will you?” He wanted to keep her at arm’s length, but somehow, it wasn’t working. A less formal atmosphere might make up for his growly attitude, he hoped.

She brightened. “Okay…you can call me Ana. All right?”

“No problem.” And it wouldn’t be at all for Jake. She was going to do away with military formality and that was just fine with him. He was mesmerized by the graceful movements of her hands. She was like a ballet dancer, not a combat pilot. He wrestled with the two disparate images and simply could not fit them together. Picturing her in the front seat of a deadly Boeing Apache was hard to do. Still, Jake could see her warrior side in her eyes. They were alert and missed nothing. She might be able to fight in the sky, but on the ground? No, he didn’t think she was cut out for this mission at all.

“So, tell me about your sister, Jake. Do you have a photo of her?”

He reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “Yeah, right here.” He pulled it out and laid it on the table for her to look at.

“Oh, she’s very pretty,” Ana murmured as she studied the photo. Her eyes crinkled and she looked over at him. She saw grief burning in his eyes instead of the glowering anger she’d seen there before. “You’re a very handsome brother and sister.”

Heat trailed up his neck. Jake was blushing. Avoiding her teasing look, he paid attention to his latte and took a huge, scalding gulp. Ana Lucia Cortina was rattling him in ways he’d never anticipated. She was beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous, with long, fine legs, a husky, warming laugh that went through him like fine whiskey, loosening him up, relaxing his knotted gut and making his heart pound and jump in his chest whenever she shared that intimate look with him. All of that told him she would be excess baggage on this mission. A pretty bauble, nothing more—and a definite liability.

“Tal’s the beauty. I’m more the frog in the pond compared to her,” Jake managed to reply uncomfortably.

Ana grinned. “You’re very modest. How wonderful. In a norteamericano that is a plus.” She laughed gently so as not to offend him. His cheeks had turned a dusky red color and Ana realized he was blushing. That made her like him even more, and assured her her heart was right: she’d intuited a special sensitivity in Jake and she hadn’t been wrong. Not many military men she knew blushed. And it was comforting to her that Jake had that capacity. Maybe he wasn’t going to be hard to work with after all—even if she was his boss.

Chapter Three

“So, your sister was working in the village of Huayllabamba when she was taken?” Ana opened up a small map and spread it across the table. They’d just eaten their fill of the pink-fleshed trout, and Isidro had cleared all the dishes away.

Jake’s knee accidentally brushed Ana’s as he sat forward to study her map. Again. He moved it. His left elbow splayed out on the linen tablecloth and brushed her right arm. He moved it. Somehow, his emotions, his yearnings and his worry for his sister were all becoming jumbled up inside him in one large, confused ball of sensitized nerves. Every time Ana looked at him, he melted inwardly. Her eyes were so full of life, laughter and kindness. He could feel her compassion toward him over Tal’s disappearance. It wasn’t an act. She understood. Still, Jake held his feelings in check. Just because she showed him a little warmth and compassion didn’t mean she was suited for this mission.

“Yes,” he muttered, scowling as he angled his chair so he wouldn’t keep bumping her. Touching Ana was a delicious and unexpected gift to Jake. He hadn’t expected to be drawn so powerfully to Ana especially now, with Tal’s life on the line. “I talked to the executive vice president of the Wiraqocha Foundation and she said Tal was going to be working with six different villages, looking for water and the best place to sink a well for each. Huayllabamba was the third village on her list. That’s where she disappeared.”

“I see,” Ana murmured. She tried to ignore the pleasant tingles on her knee and arm where Jake had accidentally brushed her. The turmoil in his pale blue eyes told her he was stressed and worried.

Tracing the black lines on the map with her slender index finger, Ana said, “This is a map of Machu Picchu and Rainbow Valley area. They are inseparable. The neck of the valley spills into the jungle, dropping from fourteen thousand to six thousand feet to intersect with the Machu Picchu Reserve. A reserve is like a national park—it’s a protected area.”

She tapped the map with her finger. “See this? It is our railroad—our lifeline, the only way to get in and out of Machu Picchu from Rainbow Valley, unless you want to fly in or out by helicopter.” Her eyes crinkled and she looked up and met Jake’s attentive gaze.

A sheet of warmth spread through her. Did she see longing in his eyes? Impossible. Ana decided she was more starved for a man’s company than she’d realized. That was all it was, she told herself silently. Just an instant attraction that would dissolve as quickly as it had sparked between them. He was still grousing whenever he found an opportunity, insisting that no woman should be on a mission like this, but she ignored his grumbling.

