I shove the med kit back in the bag and then pick him up.
“Get the door, Ava,” I order. She scurries to obey, my voice harsher than she’s probably ever heard before. I slide Garcia into the backseat and then strip the car of all of its supplies. Garcia had gotten us a lot of shit. Guns, extra ammunition, clothes, water, cash.
In a fair world, Garcia would have died on the island with a beer at his side and his fishing pole between his legs. But we don’t live in a fair world—haven’t since we were born, and not even then.
“Can you carry a few things?” I ask.
She nods, still sniffling and looking a hundred times lost, hurt, and confused. I’d like to take her in my arms, but that’s the last thing I should do.
My mother told me I was a killer, that I killed from the moment I was conceived, and I haven’t stopped. I want to laugh off the curse, but the dead body of my friend reveals the truth. Even if Ava truly wanted me, not the man who can save her friend but me, I would still need to walk away. For her own safety.
Garcia’s a dark reminder of my own cursed existence. I can’t forget again.
I give her two of the AKs and another pack. It’s lightweight and we won’t be walking for long. I’ll steal a car soon.
I take the rest of the stuff and then lead Ava away, back toward the dead sniper’s body. I’m taking his night-vision gear.
“Stay here,” I say, pointing to a small patch of dirt.
“I think I should go with you.” She shivers but it’s not from the cold. She rubs her hands up and down her arms, trying to remember what it feels like to be alive.
“No.” I don’t give her any chance to argue, just turn on my heel until I reach the dead sniper. I pull off his headgear that’s splattered with brain matter and blood and slip it over my eyes. I can barely see the car from here—only the engine and Garcia’s body make faint heat signals, and both are fading fast. I release two shots into the rear of the car and the second one hits. The gas tank explodes. Ava screams. I wipe moisture away from my face and return to Ava’s side.
My madre said I was cursed. That I should keep the devil’s wand to myself lest I hurt any other innocents. I’d kept to myself for most of my life because I hadn’t wanted to hurt those who didn’t deserve it.
Garcia was right in one sense. Ava didn’t belong with me, because men like Garcia and I are just one bullet away from death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AVA
Rafe’s being distant. I can’t blame the guy. His best friend just died in our arms a few hours ago. Since then, we’ve stolen another car from a pair of boys, driven into Pucallpa, abandoned the vehicle, and now we’re heading to a hotel to meet up with someone else. Of course, I assume we’re heading to a hotel, because Rafe won’t talk to me.
He’s shut down entirely.
And part of me wants to remind him that I’m here and I’m scared, too, and I want to comfort him. If he was visibly upset, I could handle that. If he was angry, I could get angry, too. But stone-cold silence? I don’t know what to do with that. He’s been so cheerfully competent this entire time, even when I’m ready to fall apart.
Now, I feel like he’s falling apart and I’ve got no idea what to do.
“Come on,” Rafe says at one point, startling me out of my woe-is-me attitude. I perk up, but he only takes my elbow and steers me toward a building.
It’s a seedy-looking hotel with a boxy storefront. Lovely. I wrinkle my nose as we head inside and the smell of sour air-conditioning meets my nose. Rafe doesn’t stop at the front desk, but heads for the stairs, dragging me along. We pass grubby doors with dirt halos around the doorknobs. Rafe seems to know what room we’re looking for and pauses in front of a door. He knocks twice, pauses, knocks three times, pauses, and then knocks once. A moment later, I hear chains coming off the door, and we’re greeted by a young man about my age, with a head of dark, curly hair, wearing a baseball cap turned backward. He gives me a curious look, then turns to Rafe.
“Where’s Garcia?”
“Dead,” Rafe says flatly. “We got ambushed. Snipers. Night vision.”
The man’s face falls, and he looks devastated. He flicks a glance at me, then moves to Rafe. “What? But—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rafe says. He slings a pack on the bed. “Shut the door and lock it. You know which hotel the exchange is going to be at?” He is cold and terse with the new guy.
“Yeah. Chatter says it’s still at Manish Hotel Ecológico. One of the bungalows.” He turns and looks at me, his mouth crooking up, only to wobble. “Hey, Ava.”
I’m a little startled he knows my name, but then I remember that Rafe and his boys have been watching me since this mule thing started. “Hey,” I say softly.
“I’m Bennito.” He swallows hard, then his jaw clenches, and he looks at Rafe.