“If I have to fight, I’ve made a mistake somewhere along the way,” I say as I peel my banana.
“That’s because you’re privileged. If you wind up somewhere you shouldn’t be in life, it’s becauseyoutook a wrong turn. For most of us, someone else is behind the wheel.”
“I didn’t put myself here.” I spread my arms to take in the jungle and the entire hostage situation. “Someone else is driving this time.You’redriving. You’ve been watching me since the night I got to Colombia.”
“And how did that happen, Genesis? How did you wind up in Cartagena?”
“I—” I stare at him, stunned.
“Thatwas your wrong turn.” He breaks off the end of his banana. “You could be in the Bahamas right now.”
“How the hell did you know that?”
Sebastián just watches me, biting into the fruit.
“Nico?” My grandmother would have told him as soon as I agreed to come visit, so he could help her get the house ready. “Is he in on this?”
Sebastián shrugs. “We all play a part. Whether we know it or not.”
“And my dad’s part? I told you, you can’t just fly a bomb into—”
“And I toldyouwe don’t want a plane.”
“But that’s the fastest—” My mouth snaps shut as I think it through. Planes are the fastest way into the United States, though airports do have a lot of security and vigilant customs inspections. “You want a ship.”
His smile is grim. Like he’s reluctantly proud of me. “I told Silvana you’d figure it out.”
Blood rushes to my head as I fight panic. “What port?” I demand. “Where is Silvana sending her bombs?”
He gives me a bleak shrug. “What does that matter?”
“Sebastián, we can stop her.” I stand straighter, and we’re almost eye to eye. “Iknowthis isn’t what you want. You don’t have to kill people to send a message.”
He drops his banana peel on the ground and crosses hisarms over his chest. “You have a better idea?”
I fight through exhaustion and hunger, grasping for a clear thought. I’ve never felt so desperate or out of my element. “I know cash isn’t what you’re after, but money can do a lot of good. Alotof money can do even more. You could start a foundation to help disenfranchised farmers get a new start. Or establish scholarships for their kids. Or fund a series of free clinics. Or build houses for the poor.” Before he died, my uncle worked for a non-profit that did all of those things.
“Those are Band-Aids for bullet wounds, Genesis. Until the US stops interfering, Colombia’s problems will persist.”
“Okay, then take out a bunch of ads, to educate the American public.” I feel like an auctioneer, trying to sell him all the right words before time runs out. “Or back a US politician dedicated to your cause. My dad does that all the time, for issues he thinks are important.”
“So, your father throws money at problems?” Sebastián’s laugh is harsh and bitter. “That’s no surprise.”
“He’s trying to help,” I insist.
“He’s theproblem, Genesis!” Sebastián stands, and I push myself to my feet in front of him. “The gap between the rich and the poor is getting bigger all over the world. Wealth and entitlement create inequalities, not fix them.” Anger flashes in his eyes, and I step back, distancing myself from his clenched fists.
“Is that why you killed his brother?”
Sebastián’s fists release suddenly. “We need to get back.”
“Tell me!” I demand. “He was my uncle. I deserve to know!”
“You ... ?” His voice is soft, but his gaze is hard. “Allyoucare about is whatyoudeserve. Because you’re part of the problem too.”
18 HOURS EARLIER
MADDIE
