Unplanned Read online

  Unplanned

  Men of the Jungle

  Jerri Drennen

  Published 2011

  ISBN 978-1-59578-817-7

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2011, Jerri Drennen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  Email:

  [email protected]

  Editor

  Lynne Anderson

  Cover Artist

  Amanda Kelsey

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Galen Hall wakes in a Ecuadorian jail with a murderous headache, a murder charge, and a memory gap where his alibi should be. How does the jungle guide prove his innocence? His best friend comes to help, only to bring with him the woman whose unplanned love sent him fleeing the Amazon to begin with.

  One night of steamy jungle passion has botanist Dana Rutherford carrying a stranger’s baby. While coming to terms with raising a child on her own, she learns of the father’s captivity. In a town where corruption reigns, she unknowingly initiates a jailbreak, and finds herself again face-to-face with the hunky, green-eyed devil who has changed her life forever.

  Dedication

  I want to thank all my critique partners at Erotic Romance Authors who were there through all the rewrites of Galen and Dana’s story, especially Elaina Lee, since she hung in there until the climactic end. Hugs, dear friend.

  Chapter One

  What the … Was he seeing things?

  Galen Hall blinked, hoping the row of round metal rods running up into a bar close to the ceiling would disappear. Dread seized him as he struggled to raise onto his elbows to check out the rest of the room, his head pounding as if a herd of gazelle had used it as a springboard.

  “Oh, shit.” To his side and behind were three walls of solid concrete, a small barred window casting the only light in the room.

  A cell. He was in jail.

  Why? He focused hard on an answer. Nothing came.

  On his attempt to sit, a wave of nausea struck and with a moan, he dropped back onto the lumpy pillow, swallowing convulsively.

  Galen had to find out why he’d been thrown into this place.

  He gathered his strength and forced himself to move, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and planting his feet on the floor to ease himself upright. Instantly the vertical position had his heart and head thrumming in tandem. To calm the intensity, he pressed his fingertips to his temples and rubbed. Then, with as much will as he could muster, he sucked in a fortifying breath and stood, weaving sideways, right before barreling into the bars.

  He clutched the cold steel in his hands to steady his balance and centered his attention on the wooden door at the far end of a hallway where the police had to be stationed. The only way they’d hear him call was if he’d holler, and he couldn’t do that with the pain in his head.

  A clanking sound and the door swinging wide had him on alert.

  In walked a dark-complexioned man with a sweat-stained, khaki-colored uniform, a sardonic sneer on his lips. “I see you have finally come to.”

  “What happened? Why am I here?” Galen asked, his voice hoarse, his tongue practically sticking to the roof of his mouth.

  The man’s cold eyes narrowed. “You do not remember?”

  Galen frowned. “Would I ask if I did?”

  “Are you being smart with me, chico?”

  Boy? Why would he call him that? It’d been twenty-plus years since he’d been considered one, and frankly, he’d erased that time in his life.

  “When can I get out of here?”

  “I don’t think you will be going anywhere for some time. Murder is a serious charge.”

  Galen’s heart sank. “Murder? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You were found standing over a dead man last night. I don’t know about your country, gringo, but here that’s what we call, when you’re caught in the act.”

  A sharp pain wrenched through Galen’s skull. “My head feels like shit. Do you know why?”

  The guard stared blankly at him. “Too much la botella.”

  This was no hangover. That much he was sure about. He ran a hand over his scalp and flinched as a finger brushed a golf-ball-sized lump at the base of his skull. He’d been hit hard with something.

  But what? And by who? Why couldn’t he remember?

  “I need a doctor. I think I have a concussion.”

  “Who are you to tell me what you need? We do not pamper our prisoners. You have no rights here in Guishil.”

  “This is crazy. Who was I supposed to have killed?”

  “Our local banker, Hernando Rodriguez.”

  “Why?”

  The man shrugged. “That is not our concern. You were holding the gun used in the shooting and that’s all we need to convict you.”

  Galen squeezed the bars until his knuckles hurt. No way had he killed anyone. This was a trumped-up charge and if he lived long enough, he planned to prove it.

  He glanced around, feeling the walls closing in around him. Long-ago memories of another time, of a small, dimly-lit room, barely bigger than a closet, worked their way to the surface of his mind but he forced it back. He had enough to deal with. That time in his life needed to stay buried.

  “Can I call someone?”

  The officer laughed. “This is not the United States, Mr. Hall.”

  “I know, but could you please let me contact a friend?” Why did that sound pathetic even to him?

  “I will ask the chief and get back to you on that. You might as well get comfortable. You will probably not leave this place but in a pine box.” The man laughed louder, then turned and left.

  Galen stared in a daze at the closed door. He had no idea what to do. He was stuck in this filthy, musty-smelling hellhole until he got word to his best friend and fellow guide Travis Kane—the only man he could trust.

  Murder? No fucking way had he killed anyone.

