Page 38 of Last Destination

My captain’s hands shook as she brought the last drops of water to her mouth, sucking them back greedily, as if they could cleanse her from the inside out. Her facial muscles twitched with each pull, her mind at war with her body in ways I could understand.

It was not a fight I could win on her behalf.

Tessa’s capture had triggered something in her, tipping her over the edge into something I could not name. She looked at me with vacant eyes when she awoke, as if I were the dream. Her motions were mechanical with us all — except for Tessa. Tessa she held tightly to her chest, silent tears on her cheeks, vowing to never let her down again, as if the actions of wicked men were her scars to wear.

The guides hollered commands over the din of noise only humans in close quarters could make, the sounds reminiscent of prison. Indeed, the people moved like prisoners, their bowed heads and shuffled feet marking them as easy prey to those who held the keys to their passage.

These vested men were dangerous. They held themselves with puffed-out chests and sharp smiles that promised bites.

Their bites could break skin. My bite would break bones.

A twinge pulled through my heart as my battered fists ached from the night before. My bite had dulled under the scorching sun and minimal food. Taut bowstrings of pain pulled at each muscle through my biceps and legs. My infected shoulder from the jaguar’s paw was on fire, the skin puffy and starting to smell. Medical attention could wait until we crossed the border, but I would need it soon.

The safety of my gang was now my greatest concern. My captain no longer held her head high with duty. She was hanging herself with the noose of guilt. She would require extra attention today to get over the border. She would also murder me with a sharpened stick if I failed to protect the four others in our care.

We had not discussed next steps. The path out of the jungle was the only priority, but I was growing concerned with my passage.

I doubted I could make it across the next border into Costa Rica. I had no identification, and should they search my body for clues, my prison gang tattoos would signal my status. The determination of one thousand men sat within my chest as I watched my beautiful ángel speak with Tessa while Nikki and Ambrose watched. I had planned on making my escape and seeking revenge on El Chaco, but leaving her was no longer a possibility. She had taken my heart. I could not leave with it in her hands.

Captain Amelia West was mine. Wherever she led, I would follow. If that meant I had to lead in her stead, I would resume her place until she could return. Decisions about our future would be made once we arrived in Panama.

“Nikki, Ambrose... Jamie,” I called as an afterthought. “Let’s speak.”

Surprise flew across Nikki and Ambrose’s faces as the Australian came to join us, but I would not explain. Not now. We arranged into a natural line to monitor the women in our care. Marley’s gaze roamed over us with suspicious eyes, but she stayed with Tessa, far enough away not to hear our words.

“If we get separated for any reason, I will take care of Marley. You must go on.” The words rolled off my tongue in Spanish, even as they were heavy to say.

“Not a fucking chance, mate.” Nikki’s voice rose over the din, which captured Marley’s attention. “Not a fucking chance,” he hissed again, and his eyes flashed with ire. “She needs us — she needs me —”

“She needs us,” I agreed, noticing the shaking of his fingers and the twitchiness that had taken hold of his limbs like the tremors of a taser. “The priority has to be getting beyond this hell. Do you not think I can get her out of here? Are you better equipped to protect her than me?”

He clamped his lips together as if he physically needed the barrier to halt his response. My ángel was not the only one unraveling. Several days without the crutch of alcohol and the fuel of sex as a distraction were coming to a head. The story of his addiction was written into the sweat on his brow and his fidgety movements.

Ambrose scanned the few hundred bodies already lining up to leave. “Does anyone know who Charlie is? I should have mentioned it before. She thinks she’s seeing him. I’ve caught her talking to air a few times, but she had an explanation each time.” He shook his head in frustration. “I should have caught it sooner.”

I curled my lip in disgust. So should I. Her nightmares had not stayed with her in sleep. He’d been following her around in her waking hours. Who the fuck was this Charlie?

Jamie rubbed his neck, his lips pursed in obvious discomfort. “Um, yeah. Charlie is — was — her sister.” He winced as if revealing this information was a betrayal in ways abandoning her on a plane was not. “She died when they were kids. Freak accident in the woods, I think.”

At our silence, he scrambled to continue. “She — er — she never told me that part. I’d found news articles on it when we hired her. Just looking for info, seeing who would become my partner. They’d been on a camping trip. A bear attack. Charlie died, Marley lived. She never spoke about it once.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” Nikki’s hands flew up to tug the hair at his temples, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, as if ready to attack the bear himself. Ambrose angrily shoved his hands into his pockets, as if not knowing the depths of her pain was a personal failure.

The relief Charlie was not a man who’d caused her pain, but a sister whom she’d lost was short-lived. She was reliving childhood grief. Her survival skills had been trained, that much she’d revealed, but it was only now apparent she’d been surviving for far longer than we’d thought.

Was this where my ángel was now — trapped in her head with guilt and a ghost?

“She passed her psych eval, and that was enough for me. We all have trauma, right?” Jamie barked a laugh. I felt the truth in his words, but they held little meaning for a woman who’d survived more than any one person could.

Nikki paced in place, the erratic energy breaking through my focus and striking a final nerve. We were drawing attention from the guides, who’d taken an interest in our conversation at the back of the line.

“You are pacing like a junkie.” I barked, steel dripping from every word. “Control yourself, camaleón. They will not take kindly to you.”

Instantly, he stilled, his body a statue as he dropped his head in surrender. “Sorry,” he mumbled into his chest, and my annoyance waned. I beckoned Marley and Tessa over with a flick of my fingers, and the two women ambled toward us with disturbed stares.

“We will join the line, follow directions, and be on the boats in a few hours,” I outlined. “Continue to split up, but tighter. Nikki — Jamie. Ambrose — Tessa. I will pair with Marley.”

Nikki huffed his irritation but wisely did not voice his protest.