I do, too. He’s busy rifling through the things we’ve brought—guns, ammo, cash. It’s like he’s deliberately trying to ignore us.
Both of us. And that hurts.
My stomach growls and Rafe picks up a gun, unsnaps the cartridge to check the bullets, and then snaps it back in again. “She needs to eat.”
“Room service?” Bennito asks, gesturing at the phone. “I got you the adjoining room. Wasn’t sure . . .” His throat works. “Garcia’s shit is in there, but . . .”
“It’ll come in handy,” Rafe says in that emotionless voice. “And not room service. I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here. Take her to the corner, get her something to eat.”
Now both Bennito and I look concerned. “Is it safe? Will they recognize me?” I ask.
“Here,” Rafe says coldly and takes the baseball cap off of Bennito’s head. “Now you have a disguise. Just go around the corner. Bennito can call if there’s trouble.”
“’Kay, boss,” Bennito says. He stuffs a gun in his waistband and tugs his shirt over it, then looks at me. “Shall we go?”
My mouth works silently. This all feels wrong. Stupid and wrong. He’s letting me leave to go to the goddamned corner store? After a week of practically peeing together in the jungle because it wasn’t safe to be alone? I feel oddly betrayed and hurt.
His friend died, you selfish idiot. Maybe he needs a moment.
Right. Maybe I’m too busy thinking about me right now. “We’ll be back,” I say softly. “You want anything?”
He shakes his head.
Okay then.
It feels so bizarre to go down the street with Bennito. Like I haven’t just been pawned off to a stranger. Like we’re not in danger out here. But no one on the streets notices us. If anything, I suppose we blend in, because we look scruffy as all hell.
We get to a run-down corner store and my stomach rumbles again. “Get whatever you want,” Bennito says, and runs a hand over his mouth. “I think I’m gonna buy some cigarettes.”
I nod and absently head down an aisle. I’m starving, so everything looks good. I grab some beef jerky, some chips, and a stack of chocolate bars. God, I definitely need chocolate. It’s good depression food. I pick up some junk for Mendoza, too, because I know he’s got to be hungry.
I pass a toiletries aisle and grab a toothbrush, toothpaste, a razor, a comb for my ragged hair, and some lip balm, because my face is a mess. I grab a bottle of lotion, too, even though the thought of trying to repair my hands feels like going after the sea with a spoon. They look awful. Like I’ve been trying to catch bees with my hands or something.
I spot condoms, and pick through the selection. I don’t suppose condoms matter, since Rafe was a virgin. He’d probably be too large for anything they made anyhow. I hesitate, and then spot a bottle of lube and grab it.
My arms are full of crap when I return to Bennito’s side, but he doesn’t comment, just gestures to the counter. I throw it all down and give Bennito a challenging look when he spots the lube. Again, no comment.
Jesus, I wish someone would talk to me.
We exit the store a few minutes later, and Bennito buys me something to eat from a street vendor. I don’t know what the food is, but it’s hot and warm and I gobble it down quickly, because I want to get back to the hotel room and to Rafe. We buy Rafe some street food, too, and I cradle it in my good hand as we skirt around mototaxis and walk back to the hotel. There are chickens in the streets, and the entire area strikes me as a bit run-down, despite it being a city.
When we get back to the hotel room, though, Rafe’s in the shower in his room. I stand awkwardly in Bennito’s room for a moment, holding Rafe’s rapidly cooling food. Should I go in after Rafe? Take him in my arms and hug him despite his prickliness? Or is he the kind that will hate that? I wish I knew.
Bennito clears his throat. “So you still have the contents of the bag?”
I’m thankful for the distraction. “Yeah, but it’s just junk. Some colored folders with papers in them.”
He cocks his head, clearly curious. “Can I see them? There has to be something there for them to keep tracking you. Otherwise, there’d be no point.”
I shrug and set Rafe’s food down on one of the tables, then dig through his bag until I find the folders.
Bennito takes them with a hmmm in his throat, and immediately starts flipping through the printouts. “These are web page printouts.”
“So?” I’m not following.
“So maybe there’s something embedded on these websites that corresponds. Maybe it’s a code.” He rubs a finger across one of the sticky notes, thinking. “Give me some time and I’ll figure it out.”
I nod and look over at Rafe’s room. “I . . . guess I’ll go see how he’s doing.”