  But why couldn’t he remember anything? The blow to the head. He’d lost consciousness. Someone must have planted the weapon on him and dumped him next to this guy’s body. The whole thing reeked of a setup. But why railroad him? He’d only been in town for less than a day.

  Actually, that made him an easy mark. An American in a foreign land. The perfect patsy.

  Galen shook his head and winced.

  He could vaguely recall drinking in some tavern. A lot of tequila. Besides that, nothing.

  He shuffled back to the edge of the bed and sat, holding his aching head in his hands.

  This was all Dana’s fault. She’d messed with his thinking, made him feel guilty for leaving her in Manu. So he’d taken her virginity—did that mean he had to propose marriage, for God’s sake? How many twenty-eight-year-old virgins were there in the world? Only one he’d ever slept with. Now he was paying the price. They always said karma was a bitch. In this case it sure as hell was.

  Now repeat this until you believe it. This is all her fault. This is all bullshit. This is your fault for becoming a drunk.

  Galen glanced around the cell and sucked in a ragged breath. How did they execute people who committed murder in Guishil? Hang ’em?

  His throat constricted. He didn’t want to die with a
rope around his neck. He was still young; he still had too many things he hadn’t done yet. Like marry that rich woman he had promised himself he’d do, a plan he’d formed years ago after escaping his last foster home. No kid should have to face what he had—being nothing more than a paycheck to every mom-for-now. Down to the last so-called foster mother, where something had changed him forever and had him preferring the streets to remaining under her roof.

  Galen threaded his fingers through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to lie down. Maybe without the throbbing in his head he could think clearly enough to come up with a plan to get out of here before they decided his neck needed stretching.

  He rolled onto the lumpy mattress and sighed. As he did, an intoxicating light blue gaze came rushing back—eyes he’d never be able to get out of his head no matter how much he wanted to. Not to mention the feel of her silky hair between his fingers, more lush than anything he’d ever held. The moment he’d touched Dana, she’d worked her way into his soul, and since then his world had crashed in like a relentless tide. He’d tried drinking her out of his mind for the last month or so, but that had only garnered him a string of hangovers. He’d never been the only man to touch a woman before. Prior to that night, all the ladies he’d ever been with had rounded the block ten times—the only women he deserved. Too bad he hadn’t listened to that inner voice telling him to steer clear of Dana, that she was too classy for the likes of him. Now he sat in a jail cell all because he couldn’t get his act together after walking away. He hated feeling unguarded with a woman. It was something Galen had never intended to do again. Running away was how he dealt with things he couldn’t handle, since to him vulnerability equaled pain.

  He tried turning to his right side but flinched, a quick glance at his arm signaling why. The wound he’d gotten while trying to outrun a shooter chasing him and his friend Travis still hadn’t healed correctly. The damn thing would probably get infected and he’d die of blood poisoning before being hanged. Definitely a better alternative.

  Galen threw his other arm over his forehead and wondered where Travis and the woman he’d fallen in love with in the Amazon were at that moment. In Nova Scotia, where they’d been headed when he and Galen had parted ways? Had Travis been able to sell the estate he’d inherited from his grandfather or had Mattie Wentworth distracted him from doing so?

  “All women are trouble,” he said under his breath.

  Maybe by chance, his friend would try to get ahold of him and when he couldn’t, he’d come looking. Was that too much of a stretch? Galen had to hope it wasn’t, because if he didn’t, the other option was too depressing to take.

  * * * *

  “God no,” Dana Rutherford said in utter shock when a light plus sign formed on the stick between her thumb and forefinger.

  She snatched the test box off the sink and reread the instructions. The results had to be a false positive. After all, what were the odds of getting pregnant after having sex once?

  The mark on the indicator grew clearer and tears filled Dana’s eyes, her throat closing off to the point she could hardly breathe.

  She stared in the mirror, aghast at her reflection. Once vibrant, mocha-colored hair now hung limply about her shoulders.

  She leaned in closer to get a better look at herself and noticed the prominent dark circles under her eyes, giving the impression her eyeliner had run. Too bad she wasn’t wearing any.

  How was she going to tell her brother about her condition? He’d never forgive her. This could ruin the Rutherford name and reputation, which meant everything to him. So much so that it had driven her away from California’s Silicon Valley to teach here in St. Louis.

  Dana placed the stick and box on the sink, and with shaky fingers, shoved a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

  In despair her attention dropped to her stomach. The toned abs she’d worked so hard to achieve wouldn’t be firm for long.

  She struggled to take a breath. A baby was coming whether she liked it or not—created with a man who didn’t care one iota about her, had actually been angry to find she’d been a virgin when they’d made love.

  The event replayed over in her head—his look of disbelief, eyes reflecting his outrage at discovering the blood—as if she had used her innocence to trap him in some way.

  She slapped her hands over her eyes. This turn in her life couldn’t have come at a worse time. She had no one to talk to, not with her friend Mattie hundreds of miles away in another country, and telling her brother Robert was completely out of the question. She wouldn’t tell him until she was ready.

