Page 60 of Last Destination

“Good luck,” I said before releasing him. My gaze shifted to the men who still stood as statues.

“Can you go see him off? I’m going to take another nap.”

Nikki, Ambrose, and Madman each gave me their own stare of resignation, but didn’t fight me on it. Jamie’s presence acted as the perfect buffer for the moment.

When they had filed out of the bedroom doorway, I shut it and clicked the lock into place.

I pulled every curtain closed, blocking out all sunshine, and tucked myself into the covers, every ounce of grief exiting my body through spine-snapping sobs. My hand wrapped around the compass pendant safely latched around my throat, holding it as if it were my only lifeline.

Danny, Vanessa, Brooks, Tessa, Detective Diaz, Maddox, Ambrose, Nikki, Jamie. Names that were imprinted on my heart forever. A sister I’d have to truly lay to rest. A father I’d have to forgive. A mother I’d have to absolve for committing the act I’d never been able to bring myself to.

The anguish in my heart was too much to bear, the weight of it crushing me deeper into the mattress. But Nikki had been right about one thing. Through it all, instead of escaping into the comfort of death, ready to walk out of my pain for good, for once in my life I was truly desperate to live.

How the fuck was I going to do that?

Two weeks later …

“And you say the survivors were you, Ambrose Park, Captain Amelia West, Captain Jameson Adams, and Tessa Montgomery?”

My heart split in two at the mention of Ambrose’s name, but I grinned and bore it. His absence had been heavily felt in our quarters since he’d left almost a fortnight ago. I’d kissed him hard and he’d kissed me harder — like I mattered — but he still got in the cab to leave.

“That’s correct.” I offered a smile to the Interpol agent who had resisted every attempt at swaying him with my charm. Had I lost my knack, or was this man just admirably stoic?

The balding man with thick, wire-rimmed glasses sat with one long, spidery leg crossed over the other, resembling the likes of a stiff accountant in the villa’s living room, overlooking the sparkling infinity pool through floor-to-ceiling glass panes. A glass and metal coffee table holding several papers and a tape recorder in the middle separated our bodies as we sat on opposing sofas, looking very much like the modern-day version of a legal duel.

“And you’ve stated that the plane crash-landed and is now submerged from a flash flood?”

My neck grew hot with irritation in spite of the chilly air-conditioning. I’d managed to stay sober for an entire three days, and the agent’s repetitive questions weren’t helping my cravings.

“Yes, correct, mate. Is there a reason you’ve asked this question three times? My answer isn’t changing. It’s the truth.”

Well, mostly. We’d agreed to leave Madman out of the picture given his circumstances. It was a gamble, given that Tessa had arrived safely in Canada according to Agent Hernandez, and she could easily let the cat out of the bag with her own testimony, but none of us were willing to send Madman back to prison.

Apparently, Tessa and Vanessa were a much larger deal than we’d realized. Their Travel Takes channel had 13 million subscribers, and Tessa’s return had been met with fandom fervor.

She could have every bit of it. None of us wanted anything to do with the spotlight.

Given she’d left first, we could easily corroborate a convenient mugging gone awry, leaving poor Maddox Torres to the fishes. I choked on my snort. As if Madman could ever be taken down by anyone. The man was as impenetrable as a lead-lined condom.

The agent stared at me through drooping, bushy eyebrows that had required a trim three months ago. “According to your captain, that plane was full of contraband. A flood is convenient.”

“We survived a plane crash and barely made it through nature and starvation to be here,” I shot back and leaned forward across the table in challenge. “Nothing about our experience was convenient.”

That earned me another long look. The agent reminded me of Diaz, but with kinder eyes. Were all law enforcement officers arrogant, or just the male ones?

Finally, he dropped his delving stare and packed up his papers, shuffling them primly into a tidy little pile before tucking them into his satchel. Madman chose that moment to slide the patio doors open and stick his head in.

“I am having trouble with the grill, camaleón.” He faltered at the threshold, clearly unaware the interview had lasted the better part of two hours.

Agent Hernandez’s already dark eyes blackened with suspicion. “I thought it was just you and Captain Amelia staying here?”

Marley had given her interview yesterday morning. Ambrose had texted me to confirm he’d already completed his as well. Madman’s appearance was dreadfully inconvenient.

“This is our pool boy,” I spat out quickly. Madman barely hid his chagrin.

“I am the pool man.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the detective, every bulging muscle on display now that he’d eaten a few weeks’ worth of meals and a boatload of yogurt. His shaved scalp had become a bushy head of sandy brown hair a good inch thick, and the stubble of the jungle had grown into a full-fledged man-beard. His sunhat and tight-fitting rash guard covered the bulk of his tattoos, but he emitted a terrifying air all the same.

“Identification, please.” The agent held out his hand in a beckoning motion, his title demanding compliance.