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Their cruel laugher died abruptly when Mateo’s first shots rang out. One man dropped. Then another.
I let my own gun slip from my fingers, grasping the handle of my machete with both hands. I swung it down with a roar, decapitating one of the men who had dared to touch her.
His blood splattered on her bare chest, painting her exposed breasts with dark red gore.
I shoved the last man off her, and he rolled across the jungle floor until his back hit a tree. He wouldn’t die so quickly. I lashed out, severing the hand that had touched her with a brutal swing of my blade. He screamed, but the sound of his pain didn’t satisfy me. I slashed at him again, removing his arm, then hacking away his leg at the knee.
I paused my violent onslaught, taking my time to lean over him. I touched the blade to his neck, watching his eyes roll with terror as I slowly pressed the machete into his flesh. A gurgling sound emanated from his ruined throat, but I didn’t relent. I leaned my weight into the weapon, and it sank through his neck. There was a final crunch when his spine finally gave way.
His blood was hot on my face, and more warm liquid soaked my shirt. I stared down at his mangled body, breathing hard.
I needed to kill him again. The others, too. Their deaths had been far too swift and merciful.
“Jefe.” Mateo spoke tentatively, calling my attention away from the dead man.
I rounded on him, a feral sound slipping through my clenched teeth.
He didn’t shrink back under the weight of my maddened fury. He met me with a level black stare and gestured at Valentina without looking down at her. That was wise, because if my best friend had dared to look at her naked body, I would have turned the machete on him.
I stripped off my bloody shirt and dropped to my knees beside her. She stared up at the canopy above us, her dark eyes fixed on something far away. Her tanned skin appeared paler than ever, shining in the morning light in contrast to the crimson that coated her breasts. She was completely still, and my heart slammed into my throat.
I pressed my hand against her chest to reassure myself that the blood wasn’t hers. Her heartbeat was erratic beneath my palm, and I could feel her breathing.
I covered her with my shirt, ensuring no one else would see her nakedness.
“Valentina,” I rasped her name, cupping her dirty cheek in my hand. I left a smear of blood on her jaw.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look at me.
She remained frozen, staring at something I couldn’t see.
I lifted her up, cradling her limp body to my chest. If her eyes weren’t open, I would have thought she was unconscious.
Worry gnawed at my gut. I didn’t know what to do to jolt her out of this catatonic state.
Her skin was too cool against mine. I decided I needed to warm her up.
Turning away from the carnage behind me, I carried her out of the jungle. Mateo followed, and I was vaguely aware that he held the gun I’d dropped and his pack, which Valentina must have stolen before leaving the safety of the hostel.
Some of my rage should have diverted to her for trying to escape me, but I was consumed by concern for her. Why wouldn’t she fucking look at me? She didn’t respond to my touch in any way. She didn’t shudder or whimper in my hold.
I would have found her fear of me much preferable to this disassociation.
We walked past the docks, and I could feel the eyes of the fishermen on us as we made our way back to the hostel. I didn’t care what they thought. If anyone dared to approach us, Mateo’s guns would keep them at bay.
Minutes later, we reached the hostel. The Americans were awake when we entered the dormitory. They stared at us, taking in the dirt and blood that coated our skin.
“Get out,” Mateo ordered, still cool and thoroughly in control of himself.
The Americans scrambled out of their beds and scurried off into the street.
I didn’t pause as I made my way through the dorm, heading for the bathroom. I turned on one of the showers and waited for the water to heat. When it was finally warm enough, I stepped into the small stall without bothering to remove our clothes. After her ordeal in the jungle, the last thing I wanted was for Valentina to view me as a sexual predator.
I held her close as the warm water streamed over her body. Blood turned it red as it circled the drain. We were both covered in gore. I hated the signs of violence that marred her pure perfection.
I took a breath and mastered my residual, murderous fury at the men who’d violated her. My concern for her was much more powerful. She still wasn’t really looking at me, even though her eyes were open. After a few minutes in the shower, her skin began to flush with warmth. But when she finally stirred, a shiver raced through her body.