“We can take the train from the depot down the street to Kilometer 88. The train stops there briefly every day. We can get off, then cross the mighty Urubamba River by foot, on a rope bridge to the other side. There we can pick up the Inka Trail and head toward Huayllabamba. The trail parallels another river, Rio Cusichaca. We’ll be climbing from six thousand to nine thousand feet in order to reach Huayllabamba. What was the next village on her route?”

Jake unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and spread it open. “Here’s her full itinerary. Most of the place names I can’t even pronounce.”

Laughing softly, Ana studied the handwritten list. “Hmm, after Huayllabamba, she was to go to Paucarcancha and then Pulpituyoc, where there is a temple site. These are all located along the Inka Trail.”

“What is the Inka Trail?”

Ana lifted her head. She saw Jake frowning as he intently studied the route she’d laid out. “It was created hundreds of years ago by the Inkas as a path between Rainbow Valley and Machu Picchu. Both places were important centers to the Inka empire. It’s made up of carefully cut stones that have been placed on a path about a meter wide. The stones are about the size of a modern-day brick, usually, but there are larger ones, too.”

“A lot of labor went into it, then,” Jake said. He liked the way Ana’s mouth moved. The corners naturally flexed upward; that told him she laughed and smiled a lot. More and more of his tension and anxiety were dissolving beneath her very capable manner and her gentleness. Again, Jake found it tough to imagine Ana being a combat helicopter pilot. But then, he also admitted he didn’t have a clue about the complex makeup of any woman. Especially someone like Ana. Still, he was powerfully drawn to her and wanted to know more about her on a personal level. The mission was in the way, though. And his heart was with Tal. He had no business being even mildly curious about Ana as a woman.

Chuckling, Ana said, “You could say that. So, do we have a plan? We’ll get our gear in order and hop the train?” She looked at her watch. “It’s a little after noon. There’s one leaving in about twenty minutes, and we can make that if we walk fast. The train station is about a half a mile from here. Ready?”

Jake nodded and stood. He automatically went over and pulled out the chair for Ana. She blushed beautifully over his courtly manners. He liked the slumberous quality he saw in her cinnamon eyes as she rose.

“Thank you, Jake. That was very unexpected and kind of you.”

He grinned a little shyly. “Chivalry isn’t dead, after all,” he murmured, shrugging on his pack. “White knights still exist. At least, in the form of a U.S. Army officer.” He saw Ana place her pack on her chair and open it up. She withdrew a beautiful handwoven scarf of brilliant rainbow colors. Placing it around her neck, she knotted it gently so that it hung between her breasts.

“That’s beautiful. What is it?”

Ana closed her knapsack. When she started to put it across her shoulders, Jake quickly picked it up and held it so that she could easily slide her arms through it. His fingers brushed her shoulder. Her skin tingled. “Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly. As she headed for the stairs, she said, “It’s my chalina. I don’t know if they told you of my background,” she said, taking the stairs quickly, with Jake fast on her heels. “I was born in Ollytatambu, at the end of Rainbow Valley. My mother is of the Que’ro bloodline, the last of the Inkas. She is a laykka, a healer. And when I was growing up, she taught me to weave, as all daughters are taught the art.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Ana waved goodbye to Patrick and moved out of the restaurant and down the concrete walk toward the main thoroughfare of Agua Caliente. It was glutted with tourists from around the world. Jake quickly caught up to her and walked at her shoulder, his head cocked toward her as she continued to talk.

“Every teenage girl makes her own chalina. They are always of rainbow colors because my people believe the rainbow is the two-headed snake of creation.” She picked up the flowing end of the woven alpaca. “When a young Quechua woman decides that she is ready for a sexual relationship and marriage, she wears this. It is a sign that she will consider an offer from a young man of her choice. When she finds the man she wants to love, she will place the scarf about his neck and let him know that she wants to commit to a long, serious relationship with him. If the young man accepts, then they go off and consummate their relationship. Afterward, they visit each of the parents’ homes and tell them of their commitment to one another. Both families must approve of their intention.”

Jake raised his brows. They moved quickly down the concrete highway, weaving in and out of the heavy human traffic. On either side, one-and two-story homes stood. Natives dressed in colorful clothing walked in the crowds selling T-shirts, jewelry and other tourist items. “I don’t think your tradition would get very far in the States.”

Ana laughed pleasantly. She absorbed Jake’s interest and attention. She had just spent a year without any male company and was beginning to understand how starved she’d become for conversation with the opposite sex. Men and women were different, and she enjoyed those differences. “Maybe it should. At least we are more open and honest about wanting to love another person.” She patted the chalina gently as it swayed back and forth with her quick stride. “We don’t sneak around, either. It’s a very open, aboveboard signal. No guesswork.” She grinned. “And it puts the emphasis on long-term commitment. This is not a roll in the hay, as I suspect you think.”

