Page 37 of Final Approach

With interest, I had watched Nikki and Marley leave, but when Ambrose rose from his bed to follow, I recognized an opportunity for subterfuge. I owed them no explanation for my actions, but concern for their well-being was an acceptable rationale if questioned.

The plane was now a mortuary, but a scrounger’s paradise. I expected I would find what I needed to plan my escape. Shrapnel made for useful weapons, and the corpses would have something to trade—cell phones, jewelry. I hadn’t expected Clube de Morte to actually need my protection.

This side of the plane was silent. Not even cicadas chirped in the trees along the riverbed. The silence did not trouble me. No thumps in the night or growls of pleasure—only the living could hurt me. I wasn’t afraid of the dead.

This Jamie—the man who’d greeted me with an Australian accent and a wide smile—was trouble. I would help my ángel find him, and then I would punish him for putting her in harm’s way. He was the enemy of Clube de Morte.

Pausing at the opening, I leaned in to listen once more. Nothing. I stashed the gun in the tight pocket of my jeans, then hauled myself over the jagged lip of the floor and lay on my stomach.

Listening. Waiting.

The stench of rotting corpses in the tropical humidity rivaled the solitary confinement I’d spent two hundred days in during my first year. Seven months in a black box with nothing but my piss and shit to keep me company, and one serving of oatmeal delivered a day. Killing the rapist guard was worth the punishment.

Covering my mouth with my shirt, I breathed in the stale scent of hotel shampoo and sweat, a bouquet of orchids in comparison, and rose to my feet. The emergency lighting was still active, the green glow lighting up the broken bodies from below.

The jaguar may have been the first scavenger to arrive, but she wouldn’t be the last. The flesh of these victims would feed animals for days, weeks even. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the mutilated body of the woman who’d stayed. Her face and the front of her chest were an exposed mess of bloodied tissue and gnawed bone.

My captain would bury herself in guilt if she knew. I was grateful I could carry this burden for her.

A thick gold band with several small jewels caught my eye in the faint lighting. Useful. Reaching beyond the shredded remains, I wriggled it off her stiffened finger and tucked it into my pocket. Several chains of gold and silver lined her companion’s neck. Wrenching them off her in one swift pull, the body fell forward like a board against the seat in front of her.

That would be enough to bide my time for now. Ambrose needed me.

I forced my way through the damaged opening into the cockpit, and headed toward the seat closest to the damaged door. The kit was right where Marley had promised, alongside a discarded notebook. Hers? I pocketed it for later.

Holding the kit to my chest, I drew in a deep breath and kicked against the door with all my strength, forcing the buckled metal outward. The seal bent but didn’t break. I kicked again, the rubber of my scuffed boots absorbing most of the shock as the door relented and swung open with a bang.

I fell through the opening and landed on my sliced shoulder, releasing an angry grit of pain. Biting my tongue and breathing through my nose, I tossed the kit toward Nikki’s surprised form.

He grabbed it out of the air one-handed while holding the torch over Marley’s head with the other.

Marley flipped open the white plastic box and I ignored my wound and shuffled over to their position three feet away. Ambrose lay still on the ground, but his eyes were wide, and defined muscle had been exposed with his shirt open. His chest was no longer slathered in blood. The slashes were angry and deep, but appeared clean.

He was a pretty man, even with the cat’s branding. A child’s Ken doll with perfect features and tanned skin. He wasn’t my type, but men never were. They were a convenience in a world where I couldn’t hold a woman.

The woman I hoped to hold soon enough worked quickly, cleaning her hands with the alcohol wipes before she slathered a thick layer of ointment on Ambrose’s chest. He shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t writhe in pain. Then she unspooled the gauze and stuffed it into the crevices of his chest.

“We used the cocaine as you directed.” Nikki clapped a hand on my shoulder, and the grit of my teeth tipped him off to my discomfort. He immediately withdrew his hand and stared at the slash of blood across his palm. “Jesus, man! Let me look at that.”

He gingerly pulled off the sleeve of my jacket and rolled up my sleeve with a whistle through his teeth. “She got you good, mate.” Ripping open an alcohol wipe, he gently applied it to the torn skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For being the one to go in.” He lowered his voice, casting a troubled stare toward the woman. “That would have killed her.”

Dipping my head, I sucked my teeth while he wrapped my arm with gauze. “It would have,” I agreed solemnly, already seeing so much of this woman. This woman whom my second was also taken by. I saw that, too.

I’d had my suspicions when I followed at a distance, seeing their hands locked together under the torchlight. But now I knew.

Good.

Two men could protect her better than one. I eyed the man on the ground who’d chosen to follow as well, and who’d stepped in front of a beast to shield her.

I would keep an eye on them all while I remained in their presence. They’d earned my loyalty when they protected me without the expectation of anything in return.

Clube de Morte.

Nikki held my jacket out so I could transfer my arm back into it. Marley carefully leaned back on her haunches and stripped the shirt she was wearing over her head.

My breath hitched in my throat, while the blood flowed straight from my heart into my cock.