18. Whisper
CHAPTER 18
Whisper
Cody looked at the sky with a troubled expression. I turned, expecting to see that damn helicopter hovering in the distance. Nothing was unusual.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Are you okay to keep going?”
“It wasn’t nothing. Don’t do that.”
He jerked back. “Do what?”
“Hide things from me.”
“Jesus, calm down.”
I opened my arms in frustration. “So, tell me what you saw that made you look troubled?”
He blinked at me. “If you must know, I was thinking that we took much longer to cross that log than I’d anticipated, so we only have about an hour or so before we are crawling around in the dark. But I didn’t want to tell you that because you tried so fucking hard despite being scared of heights. So, there you go.”
My jaw dropped. “Huh.”
“Huh, what?”
“That’s the most you’ve said to me since I met you.”
“That’s because you’re pissed at me all the time.”
“No, I’m not.”
He eyeballed me. “Yeah, you are. Like now.”
Closing my eyes, I rolled my head back and sighed. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Wow. You don’t sound sorry.”
I opened my eyes, meeting his stunning blue irises. “Cody, I am truly sorry. This is a messed-up situation, and I’m not used to being so far out of control. Please, will you accept my apology?”
The edge of his mouth ticked, and he nodded. “Okay. Apology accepted, but if I can’t keep things from you, then I expect the same in return.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You could have told me you were scared of heights.”
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped. “That obvious, huh? I’m sorry about that, too. But would it have changed your mind about crossing over that log?”
“Nope.”
“I figured as much.”
“But it does make what you did even more impressive.”
I cracked a smile. “Why thank you, cowboy.”
He rolled his eyes. “You don’t give up, do you, lady?”
I giggled.
“Okay, I deserved that.” My smile faded as I turned back to the jungle. “So what do we do now?”
“We get moving, that’s what.” He adjusted the rifle strap across his chest. “Are you ready?”
“Sure. Lead the way.” I tried to ignore the stinging ant bites, the scratches up my leg, and the bump on the back of my head, but it was impossible. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I had suffered this much physical trauma. I’d been in some hairy situations in my career, including physical fights with assholes who fought damn hard to escape from me, but I’d never been as terrified as I was on that log.
Cody strode into the bushes like he knew exactly where he was going. I followed, biting back a wince with every step. We pushed through the jungle, and it was as if the vegetation had swallowed all the sunlight. Not a whisper of breeze stirred the leaves, and the trapped air was so humid it was like wading through soup.
Over and over, he found large leaves that had captured rainwater, and we took turns drinking from them. Cody had some decent survival skills. Like Bear Grills kind of skilled. While I was extremely grateful to be with him, I also had dozens of questions about how he knew so much. But I also sensed he was reluctant to chat.
We ducked under giant leaves that were as big as me. Spindly branches slapped against my arms and face, adding more welts to my battered skin and the ground was a treacherous mix of slippery leaves, hidden roots, and patches of mud that threatened to suck my sneakers right off my feet.
A new pain began to dominate every other ache in my body . . . hunger. Cody trudged on as if a demon was on our tail. He’d barely spoken to me since we left the log other than to ask if I was okay. His gentlemanly side shone through each time he held a branch back to let me pass or offered his hand to help me over a fallen log. I worked with men who I’d thought were gentlemen, but Cody was in a league of his own.
Cody came to a halt, pointing ahead. “Jackpot!”
“Bananas!”
Like a couple of giddy teenagers, we raced to the tree. He pulled the pocketknife from the sheath on his leather belt, sliced off the whole bunch, and gripping the massive haul in one hand, he lowered it to the ground.
“Dinner is served.” For the first time since we’d met, he flashed a real smile.
My breath caught. Wow, Cody is gorgeous.
We flopped onto the damp earth, plucked off a banana each and as we took a bite, we moaned in unison, then burst into laughter.
It felt so good.
We ate in silence, but the jungle sounds around us became louder. Or maybe it was because the sun was setting. Buzzing insects. Bird noises. Rustling of unseen animals in the bushes around us.
