Page 68 of Just My Luck

“I did. There’s more, too, but those are some of the highlights.” He grinned over at her. “I’m glad I got to give you a tour.”

“I’m a little surprised you want to come back here. Are you having flashbacks?”

“No. I’m looking forward to this. I need to thank some people. I never had a chance the first time, and also, I was an asshole then.”

His rueful tone made her burst out laughing. “Nothing like a little radical honesty. Are you saying you’re no longer an asshole?”

“Mmmm…” He shrugged. “It’s not for me to say. I’m aware of the tendency. That’s progress, right?”

Should she tell him she’d never thought he was an asshole? Somewhat arrogant, sure, maybe too single-minded, determined, occasionally clueless about things normal people understood without thinking about it. But asshole? No. She’d always thought he was self-protective and somehow alone, and her heart had accepted him as such.

But if she told him all that, he’d probably get embarrassed.

“Baby steps,” she joked instead.

33

The helicopter descended into a clearing surrounded by tall palm trees and groves of banana trees, their fringed leaves whipping in the wind created by the chopper’s blades.

The clearing contained a number of wooden platforms with canopy tents perched on top. The most central platform held a yurt, which she assumed was where the cooking and the eating happened. On a clothesline strung between structures, laundry flapped wildly in the swirling air.

As the helicopter’s skids settled onto the ground, a woman hurried out of one of the tents. Her blond ponytail flew like a flag behind her. She shaded her eyes to see who was inside the metal beast descending on her peaceful camp.

Lincoln helped Zara out of the helicopter, grabbed their two backpacks, then signaled to the pilot to go ahead and take off.

“He’s not staying?” she asked Lincoln over the purr of the engine as the chopper rose back into the air.

“No. I have another job for him.”

The blond woman reached them, but she didn’t exactly look excited to see Lincoln. She planted her hands on her hips. “If you’re still looking for that damn crystal, you⁠—”

“I’m not,” Lincoln said quickly. “I come in peace. I’m here to warn you and Rory, and everyone else who happens to be here. There’s trouble on the way. I didn’t want you to be caught off guard.”

The blond woman gave him another long stare. Zara’s first impression was that her peaches-and-cream appearance didn’t match her inner machete-queen. She wore shorts with work boots and a chambray shirt over a ribbed tank streaked with dirt. In one hand she held a backpack with a dented tin water bottle and said machete strapped to it. “Rory doesn’t want to talk to you,” she finally said. “And I’m about to go out in the field.”

Zara glanced curiously at Lincoln. This woman didn’t seem to be a huge fan of his. “We really did come to warn you,” she told her. “There’s no ulterior motive here. Well, except to avoid the Japanese crime lord who’s after us. I’m Zara, by the way.” She strode forward and offered her hand to the woman.

“Mathilda,” she said warily. “How exactly do you know Lincoln?”

“I wouldn’t say I know him exactly,” Zara said blithely. “I’m still filling in the blanks. But I have good instincts about people. He’s been a great nanny to my younger siblings and that counts for a lot.”

Mathilda’s mouth fell open and her clear aqua gaze slid back to Lincoln. “A nanny?”

“A lot has changed since I crashed here,” he said dryly.

“Lincoln Log!” A booming male voice sounded from across the camp. “I figured it had to be you. I see a plane, I think of you and hope it doesn’t crash in my damn jungle.” A large Hawaiian man covered with tattoos emerged from the central yurt, drying his hands on a rag. Without even looking, he tossed it onto the clothesline. Zara’s eyes widened at his spectacular accuracy.

“Lincoln log?” Zara whispered to Lincoln.

“I told you I was in a coma,” he whispered back.

Unlike Mathilda, the Hawaiian guy didn’t seem at all suspicious of Lincoln. They pounded each other on the back and laughed together.

“Never thought I’d say this, Robert, but it’s good to be back.” Lincoln waved an arm at their surroundings—the tall fringed palms, the thick tangle groves of hala and banana groves. A light, flowery fragrance drifted through the camp; there must be a pikake blooming somewhere nearby. A flock of chickens pecked at the dirt and a Myna bird squawked from its perch in one of the palm trees.

It was peaceful here, but at the same time, dynamic and bursting with life.

Including insect life. She slapped a mosquito on her arm.