15. Chapter 12 – Marley #2
“You are not responsible for me, Maddo- Madman,” I corrected, not wanting to call the possible murderer by the name he clearly hated. “And this is totally inappropriate. Were there women in your prison? You can’t just stalk them into dark corners.”
“I wasn’t peeking, even if I was tempted.” He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and his brows furrowed in a serious stare, as if imploring me to believe him. “You are beautiful, ángel, but I want to see your face when I memorize your body.”
I—what? What should I say to that?
Shaking my head out of whatever pipe dream this was, I picked up my ruined clothes and moved to walk past him.
Before I could think better of it, I placed a palm on his biceps and gently squeezed the tight muscle.
His smooth skin was hot against mine, burning me with its intensity. I quickly pulled my hand away.
“Thank you.” When he cocked his head in question, I continued. “For wanting to keep me safe, I mean. Thank you.”
Dipping his head in a solemn nod, he stuffed the lollipop back in and crunched on the candy coating as he hovered—my personal, silent security detail—on our way back to our mats.
The detective’s gaze latched onto mine from across the fire.
The hatred in them so fierce a primal shudder swept up my spine.
Madman placed a large protective palm on my forearm, as if sensing my distress. He leaned in and a fan of fruit-scented breath washed over me when he whispered in my ear.
“He will not be a problem for you.”
Goosebumps pebbled across my skin at the vehemence in his tone. With that solemn declaration, Madman retreated to the other side of the fire, taking his place away from the others, like a wayward sentinel.
My attention turned to the others. Danny was already asleep.
Tessa and Vanessa were lying down, facing each other on their fronds, holding hands.
I wasn’t sure if their relationship was romantic or platonic, but regardless, they were very close.
For Tessa’s sake, I hope Vanessa came around by morning.
Brooks and Diaz stared into the fire as if it held the answer to all our problems. If only.
Ambrose’s gaze landed on mine from two mats away.
He held my stare, unblinking, as if we’d agreed to a staring contest and he refused to lose.
The firelight turned the warm brown of his hooded eyes to almost black, making them appear depthless, like I could tumble through them like Alice in Wonderland and never find my way back.
My pulse quickened as I wondered, not for the first time, who had hurt this man to reflect so much personal pain, and if I was the only one who could see it.
Hurt people could see hurt in people. It was just the way it was.
Then he blinked and turned his attention back to the fire as if he hadn’t seen me at all. His dismissal unsettled me, but no more than his words earlier today.
The woman I saw racing into the cabin at the last minute went down with the plane instead of saving our lives.
The accusation had chilled me then, and it froze the blood in my veins now. Leaning closer to the heat of the fire, I begged the errant sparks to burn through the icy bite of his contempt.
Worse, I didn’t know if he was right. It was just another fuzzy halo.
Had the darkness finally won? Had I intentionally gone down with the plane, finally ready to end my life in the ways I’d hoped to since childhood?
Was I really so mentally ill I’d sacrifice a plane full of people to get the relief I was desperate for?
Each question was a dart dipped in poison, ready to pierce through my heart. Hot, acidic tears hovered at the corner of my eyes. I squeezed them shut to dissolve each one before it could fall.
If I caused this pain—if I killed those people—I deserved to die. Not for my release, but for their revenge.
A rustling came from behind me, and Nikki, smelling strongly of mint and antiseptic, plopped down on his makeshift mat beside mine.
Swallowing the boulder forming in my throat, I drew in a deep breath and embraced the distraction. I could cry about my damage later—right now, I had people to care for. And one of them was Nikki.
I wasn’t the only one who had changed out of my clothing.
Our flight attendant turned emergency patrol officer wore a pair of black basketball shorts and a light gray hoodie that had the sleeves torn off, exposing the lean, long lines of honed biceps and developed forearms. Envy flooded my heart at the sight of his freshly tied, bright orange basketball sneakers. I should have had him pack my bag.
Despite our years working together, I’d only seen Nikki out of uniform a handful of times.
His casual, rumpled clothes and broken glasses were a sharp contrast to the carefully put-together man I was used to, but I liked it.
He must have sacrificed some of his water ration to wash his face, because the blood and soot stains had vanished, although bits and pieces of dried bark lingered in the curls of his hair.
Even after a brutal plane crash, he was effortlessly gorgeous. How?
He scooted closer to me until our legs touched and leaned in, the smooth British tenor low, for only me to hear.
“How are the memories, love? Is your head alright?”
I didn’t need to lie—not to Nikki. His immediate dismissal of Ambrose’s claim hadn’t been enough to absolve me of my sins, but his unshakable confidence warmed me in a way I couldn’t explain.
“No pain,” I whispered back into the small pocket of space between us. “But no clarity either. Nikki”—I turned to face him directly, no longer willing to contain the shine of tears in my eyes—“Am I delusional? Was Jamie in the cockpit? I keep thinking I’m making it up, that I’m …”
I broke off, unwilling to say the word. If I was hallucinating, then I could be like him, and if I was like him …
No one was safe.
“He wasn’t there, Marl. Unless we’re both delusional, he wasn’t there.
I’m just as baffled as you are.” Nikki’s hazel eyes stared through me.
His gaze filled with warmth and calm against the flickering firelight.
I lost myself in them for the briefest moment, the gentle greens and golds finding their way into my bloodstream like a hit of Adavan.
He turned his gaze back to the fire, extended his long legs and leaned back on his arms, looking far too casual for the seriousness of the conversation. It was on purpose, I realized.
“I’m going to go back in the morning,” I declared and adopted a casual lean of my own. “If he left the plane, I need to see where he went. I can’t leave him in the jungle, Nik.”
A beat—a quick second that felt like a small lifetime.
“I’ll accompany you,” he said with a tone of finality. “But I think it best we go tonight, after everyone is asleep. We might cause a slight panic if our passengers realize that their secondary pilot has gone missing. Best to go under cover of darkness.”
“Okay.” There was wisdom in that plan. “I don’t think I’ll sleep much, anyway. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
“Not if I wake you first.” His answering grin, stretched wide with an impossible dash of whimsy, settled a morsel of the foreboding growing in my gut.
I laid down on a bed as comfortable as vinyl over concrete and placed my arm underneath my head. There were no stars tonight—no beacons in the sky to remind us of home. The moon was tucked behind dense clouds, the billowing smoke from our fire dissolving right into them.
Five days. We had to keep these people alive and find Jamie within five days. Not impossible, just … improbable. I survived improbable once, on my own, without Nikki and a madman protector. I could do it again.
The errant curls of smoke continued to filter into the navy tapestry above my head until somehow I closed my eyes and fell asleep.