expecting you to--"
"I didn't think there'd be any real danger. This is private property and you're the cautious type, Castleton. I knew you'd be meandering along at a snail's pace." He opened the back door of the car and gave a low whistle as he saw Monty on the floor. "Ah, the recipient of the dog biscuits in my backpack. I admit I'm a little disappointed. I thought they might be for you, Logan. I was hoping you'd acquired more adventurous tastes. Remember when you refused to eat those delicious grubs in that Maori settlement in--"
"This is Sean Galen," Logan interrupted. "Sarah Patrick and her dog, Monty."
"Delighted." Galen smiled as he helped her out of the car. He was in his mid- to late thirties, a little over medium height, with a lithe and athletic body. His dark hair was cut close, but it persisted in curling and his eyes were as dark and irrepressible as his hair. Energy emanated from him in waves. "Do you like ham and macaroni casserole?"
British? He had a faint cockney accent. "Yes."
"Good. That's what's for dinner." He glanced down at Monty. "I might sneak some to you too. That dog food and vitamins I brought don't look awe-inspiring."
"So much for adventurous dining," Logan murmured.
"Well, I didn't know about the lady, but Castleton didn't impress me as being anything but a meat-and-potatoes man." He strode off to the side of the road. "This way. I set up camp some distance from those ruins. They depressed me."
For the first time, Sarah's gaze turned to the burned-out facility a few hundred yards ahead. She had been so filled with anger, worry, and resentment, she hadn't really thought about the people who had lived and died here. All those promising lives cut off by assassins' bullets . . .
"See? The lady's getting depressed too," Galen said. "Come on, Castleton. You can help me dish up."
"I have to get back to town."
"After dinner. Do you want to hurt my feelings?"
"I should . . ." Castleton shrugged and then followed Galen into the brush.
She stood looking after them for a moment. She felt as if she were being swept away and she wasn't sure she liked it.
"It's okay." Logan took her elbow. "He won't poison you. Galen's actually a gourmet cook."
"In the middle of the jungle?"
"In the middle of a hurricane. He adapts to any situation."
"I wasn't afraid of his poisoning me. He just surprised me."
"I can understand the feeling." He pushed her gently toward the side of the road. "He's surprised me a few times."
They were obviously old and good friends. "The grubs?"
"He didn't tell you I actually ate the damn things. He backed me in a corner where I had to do it or insult the Maoris."
"Just what are grubs?"
"Larvae. And they look disgustingly like worms."
"I thought so." She smiled. "I think I'm beginning to like your Mr. Galen."
"I thought that story would endear him to you." He was silent a moment. "You can trust him, Sarah. If anything happens to me, do what he says and he'll get you out."
She felt a chill she tried to ignore. "I'm not used to trusting anyone else to take care of me. Just what does he do for you?"
"I suppose you might call him a problem solver."
"Problems like this?"
"It's his specialty. So don't feel bad about letting him take over if things get rough."
"Do you let him take over?"
"Hell, yes."
She gazed at him skeptically. "I can't see you trusting anyone but yourself."
"I learned a long time ago how to delegate." He smiled. "Why else would I have gone after you?"
"I don't see you stepping aside and turning me loose to do my job."
"In spite of what you think of me, I can't shrug off responsibility."
"How long have you known Galen?"
"Fifteen years or so. I met him when I was in Japan. He was fresh out of the service and working for a local businessman."
"So you hired him away?"
"At that point in my life I couldn't afford him. I was struggling to keep a fledgling business afloat. We became involved in several projects together in the next few years. Then,
"I didn't think there'd be any real danger. This is private property and you're the cautious type, Castleton. I knew you'd be meandering along at a snail's pace." He opened the back door of the car and gave a low whistle as he saw Monty on the floor. "Ah, the recipient of the dog biscuits in my backpack. I admit I'm a little disappointed. I thought they might be for you, Logan. I was hoping you'd acquired more adventurous tastes. Remember when you refused to eat those delicious grubs in that Maori settlement in--"
"This is Sean Galen," Logan interrupted. "Sarah Patrick and her dog, Monty."
"Delighted." Galen smiled as he helped her out of the car. He was in his mid- to late thirties, a little over medium height, with a lithe and athletic body. His dark hair was cut close, but it persisted in curling and his eyes were as dark and irrepressible as his hair. Energy emanated from him in waves. "Do you like ham and macaroni casserole?"
British? He had a faint cockney accent. "Yes."
"Good. That's what's for dinner." He glanced down at Monty. "I might sneak some to you too. That dog food and vitamins I brought don't look awe-inspiring."
"So much for adventurous dining," Logan murmured.
"Well, I didn't know about the lady, but Castleton didn't impress me as being anything but a meat-and-potatoes man." He strode off to the side of the road. "This way. I set up camp some distance from those ruins. They depressed me."
For the first time, Sarah's gaze turned to the burned-out facility a few hundred yards ahead. She had been so filled with anger, worry, and resentment, she hadn't really thought about the people who had lived and died here. All those promising lives cut off by assassins' bullets . . .
"See? The lady's getting depressed too," Galen said. "Come on, Castleton. You can help me dish up."
"I have to get back to town."
"After dinner. Do you want to hurt my feelings?"
"I should . . ." Castleton shrugged and then followed Galen into the brush.
She stood looking after them for a moment. She felt as if she were being swept away and she wasn't sure she liked it.
"It's okay." Logan took her elbow. "He won't poison you. Galen's actually a gourmet cook."
"In the middle of the jungle?"
"In the middle of a hurricane. He adapts to any situation."
"I wasn't afraid of his poisoning me. He just surprised me."
"I can understand the feeling." He pushed her gently toward the side of the road. "He's surprised me a few times."
They were obviously old and good friends. "The grubs?"
"He didn't tell you I actually ate the damn things. He backed me in a corner where I had to do it or insult the Maoris."
"Just what are grubs?"
"Larvae. And they look disgustingly like worms."
"I thought so." She smiled. "I think I'm beginning to like your Mr. Galen."
"I thought that story would endear him to you." He was silent a moment. "You can trust him, Sarah. If anything happens to me, do what he says and he'll get you out."
She felt a chill she tried to ignore. "I'm not used to trusting anyone else to take care of me. Just what does he do for you?"
"I suppose you might call him a problem solver."
"Problems like this?"
"It's his specialty. So don't feel bad about letting him take over if things get rough."
"Do you let him take over?"
"Hell, yes."
She gazed at him skeptically. "I can't see you trusting anyone but yourself."
"I learned a long time ago how to delegate." He smiled. "Why else would I have gone after you?"
"I don't see you stepping aside and turning me loose to do my job."
"In spite of what you think of me, I can't shrug off responsibility."
"How long have you known Galen?"
"Fifteen years or so. I met him when I was in Japan. He was fresh out of the service and working for a local businessman."
"So you hired him away?"
"At that point in my life I couldn't afford him. I was struggling to keep a fledgling business afloat. We became involved in several projects together in the next few years. Then,
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