After three bananas, I sat back and groaned. “I’m full.”
Cody peeled his fifth one. “Amateur.” He devoured the banana in three bites.
I leaned forward and as I contemplated if I should have another one, Cody ate one more.
“So, are the rest of your family vegetarians as well?” I asked.
He tossed the peel into the bushes, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood. “Nope. Let’s go. We need to find somewhere decent to settle before we can’t see our hands in front of our faces.”
He grabbed the remaining bunch, hauled them onto his shoulder, and marched away without waiting for me.
“Hey, wait up.” I jumped to my feet, and dusting my hands on my denim shorts, I chased after him.
I focused on Cody’s back as he forged ahead, but my gaze kept slipping to his ass. This man knew how to wear a pair of jeans. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the flex of his muscles beneath the well-worn denim.
Cody halted so suddenly that I nearly crashed into him.
“What’s wrong?” I pushed a massive leaf aside to squeeze in beside him. “Wow, that’s not something you see every day.”
We’d stumbled upon a plane wreck that was barely visible through the thick moss and web of vines that covered it like one massive green doily.
Cody didn’t venture toward it, so I did.
“This crashed here a long time ago,” I said. “Think the pilot survived?”
Cody put the bananas down but didn’t respond.
The fading light filtering through the canopy cast dappled shadows across the battered fuselage and what was left of the wing.
As I neared, a creepy feeling washed over me. Whoever went down in the plane could still be inside. “A few months ago, my boss and I had to recover a body from a plane that had crashed into the ocean. Now that was gruesome. If there are human remains in here, based on how old this wreck looks, I doubt that there’s much left.”
Cody remained silent and I turned to him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“You okay?”
He cleared his throat and nodded, but he didn’t look okay.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Let’s check inside.”
Walking through a field of lush ferns, I searched outside the plane for signs that anyone had survived the crash, like remnants of an old campfire. But either there hadn’t been one, or the jungle had reclaimed it.
The cabin door was slightly ajar. I tugged at vines clinging to the rusty edges, but the damn things were stronger than marine ropes.
“Cody, come on, I need your knife.” I turned to him, and it took a couple of beats before he walked toward me.
What was wrong with him? Maybe he really is worried that there’s a body in here.
I probably should be, too, but I’d seen enough bodies in my life to become slightly numb to it. Unless it was children, like the poor victims we’d found in the shipping container. They would haunt me forever.
Cody pulled his knife out and hacked at the vines sealing the door shut. Working together, we wrenched the door open, and the rusted hinges screamed like disturbed ghosts. A flock of cockatoos that had been hiding in the trees took to the sky.
I stepped into the cabin. Shafts of the fading sun streamed through grime-covered, cracked windows, spearing light into the surreal scene. Ferns sprouted from the leaf-covered floor and their delicate fronds seemed out of place with the rusty metal around them. One window was missing altogether and a vine as thick as my bicep had snaked its way inside and curled around and over seats like a creepy umbilical cord. I followed the living lifeline to the cockpit, bracing for what might be left of the pilot.
The seat was empty except for a thick growth of moss covering the barely-visible white leather.
“All clear,” I called.
As I backpedaled away from the cockpit, my sneakers crunched on the carpet of dead leaves.
The plane shifted and creaked as Cody entered, still looking uneasy.
“You okay?” I asked again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He scowled at me.
I flopped into one of the passenger seats that had miraculously escaped the relentless creep of the jungle.
“Well,” I said, patting the seat next to me, “it’s not the Ritz, but I’d say we’ve found our accommodation for the night. Want a seat?”
“I’m fine.”
“Come on. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated. “You can rest. I’ll get some things sorted.”
He exited the plane and strode toward the bananas he’d left on the ground.
What’s up with him?
I pulled off my shoes and socks and nestled into the seat. Outside, Cody put the bananas down closer to the plane, then wandered around, studying the ground like he was looking for something. His expression remained troubled as he picked up twigs and broke them across his thigh, stacking up a pile.
