I understand the dilemma. “If we stay with the plane on the off chance Deakins is tracking us, the bad guys could show up. And you don’t think…?”
He kneels and empties his pockets on the ground. A couple hand fulls of bullets scatter in several directions.
I kneel beside him, trying to understand. “The gun you’ve got holds thirty-two rounds. We have those and another twenty or so for reload. A pocket knife and a propeller will be our only weapons. I can carve stakes, make additional weapons, but that will take time and I don’t know how much time we’ll have.”
“So what do we do?” I slap at a mosquito buzzing at my ear.
“First thing first, I need to get the propeller. We need it to cut through the vegetation. You watch her. We’ll handle the next problem when I get back down.” He looks at my hand. “We need to clean that as soon as possible.”
My hand throbs at the mention. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
He stands and pulls me up with him. “I promise to be gentle.”
I narrow my eyes at him, remembering the cocaine. “Are you going to drug me?” God, I hope not. I don’t do shit like that, because I’m terrified of addiction. I can see the headlines now. Heiress Saved From Jungle By Blowing Coke.
He kisses the end of my nose. “Not the way you think.”
Before I can question him further, he bends and picks up the small tool kit, then begins to pull on vines, testing their strength.
“Camille, pay attention to how I climb this vine, in case you have to climb one quickly to get away.”
Get away from what? I want to ask him, then whirl around as something snaps behind me. Janine whirls too, stands up and takes a few steps closer to me.
“Listen to me,” Tate snaps. “Pay attention to everything around us, but if you jump at every sound, you’re going to spend all your time and energy jumping. Look at me.” He waits until I turn around. “Watch my feet. You won’t have enough upper body strength to climb quickly with your hands.” He pulls himself up and the muscles in his arms bulge with the effort. Then, he moves his feet until the vine is under one foot and above the other. “This is a brake. I could stand like this all day and don’t have to depend on my arms.” He pulls himself up another couple of yards and the vine stays woven between his feet. He does it again, making it seem really easy. “We’ll practice it later.” A few more pulls and he’s nearly to the plane.
“I’m so sorry, Camille.”
I whip around, having already forgotten I’m supposed to be watching her. I point the gun at her chest, but her dark eyes never leave mine.
“It was my brother’s idea,” she goes on. “When he found out we were working together…” a tear falls from her eye, “he came up with the plan.” Another tear falls and the flood gates seem to open. She cries for a full minute, before going on. “But it all went so wrong. You weren’t supposed to be hurt.” Her shoulders shudder through her sobs.
I say nothing, just keep the gun leveled at her. My hand throbs, like it’s trying to remind me to stay strong.
“I cared for you, Camille. And I was going to call the entire thing off, but got so jealous when your brother and,” she looks up into the trees, her face contorting into anger, “he came along. You just threw me over, like I meant nothing to you.”
Sympathy washes through me. She’s right. I did. When I learned Tate was coming, nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. Only him.
“It nearly destroyed me, because I’d started to love you so much.” She takes a small step closer to me, her dark eyes pleading for me to understand. “I was stupid enough to think we might have a future together. That you could possibly love me too.” Her face drops into her hands.
From up in the trees, Tate calls, “Coming down!” and a few seconds later, something thuds on the ground. I don’t turn to see what it is. I keep my eyes on the woman in front of me.
I desperately wish I knew what happened over the past twenty-four hours. I search my memory, but it’s completely blank — from the time I said goodbye to Tate until I woke up in the house an hour or so ago. “Was it your brother you killed back at the house?” I ask her.
She looks up at me and her eyebrows furrow, then smooth almost immediately, before her entire face crumples. “Yes. Because I knew he’d stop at nothing to find me. Find you. I knew if I didn’t stop him, we’d have to…” she shudders, “always look over our shoulders.”
Confusion boils inside me, growing hotter the more I try to remember, the more I attempt to understand. “Then why did you say you didn’t like him much anyway?”
She takes a deep breath and looks up into the canopy above us, before meeting my eyes again. “He’s always been abusive. I’d lived in fear of him since I was nine years old.” Her face crumples again. “When he started … started …”
Oh no. Sympathy and horror mix and become tangled, as I watch her sob harder, then sink slowly to the jungle floor.
“He came into my room over and over … and threatened to kill me if I told anyone.”
I drop the gun to my side, unsure what to do. Her entire body is trembling, as sobs heave in and out with each breath.
“Janine, I’m so sorry.” I look around and see the box with the food I’d packed earlier. I walk over to it and pull out a bottle of water. I spot the baby wipes I’d also tossed in and grab them.
“No, it’s my fault,” she says, as I step closer, then squat down a couple feet away. “I let him use me, and I never told him no. I always did what he told me to do.” She looks up at me, her face dripping in a mixture of tears and snot and sweat. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I let him make me hurt you.”
Reaching out, I hand her the bottle of water, then toss the wipes in her direction. She opens the water and has trouble bringing it to her lips. She’s shaking so hard, several drops dribble from her mouth when she finally takes a long sip.
Then she slings it at me, water whipping across my face, slamming into my eyes. Before I can blink to clear them, she’s on me, knocking me backward and sitting on my chest.
