Page 34 of Final Approach

Shuffling backward and skirting the fire, I sought a better view from farther out. The noises were coming from inside the plane, that I was sure of. Could we dodge around it and run like hell toward our outpost?

I’d choose my life tonight, and drug cleaning tomorrow, should I have the option.

Before I could voice the thought or move a muscle, a sinewy spotted body, long and lean, slid through the passenger door opening to the ground and a wide round paw hit the earth with an almost silent thwack, followed by three more.

The thud of my chest ebbed completely as I peered directly into the amber eyes and bloody maw of a jaguar.

Holy shit. Holy mother fucking shit.

The jungle cat was beautiful. The predator stared at us through serene intelligent eyes, with a body designed for maximum speed and agility. Awe took the place of fear for a fraction of a second before my actual survival instincts kicked in.

Fuck me, if I had to die in this godforsaken jungle, it would not be as a jaguar’s lunch. For once, I felt the tiniest bit competent in this hellhole. My survival skills repertoire was shit, but I knew cats.

Smaller than a full-grown male, the likely female was maybe 150 pounds, with a slimmer neck and smaller jaw than the ones I’d seen at the San Diego Zoo. The scent of blood in the air must have piqued her curiosity. It was a testament to their sense of smell that she could sense anything beyond ozone and burned aluminum. By the blood on her paws and jaw, she’d already snacked on whoever remained in there.

Drawing in a quick breath—the only way I could breathe without pain in my ribs—I held it to suppress the shudder trying to force its way through me. I would not be her dessert.

“Do not make eye contact,” I commanded slowly from my position behind Nikki. “She’ll see it as a challenge. On my count, everyone back away slowly, one foot at a time.”

Micro-movements of acknowledgment came from all of them. Good.

“Three,” I murmured, keeping my gaze on the silhouette of the plane beyond her body to keep track of her positioning. “Two. One.”

We shuffled in tandem, and I hoped like hell they’d listen to me and keep their eyes averted. No eye contact was the number one rule with predator cats. I didn’t really like any of these people, but I didn’t want them dead.

I didn’t anymore, anyway. Our situation was fucked, and I didn’t know what to make of Marley’s story. If she was telling the truth, and the other captain had bailed on a plane full of drugs, she could be just as much of a victim as me. We all were.

It was easier to think of her as the enemy.

“Stop.” The order was so low the crackle of the fire masked it, but everyone immediately halted in their tracks.

“What now?” Madman asked out of the side of his mouth. His tone was lazy, almost curious. Did anything faze this fucker?

“We wait,” I said simply. “We turn and run, we’re fair game. She needs to decide if we are more interesting than the food on the plane.”

Marley visibly blanched and her spine straightened, no doubt at the reality that the jaguar had been inside the plane, feeding on the dead. Right. This woman apparently really cared about the passengers on our plane. You could fake a lot of emotions and get away with it, but empathy was one of those “have it or you don’t” traits. Marley was full of it, along with a freight train full of self-loathing.

Self-loathing, I could identify with. Empathy? That took a lot of work with very little payback.

I reached for her behind Nikki and Madman frames, and rubbed a calming hand down the length of her back. Her shoulder blades jerked in surprise, but she didn’t shrink away.

The heat of her skin in the cotton T-shirt tore through me like a shot. What was I doing? I quickly pulled my hand back and fisted it by my side.

The jaguar stood stock still, taking us in. Her long, ink-dipped tail flicked back and forth behind her like an eager weapon. That … wasn’t good. She was too interested. Was someone making eye-contact? Fuckers, look at the ground.

“If she comes forward, you need to make yourselves big.”

Nikki mimicked a steel pole, but I continued through gritted teeth. “Wave your arms, widen your legs, be loud—you need to appear threatening. If that doesn’t work, scatter. Opposite directions, and cover your skull. Jaguars bite through the head, not the neck. Let’s shuffle again, on three.”

I took a tiny step back. “Three, two, one.”

Another shuffle put an extra three feet between us and her. Another interested flick of the tail. Fuck.

“How do you know this?” Nikki’s question held a high-pitched note of terror. I fought the urge to run a soothing hand down his back, too. Something was definitely wrong with me, and the jaguar was just the tip of the iceberg. I answered, to avoid diving into that line of thought.

“Childhood interests.”

The apex predator shifted forward on her paws, and in that moment, I knew she would pounce.