Words of Love

chapter TWENTY-ONE



Finally, the looter was almost within reach. He’d stopped looking from side to side and was completely focused on the stone tablet. Brett crouched low, ready to spring.

Just then, Jesse screamed with a blood-freezing wail that made his teeth grind and even made the looter look.

Brett leapt at him.

At least six inches taller than the man, he easily tackled him as the rifle discharged into the air. As the adrenalin coursing through his system finally found a release, Brett jammed his shoulder into the man’s solar plexus and took hold of the rifle. As the smaller man grunted and hit the ground, the air was knocked out of him and his grip went slack. Brett quickly ripped the gun from his hands.

But the little man was tough. Even though he was on his back, he immediately began punching and landed two quick blows, one on the jaw and one in the eye. As Brett backed up and got to his knees, the looter tried to crawl backwards, crab-like. With one eye closed, Brett swung the rifle but he was off balance.

The butt of the gun glanced off the man’s head and then hit the ground with a loud crack, as the wooden stock flew apart. It had been enough to stun the man, though, and Brett still held the barrel of the gun. He swung it backhanded and it thudded into the side of the man’s head with a crunching sound.

Though he’d never so much as slapped anyone in his life, Brett knew with certainty that the man would not be getting back up. Without so much as a backwards glance, Brett sprang to his feet. He grabbed the jade tablet and sprinted for camp.



• • • • •



Frederico tisked. As he watched blood trickle from the bottom of the woman’s foot, he realized he should have made the foot straps tighter. He’d barely started when she’d screamed and jerked and actually been able to move her foot.

Suddenly, a rifle shot rang out.

That would mean one of two things: Ernesto had found the man and couldn’t follow orders or the man had found Ernesto. Both were bad and suddenly the hair on the back of Frederico’s neck stood up. Without thinking, he sheathed the machete, took out his pistol and positioned himself at the far end of the tent. Then he heard the heavy boots over the sound of the generator. He’d been right to move.

Suddenly, the tent flap opened and the gringo appeared.

“Jesse!” he screamed and started toward her just as he realized Frederico was there.



• • • • •



Although Jesse’s eyes were open and she was panting, she didn’t seem to see him. As though his mind were in overdrive, Brett took in everything.

Even as one part of his brain catalogued the large red welts on her midsection and the blood at the foot of the bed, another part of his brain silently screamed.

She’d been tortured.

Tortured.

He slowly swung his glare on Frederico as the pistol and machete were quickly added to the catalog.

Whether it was from his swelling eye or the fury that threatened to take him over, Brett looked at him through a red mist. He stared hard at the pistol pointed at him. It’d take more than that to stop him.

Still gripping the jade stone, his fists shook as he looked at Frederico’s face–the toady face of the man who’d rented him the boat, who’d come here looking for treasure, who’d hurt Jesse. As he turned to face him squarely, Frederico quickly pointed the gun at Jesse.

Brett froze.

“Drop the rifle,” Frederico said. Brett hadn’t even realized he was still gripping the barrel of the broken gun. He let it drop. “Where is the Red King?”

Brett stared at the pistol, glanced at Jesse, and then took a deep breath as he looked back to Frederico.

“In the seventh cave,” he said.

“Brett, no,” Jesse breathed.

Frederico smirked.

“Where in the seventh cave?”

“In the pyramid,” Brett said.

“Brett,” Jesse pleaded. “Please don’t!”

He wanted desperately to turn to her but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Frederico, who was eying the two of them. Then he focused back on Brett.

“So you think you found the Red King?”

Brett tossed him the blue jade carving of the Jester God. Even a looter–especially a looter–would know what that meant: a Maya king was never far away.

Frederico caught it on his stomach and then looked down at it.

“Oh my god,” Jesse whimpered. “Brett.”

This time, he looked at her. His heart thudded in his chest and blood pounded in his temples as he looked at her face–and saw the pain. Tears were welling up as she stared at the blue stone.

Now Brett could clearly see the outline of the machete blade in the welts, several of them. His jaw tightened and he felt his teeth grinding. He couldn’t see the bottom of her foot but he could already guess what had happened. Frederico had used his machete on one the most sensitive parts of the body. He remembered the long wail that the man with the rifle had turned to hear.

As he looked back to her face, their eyes met and she blinked away tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice choked.

“Then don’t do it,” she pleaded quietly. “Don’t tell him.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry about,” he said.

With a sudden jolt, he realized how easily he’d given up the Red King–and how much it didn’t matter.

“Let’s go,” Frederico said.

They both looked at him.

“Untie the girl,” he said, indicating Jesse with the pistol.

Brett shook his head.

“Leave her here,” he said. “You don’t need her.”

“No, gringo, but you do. You won’t cross me because, if you do, she’ll die. Untie her or watch her die right here.”