Page 56 of Final Approach

She moved beside me, walking in sync as the plane came into view. The jungle on both sides hummed with its usual sounds of insects and a few monkeys in the distance, but no jaguars in sight.

Good. Another cat attack would interfere with the seduction.

She froze when we were within ten feet of the looming metal carcass, her muscles stiffening visibly in my T-shirt. Unconsciously, I reached for her, stroking a soothing palm down her back.

She leaned into the touch before pivoting on her heel to walk around the tail-end of the plane to the other side. My captain did not let her fear get in the way of her duties. A true leader in Clube de Morte.

The rain had taken away the evidence of the attack, only a few burnt logs remained in the spot she’d made a fire. The cockpit door was still open, and the cargo hold still cracked a few feet on hydraulic hinges. The stench of rotting corpses was worse than before, so dense I could taste it on my tongue.

She laid her backpack on the damp ground and looked up at me with hesitant eyes.

“So, drugs first?” She wrung her hands. “Then—we look for Jamie—then … fruit?”

Yes. Fruit.

“Okay.” I nodded and spit out the last of the lollipop’s paper wick, then moved toward the cargo hold. Lifting from beneath the door, I pushed upward with most of my strength. The grating sound was painful as the hinges gave in. I swallowed my gag as the smell burned my nostrils, determined to protect my ángel.

“I didn’t mean you had to do it!” she exclaimed as I moved to climb in.

My glare would have cut through stone. “You are not entering this plane, Captain. I will do it.”

I pulled myself into the dark cabin. The green emergency lights flickered, lighting the bay in the glow of ghosts. My eyes adjusted to the dim space before spotting the open luggage that contained the bricks of cocaine.

One by one, I dropped them to the ground. I saved one for later, tucking it just behind the cargo door. I could not carry two easily when navigating jungle terrain on my own. One would be enough to pay for passage.

Frowning, I considered my previous visit to this metal carcass. My second in command had left two on the ground in the jaguar aftermath. Where had they gone?

A small folded piece of notebook paper, similar to the one I’d found in the cockpit, had several scribbles of coordinates written on it in blue ink. I stuffed it into my pocket and dropped the emptied suitcase through the opening.

Eyes now stinging from the toxic air, I ripped open each suitcase to ensure no other bricks had been stuffed inside. I found only a small wallet full of American bills—another useful bargaining tool—and stowed it away with the note. Then I searched through the bags for a clean T-shirt and a pair of women's sneakers that looked to be about Marley’s size.

I found both, a large black shirt that had to be from one of the dead men’s packs, and a pair of hiking boots. I held them to my chest when I slid out of the chamber, having finally reached my limit of breathing in filth.

Marley paid no attention to me when I slid through the small gap. Her gaze had fixed on the small mound of cocaine encased in plastic at my feet.

“I don’t believe he would do this,” she repeated, body shaking. “There is no way he would do this!”

Instinct pushed me closer, the need to protect her spurring me to wrap my arms around her shivering body. She stiffened, but didn’t turn me away and her frustration molded into anger against my bare chest.

“I know he’s innocent, Madman. There has to be an explanation for this. We need to find him.” Fierce determination colored her tone, her words abrupt against my sternum. “I need him to tell me what it is.”

She clenched her fists against my pecs, and her vibrations strengthened as the violence in her body sought release.

“Shhhhhh,” I soothed, stroking a palm over her hair. “We will get to the bottom of this.”

She was convinced of his innocence. I was not. My only priority today was her and Clube de Morte’s survival. I would not always be here to protect her. But I could grant her this grace with a simple search of the woods.

Furious tears glistened in her eyes. She buried her face in my chest and drew deep breaths, refusing to release them. I tightened my hold and stood deadly still as she faced her battle inside, a soldier ready to take her orders.

Her curves melded into the hard planes of my body and the softness of her hair tickled the bottom of my chin. I allowed myself the pleasure of simply holding her, this woman who’d saved me from certain death.

When she’d calmed and her breathing slowed to a normal pace, I broke the silence, offering her an outlet for her hurt.

“Hit me,” I commanded. I gripped her wrists in one fist and pushed her away from my body to stare deeply into her eyes. “Hit me like you would him, given the chance.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Madman.” She shrugged out of my hold and stared up at the sky as if the sun could evaporate the evidence of her pain. “And I wouldn’t hit him, either. Jamie is important to me—he’s—” She cut herself off and drew in a slow breath. “I just want to understand. Fuck, why can’t I remember?”

She slapped a palm over her face and rubbed it down to her chin, the defeated grimace contorting her beautiful face.