? ? ?
Ten minutes later, Rafe leaves despite my protests, and I’m left with two boys on this side of the river. They have guns and speak a form of Spanish, and spend a lot of time staring at my breasts, even after I get dressed again. Boys. Typical.
They offer me some fruit to eat, though, and I scarf it down while they talk quietly among themselves and laugh at my manners. One comments on my hand, gesturing at my awkward-looking pinky.
“What, are you a medic?” I ask him. I doubt it, but I show him anyhow.
He says something and gestures at my wrist, then at my pinky. I shrug in answer. I don’t know what he’s saying. “It’s just swollen.”
He taps his cheek and points at my eyes. “Ow?” he asks.
Oh. He thinks I’ve hurt my eye, like Rafe. I shake my head. I know my eyes look strange to most people. I have one green one and one very dark brown one, and it’s unsettling to a lot of people that see me at first glance, because when my pupils are dilated, my brown eye can look very dark indeed. “Not hurt,” I say with a shake of my head. “They’re just like that.”
He starts to say something else, but we’re interrupted by the distant sound of gunfire. Our friendly smiles fade.
We’ve just been reminded that across the river, Rafe and the other kids are risking their lives.
I can’t relax after that. The fruit in my belly churns sickly. I think of Rafe, wounded. Is he safe? Is he misjudging things with one eye covered, and one of the bad guys is getting the drop on him? Is he going to die a virgin with that hungry look in his eyes?
Am I never going to get to experience that hunger for myself?
There’s more gunfire in the distance, and the kids look worried. Rafe can take care of himself, I mentally chide my worried mind. He’s done this sort of thing before.
It doesn’t matter. I’ve made a deal with myself. If he comes back safe, I’m going to fuck the hell out of that guy when we get back to civilization. If we weren’t in this crazy situation, I’d say I’m falling for him.
But I can’t, because I have to save Rose.
Time passes slowly, and it gets later and later. I hear the sounds of the jungle, and the buzz of bugs. They bite the hell out of me, but the kids at my side aren’t affected nearly as much. They must like my pasty skin better. We don’t have a fire, and I don’t ask for one. I’m guessing things are touch and go, because the kids keep their guns at hand and they constantly watch the edges of our encampment.
It’s late and despite the worry gnawing on me even more than the bugs, I’m drowsy and tired. I’m half asleep when someone starts crashing through the brush. Both boys jump to their feet, alert, and I grab my paddle, ready to swat anyone that comes near.
A voice calls out in the darkness, and the boys run forward, guns clutched.
“What?” I cry. “What is it?” Did we lose? Oh fuck. What do I do if Rafe is gone?
Oh fuck. If Rafe is gone . . . the thought fills me with despair, and not just about my situation. If Rafe is gone, he’ll never smile at me again. Never give me one of those hungry looks. Never touch me tenderly. Never grab Godzilla when he thinks I’m not looking.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if Rafe is gone. The thought is staggering to me. How is it that he’s become so much to me so quickly? Rose is the one that gives her heart away—I’m the practical, jaded one.
But not, it seems, when it comes to Rafe.
As if my thoughts have conjured him from the jungle, a figure appears in the night shadows. He’s tall and muscular, but I see the dirty fabric of the eye patch before anything else, and I choke back a sob of relief.
“Rafe!” I launch myself forward and fling my arms around his neck. “Oh my God! Are you hurt? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” he says, and his voice is weary. His arm goes protectively around my waist, though. “We took care of the village,” he tells me. “There were some casualties. A few boys got too eager.” There’s sadness in his voice. “Eight of the enemy dead.”
“You got all eight of them?” I’m elated at first, and then I picture it. Eight men with guns, and Mendoza went in with a few schoolboys and one rifle? I smack his arm. “Goddamn you, that’s so fucking dangerous!”
“It had to be done.”
It did, and I know he did it for these boys, so they wouldn’t have to live under the thumb of asshole warlords with guns. He did it because he’s a good guy that wants the good guys to win. And he did it for me. I know that as surely as I know he’d do it all over again.
It’s who he is. And I love that about him.