Chapter 24 #2
There’s a serpentine quality to her gait as she approaches, and she forces a smile as she shrugs one shoulder of her slightly disheveled shirt. “I lost the trail, same as you, I imagine? Got any water?” She points at Jack’s backpack.
“The trail is pretty easy to follow, actually.” I frown, and she tilts her head in an unnatural way that makes me think of a mannequin with its head mounted slightly off center. “Where’s your backpack?” I ask suspiciously.
Uneasiness continues to poke at my nerves when her eyes dart back to Jack’s bag, then up to me, and I move to intercept her path.
She’s definitely in on this whole thing.
How did I not see it?
“Oh, I left it at the campsite and decided to meander a bit. Next thing I know, I’m completely lost.” She lifts her palms in that innocent way.
You ain’t foolin’ me, sister. “I’m so glad I ran into you.
Who knows how long I would have been out here without water?
What’re you doing here? Got rid of that bodyguard of yours? ”
Possibly, I grumble internally. That man’s ten-foot wall is harder to breach than the security at the Met Gala. My fingers fumble with the clips on Jack’s bag. The last thing I need is Jerrica getting her hands on the artifact, all in the name of helping.
I can’t decide if I’m happy or not that Jack left me with his backpack. If he had it, would he be the one in danger now?
Also, crap on a cracker, because he’s going to freak out if he returns to find Jerrica doing anything remotely threatening.
I really need Jack to get back soon, though. It’s late afternoon, and the chances of getting out of here today are growing slimmer by the minute. Hell, the chances of getting out of here alive are dwindling, too.
My poor mother. I wonder if they’ll bring Beyonsai to my funeral.
Oh, and Giorgio…he’ll miss me so much.
“You poor thing, let me help.” Jerrica brings me back from my thoughts when she pounces forward, a sunny smile on her face.
Before she can get close, I scoop both bags toward me, clutching them to my side to get a better grip on the clip.
“That’s okay, got it, see?” I match her grin as the clasp on Jack’s bag finally unfastens, and I pull out a water bottle.
It’s warm and only has a few sips at best, but there’s no way she’s putting her deceitful hussy lips on Jack’s hydration pack straw.
Her chin juts out as she slides the bottle out of my hand and empties it into her mouth. For someone who claims to have been lost for the hours it took her to get here from the campsite, she sure looks to be faring well, aside from her dusty clothes and slightly frazzled hair.
We dance, each of us taking steps in a wide circle. “So, you never said why you’re here?”
“It was all those damn tourists.” I nod. “And the helicopters. Drove me nuts. Can’t feel the vibrations of the mountain with so many people.”
“Right.” She smiles, a sinister twist to her lips. “Give me the backpack.”
I pout, narrowing my eyes as I take a slow, stealthy step back. “You know, this sudden Lara Croft plot twist doesn’t seem like your thing. Neither does the smuggling plot. You must know it’s wrong.”
She pulls a gun from the back of her cinched cargo shorts, because of course, she has a freaking gun, and rolls her eyes. “I’m doing what I have to.”
Don’t stare at the gun, Willow, don’t stare at the gun.
“You’re a smart person.” I continue. “I’m sure you know that your next move is pivotal.” Jerrica stares like she’s two seconds from pulling that trigger, but this is my only tactic. At least she’s not pointing the gun at me.
Stall until Jack gets back.
“Because, trust me, I’ve given this a lot of thought, and at best you’ll get khaki or tan for a prison uniform.
At first I thought it was a standard orange, you know, ‘cause of the show, but then I remembered the documentaries I’ve seen, and they’re not all orange,” I ramble, pausing as if I’m conducting a color analysis.
“I actually think you could make orange work. Is that your natural hair color?”
She scratches her brow with the end of her gun. For her sake, I really hope the safety is on. “I should’ve knocked you out when I had the chance,” she mutters before stepping closer.
“Okay, wait! Hold up. Just…hear me out, okay?” I lift a hand and she growls, fed up with my stalling, although nobody can deny it’s working. Hell, I might even have another ten minutes of material in me.
Hurry up, Jack.
“You want what I have, right?”
“Obviously,” she deadpans.
“Okay, well you’ve already got a mess on your hands. And unless you wanna wrack up dead bodies, I think you need my help.”
Her brow furrows as she studies me more carefully. “What are you saying? Sweet, little Miss Instagram Content Creator wants to come to the dark side?”
