Page 38 of Final Approach

Beautiful dark olive skin shone against the fire, a tattoo of the phases of the moon across her back. She ripped the cotton fabric into two long strips, ignorant of the two men who stared at her exposed skin as if it were gold.

She twisted in her seat and the swells of her breasts spilled out of the loose beige bra cups when she stared up at us in concern.

There was no blood left in my body. I fought the urge to shove my face into her chest, to taste the skin that taunted me. Her nipples would be big and dark, as sweet as the suckers I’d kept in my pocket. Now was not the time to ask for a lick, but soon.

“Madman, can you help me lift him?” She gestured toward the spools of cloth in her hands. “We need to wrap this around him like a tourniquet.”

His head was still in her lap. The best way to lift his shoulders evenly was from behind her. I moved behind her kneeling form and sank to my knees. Reaching underneath her arms, I lifted Ambrose’s torso slowly and evenly. Her body was hot within the confines of my arms and the sweet caramel scent and soft notes of floral shampoo turned my cock to steel.

Breathing in deeply and committing her smell to memory, I held him while she efficiently wrapped the ripped shirt around his wounds and cinched it tight.

I lowered him back to the earth and quickly retreated, releasing her body from mine. When I touched her again, it would be when she asked for it. When I could enjoy her properly.

I stood and moved around her, eyeing up the man who would not die tonight. His face was still pale, but without the pallor of a corpse. His heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open and closed, weakened from blood loss and pain, but he was conscious.

“Would you be able to carry him back?” Marley bit her lip as if the request were too great. She did not know Ambrose was Clube de Morte. I would take care of him.

“I don’t need to be carried.” Ambrose stumbled over the words, his tongue thick and sluggish. “I can walk. I just—”

“If you’d like to walk tomorrow, that’s no problem, mate.” Nikki’s forced cheerful voice broke through Ambrose’s pathetic protests. “But Madman’s going to carry you now, so you don’t push it, alright? We’re going to need that quick wit of yours come morning.”

The chameleon, always so smooth. My convincing was more violent.

“I will carry you,” I commanded, my tone strong enough to squander any more protests. I would do anything this woman asked. But before I could fulfill her desire, she needed a shirt.

Wincing, I removed my jacket and gripped the hem of my worn white cotton T-shirt, pulling it over my head. I held it out for her. Satisfaction trickled through me like a hit of the most powerful drug while her gaze roamed the planes of my chest and abs, as hard and taut as marble beneath the layers of ink and scars. I preened under her attention.

Shaking her head as if clearing it, she hesitantly reached for the fabric and accepted my offer. I took in the final erotic view of her curves before she covered them with my clothes. The shirt clung to her skin, wrapping her in my scent and my heat. I wanted to keep her in it and rip it off her with equal measure.

But there was no time.

I shrugged my jacket back on, biting my cheek to stifle the pain from the bandaged gash. Without words, I kneeled and scooped up Ambrose’s limp body as if he were my bride, careful to avoid his chest. He grumbled a slew of terse words in a language I did not know, but did not struggle.

I eyed the two bricks of cocaine still sitting idly in the sand. Insurance. I would return for them and bury them later. I would need more bargaining chips than simple jewelry when I traded for safe passage.

Nikki moved to Marley’s side while she packed up the first-aid kit. Once the kit was locked and held in her grip, he placed the torch into the sand.

“Hop on,” he ordered, offering her his back.

She was smart enough not to protest. Her shoes would have gotten her killed had Ambrose not offered himself as bait. I waited until she was safely secured around his torso, kit tight to her chest and the torch repositioned in her arm held high above her head, before taking off in a brisk walk.

Bluish-purple light dappled the horizon. The sun would rise soon.

Ambrose’s breathing was shallow against my chest but still present. He was heavier than I expected, compact, but dense with muscle. Curling my arm tighter around his thighs, I picked up speed. Nikki’s footfalls matched mine a few steps behind.

“We’re going to have to go back,” Marley said. The light of the bonfire flared around the corner just in front of us. “We still need to find him.”

Him. Jamie. I would accompany her, the perfect excuse to return to the plane.

But that was not today’s problem.

The few people we’d left behind still huddled around the fire, awake and haunted beyond the flames.

“We thought you were dead!”

One of the travel girls rushed us as we drew closer, a trail of fresh tears dripping down her face.

“We woke up to the sound of a crack, and you were all missing. We thought we were all going to die.” She hiccuped obnoxiously, as if she were the one who’d faced a fierce jungle cat tonight.