21. Chapter 18 – Nikki #2
“Let’s keep going.” I gestured toward the second, much larger pond that was not a figment of my imagination. “If there is a safe spot to wash, I’d take that over a dick suck right now.”
Diaz broke his silence and laughed. The sound was rough and low, reminding me of the chortle villains made in cartoons before dipping their victims in vats of acid.
Remembering he’d allegedly drugged a cuffed criminal without his consent, I made a mental vow to never make a sexual joke in front of a man who clearly got off on rape-y behavior. I clutched my hatchet tighter.
Another sharper incline, another body of water, much larger than the first. The rocks were far more jagged here, sharply jutting at awkward angles.
I climbed over easily with my rubber-soled trainers, but Diaz slipped behind me in his dress shoes before pulling himself over a larger rock the size of a small vehicle.
I leaped over a crevice about the depth and width of Madman and assessed the pool.
It was far deeper, but hard to determine its exact depth with a broken lens.
It was also far wider, big enough for two men to sit in comfortably.
More confusing was the cluster of floating refuse on top—what appeared to be another batch of food packaging and a hunk of oddly shaped, brightly colored plastic.
The ghostly fingers of discomfort walked their way up my spine. Surely, no one from our group had been this far away in the dead of night?
Seeing no creatures lurking in the water, I reached out to pull out the unknown object, and nearly dropped it back into the pool when I saw it was a child’s sandal.
No children had been on our plane.
Discomfort morphed into dread. I’d neglected to think about the well-known practice of human trafficking through the Darién, but it was impossible to ignore the evidence in my palm. Were members of the Colombian cartel close by, leading hundreds of migrants per day through this territory?
Perhaps we could barter some of our newfound drugs for safe passage. Desperate times and all, but I hoped never to reach that level of insanity.
Pursing my lips, I pocketed the sandal along with the food wrapping and turned to the waiting Diaz, his dark eyes regarding me curiously.
“Let’s head back.” I didn’t think it useful to say anything else.
He made no move to join me, choosing instead to glare off into the midday sun.
“Come on,” I coaxed again, waving the axe in front of me. “We have more trees to cut. My dark skin can still burn, you know.”
He snorted. His own skin was a similar shade to mine. We’d both singe this close to the equator. I highly doubted skin cancer was a concern for this man, but anything to provide a distraction.
He gave me one final predatory stare before turning on his heel to descend the rocky slope.
Was my sister having the time of her life with Arthur right now while I waltzed through dirt alongside a potential psychopath? I too could be sitting in an air-conditioned bar, sipping whiskey along with them, laughing about boorish topics that had nothing to do with my very survival.
My heart grew heavy as I considered the scenario. Marley, out here alone, was the alternative. I’d have no hair left on my head if I were seated on a Brazilian patio while she fought for her life out here without me.
Lady Luck had been a curse, not a blessing, but I was glad I could be here with my pilot, keeping her safe.
“Fuck!”
Diaz’s growled curse slipped through his lips when he slid in front of me on a craggy outcrop and fell hard onto the slanted rocks and into the crack I’d jumped over just minutes before.
“Mierda,” he cursed again.
From above, I took stock of the man truly jammed within the crevice in front of me.
He’d fallen almost vertically, so the drop had to be as deep as I’d thought.
His biceps did him no favors, now wedged between the two slabs with nowhere to go, the rock coming up to chest height.
Carefully, I hopped over the opening to face him head-on.
His forehead sported a bloody goose egg, but he was conscious and furious.
“Help me,” he demanded, hatred and rage once again present in the depths of those dark, soulless eyes. And fear. It was masked by layers of ill will, but it was present.
It was heartening to see he could be the least bit frightened—something to show he was still human beneath the ruined suit and the badge in his pocket.
The hatchet grew warm in my palm. We were alone, two men with a task for our survival.
How easy would it be to say Diaz had gone missing?
No one else had ventured up here, and it was far enough away from the plane to ensure we were unlikely to make the trek again.
One swift slice to the skull would be all that was needed to ensure this shifty man with the hatred in his heart never touched a hair on Marley’s head.
His pitch-black irises squinted at me in the tiniest display of panic. Alas, Diaz was human after all.