27. Chapter 24 – Marley #2
His voice was hoarse, the order spoken through jagged sandpaper. Cocking my head, I stared down at his soiled dress shirt and tie, the pants he hadn’t changed since we’d landed.
It was my responsibility to protect him, but what about his duty to protect us?
He’d done nothing to take charge or lead the passengers to safety, such a task clearly a part of a law enforcement officer's duty to serve and protect.
I loathed the entitlement he threw around when convenient without assuming a single onus of responsibility for the vulnerable in our care.
His glower mutated into a sinister scowl when I refused to cower in fear.
“I will be happy to release you, Detective.” I spoke amicably, the good cop to Madman’s bad. “But I think Madman here has asked a few questions he needs answers to before I do.”
Nodding to our executioner in question, the smile he returned was enigmatic. He was enjoying this.
“I should warn you, Diaz, I have your gun. On me, in fact,” I bluffed. “I’m a trained shot. Please don’t make me use it.”
Another beaming grin from my madman. He was going to be so disappointed when he found out I had lied.
There wasn’t a drop of fear in the dark brown pools of Diaz’s eyes, only a fierce, visceral hatred. Finally, after days of subterfuge, I could see his true feelings.
“El Chaco paid me to bring you to Mexico. A member of Clube de Morte killed his daughter on your orders. He is eager to kill you himself.”
Clube de Morte? Madman’s gang. His gang had killed the daughter of one of Mexico’s most dangerous cartel leaders? Holy shit.
“That’s it?” Madman laughed and the boom echoed off the hardwood trees, forcing tropical birds to flee their perches. “El Chaco wants me dead? How …” He searched for the word. “Boring.”
“He’s tried many times already, and could not get to you in the prison,” Diaz admitted with a scowl. “He had to get you off-site. He’s very … dedicated.”
Madman scoffed, as if this were just a regular Tuesday. “But you can be swayed, can’t you, cabrón? You will turn to save your skin.”
He tightened his biceps around Diaz’s neck again, choking off the air supply for a few seconds. Diaz struggled to breathe, legs and arms flapping against the earth like a caught fish. Abruptly, Madman released the hold.
“Why did you take the cocaine?” I eyed the white powder just a few feet away with curiosity.
“Insurance,” came Diaz’s reedy reply. “You’ve obviously chosen this madman”—he spat the word, and angry spittle landed on his chin—“over the law. When we’re rescued, I need you to comply. Simple blackmail.”
He said it so casually, as if ruining lives was a daily occurrence with no bearing on his conscience. Knowing what he’d agreed to do—who he was in bed with—it probably was.
My vision darkened at the edges at his callousness, the way he’d throw away my life—Nikki’s life—without an ounce of remorse. I’d wished for death by my own hand and would wish for it again, but no one, no one got to make that choice for me.
Like he already had for Madman.
It was a good thing Nikki had taken the weapon away from me. I couldn’t be trusted not to shoot him—not in this state.
“I’m going to let you live today, Diaz.” Standing abruptly, I walked toward the cocaine, stepping on his right hand with my full weight. A bone snapped under the pressure. I was thankful for the excellent weight distribution of the new two-sizes-too-big hiking boots Madman had gifted me.
“Madman, get rid of this, please,” I requested with a hand on my hip, attempting a stance that insinuated I had a gun at my back. I turned to the squirming man, now with a broken hand and obliterated pride. His face was backlit by silent rage.
“Diaz, keep to yourself. Help when asked. You won’t survive in the jungle without us, and I’m tired of entertaining your ridiculous attitude. Don’t like it? Venture out into these woods alone. I’m sure there are many things in here that would love a taste of you.”
Like snakes. Big snakes. As if realizing where I was for the first time, I shuddered and stepped back toward the safe, snake-free riverbed. But first: stomach-saving candy.
I feigned grabbing an object from behind my back and “handed” it to Madman out of Diaz’s view. His eyes lit up with glee when he recognized the fib, and he winked that same wink before he’d plundered my pussy with his tongue.
Not at all the time, Marley.
“Madman, now that you have the gun, can you escort Diaz back to his mat?” I said instead before adding, “and do you still have those ginger chews you stole from Tessa’s pack?”
Cocking his head at the sudden topic change, he dipped his head. “They are buried under your mat.”
Like the lollipops. Huh. Must be a prison hoarding thing. Relieved they were still available, I trounced as fast as I could out of the rainforest canopy, back onto the riverbed, toward camp.
Diaz’s behavior was more than concerning, but he’d been fearful enough to give answers.
I had to believe they were true. Right now, he had no gun and no evidence as leverage.
As much as it pained me to admit it, asking Madman to keep a sharp, threatening eye on the man was likely the easiest path to take until rescue.
After rescue … well, we had no control over that. A part of me wished Maddox would escape into the jungle and never return, to live out his days with some semblance of freedom, away from civilization where he couldn’t hurt people.
And I wished Diaz would get eaten by a bear. Or miss the rescue helicopter. Or die of dysentery. All excellent ways to die without it living on my conscience.
Ambrose was staring at me as I approached, a suspicious glare marring his normally pretty face. “You spend an awful lot of time with that guy,” he muttered when I approached my mat just on the other side of where he was weaving what appeared to be a curved canopy.
“He’s not an insufferable meathead,” I quipped, gripping the soft earth between my hands to find the small package of ginger chews.
I used to get nausea every time I flew during my first year of flight training.
A similar candy helped. I could only hope it would help Vanessa’s pain, even if they weren’t remotely close.
“Is it the tattoos?” He posed the question flippantly, like I was a teenage girl with a crush. “I have tattoos too—is that what gets your attention?”
He was teasing me, surely. This man, who hated me one minute, helped me with fruit the next, wanted attention? And where were his tattoos? On his ass? Somehow, I doubted our proper businessman had tattooed his cock.
Blinking rapidly, I shook my head to clear it. Where in the fuck had that come from?
“You want attention, my little meathead?” I cooed, standing with the pack to go find Tessa. “Ask Nikki to give you another scalp massage.”
Bright pink tinged the perfect glass skin of his cheeks, and I split my lip with my teeth to hold back my grin. Turning on my heel, I went to find Tessa and Vanessa, grabbing my water bottle along the way.
Vanessa would need the extra hydration. I could go another day—just one more.
Tomorrow, rescue would come.