Laying my head against the seat, I winced. “Shit.”
I rubbed the lump on the back of my skull which was the size of an egg.
As the last threads of daylight faded, casting long shadows through the plane’s interior, I wondered if the passengers on this plane survived. And if so, were they rescued?
Sliding lower in the seat, I closed my eyes, trying to ignore my stinging, aching body. My mind flipped from one crappy thing that happened since yesterday to another. There was so much, it was hard to believe it had been just two days.
Inhaling deeply, I tried to relax, but my thoughts skipped to Cody and how uncomfortable he’d looked about this plane. Maybe he knew about it crashing in this jungle.
I smelled smoke and snapped my eyes open. Outside the plane door, Cody was blowing onto sticks in a small campfire.
I pushed off the seat and my muscles hurt so much I groaned like my grandfather did in the final six months of his life.
“This is nice,” I said as I stepped from the plane.
“Found you a seat.” He indicated to a log he’d dragged near the campfire.
The flames took hold, and he added a few more twigs to the flames.
I sat on the log.
“Dinner’s there.” He pointed at the bananas. “Don’t wait for me.”
I plucked off a banana and as I ate, he fussed with the campfire, adding logs and prodding the burning sticks with a thick branch.
He appeared mesmerized yet also somehow a little lost. It was a long time before he seemed satisfied with the fire and ran out of things to do. He pulled up his own log and sat facing the fire.
“How did you light the fire?” I asked.
He leaned back and removed his pocketknife. “My knife has flint. I’ve never used it before.”
“Was it easy?”
“Yeah. I thought it would be harder.”
“Huh. That’s cool.”
He pushed the knife into the sheath on his belt.
“Do you always carry that knife?”
“Just about.”
“Huh.”
He glanced at me with a cryptic expression. “Huh what?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“I thought we’d decided to be honest.” He cocked his eyebrow.
I shifted on my log, so I could see him better. “Okay. I was just thinking that cowboys probably always carry pocketknives.”
“You have a fixation with cowboys, don’t you?”
“Well, I’ve never actually met one before.”
“And you haven’t met one now.”
“So you say.”
A mumble thrummed from his throat.
“Is being a cowboy so bad?” I asked.
“It is if you’re faking it.”
“I don’t think you’re faking it.”
He waggled his head at me. “This conversation is pointless. I’m not a cowboy. End of discussion.”
“Okay, then. Your turn to start a conversation.” I reached for a stick and jabbed the fire, casting a spray of sparks into the air. His silence grew awkward, and I turned to him. “I won’t bite. I promise.”
He gave me a look. “How long have you been with Border Force?”
“Five years.”
“Do you like it?”
“Love it.”
“You must have joined young.” A cute frown drilled between his eyebrows.
“I was twenty-one when I joined, and I was accelerated through the program.”
He nodded. “Why’s that?”
“You don’t think I should’ve been accelerated?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking that. There must have been something about you that caught their attention.”
The tiniest of smirks crossed his lips.
“You’re right. I’d done over a hundred scuba dives before my twentieth birthday, and I was a mechanic before I applied for Border Force.”
Cody whistled. “Call me impressed.”
I chuckled. “About the dives or mechanic?”
“Mechanic.”
“Oh, you don’t think a woman should know how to take apart an engine and put it back together?”
“Always on the defensive.” He shook his head. “Why mechanic?”
I shrugged. “I grew up with four brothers who are all hotheads, and I learned to love cars.”
Nodding, he turned his gaze to the fire. The flames danced in his eyes, concealing his lovely irises.
“Okay, your turn. How long have you been a corn farmer?”
Cody stiffened, his jaw tightening like a vice. I could see the battle raging behind his eyes, the unsaid words swirling like smoke. When his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, a familiar exasperation surged within me.
Seriously? My thoughts edged with frustration. He better not clam up on me again. I leaned in, daring him to shut me out one more time and the air between us crackled with tension.
I could almost taste the secret he was desperate to keep hidden.