She laughs. “So predictable, aren’t you? Predictable and pathetic.” Then she slaps me hard across the face and wrenches the gun from my hand.
Chapter Five – Tate
What I wouldn’t give for a hammer.
If I had one, I’d beat the ever lovin’ shit out of this damn thing.
Taking the cheap ass wrench, I whack at the cover again, before climbing further up the vine for a different angle. I beat at it again and finally, finally, the fucking thing begins to come loose.
Glancing down through the trees, I try to see Camille, but the leaves are too thick. I stop to listen, but the animal symphony is playing so loud.
I kick at the cover and it loosens even more. I climb back down to its level and can finally twist it all the way off. I examine it closely. It would serve as a good bowl for boiling water, making healing teas if I can find the right herbs. I’ve got to take care of Cam’s hand. Soon.
“Coming down,” I yell, and let it fall to the jungle floor, then get to work on the propeller bolts. I’m lucky. This is a twin blade. It will make a fine weapon, both for defense and for food. I’ll need to sharpen the edges more before it’s useful for that, or to cut a path through the growth.
It’s thick here, which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it tangled the plane, essentially cushioning our fall. It saved us.
It’s also a curse, because now we have to deal with it and the dangers it presents. Ground cover is the perfect hiding place for snakes and spiders, giant centipedes and poisonous frogs. Our pace will be maddeningly slow, the line of sight nearly nonexistent. Also, by cutting a path, we might as well be laying down cookie crumbs for the enemy to follow. And if we have to run? In this mess, there is no running.
With two bolts removed, I move on to the third, processing the next steps I need to take. Cam’s hand comes first. Infection out here is fatal. Then, I
need to decide how far to move us from this plane and in which direction. In the air, I didn’t see any rivers, and finding water is a priority. Then herbs. Then food. Then bunking down for the evening and surviving the nighttime feeders.
Camille’s in sandals, so getting her feet covered is another priority. So is getting her legs and arms protected. It’s the rainy season, which brings on the mosquitoes in droves. Malaria is a real possibility. Need to do whatever I can to reduce that risk.
I finish removing the bolts and pull the propeller away from the nose. “Coming down,” I yell and drop it to the ground, then move around to enter the plane again, focusing on materials I can use to cover feet and limbs.
Climbing up through the open door, I plunge my knife into the leather covering the seats and cut the largest sections available. Leather is strong and will help protect feet. It won’t stop a snake bite, but hell, neither will boots. Not these snakes.
Pulling the leather away, I go for the springs of the seats. They might serve some purpose too. When you have nothing, anything is a possible asset. I took the cigarettes from the house earlier knowing that I can burn the filters, and turn them into a blade sharp enough to cut through the thick skin of fruit. The tobacco will help start a fire. Who knows, the cancer sticks might save a life.
After that task is done, I move to the back of the plane to see if there’s anything Cam missed before. Nothing. This plane was stripped down for drug runs only. I search for a tracker, not really expecting to find one on the inside. I could spend time searching the outside, but don’t think that’s the wisest use of my time.
With one last look around, I grab onto a vine and begin yet another descent to the ground. Then I stop. Something isn’t right. The tightening of my balls is proof.
“Cam?”
I move down a few additional feet and search the area where I’d left her.
“Cam!”
The vine burns my hand as I loosen my grip and slide faster, moving as soon as my feet hit the forest floor. And see her. See them on the other side of a tree. Janine’s crouched behind Camille, one hand clamped over her mouth, the Uzi pressed against her temple.
Shit!
I’m going to kill Camille if we ever get out of here. She had one thing to do. One fucking thing. Hold the gun on Janine. Shoot if she had to. How in the blazing fires of hell did she manage to get the tables turned on her that quickly?
“What do you hope to achieve by this, Janine?” I ask her in my best negotiator’s voice.
“Hands up!” she yells, and I lift them, showing her my palms.
“What do you want?”
She’s shaking, her entire body trembling. “I want my money. And I want to go into hiding like you promised.”
My eyes flick to what I can see of Camille’s face. Her blue eyes are huge and filled with a wordless apology.
“I promised to help you escape,” I begin, “but I can’t save us at gun point. I have about a million things I need to do before nightfall and I swear to God I’ll do nothing if you hurt her.”
Janine’s face grows tight and a trickle of blood spills down her chin from where she’s biting her lip. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? Stupid enough to believe anything you say.”
“I brought you with us, didn’t I?” I remind her. “I could have easily left you with your buddies. For that matter, I could have pushed you from the plane, then I could have shot you, then I could have easily left you tied to that seat up there.” I point to the plane. “Once you were on the ground, I could have tied you to a damn tree, but I didn’t. Does that sound like a man who isn’t trying to help you escape?”
She frowns, trying to process my reasoning. When the frown fades away, it’s replaced with a small grin.
“I see why you like him,” Janine says to Camille, leaning close to her ear, although her dark eyes never leave mine. “He’s very sexy.” The grin grows bigger. “And really good in bed. Such a big cock. Biggest I’ve ever had.”
Camille’s eyes widen in surprise.
Fuck. Me.
