Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

“And why would I not want to meet this woman and hear her words directly? If she is Indian and knows Portuguese, there should not be a language problem, eh?”
    Biting down on his lower lip for a moment, Mike said quietly, “She is known as the jaguar goddess, Colonel. Her real name is Inca.” He saw the colonel’s eyes widen enormously, as if he’d just been hit in the chest with an artillery shell. Before the Brazilian could protest, Mike added quickly, “We know the past history between Inca and yourself. That is why Roan Storm Walker is going along. He’ll relay any information or opinions from Inca to you. We know you won’t want to interface with her directly due to…circumstances….”
    Marcellino uttered a sharp cry of surprise. He shot up so quickly that his chair tipped over. His voice was ragged with utter disbelief. “No! No! A thousand times no!” He swung toward Morgan, who sat tensely.
    “You cannot do this! I will not allow it! She’s a ruthless killer! She murdered my eldest son, Rafael, in cold blood!” He slammed his fist down on the table, causing the wood to vibrate. “I will not permit this godless woman anywhere near me or my troops!” His voicecracked. Tears came to his eyes, though he instantly forced them back. “I lost my eldest son to that murdering, thieving traitor! She’s a sorceress! She kills without rhyme or reason.”
    Choking, he suddenly realized how much of his military bearing he’d lost in front of his fellow officers. His face turned a dull red. He opened his hands and held them up. “I apologize,” he whispered unsteadily. “Many of you do not know me, know of my background. My eldest son, the light of my life…the son who was to carry on my name, who was to marry and someday give me grand-children…was senselessly and brutally murdered by this woman named Inca. She is wanted in Brazil for thirteen murders. Thirteen,” he growled. Straightening up, his heart pounding, he again apologized. “I had no idea you would suggest her,” he told Morgan in a hoarse tone.
    Morgan slowly rose and offered a hand in peace to him. “Please, Colonel, come and sit down.”
    An aide scrambled from near the door to pick up the colonel’s fallen chair and place it upright so that he could sit down. Hands shaking, Jaime pulled the chair, which was on rollers, beneath him. “I am sorry for my outburst. I am not sorry what I said about this sorceress.” Sitting down, he glared across the table at Morgan and Mike Houston. “You know of her. You know she’s a murderer. How can you ask me to tolerate the sight of her, much less work with her, when she has the blood of my son on her hands?” His voice cracked. “How?”
    Houston looked to his boss. This was Morgan’s battle to win, not his. Sitting down, he watched Morgan’s face carefully as he rose to his full height to address the emotionally distraught colonel.
    “Jaime…” Morgan began softly, opening his hand in a pleading gesture, “I have four children. I almost lost my oldest son, Jason, in a kidnapping and I know of your grief. I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I truly am.” Morgan cleared his throat and glanced down at Mike who sat looking grim. “I have it on good authority that Inca did not kill your son Rafael. She said she was on the other side of the basin when he and his squad surprised a drug-running operation in a village. Inca denies killing your son. The person in this room who knows her well is Mike Houston. Mike, do you have anything to add to this, to help the colonel realize that Rafael was not murdered by Inca?”
    Mike leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Jaime’s grief-filled face. The colonel had lost his hard military expression, and his dark eyes were wild with suffering and barely checked rage. Mike knew that in most Latin American countries, the firstborn male child was the darling of the family. In the patriarchal cultures in South America, to lose the eldest son was, to the father of