Words of Love

chapter TWENTY



Frederico turned and motioned for Ernesto to be quiet.

The camp looked deserted but you never knew.

As they quietly approached, Frederico took out his pistol.

The cavern entrance had been a complete shock. He’d been about to double back and check for other paths when he heard the faint sound of the muffled generator. Without even seeing the camp, he knew it had to be the place. The camp was only confirmation. All of the supplies that the gringo had transported in Frederico’s boat were here.

But where is the gringo?

He pointed the gun in various directions but there didn’t seem to be anybody. He came to a stop at what looked like a work table. There was a large map–which made him grin. It was so easy when the archaeologists did all the work. He leaned over it and quickly oriented himself. Here was the cave entrance and there–he scowled in disbelief–were six more caves, each one with plan views of ruins drawn in them.

The place was big.

He’d just been about to look in the direction of the rest of the caves, when something on the map caught his eye. In thick black letters, someone had written “The Red King.”

He froze.

The Red King?

He stared hard at the words and then looked around him. No wonder the man had kept this a secret.

Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from the tent. He crouched and motioned to Ernesto. With two fingers, he pointed at Ernesto’s eyes and then pointed toward the dark back of the cave.

“You watch,” he mouthed.

Ernesto turned to look into the darkness and Frederico crept toward the tent entrance. He could hear more clearly now. It sounded like crying, the crying of a woman. He quickly flipped the tent flap aside and saw her. She was on the bed and a quick look around let him know the man wasn’t here. He holstered the pistol.

When he looked back to her, her eyes had grown wide and she was scrambling off the bed.

“Brett!” she yelled.

Frederico quickly covered the small space between them and cut off her scream with a punch to the stomach. Even through the mosquito netting, the force of it had been enough to double her over and she collapsed.

Frederico went back to the tent flap and flipped it open.

“Find the gringo,” he called to Ernesto and pointed toward the cave. “But don’t kill him. We need him alive.”



• • • • •



The world was a painful haze.

Jesse coughed herself awake and felt a throbbing ache in her midsection. She tried to breathe without using her diaphragm but that was no good. She coughed again, still trying to get a breath. What she wanted to do was hold her stomach but she found her hands wouldn’t move. As she opened her eyes, she realized she couldn’t move her feet either.

She was lying on her back and she looked up at her hands. They were tied to the top of the metal frame headboard with what looked like canvas webbing–Brett’s belt. She was on her own bed with her head propped up on pillows. She heard a low chuckling from the other side of the tent.

The netting was gone and Frederico stood in the middle of the tent, looking down at her. This was the man who’d rented them the boat. She tugged at her hands and feet.

What was he doing here?

“Brett!” she screamed.

But that only made him grin.

“Where’s the Red King?” he said, stepping over to her.

She knew her mouth must be hanging open but she stared at him, dumbfounded.

How did he–

Where was Brett?

“Tell me where the king is,” Frederico growled lowly. “And you won’t have to suffer–much.”

With that, his hand went to his side and he slowly withdrew a machete.

Jesse suddenly found her voice.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quavering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Where was Brett? Was he with the Red King? How could she say where the Red King was if she didn’t know where Brett was?

Frederico regarded her with a little disappointment and pointed the machete at her waist. She held her breath as he used the tip to lift the bottom of her tank top and expose her midsection.

“That’s a shame,” he said, staring at her skin. “For you.”

He raised the machete up so that she could see it and then he quickly slapped the flat of the blade down on her exposed skin. She gasped at the loud smacking sound and the sudden burning pain, as her hands and feet jerked against the restraints.

He lifted the machete, licked his thumb, and brushed the blade with it.

Jesse convulsively sucked in a breath as the stinging continued.

“I keep my helper very sharp,” he said slowly, looking at the blade. “So sharp, it doesn’t hurt. So it does no good to use the edge.”

With a flick of his wrist, he brought the flat metal down again, higher, near her rib cage, and harder.

She cried out.

“There,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Now, tell me, where is the Red King?”

She coughed and shook her head. He used the back of the blade to scrape the waist of her shorts down to her hips.

“I don’t know where–”

Again, the blade came down, lower across her abdomen, with a metal ringing thwack.

She screamed.



• • • • •



Brett saw the looter just as he heard Jesse scream.

His ears pinned back against his head and he felt his heart begin to pound.

Jesse!

He wanted to scream her name, run to her, save her from whatever had happened but someone stood in the way–a man with a rifle. He had to be a looter.

Brett quietly set down the lantern and jade tablet and quickly backed away from them. The looter with the rifle had just entered the other side of the plaza and he apparently didn’t know about the floodlights.

Brett backed into shadow and then ducked behind a stela.

The man approached cautiously as Jesse screamed again.

God, what was happening to her?

He forced himself to stay still though his heart was pounding in his ears and the echo of her scream still rang in the cavern.

The looter had finally seen the jade tablet. Though he might have guessed it was a trap, he couldn’t help but stare at the blue jade. Even from where he stood, he must be able to see the color. Blue Olmec jade fetched top dollar.

The man crouched and swiveled his head from side to side but, true to form, he zeroed in on the jade.

Jesse screamed again and Brett cringed. He glared at the man with the rifle.

Hurry.



• • • • •



Jesse convulsed under the blade yet again but felt the room start to spin and darkness begin to take over her vision.

“No, no, no,” Frederico said, a warning tone in his voice, just as water hit her face.

She sputtered and coughed but her eyes opened at the sudden sensation.

He stood there with a metal cup in his hand.

“Where is the Red King?”

“Please,” she managed to breathe. “I don’t know.”

As the blade slapped into her, she grunted, without the energy to scream.

Was Brett with the Red King?

Her head swam.

“The Red King,” said Frederico.

And the blade came down again.

Oh god, it hurt. It burned and stung and each swing hurt more than the last. But as the pain rose, an image blazed into her mind.

The Red King. The Blood Gatherer. The confession. And the pain. It hurt but…hurt was the key.

The glyphs began to circle, slowly at first. The word for hurt sounded like the word for the spine of a cactus. It was the spine of the cactus that symbolized repentant bloodletting. The confession was a bloodletting and the prospective king needed to bring the cactus spine and let blood.

She had been right.

The Red King would have his blood.

Again, water was thrown in her face and the haze of pain returned.

“You leave me no choice,” said Frederico. He moved the machete in front of her face so she could see it. “The tip can also be effective.”