Jake had the good grace to blush. “I didn’t say that.” By now they were crossing the plaza. Every town in Peru, he understood, had one. It was a central meeting place for the entire community and was bordered on all four sides by buildings. The cathedral was made out of gray and black granite stones, all carefully cut and laid. A testament to Inka ingenuity and skill, the stone wall was smooth and beautiful looking.

“Knowing what I know of norteamericanos,” Ana said impishly, “your people have very puritan views of human sexuality and sensuality. Down here in South America, we honor a woman’s beauty in every way, and we also embrace our sexuality as well. It’s not a taboo or dirty thing to be hidden or be ashamed of. And we don’t go around rutting like sheep, either. The Que’ro way of using the chalina signals openly a young woman’s desire. Before that, she has not had sex with anyone. So you see, it’s a very monogamous ideal and has tradition at the heart of it.”

Jake nodded. “I can see that. So is that why you are wearing it?” They moved through the square and down a hard-packed dirt slope. On his left was the roaring Urubamba River, on his right, several government buildings painted salmon and robin’s-egg blue. As they reached the bottom of the hill, Ana led him up another hill that was lined with stalls and sellers. Up ahead, he saw the train station.

“I wear it because it is a sign that I am a local. I am not a gringo. When we go into this village and I speak in Quechua to the people to try and find out information about your sister, they’ll not mistake me for an outsider.” She dug the toes of her leather boots into the hard dirt road and moved quickly toward the train station. There was a large roofed-in area, and two trains sitting on the tracks. A concrete slab provided a place for passengers to rest their luggage before boarding.

At the train office, Ana bought two tickets, handing over the soles, the Peruvian currency, necessary for the purchase. She turned and gave Jake his ticket. “We have to hurry….” she said a little breathlessly, and jogged around the building toward the first train. Jake hurried after her. They hopped on board. Ana spotted the last two seats available, in the back. As he moved toward the seat, Jake noticed the train was filled with tourists from many nations. After placing his and Ana’s packs in the overhead metal rack, he sat down beside her. Room was sparse and he was large. There was a European couple speaking German next to them, so he squeezed his bulk in, right against Ana. He had no choice. She didn’t seem to mind his nearness. Like a hungry wolf, Jake secretly absorbed her tall, firm body and the warmth of her skin against his. He shouldn’t enjoy it so much, he told himself sternly, under the circumstances.

The train jerked and started. It slowly began to leave Agua Caliente. Very quickly, it clickety-clacked into the jungle, following the Urubamba. Jake watched as Ana gently fingered the alpaca scarf with her lean, graceful hand. Knowing this wasn’t the time or place to speak of their mission, he decided to ask her personal questions instead. Anyone eavesdropping would not be any the wiser.

“So, you come from a Que’ro family? A family of healers?”

Ana enjoyed his strength and warmth against her. It was a good thing Jake couldn’t read her mind, because she was absorbing his very male energy into herself and her heart. How she missed talking with a man! She hadn’t realized how much until now. Before, she’d had Roberto, whom she met at least once a month for a weekend down in Lima, and they would chatter like two parrots to one another about so many things. Ana was now beginning to understand just how much she missed him. And when she saw the burning sincerity in Jake’s pale blue eyes, she knew she would lap up each moment of his attention like a cat being served a warm saucer of milk.

“My mother’s family has owned land in Rainbow Valley for generations. They are campesinos, farmers, close to the land and to Pachamama.”

“Pachamama?”

She smiled fondly. “Peruvian for Mother Earth. My people have a mystical and spiritual connection to all of nature.” Ana pointed upward at the green hills. “In a little while, you will see a beautiful apu, a mountain with a living spirit who resides in it. We believe that the apus are powerful guardians and keepers of our ways. Each morning, I was taught to take three perfectly formed dried coca leaves and blow into them, to honor our local apus. I would then bury the coca leaves in the soft, warm earth. It is called the Andean way, today. And it’s about honoring Mother Earth, all of nature—living in sync with them, not against them.”

“It sounds like your people have a very spiritual tie to the earth.” He saw the passion in her eyes as she spoke of what she believed in. Jake could almost see Ana sliding her long, slender fingers into the warmth of the dark, fertile earth. Just that thought sent heat tunneling through his lower body. How he’d like to be touched like that. The thought was unbidden. Moist. Full of promise. Frowning, he wondered what spell Ana was casting over him.

“Is this your first time to Peru, Jake?”