“How did the other people find you?”
“Word got around. A kid is sold for food or maybe a daughter is offered up for protection. We hadn’t broken ties with everything back home to become slave traders or kid killers. But the slums are dangerous. It’s a kill-or-be-killed mentality, so we fought back and we fought back hard. Touch us and you suffered—not just you, but your whole line.”
I could feel her shiver behind me, but she never removed her hand. “Sounds biblical.”
“That’s my mom’s influence. She read me the Bible when I should have been playing video games and watching porn. She lived a shitty life and the Bible was her refuge. She wanted me to be a missionary.” She wanted me to atone for the original sin of being born. As if life isn’t enough of a curse.
“And it sounds like you are.”
“How so?” I look over my shoulder.
“You have an island where you send people you’ve saved.” She shrugs as if it makes total sense to her. “Isn’t that the definition of being a missionary? Saving people?”
“The Tears of God ain’t heaven, Ava,” I say more harshly than I intend.
“Maybe for some people it is.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AVA
Just when I think I have the guy figured out, he surprises me again. There are so many layers to Rafe Mendoza that I don’t know what to think. I think he’s a thug, and he helps me escape the bad guys. He says I mean nothing to him, but he watches me with such hunger in his eyes that it makes me shiver. And he says he’s just a mercenary, but then he tells me about an island he bought that he’s turned into a refuge for people.
Most of all, he tells me he’s a virgin by choice and then jerks his cock in front of me.
So yeah, there’s no putting Rafe Mendoza into a nice, safe box.
I can’t exactly put my feelings about him into an easily classifiable category, either. I hate that he wants to sell me out. I’m utterly confused about his decades-long celibacy—so long he probably is a virgin, particularly if his only experience with a girl was just getting the tip in. And I’m terribly, horribly, completely attracted to the man. Giant cock or no, there’s more to Mendoza than what’s in his pants.
All I know is that when he told me I was beautiful earlier and traced mud down my nose? It took everything I had not to drag him against me and kiss the hell out of him.
I think he guessed how I felt, too, because he immediately turned away, leaving me all confused. Didn’t he just say he found me attractive? Didn’t he want to get rid of his virginity?
I touch my hair self-consciously. God, I probably look like a fucking wreck. Maybe that’s why he turned away so abruptly. My bug bites probably have bug bites. Not a sexy look by any means.
And really, the jungle isn’t exactly conducive to hot, steamy sex anyhow. I think of the cave we’ve spent the last two days in and shudder. I think of how long it’s been since I’ve showered. I sniff one armpit, and wince. Okay, yeah. Fragrant. I’m probably covered in head-to-toe jungle grunge.
It’s quiet as we walk through the jungle, and Rafe doesn’t seem to be in a chatty mood, so I mentally fantasize about how I’d take his virginity. We’d have to have a nice hotel room. Something special, with a big bed and a big tub. Order some wine, maybe some strawberries. I’d wear some lingerie that would cinch up my slightly-too-wide waist and play up on my breasts. And we’d need lots of lube. Lots and lots of lube. I visualize tearing Mendoza’s shirt open and straddling his hips as he lay down on the bed. The look on his face as he realizes just what I intend to do with him, and then that wonderful hunger in his eyes.
I shiver a little despite the warm, humid air. If we get out of here alive, I’m definitely putting that plan into action.
We follow along the banks of the river for a while, my hand holding on to the back of his pants as he moves forward. I have a spear lightly gripped in my bad hand, but I mostly use it as a walking stick. Mendoza’s got Afonso’s machete and has been using it to hack through the jungle. There have been a few caimans and snakes, but mostly on the other side of the riverbank. I’m hoping we’re making too much noise for anything to come investigate us. My gaze moves along the river as we walk. It’s murky and congested with debris, the water a muddy, uninviting brown. Trees and brush overhang the edges of the river so we walk a short distance away but keep it in sight. We haven’t seen anyone in this jungle mess, and I don’t expect to.