“Thank you, Alice,” I say coldly, turning away. The tick in my jaw is the only thing that betrays my thought.
But Logan knows. Logan always knows. Goddamn him.
I see him staring at me, concern battling it out with fear. He knows me too well. And right now, I could string him up in this fucking jungle, just far enough from the ground so that his death is a long, drawn-out struggle, and laugh as I watch his breath leave him.
He grows white and turns away. He’s reading my thoughts, as he’s always done. Just for that, he’s a dead man. But not yet, because I need a man I can trust. And Vincent is only a kid.
Even though Logan knows the fate that awaits him as soon as he’s finished this mission, he remains loyal. He’ll always remain loyal. Like a fucking golden retriever.
But he’s smart and ruthless, where others are concerned. He’s a lot more useful to me than a big softie like Everest, or like a sadist who thinks with his dick, like Igor. I left them at home tohold the fort, and I’m traveling with only Logan and Vincent.
The latter is still mostly unproved, but I’m going to have to break in the kid quickly. I’ll need a new righthand man once Logan is gone.
My heart cripples a bit more, the way it does every time I think of life without the two people who have made it worth living. Without the one I’d always considered like a brother. And without my girl.
I crush the bitter thought to my chest.Why did Logan have to pit himself against her? Why did he force me to choose?
I could have had them both. Instead, I’ve lost everything.
I force my face back into its usual mask and jump out of the tiny airplane, its door a few feet from the ground. It has landed on a small strip on the fringes of the Amazon Rainforest.
I’ve never been here before, and the first thing that strikes me is the humidity. It feels like I’ve been dunked into a lukewarm bath, only it’s not water, it’s air that leaves a suffocating sheen on my arms.
The second thing is the insects. So many goddamn insects. Swarms of mosquitoes that don’t seem to care whether or not the sun is up. Perhaps it never really is, in the forest. The air around me is choked by flying bugs, little black things with an occasional colorful butterfly in their midst, while the tree trunks and ground are nearly coated in the creatures.
“Over 90% of the species in the Amazon Rainforest are insects,” declares a voice just behind me.
“Yeah, fuck you too,” I grumble as I turn around and face the stranger.
I’m not here for a damn tour. I’m here to find the fuckers who killed my girl.
The stranger takes an apologetic step back. I stare at him. He’s just as sweaty as I am, but he seems used to it, as though he embraces it. He’s wearing camouflage clothes that looksomething like an old army outfit that’s been reappropriated for civilian use, and has grown nearly unrecognizable with time. His face is a pattern of lines and stubble, his eyes deeply set back in his face, and the odor that permeates him is a mix of tobacco smoke and body stench.
“I hired Juan Garrido,” quickly explains Logan. “He will guide us through the jungle to the Angel compound. We don’t know exactly where it is.”
“I don’t need a guide,” I lash out.
I certainly don’t need a guidehe’shired.
“I gave Logan his contact,” clarifies Vincent timidly. “Garrido is Lazarus’ old bodyguard, and he knows Angel better than anyone. I think he’ll be very useful.”
“Fine,” I relent, gesturing for Garrido to start walking. I don’t have any time to lose.
He takes the lead, walking down a small path that seems to lead to the heart of the jungle. “We’ll start down this path. After a while, there won’t be a path anymore.”
I notice he keeps his rifle handy, and my hands flit toward my own pistol, which I’ve slung under my belt.
“For animals,” he explains. “We should be fine, however. The jaguar is a rare sighting, and it won’t attack us if we leave it alone. Same with the peccaries. They hunt by the riverbanks, and we will not be traveling near water. Too easy to be spotted.”
He points to a brown and black bug darting over the branch of a nearby tree. “Assassin bug. Lots of poisonous shit out here. Don’t touch the insects.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” comments Logan, failing to suppress a repulsed shudder.
We walk for hours in silence, Logan’s occasional grunts the only sound we hear. I glance at him and see that his face glistens with copious sweat, and his brown locks are matted to his forehead. His once white shirt has turned nearly transparent,and he sucks in little spurts of oxygen, before exhaling in long, shuddering gasps.
I’m probably in the same state myself, only I’m not really aware of it. It’s like I’ve been drowning in some strange, viscous substance ever since I accepted my pet’s fate. Something red and burning, like lava, and I’ve grown used to the suffocating pain. The sweat, the physical labor of walking through this rainforest, all of that pales in comparison.
Vincent seems to be faring a bit better. I rack my brain but can’t remember if I’d heard about this Amazonian compound before. Has he lived in it? He’s got the dark skin and hair of the people in this region. All the Murillos do. I wonder if they were born here, if they grew up here. It would explain why they chose to remain in such a godforsaken place.
