“Do you think anyone made it out alive?”
“Not really. I think we were damn lucky to have survived the fall.” I decide not to tell her that I think Afonso might have killed the pilot and flight attendant before the plane went down. Maybe one of the passengers in the back of the plane survived. “The likelihood that anyone else did is low.” Except Afonso, who had a parachute that was half attached to him as well as the purse with the stolen goods and my Boy Scout pack. If he made it out alive, I’ll have the pleasure of killing him. That makes me pretty happy, and I forge forward.
CHAPTER NINE
AVA
My head is whirling with information as we trek through the jungle.
This Mendoza guy has been watching me.
He says he’s only after the information Duval has for sale, but I think there might be more to things. After all, I know how men treat a woman when she doesn’t matter. When she’s less than nothing to them. That’s exactly how Fouquet treated me, and so did Afonso. Like I was an object with tits. I’ve caught Mendoza staring, but not in a bad way. Just in an interested, appreciative sort of way.
He remembers that Fouquet struck me. His touches have been gentle. Considerate.
He stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking.
All of this makes me wonder how much of his story is surface and if I’m reading more into his behavior than I should. I’ve dated guys in the past, of course. I’m not dating anyone right now, but I know the signals. It’s obvious that Mendoza’s into me.
Which is . . . not the worst. If he’s into me, he’ll keep me safe. I wouldn’t be the first woman in the world to trade attention to a man for safety. I’ve just got to take this one day at a time. Right now, I need to focus on getting out of the jungle alive. I can worry about Rose when I’m back in the city and the deal is back on. They can’t carry forward on the deal without Afonso and without me.
At least, I hope they can’t.
One thing at a time, Ava, I tell myself.
Mendoza pauses and looks around the jungle thoughtfully.
I brush a wet lock of hair off my forehead and peer at the ferns and trees myself. I don’t see anything other than more jungle. “Why are we stopping?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Okay. Well, what do we do now?” I’m not a camper in the slightest, so I’ll follow his lead. Right now I’m just grateful I have someone with me. I try not to think about what this would have been like if I was alone. If he wants to stop in the middle of nowhere, I trust him.
He squints up at the sky with his one good eye. “I think we’ve got about an hour before we lose daylight. We should finish checking the area to make sure there’s no predators and set up camp.” He turns and points at a large tree nearby. “Maybe at the base of that tree there.”
“Shelter is good,” I agree. I’m tired of wandering through the jungle. It’s hot, muggy, rains on us every hour, and bugs are crawling all over the place. I hate it. If this is what camping involves, I don’t want it. I will happily be a city girl for the rest of my days.
He turns and looks back at me. “How are you?”
I give him a thin smile. “I’m pretty miserable at the moment but I’m standing. How about you?”
“Not nearly so miserable as you,” he says, and the man almost sounds cheerful. He takes the lead again, and we approach our chosen tree that will be the shelter for the evening.
A closer inspection of it is disappointing. It’s . . . well, it’s a tree. I’m disappointed that it doesn’t have a ton of low-hanging branches or anything that looks shelter-like. The roots are enormous and widespread, and there’s a cradle-like spot between two on the far side that Mendoza points out. “We can get some leaves and make a blanket of some kind to cover the ground so we’re not rolling in the mud. Maybe we can cut a few more to make a canopy. And we need to find some dry wood for a fire.”
I stare at him blankly. “Dry wood? It’s been raining constantly.”
“I didn’t say that we would find it, just that we need it for a fire.” He gives me another crooked smile. “We might be without one tonight.”
My heart sinks at the thought. “Let’s not think about that for now. Tell me what to do to get started.”
We divide up chores. Since Mendoza has our only knife, he’s going to cut fronds and make our tiny shelter. I carry a lightweight stick as a club, and I have the water bottle with me. My job is to search the immediate area for wood, debris, and anything we might be able to use.