Page 54 of Last Destination

Nikki and Marley had lives and careers beyond this jungle, a permanent place to lay their heads. I would go wherever they led. I’d long since decided this woman held my future in her hands, though at the moment, mine were tied.

“I don’t have an ID, camaleón. I cannot cross the border, let alone get on a plane. I have connections. I could get it done when we get to the villa. But it will take time. You could leave without me, and I could meet you when it is done.”

Nikki’s brows rose past the battered plastic of his glasses. “Do you think Marley would want that to happen? She was crushed when you left the first time. No, you stay with us. It may take weeks for her to recover.” His eyes left mine to stare daggers into Ambrose’s bowed head, still unable to face the question.

“Weeks, Ambrose. Are you planning on sticking around for that, or will you be eager to jump ship?” Nikki ran shaking hands through the tangled ringlets at the top of his head and let out a long sigh when Ambrose remained mute.

“She also told me that her PI is already on the case, but with the plane now at the bottom of a river in the middle of nowhere, we’re going to need as many eyewitnesses as we can, since there is limited evidence. Apparently, there’s a much larger investigation involving a few different carriers. She has a few connections with INTERPOL, and a task force has been working on a cross-border organized crime investigation for a few years related to drugs and human trafficking. We might be one micro-portion of a very large pie.”

The logistics of the investigation made no difference to me. I had died on impact, and would not have a voice at the table. My concern rested on Marley's and Nikki’s security, not my own.

“Can she get me a lawyer?” Jamie spoke up for the first time, his presence a shadow among men. “I promised I’d do this, and I will, but I’m going to need counsel.” He stared down at his hands, unable to meet our gaze. “I need my family to be protected. Nobody else gets hurt from my choices.”

Nikki inspected his old friend with narrowed eyes. “I’ll get you a number.”

“So, today we charge up what we can and get some rest,” I surmised. “Tomorrow, we pick up Marley’s medication, take the bus to Panama, and get to the villa. Rest, recovery, plan ahead.”

“Right. Let’s get some rest.” Nikki stomped into Marley’s shack. “I’ll bunk with Marley. Madman, you can sleep with Ambrose.” He slammed the door with an abrupt thump.

Ambrose sucked in air through his teeth and looked up to the sky as if it held the answers he sought.

I moved into the adjacent shack and lay on the cot, pointing to the air mattress. “You may fight over that. I am sleeping.”

I did not open my eyes to see who’d won, but by the thick scent of body odor and dirt, it was Jamie.

Dreams took me for hours and when I awoke, the sun was cresting into late afternoon. I was alone. I opened the shack door to find Ambrose seated between the two tiny buildings, guarding them with his hatchet. A good soldier. His eyes bled crimson, drooping with the need for rest.

“Go.” I pointed to the bed behind me. “Sleep. I will check on them.”

With a blank nod, he stumbled to his feet into the room and fell onto the cot. I closed the door behind him before opening the door to Marley's.

Nikki and my ángel lay curled up on the bed together, his one arm beneath her head as a pillow, the other wrapped tightly around her waist in a protective hold. But the most lingering presence was the astringent vodka. The bottle I had stowed away in my backpack now open and empty on the dirt floor.

I picked it up and tucked it into my pocket, my heart tightening at my camaleón’s losing battle with his demons. Closing the door, I resumed Ambrose’s post for the remainder of the day.

Our last night in the Darién was upon us. We’d rescued ourselves, but our salvation was still so far out of reach. My commitment to my ángel was not in question, but many new challenges had arisen.

I would need new identification and resources. How quickly could I find them with a kilo of cocaine? Would I be included in their plans for their future? What would their decisions be when desperation no longer drove them?

We would find out soon enough.

Iwould never complain about flying business class again.

Not that I was ever getting on another plane. This bus ride was enough to keep me out of buses, too. The rickety coach that was new in the seventies bounced over each rock in the road like a bumper car, jolting my still aching ribs and bones with every movement. We were only three hours into a five-hour journey, and it might as well be another lifetime.

“Aaaaaaargh.” Nikki let out a pained groan beside me — the third in the last few minutes — but he hadn’t said a word since we’d paid our fee and walked on.

Marley had been plied with her first dose of medication and another sedative to keep her calm for the ride. The armed guards had given us all a once-over before directing us to our seats at the rear. Madman had placed her by the window and guarded her from the outside seat across the aisle.

Would any of them want to come visit me? He wasn’t the one who’d said he wouldn’t get on a plane again. It seemed like a really shitty time to make that offer, though. I might not even have a job to pay the mortgage by the end of the year, and we still didn’t even know if Marley was going to be okay.

My brows furrowed, all of my faith went into modern medicine to make her better. Our first few days after the crash had seemed so normal. The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on me.

I knew she meant something to me, but was it love? Had I ever actually known what love felt like? My marriage to Theresa had been a farce of obligation and strained attraction, at most.

The anxious feeling in my chest lingered every moment Marley wasn’t around, and calmed when she was nearby. She drove me insane with her dumb nicknames and flustered pink cheeks, and impressed the hell out of me with her fiery resilience and no-fucks-given competence.

My gut churned with another possibility: I’d fallen for an illusion, someone who didn’t exist at all. Would she be the Marley I knew when she came back to us? Would the medicated version of her even like me? I really knew nothing about mental illness. She didn’t have a split personality, right?