Which is why I’m surprised when, about midday, I see something on the opposite bank, under a few overhanging trees. “Is that . . . a boat?”
Mendoza pauses and squints. “My sight’s shit right now. Let’s get a bit closer.” I follow close behind him and we move farther down the river, into the brush at the bank. Sure enough, it looks like a small six-foot fiberglass boat with a motor on the back. Excitement flares through me and I wrap an arm around Mendoza’s chest from behind and squeal. “Oh my God, it’s a boat! It’s a boat! We’re going to get out of here!”
He adjusts himself automatically at my touch, and maybe it’s weird, but I’m starting to get used to the idea of Rafe having a constant erection around me. He then shakes his head. “Let’s not get too excited just yet. That boat might be there because that means the enemy is nearby.”
I freeze in place. “You mean . . . Fouquet?”
“Or Fouquet’s men. They’re going to come looking for that purse or for you.”
“Shit,” I breathe. “What do we do, then? Go back deep into the jungle?” The thought makes me want to cry.
“Nah,” Rafe says, and he turns to grin at me. “We’re gonna steal their fucking boat.”
An excited giggle escapes my throat. I don’t think I could adore the guy more than if he had turned around and told me he had brownies. “I like the way you think.”
He starts to strip off his pants.
“What are you doing?”
Rafe peers at me from under the bandages swathing one half of his face. “I’m going to get in the river and swim across to bring the boat.”
I stare at him, aghast. “Are you frickin’ high? You have a stab wound in your back—”
“Which you cauterized.”
“And you have a bad eye that can get infected and is a whole lot less sexy to a girl.”
He stares at me for a moment.
“I’m serious,” I say, putting my good hand on my hip. “I’m all for nursemaiding and sponge baths, but the moment you start dripping green shit from your eye socket, I am out.”
Rafe snorts and starts to unbutton his shirt again.
“Oh no you don’t,” I say, and start to pull my own shirt off. “I am so going in that river and you are not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ava,” he says to me. “It’s dangerous.”
“It’s all dangerous.”
“I can probably swim better than you.”
“I’m a champion swimmer,” I lie to him. “Won three medals in high school for the breast stroke.” I pull my shirt off and since I’m now in my bra, I give a little wiggle of my breasts to see if he’s paying attention.
He is. Boy, is he. His gaze immediately swoops down to my tits. And I feel in control again. “Here’s the thing, Rafe,” I tell him. “You are no good to me if you’re all infected and dead, okay? You staying alive and whole means I stay alive and whole. And I’m willing to make a deal with you.”
“A deal, huh?” He pushes a hand against the front of his pants, but it’s obvious that I’ve awakened the beast once more. He can’t hide the fact that he gets an erection. Not in cargo pants. Not with that dick.
“Yup, a deal,” I tell him. I wonder if my nipples are hard. Because the idea of my deal is making me turned on. “You let me get that boat and I promise that when we get back to civilization, I play nurse and give you a sponge bath.”
“It sounds like I win both ways,” he says, and his gaze flicks to my breasts again.
“You do.” And you aren’t the only one.
But his white knight side isn’t letting me win so easily. Even as I slip off my pants, he glances across the muddy, nasty river. “Champion swimmer, huh?”
“Three medals in high school,” I agree.
He sighs and looks back at me. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like the thought of you getting gangrene, either.”
Now he just looks amused. “Pretty sure you can’t get gangrene from a river.”
“Pretty sure you’re just stalling,” I tell him, and hand him my pants, then my shoes. I’m a little freaked out over the thought of getting in that water, but it looks like bad news for Rafe and his many wounds. Mine are all under the skin—blisters, a broken pinky, etc. His are far more troubling and more likely to get infected.
“Sponge bath, huh?” He’s trying to be nonchalant about it, but there’s a husky note in his voice that tells me he’s already thinking about it.
“Yup,” I say cheerfully. “I’m swimming that river.”
He frowns but takes something out of his pocket. “Take this at least.” He hands me the small knife.
“Good idea,” I say and clench it between my teeth. I give him a sassy wink, and before I can think about alligators or piranhas or snakes hiding in that murky brown water, I move to the riverbank and step in.
It’s warm and silty. Ugh. I also can’t see my feet. Double ugh. I move into the water slowly, wading out. Then I start to swim awkwardly, because my wrist hurts when I push it against the water.
“I thought you said you were a champion swimmer,” Rafe calls as I more or less dog-paddle into the river.
“I lied,” I call between knife-gritted teeth.