She goes on. “Yes, Camille. Tate and I fucked. Right in front of you, in fact. Too bad you don’t remember.” She pouts out her lower lip in mock sympathy. “I think you would have enjoyed the show.”
I watch her eyes, inch forward a step when she turns Camille’s head, looking for a reaction. Camille says nothing. Neither do I.
“Surprised me too,” Janine goes on, enjoying her little story. “All I had to do was promise him half the ransom and he was between my legs, banging away.”
Another inch closer. The Uzi lowers from Camille’s temple to her cheek.
Janine laughs, a bitter little sound. “After he fucked me, he made you suck him off. Clean him up. Do you not remember that, either?” The bitch’s hand moves from Camille’s mouth and squeezes her jaw. She licks Cam up the side of the face. “You cleaned me up too.”
She’s lying, but how do I shut her up? I don’t. I let her play her little game.
“Shut up,” Camille says to her, emotion clogging her throat. Those blues turn back to me, but I avoid them, staying focused on the dark-haired woman.
The little smile is back. “Why? Because you don’t want to hear how Tate’s been using you all these years? How he’s been using the entire Duffy family to get ahead? The only reason he saved your brother was to make your family indebted to him.”
“I said shut up!”
Janine throws back her head and laughs. I take a good step closer. “Poor little rich girl,” she says in a pouty, baby voice, “never knows who really loves her for her. That’s why all this was so easy, Camille. All I had to do was show you a little bit of attention and you were like putty in my hands. You let me make all the decisions. Trusted me completely. All I had to do was make you come a few times. Do you know how pathetic you are?”
Tears fall from Cam’s eyes and she lifts her hands to cover her ears. Janine grabs the left one and squeezes, causing Camille to scream in agony.
I’m done.
I take a step and a second, then a third. Janine’s eyes grow wide and she brings the gun back to Camille’s temple.
“Stop!” she yells.
I take another step before stopping, then smile when I see it.
Her face tightens. “What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re out here in the jungle waving an automatic weapon around and don’t even pay attention to that.” I point at a limb three feet behind her.
Her head whips to the side and she falls backwards when she sees it — a tree boa curled around at about the same level as her face.
I don’t hesitate, but lunge for the gun, then grab the brunette bitch by the hair. I toss the gun down and march her forward. “That’s a green boa,” I say, as I push her toward the startled snake; it wraps tighter around the limb, preparing to strike. “Don’t worry. This one is a constrictor and isn’t venomous, although it packs a hell of a bite.”
“Stop! Stop!” Her screams ring all around us.
Wrapping her hair more tightly around my hand, I change directions, to the tree she was close to not long ago. “See those?” I push her until she’s inches away from the biggest ants she’s probably ever seen. “Those are bullet ants and they’ll bite the shit out of you; their poison causes paralysis. You were sitting a foot away from them. Didn’t even fucking realize it.”
She’s digging her heels into the dirt, her hands grabbing at my wrists. I pull her hair again, turning her toward a bush. “See that?” I push her closer. “That’s a kissing bug, close cousin to the assassin bug. Its bite delivers the Chagas disease that kills about twelve thousand people a year.”
She’s crying hard now, sobbing, her nails digging into my wrist. I don’t care. I turn her again by the hair and push her toward a fallen tree. “You see that tree? Do you know the right way to step over it so that ground dwellings snakes don’t sink their teeth into you?”
I pick up a long stick and poke it on the other side of the log and n
early scream myself when a damn big-ass snake strikes at the thing. Holy Jesus. I did not expect that to really happen, but I clear my throat and press on. “Meet the fer-de-lance. Extremely venomous. Dead in four hours without immediate medical attention.” I wave my hand at our surroundings. “Of which we have none.”
Her knees are buckling, she’s crying so hard.
“Enough. That’s enough, Tate.”
I whirl on Camille, unable to believe she’s actually defending this witch. “Are you crazy? She just held a gun to your head. She cut your pinky off just yesterday.” I raise my hand and do the Miss America wave. “You can’t do this anymore.”
Mis-take.
Camille’s face turns blood red. “You are an asshole!”
I growl at her. “Me? I’m the asshole? Do you not remember that I saved your ass? Risked my life? And am fully prepared to risk it some more?” My voice grows loud and at least an octave higher. “And if I don’t get home by Friday, I lose a billion-dollar contract I’ve worked my entire life for!”
Camille folds her arms over her chest and lifts her chin. “Did you fuck her?”
Ho-ly. Damn.
“Well, did you?”
I’ve lied once today and I’d be a smart man if I lied again. But I don’t. “Yeah, I fucked her.” I toss Janine in Camille’s direction. She falls in a heap at her feet. “Big deal. I did it so she would help us escape.” I do a hills are alive twirl. “Look how well it worked out.”
“So you used her?”
Are you fucking kidding me?
“Hell yes, I used her. And I’d do it again if it gave us half a damn chance of getting out of this place.”
An eyebrow goes straight up. “Like you’ve been using me too?”
I seriously think my head is going to explode. Unbelievable.
Badass: Jungle Fever (Complete): A Billionaire Military Romance Page 19
