26. Chapter 23 – Ambrose #2
But … I sagged. There was nothing I could do about it.
No call I could make, no money I could throw at the problem to speed up a solution.
The stash of cash I’d packed was still on the plane, covered in a pile of jaguar leftovers.
My laptop and cellphone were completely useless.
I was completely useless, and Marley had said as much to me today by leaving me behind.
I would sue Aileron when we finally got out of here, but it wouldn’t change my fate. I had danced with the devil named Erik Lancaster, and by the time I got out of here, I wouldn’t have anything at all.
Useless, useless, useless.
Acid soured in my gut, mixing with the leftover avocado I’d just eaten.
As if sensing my change in mood, Nikki shifted his weight. A small bottle fell out of his shorts pocket. We both stared at the mickey of vodka on the ground before he scooped it up and shoved it back where it came from.
Was that for sterilization, or—
“Hey,” I hesitated, knowing this was none of my business. “Are you okay, man? You’re taking care of us, but—”
“I’m great, mate.” He flashed another wide smile and finished standing, but this time, he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’m going to check on Danny.”
He turned his back on me and slammed the door on the conversation. A gnawing feeling ate at my insides as I considered his retreat. I’d keep a sharper eye on our flight attendant.
Blowing out a breath so hard my ribs screamed in protest, I grimaced and shifted to my knees, then to standing. I needed something to do, or I’d go insane waiting for Marley and the madman to get back.
What was she doing right now? Madman lumbered around her like a protective bear every chance he got. With the way he’d wrenched the jaguar off me, he’d jump in to shield her from anything that tried to make them dinner. But anyone with eyes could see he was interested in more with our captain.
Who was protecting her from him?
Gingerly, I settled in next to Brooks and Tessa, who’d been weaving fronds for the last hour into different shapes.
One appeared to be in the middle stages of a basket, and the other was looped in a circular pattern, like the makings of a dining room rug.
Theresa always said I needed creative hobbies to let off some steam.
I’d earn a basket-weaving certificate on my jungle safari and come back to civilization a renewed, rested man.
Hah.
Squinting around our outpost, I assessed what we could actually use. Marley had struggled with the fire last night after the heavy rain. Maybe I could weave a canopy to put over top of it to protect it.
I didn’t have any better ideas, so I sat with them and started the task.
I wasn’t a textile engineer, but I had half a brain—I could figure this out.
Laying a couple of strips in my hands, I studied the pattern Brooks was working on and tried to mimic the weave.
They smiled at me encouragingly, a person of few words.
Diaz was angrily collecting more fronds.
The look he’d given Nikki earlier when he’d asked where Marley and Madman were could have killed a lesser man, but Nikki had made a light joke of it and asked him to help elsewhere.
Somehow, he’d charmed the thorny fucker, so I wasn’t asking questions.
Diaz’s issues were his own. He had a job to do, just like we all did.
As long as he was doing it, I didn’t care who he glared at.
Vanessa—the girl who always looked like she was barely holding down her lunch—was off somewhere out of sight, probably puking again.
I made sure not to touch a single thing she had yesterday, not with bare hands, at least. If I could trade my watch for anything in this jungle right now, it would be a giant bottle of hand sanitizer.
The tiny bottle from my carry-on was just about gone, and it was now my most precious commodity.
I wove for hours, stopping for a few sips of water and a single bite of my protein bar ration. My stomach cramped, but I ignored it, awaiting our fruit delivery.
My gaze kept rising over the river bend toward the plane until finally, our captain and Madman walked around the corner, pulling a fuchsia luggage carrier behind them.
Marley dropped the bag at the base of the fire and unzipped it. Green and red mangoes and light green bananas tumbled out, a horde of food for the day. My mouth watered as I finally acknowledged my aching hunger.
“Sorry we’re later than we’d planned,” she announced, a bit of questionable pink in her cheeks. “These were a little harder to get than expected.”
Madman’s hands squeezed her waist in a gesture far too intimate for my liking.
He backed off immediately, grabbed a piece of fruit, and sat down across the fire, his normally stoic mask far too relaxed and happy for a hard day of evidence tampering.
The darkening of her cheeks confirmed my suspicions.
Mother fucker.
Our captain plucked a large mango from her stash and brought one over to Danny, whispering a few words of encouragement for him to eat. She murmured something in Nikki’s ear, then grabbed another fruit and headed straight for … me.
“Hey.”
The vibrant green of her eyes was brighter than I’d ever seen them. Soft and calming, with an edge of concern. She handed me the bulbous mango and lowered to her haunches. Her gaze left my face to roam over my bandages.
The scent of her smothered me immediately. Musky and fruity, with a touch of salt. Sex.
I gritted my teeth at the very obvious display of what she and the madman had been up to, and ignored the blood flooding to my cock. Worst possible timing.
Her gaze lingered on my body, scrutinizing the gauze placement and my bruising … and what was left of my abs, apparently, because her stare locked onto the muscles for just a beat too long. Whatever she was looking at, it captured her attention, and the lick of her lips was not my imagination.
Whatever she’d been up to with the madman—she saw something she liked here, too.
The hot satisfaction of being wanted flooded my veins, and I flexed, only to cringe from the blinding pain that spread across every part of my abdomen.
Idiot.
“How are you feeling?” Her eyes were back on mine, the question asked tenderly with a small smile.
Fuck, I liked that smile. She rarely used it on me, but when she did, a gentle warmth spread to every part of my body, like her smile was a sunrise.
“Like I got attacked by a jaguar,” I said flippantly, because being an asshole was the Olympic sport I wanted to medal in.
The apples of her cheeks flattened and her lips pursed into a frown, the joy on her face gone the second I opened my mouth. Fuck.
“I’m okay, Marley. Really. Nikki did a good job,” I acquiesced, bringing my hand up to touch her cheek. Immediately, I pulled it away. “But I’ll take that mango to make up for all the fun you were having while we were here working so hard.”
Her blushing was always a dead giveaway. Her tan skin bloomed from pink to crimson as I held her stare, enjoying the way she writhed under it.
Straightening, she stared down at me and a determined glint replaced her embarrassment. “I’m very grateful for all your hard work. But, trust me,” she practically sing-songed. “We worked hard, too. Getting fruit is quite the workout.”
My captain turned on her heel and marched away, leaving me with a wilting erection and a bad taste in my mouth.
She didn’t give me any more attention until the middle of the night. I’d rolled over on my ribs and gasped from the pain. The force against my bruised skin was so agonizing tears filled my eyes. She was by my side in seconds, the silhouette of her curvy body outlined by the firelight.
She placed gentle fingers along my rib cage and a cool hand on my forehead. Her soft skin and softer words lulled me back to sleep.
When I awoke again, an hour or so later, she had moved her mat to my side, her body barely two inches from mine, smothering me with her body heat, her breasts slowly rising and falling in the depths of sleep.
The smooth lines of her face were free of worry, the wave of dark hair over her cheeks; the supple, open part of her lips in wonder, before sleep took me back under.
When I woke with the sun a few hours later, she was gone.