Okay, well…the fact that Jerrica knows about my Instagram account is somewhat concerning.
I can feel the resentment in her slitted gaze. Jack had better show up soon, because her patience with me is wearing thin. This is right around the time my family members politely excuse themselves from conversation, or if you’re my cousin Emily, just walk away. But it’s all I’ve got right now.
“Does switching teams come with outfits?” I ask cheerfully.
“You’re full of it.” Jerrica lifts her chin, taking measured steps closer in her stylish hiking boots. Why couldn’t I have found shoes like that? “Tell me one thing that’ll convince me you’re desperate enough to make a deal with someone like me.”
“Now, see, you think too little of yourself.” I frown like I’m indignant on her behalf.
“You’re a formidable force! I’m sure you got those lady guns and strong quads by actually climbing walls and jumping over trash cans.
You don’t look like the type of person to half-ass anything.
That’s an amazing quality. This…business…
you’re involved in…that’s all it is—a thing you do. It’s not who you are.”
I’m feeding her the same spiel I’d give to anyone sitting in my stylist’s chair, only with a touch less sincerity and a bit more dramatic flair, because I get the feeling she feeds off of it. I catch the glint in her eyes every time I say something that she didn’t expect.
Her head falls back with a wild cackle.
“You’re something else, you know that? I almost wish I could take the risk and taint that innocent little heart of yours, just to keep you around. You’d sure make life entertaining.”
“I’m so flattered.” I curtsy, a little offended that she’d only use me for comedic relief. I think I’d make a great corrupted vixen if I had to.
I fan my face, making an effort not to show the shock and relief on my face when I spot Jack doing that sexy-as-heck stealth approach behind her. He even lifts a finger, pressing it to his mouth.
How dare he draw attention to his lips at a time like this? Also, he better not think I’m so stupid that I need him to tell me to actually be quiet right now. What kind of dimwit women is he used to being around?
Jerrica does that thing where she makes the gun click. Forgive my ignorance, seriously, I have no gun knowledge. All I know is Jack looks hot holding one, and Jerrica is a step closer to pointing one at my brain.
“Enough talking, Princess,” she begins, and I realize I like that nickname a lot less coming from her mouth. “Hand over the backpack, then you’re gonna be nice and helpful while I tie you up.”
“Sorry, I’m not really into that kinda thing,” I reply cheekily. Like hell am I making this easy for her. If my time here has taught me anything, it’s that I’m done running when things get tough. I stifle a smirk when I catch Jack’s single arched eyebrow at my response to Jerrica.
My chest thuds with giddiness—I did it. I distracted her long enough till Jack got here.
I’m sure I’ll process yet another real threat of death later when I cry in the shower and vow never to go that long without washing myself again.
But for now, I can revel in this small victory.
I may not have had the physical skills to defend myself, but I used my strengths.
While I’d happily give it my all and wrestle Jerrica to the ground, it’s clear who’d come out the victor in that situation.
My noodle arms are more useless than they were four days ago.
Silent as a ninja, Jack maneuvers himself behind Jerrica, wiggling his fingers as if he’s psyching himself up for the forthcoming physical contact.
His eyes flick to mine, and he winks before a blur of movement ensues.
I hold my breath, but no more than five seconds later, a cloud of dust begins to settle, and Jack has Jerrica disarmed on the ground.
“Get off me!” she yells, writhing while Jack digs a knee into her back and zip ties her hands behind her.
Ignoring her curses, he straightens, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm. He picks up her gun, unloading it before approaching me, eyes blazing with pride. This look could motivate me to do crazy things.
I return his smile, breathing heavily and grateful to be bullet-free and standing in front of this man. I hope I get to see this look for months to come—maybe even years.
With my hand on my hip, I hinge forward, fighting a wave of nausea. I guess the threat of danger is hitting me sooner than expected. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that even though I was in danger, I didn’t freak out.
“Where’s Chad?” I strain out while Jack crouches, concern etched on his face.
“He’s a little tied up. You okay? Are you hurt?”
“Nope. I’m fine. I might hurl, but I’m good.
” I throw him a thumbs up in lieu of the kiss I was plotting on, since I’d rather not test my stomach at the moment.
Jack fans my face before carrying Marigold near so I can drink from my hydration pack.
I straighten, sipping slowly as he watches me carefully, looking like he’d hunt someone down if I asked him to.