  Dana made her way to the bedroom and dropped onto the bed. Galen Hall could be anywhere in the world and was likely impregnating another woman as she sat here. That image alone sent her stomach pitching like a fifty-foot schooner in a white squall.

  Why hadn’t she listened to Mattie when she’d told her to stay away from him? Like she didn’t know the answer to that. The danger he’d represented had been too tempting. She’d been drawn to his seen-it-all-and-then-some emerald eyes; he was so much more knowledgeable than she. But the minute he’d touched her, entered her heated core, he’d changed her forever. Also, it hadn’t helped that they’d just survived an ambush in the jungle and she’d been nursing Galen, who had gotten shot. What did they call that? The Nightingale syndrome?

  Now look at her. Her life had been turned into something Lifetime Television would make a movie out of. Virgin Botanist meets Jungle Guide in the Peruvian Amazon and unprotected sex ensues. Hell, that was too out there for even them.

  A sob tore from her throat and the tears let go. She had decisions to make, life-changing choices that had to be done before her pregnancy became evident. And from Mattie’s fiasco with one of the professors at Washington University, Dana was certain of one thing. She couldn’t continue to teach classes. It’d be too embarrassing to show her expanding belly what with all the speculative rumors that would fly between students and faculty.

  Mattie had been able to deal with the whispers about her affair with a member of the college staff and the aftermath when the short-lived tryst had ended. Dana wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to withstand the same scrutiny. Besides, what kind of example would she be setting—pregnant with no husband? Wouldn’t that be glorifying her condition to her students? She didn’t want to give them the wrong idea, especially since so much of this happened to women of their age. She should have known better.

  A baby. She was having a baby. Someone who wouldn’t question everything she did. Someone who would love her unconditionally. Unlike her brother. Or even Galen.

  The sound of her cell phone brought her back to reality. Before answering, she took a few cleansing breaths, then wiped her eyes and grabbed her LG from the nightstand. “Hello.”

  “It’s Mattie, Dana.”

  Dana drew in another sharp breath, her forced composure slipping. Had her friend somehow sensed her state of mind? “Mattie.”

  “What’s wrong?” Concern rang clear in her friend’s voice and Dana fought not to completely fall apart. She draped a hand over her belly and looked at the ceiling.

  “Nothing's wrong. I’m just surprised to hear from you, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “Of course. How are you?” A subject change seemed Dana’s best recourse. Mattie didn’t need to know she was pregnant until she was ready to tell her.

  “I’m wonderful. Travis and I are getting married. We want you to come to the wedding.”

  Mattie was tying the knot? That meant she wouldn’t be coming back to St. Louis—wasn’t going to be here to help her through the next eight months.

  “Married?” Numbness worked its way over Dana’s entire body. She felt genuinely happy for her friend, though right now it was difficult to sound so with her life crumbling in around her.

  “Will you come?”

  “Come?”

  “To the wedding?”

  Dana swallowed hard
. “Where?”

  “Nova Scotia. Naturally we’d pay for your trip.”

  “Of course I’ll come, but I don’t need you to pay for anything. When is the big day?”

  “On Monday, but we’d love to have you come right away.”

  Dana mulled over the idea. Maybe leaving in the next day or two would do her good, help her gain some prospective.

  “Let me clear things with the college. I’ll call tonight and let you know when I’m coming.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll talk to you this evening.”

  Dana closed her phone and returned it to the stand, then glanced at the alarm clock next to it. She had to get ready for work. As she dressed, a mounting nausea wreaked havoc on her composure. Everything inside her stomach had worked its way to her throat. Somehow she needed to get through the morning without losing her breakfast. Hopefully she’d be flying to Nova Scotia in the next couple of days and she could hide her morning sickness until she was ready to tell Mattie about the baby.

  Thirty minutes later, dressed in a conservative knee-length navy blue skirt and a simple white blouse, she left her apartment.

  On the way to the university she took long, calming breaths, trying to settle the queasiness the car’s motion seemed to make worse. No way did she want to arrive at work looking like death warmed over and have anyone else ask if she was okay. Dana was afraid she’d break down if that happened. Then she’d have to explain her overemotional state and today wasn’t a good day for her to have to come up with yet another lie.

  On campus she pulled into faculty parking. Up the walkway to the building, Dana heaved a deep sigh.

  So far so good.

  She kept her focus at her feet, hoping to get to her classroom without running into anyone, not wanting to risk a meltdown.

  At her door she turned the key in the bolt lock and slipped inside the room. Maybe, with luck, she could get through the day without anyone pointing out her pale complexion.

  She switched on the light and went to open her desk. In no time, the room filled with students and Dana was forced to put her problems aside and concentrate on teaching—something she’d enjoyed a lot before she had traveled to Manu, Peru, and met the man who’d managed to change her life forever with one simple act of passion.