Page 5 of Colombian Chemistry

“Well, I don’t live here, but my father bought a place on the hill over town a few months ago. I came down here to visit him for spring break. And now he’s missing, and I have no idea where he is or why these men are after me. Please. I... I... do you think you could help me?”

That pesky, unwanted desire to protect this woman surged inside me again, but I shook it off.

Rule number one: Keep your head down and don’t get involved in anything other than your contracts.

I’d already gone and broken that rule for her... twice.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. Good luck,” I said quickly and started toward my cottage.

“Please. You’re the only person I can trust. I don’t know what else to do, and I feel so alone. I need your help.”

I snorted as I kept walking. “Not happening, lady. Not my problem.”

The pitter-patter of her trailing footsteps on the dirt street caused me to groan, and I spun around and faced her. She nearly ran into me again, but this time she stopped just short.

I leveled her with a warning stare. “Seriously. I can’t help you.”

“I have nowhere to go! They took my phone, my passport, my money. And I don’t know a soul! Can you just point me to the police department at least?”

If I hadn’t had my arms full of the remnants of my groceries, I’d have palmed my face. “Listen, Sweetcheeks. Those three men there, they all have tattoos on their hands marking them as members of the Reyes de la Selva—the Jungle Kings cartel. In other words, some extremely dangerous and powerful men are hunting for you. And the police are all in the pocket of the cartels. If the Jungle Kings are hunting you, then the moment you set foot in a police department, they’ll be there to take you.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Tears broke free and started streaming down her face.

Ugh. I hated when women cried.

Don’t get involved, don’t get involved, don’t get involved.

I knew I’d tried that chant several times with this woman’s situation, and so far, it hadn’t worked, but I hoped this time my mind would override whatever the hell it was about this woman that kept forcing me to go against my better judgment. The last thing I needed in my retirement was to get involved with the Jungle Kings.

“Get to the US Embassy in Bogotá. They’ll help you with the passport situation, and you can tell them about your missing father. Good luck.”

I spun on my heel and started off again.

“Wait!” she called, and her little footsteps grew closer as she hurried after me. “How do I get to the embassy? Is there a bus? How far is it? They took my phone, so I have no Google!”

Grumbling, I stopped and turned around again. “For Christ’s sake. Don’t go to the bus station. The Jungle Kings will certainly be watching that if they’re looking for you.”

Her beautiful blue eyes welled with tears again. “Why would they be looking for me? I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Heaving a sigh, I shrugged. “Dunno. Either they want you for sex trafficking, or maybe a ransom? Are you rich?”

She shook her head.

I looked her up and down, noting how attractive she was. A twenty-something blonde with a face and figure like hers would bring in top dollar. “Then probably sex trafficking. You’d really better get yourself to the embassy and get back to the States.”

The color drained from her face. “Please, help me get to Bogotá. I promise you I’ll get out of your hair then.”

“Look, lady. You’re getting out of my hair now. I’m not getting tangled up with the fucking Jungle Kings. Not my problem. Just find your way to the US Embassy and you’ll be fine.”

“How far is it?”

“About ten hours, give or take.”

“Ten hours walking? That’s a long way through the jungle!”

“No, ten hours driving through the jungle.”

Her lip trembled again. “But I have no car, and you said I can’t take the bus. How in the heck am I supposed to get there?”