“You can’t just leave me here.”
“Of course I can.”
“I’ll follow.”
“I can tie you up for Izzy and his new friend to find you. Trust me, you wouldn’t like it. They spend their time getting high on bazooka, which is part cocaine. Gives them lots of energy. Izzy decided to tap one of the nuns they’d captured and he ended up killing her. Think what two of them could do. And don’t tell me you’d rather them than me. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“So I’m supposed to drop my jeans for you or you’ll leave me to die? What kind of man are you?”
“An angry, dangerous, extremely horny man. And fate has seen fit to provide me with just what I need.”
“No.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They weren’t getting anywhere like this. She looked at him, shuddering slightly. She wasn’t having sex with a stranger, even if it would save her life. She’d take a header into the waterfall first.
Death before dishonor, she thought again. Maybe it really depended on who was doing the dishonoring. “Then why don’t you just rape me? Who’s to stop you?”
He shook his head. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. I don’t force women, I don’t hurt women. I just thought you might be feeling grateful. If you find the idea that horrifying then maybe I’ll give you a break. Just behave yourself and maybe I’ll let you off. Annoy me and we’re heading into the bushes.”
She laughed harshly. “Not likely.”
His smile didn’t reach his flinty-gray eyes. “Go find a spot to sleep. Not too far from the waterfall if you don’t want to be left behind.”
She didn’t move. The stupid truth was that she was afraid to be alone in the jungle, afraid of worse predators than MacGowan. And she was still having trouble believing his cool threat.
“Unless you’ve decided a little show of gratitude wouldn’t be amiss,” he drawled, his eyes running down her body like a physical touch.
She backed away from him, abruptly, and lost her footing, crashing backwards into the bushes. He sighed, reached out and hauled her up again. “Go find a place to sleep,” he said in a tired voice. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
A moment later he was gone, vanishing into the jungle like the ghost he was.
Jesus, he was a fool and a half, MacGowan thought as he moved through the underbrush. He didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for the girl, for that’s all she was, despite the fact that the laugh lines around her eyes and the wisdom in her face made her at least thirty. She may have bought her way into Callivera but she was still reeling from the shock of real life. She hadn’t been raped yet – he’d picked that up from Carlos’s comments, and women who’d been raped had a different look in their eyes, one that never went away. An ugly, broken look, and he was a right bastard for even threatening her with it.
It was a guaranteed way to keep her on her best behavior. He was no more interested in having an unwilling sex partner than he was in heading back to camp, but it was a very effective threat, especially considering the way she was looking at him, like a cross between a monster and Jesus Christ. This way she wouldn’t get too fond of him before he dumped her off.
He wasn’t going to give her the chance. He figured it would take at least two more days to get down the mountain and to the nearest decent-sized town. They couldn’t afford
to stop in any of the villages that dotted the foothills – too many of them were under the control of the Guiding Light. La Luz. Depending on the stamina of his little brood, it might take as long as four days. The faster the better, but he couldn’t afford injuries any more than he could afford to abandon any of his meal tickets if he could help it.
They’d passed some juniper bushes – the berries were bitter as hell but they’d provide enough nourishment to get them through the next night, and by tomorrow they’d be down low enough for him to find papayas. They’d make their way toward more and more food, and it would give them incentive when they were too tired to think. He’d feed them, keep them alive, deliver them to safety, and then maybe disappear himself. The Committee had abandoned him – he owed them nothing. If any of them were even left.
Except that he had a very good idea who had left him to rot. That son of a bitch Madsen.
She’d found a spot about twenty feet upwind of him, trying to make as little noise as possible as she lay down. He could smell her, the sweet scent of female skin and sweat and a hint of something flowery. Nothing as intense as perfume – it probably came from the shampoo she used. Now there was a concept. He hadn’t seen shampoo in three years either. When he finally dumped them he was going to find the biggest bathtub in the country, climb in and stay there for days.
Damn, she smelled good. He couldn’t tell what kind of body she had beneath her rough clothing, but he hoped it was soft and slightly plump. He’d had enough of wiry women, entirely made of bone and sinew instead of curves. Too bad he wasn’t really going to take his payment out in trade. Unless he offered, and he didn’t think that was likely. Beth Pennington didn’t like sex. He knew women well enough to sense it. And his threat wouldn’t have helped matters.
He had more important things to worry about than some bleeding heart’s sexual hang-ups. He’d waited this long, he could wait a few more days. He just wished he didn’t find her so damned tempting.
He ought to move further away before he bedded down himself. He knew exactly where Dylan and Froelich had ended up. Dylan had settled down quickly, a few hundred yards off the trail, and he was probably already asleep, dreaming of things he was too young to know about. Froelich was restless, wandering, which surprised him. He was a businessman, middle-aged and sedentary, and the hike had to have been harder on him than anyone. And yet he was wandering.
MacGowan didn’t like it. He didn’t trust the man, which was no surprise. He didn’t trust anyone, and hadn’t in years. Only a few in the Committee – Madame Lambert, Taka O’Brien, and he’d thought Peter Madsen, as well as Bastien Toussaint. Millionaire industrialists weren’t likely to make the cut.
He moved to a clearing by the waterfall. He should have warned the girl about sleeping in the bushes – there were snakes and spiders and all sorts of beasties to crawl inside her clothes – but he hadn’t wanted to prolong their encounter. She was too distracting, and that made him mean. He needed to save his mean for whatever the fuck Froelich was doing. Not that he didn’t have more than enough mean to go around.
He stretched out on the hard ground. He could set his body like an alarm clock, he could sleep lightly, ready to move at a moment’s notice. He could keep going for days without sleep, but he could also afford to catch up just a bit. He closed his eyes and slept.