Page 24 of Final Approach

“We’re travel influencers,” she explained with pink cheeks before she delicately placed it in the center. She looked forlornly at the equipment. “I wish we’d brought our second cell phones. We could have documented what’s happening to us so we could tell the story later—it would get great views.”

These two would not live long.

Nikki exchanged a look with my captain—one that only two people who knew each other well would understand—then forced his lips into a cheerful smile.

He was very interesting to watch, timing his grins and his words with planned precision. In prison, we called men like him chameleons. They were very useful for recruiting and trading, and dangerous. Their smooth lies were often laced with poison.

I’d give him credit—I had caught none on his tongue—yet. But I hadn’t missed the longing in his stare when he’d added a small bottle of vodka to the pile to sterilize the man—Danny’s—wounds.

Rolling the candy over my tongue, I savored its flavor and slowly crept forward on silent feet, keeping my gaze on the pile and the passengers. The cowardly cabrón who’d shoved needle after needle into my flesh was now only two meters away from me. Close enough to grab and choke in a single step.

“Detective Diaz,” my ángel called out in a stern, silky voice made for seduction. “May you bring your bag forward? You’re the only one we’re waiting on.”

Irritation flushed up my neck with a hot brush when all attention turned in our direction. I shoved my hands into my pockets, leaving the lollipop to dissolve on my tongue.

“I’ll put my bag into the pile when you return my handcuffs and keys,” Diaz snapped back, crossing his arms across his chest. “I shouldn’t have to convince you to protect the rest of your passengers by locking up a dangerous criminal.”

My blood boiled at his disrespect, but I waited. Watched. I would force his apology if necessary. Before I killed him.

Nikki turned his gaze to me from across the circle, eyes lit with curiosity through broken glasses. “What were you in for, if you don’t mind my asking, mate? Let’s put this to bed with Detective Dick, shall we?”

Staring hard at him, I considered my response. I was finally free, with nothing to lose. My gang deserved the truth.

Seeking my angel of life, I needed to look her in the eye with my confession. Catching her stare, I held it, searching those beautiful green eyes for the compassion she’d already shown me.

Reluctantly, I removed my lollipop.

“Murder,” I finally replied, bleeding my face dry of all emotion. “But I didn’t do it.”

The two influencing women—whatever that could mean—shrank away from me, their fear scenting the dank air. They were of no consequence, my focus remained on Marley. Would she be afraid of me, too? I wasn’t sure.

Her brows lowered, and she cocked her head to one side as if weighing my capacity for danger. But her gaze remained on mine, undaunted.

“You see?” Detective Dick—I liked the nickname—crowed as if this admission were more important than surviving the jungle tonight. “Murder. Murder,” he emphasized, as if no one had heard me. “This beast,” he spat, “needs to be cuffed. You won’t need to waste your rations on him. As long as he is still breathing by the time we get to Mexico, we’ll all have done our jobs.”

His determination to get me to Mexico halted my enthusiasm for his death. His survival was on the line as much as mine, yet my transport remained his priority. Who in my birth country paid for my life?

What had he been promised to deliver me?

“No one is starving on our watch, Diaz.” Marley’s pouty lips curled in disgust, but not for my sins. “And no, you’re not getting the cuffs back. The only person who has been a threat to anyone’s safety is you.”

My captain returned her gaze to me, the determination in them quietly commanding. Her hips swayed as she walked toward me, quickening my pulse. My body enjoyed her attention.

“I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble remembering your name,” she admitted, a tentative smile pulling at those full lips. “All I know you by is Torres. What do you prefer to be called?”

My lollipop, now just a stick, fell from my lips. I caught it in my palm.

“Maddox is my name, but I don’t like it. In prison, they call me Mad Dog.”

Her brows flew up, then down, and a deep crease folded the smooth skin. The pouty lips I would one day bite pursed into an O, then flattened back into a rueful smile. “Yeah, I’m not calling you that.”

Feisty and fearless, the perfect combination to match a man like me. My cock stiffened against my jeans.

“How about Madman?” Nikki’s cheerful smile genuinely met his eyes when he moved to stand next to Marley, his distance enough to be professional and protective. The chameleon.

I matched his grin. Whoever this man was, this new member of my crew, I liked him.

“I like madman.” Dipping my head in acknowledgment, I smirked at her. “You may call me Madman.”