“Drake has a thing about old legends. He believes in fairy tales. I don’t,” Rio answered gruffly.

Drake nudged him. “But you’re beginning to. What about Maggie and Brandt? Are they a myth? You just don’t want to admit when you’re wrong.” He turned his attention to Rachael. “Rio’s stubborn. No one’s ever been able to do a thing with him. Good luck is all I’m going to say.”

Rio groaned. “Don’t believe him, Rachael. He always has more to say. If we were lucky he’d shut up now, but it isn’t going to happen.”

Kim and Tama nodded in agreement, laughing aloud as they did so.

Rachael was very aware of Rio’s thumb sliding intimately back and forth over her wrist. “Is that true, Drake?”

“Lies, all lies,” he denied, clutching his heart. “And they call themselves my friends. I risk my life for them and this is how they repay me.”

“Poor thing,” she commiserated, trying not to laugh. Drake and Rio were such powerful, dominant-looking males, yet at that moment they looked like two boys laughing over a silly joke together. Rachael had all kinds of questions, but she put them aside until she could be alone with Rio.

“Rachael’s tired,” Rio said. “We should let her rest while we decide what we’re going to do about finding this lost group of do-gooders.” He saw her swift frown and hastily retracted. “Kidnap victims.”

Drake laughed again. “I always wondered what could make you politically correct. It isn’t a what, it’s a who.”

Rachael watched the four men go out onto the verandah, leaving her with Fritz. They closed the door, but she could hear the low sound of their voices. Somehow it was reassuring to hear them as she drifted between waking and sleeping. Rain was intermittent. There would be the murmur of the wind in the trees, the flutter of leaves and the continual sound of insects and birds, of troupes of monkeys chattering back and forth as they moved through branches. The sounds crept into her dreams, familiar and soothing. The humidity was never oppressive, but rather heightened her senses, making her aware of the curves of her body, of her nerve endings, of her sexuality. She felt drops of sweat running down the valley between her breasts.

Rachael closed her eyes and Rio was there, bending his dark head toward her body, his tongue swirling over the swell of her breast, sending a shiver down her spine. Her body tightened in anticipation. He looked at her and her breath caught in her throat. There was so much love there. So much devotion. She felt tears welling up. She knew him so well, every expression, every line. When he was tired or happy or angry. She wrapped her arms around him, held him to her while they listened to the wind and rain beating softly at the window.