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What about Vitari? Who was keeping him safe? After putting Francis on a flight to Belize, would he disappear, never to be seen again? The thought of losing him jabbed him in the chest. The way he talked, almost as though he were saying goodbye. But if Francis asked him to go with him to Belize, he’d get the same response as when he’d asked him to look for a job. Vitari didn’t do happy ever afters. He didn’t settle down. He didn’t want that life. Criminal shit was all he had to give.
What sin brought you to me?
You did.
“Smile, Padre.” He moved in, closer still, pressed so close his every breath brushed Francis’s lips and his long-lashed dark eyes pulled Francis deeper. Francis’s heart fluttered in his throat. If he leaned in, he’d kiss Vitari, and it wouldn’t stop there, even with a wounded leg. He craved Vitari. More so because he’d been starved of him. He needed him to make his heart beat. But if he fell into the kiss, he’d never want it to end, and soon, it would be over. So why torture himself? If they drew closer again now, it would only hurt more later, when Vitari let him go.
Swallowing, Francis bowed his head, bumping against Vitari’s forehead. “Let’s go, then,” he croaked, leaving him to climb back into the Jeep. Vitari waited a while, his back to Francis, then returned and got the Jeep underway again. He didn’t speak, only stared ahead, concentrating on the broken road.
Francis clutched at the handle above the door. The little Jeep clambered over washed-out gullies, engine humming, and it seemed as though they were making good time, all things considered.
Sometimes, headlights would gain on them, out of the gloom, and a few locals went by on trail bikes.
Francis clung on, trying not to whimper every time they hit a rough bump or one of the Jeep’s wheels slid down a rock and struck the ground hard. It might have been easier to get out and walk.
“Do you have any more of the painkillers?” Francis asked. The throbbing heat turned his stomach over.
“Sure, in the bag in the back.”
Vitari stopped the Jeep, and Francis rummaged through the bags of cash to find their supplies. He took a few tablets and washed them down with the water from the Good Girl bottle.
“You okay?” Vitari asked, his face troubled.
“I will be after these kick in,” he said, slumping back in the seat. Slick with sweat, he really needed the journey to end.
“We’ll change that dressing soon.” Vitari stared ahead and flicked out his hands, flexing his fingers. The terrain was brutal on him too.
“Maybe we should wait until daylight?”
“It’ll be worse then, busier and hotter.” He put the Jeep in gear and started forward again. “We do not want to meet a bus coming the other way.”
“A bus? Surely not on this road.”
Vitari laughed. “Only the strong survive this journey, Padre.”
His words were proven as they approached an abandoned SUV by the side of the road. It looked to have been shoved to the side and left there to sweat and rot in the heat while the jungle tried to swallow it.
Exhaustion alone tried to pull Francis under, but there was no chance of sleep in the jolting, rocking Jeep. He gritted his teeth. It would end, eventually. The Lord taught how endurance produced character, producing hope. Pain never lasted.
Vitari pulled the Jeep to the side and let a pickup truck clamber by. Francis watched its taillights disappear ahead.
“Hey, Francis?”
“Huh?” He blinked at Vitari’s ghostlike face in the glow of the Jeep’s instrument panel.
Vitari leaned over. His cold hand touched Francis’s forehead, burning like a brand. “Fuck, you have a fever.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, Padre. You need a doctor.” He pulled the emergency phone from the glove box. The glow from the screen lit up his stern face. He growled. “We have a few more hours of this, then we’ll be back in civilization.”
“I really am fine.” He just needed a bed and some sleep, and he’d be all right. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
“Hold on.” Vitari revved the engine and lurched the Jeep back onto the track, plowing ahead and rattling Francis like a pea in can. But everything really would be fine, if he could close his eyes and sleep and dream of an avenging angel—who would leave him, once his mission was complete.
CHAPTER SIX
Vitari
