Page 40 of Fall
It doesn’t matter what her name is now. Her safety is secured, and I’m back on track, flexed and ready for war. I’m thankful for the reprieve of space that traveling alone offers. It hides my obvious spiral from any suggestion of tameness. No one needs to witness my heart dying all over again and use it against me.
A fresh wave of nausea ripples over me. The chopper glides through the clouds, now miles away from my domain. My comfort zone. I stare out of the window and cut up the tough decision to consider Iris’s well-being—and put project el Fantasma first.
Growling inwardly, I retrain the agony of grief once again and turn it into wrath. Invisible shutters slam into place, and they crush my fucked-up emotions behind the barrier. Deep breaths help to center the anguish, and imagining Miguel’s gruesome death strengthens my resolve.
Populated acres of landscape undulate below. Creatures survive in the wild, breath after breath. They understand the undercurrent of life––kill or be killed––control or be controlled.
I snarl at the stupidity of my broken heart. What the hell did I expect? She deserves a future, and I’m a lost cause who can’t see past the next few hours.
Fury crowns the concept of happiness with immovable fused steel. Violence shakes the hands curled on my thighs. Retribution rolls through my blood. Hot coals turn to pellets of hail.
I sit tall and press my spine into the seat, preparing to meet my sister’s killer after all these years. A sickly necessity for murder creeps from my brain to my heart, snuffing out the humanity that no longer serves me. The vital muscular organ within my ribcage scarcely beats. It continues to pump cold blood so I’m alive, even though I’m dead inside.
This is my future.
Zero attachments to weaken my self-control.
No return trips to Heaven in a pursuit for intimacy.
Miguel will fill in the blanks.
Then I'll rip him apart.
Finally.
Justly.
That is the only certainty in my godforsaken existence.
And then I’ll move on to the next target.
Goodbye, beija flor.
14
“Iris, you’re so pale. Like paler than usual. Can I get you anything?” Sal drops his pen and scoots out from under the desk. “You haven’t said a word for hours.”
Earlier, Sal escorted me to the medical facility after Dante’s chopper disappeared into the cloudless azure. When my knees weakened, he slid an arm around my waist and offered his strength as a crutch.
Dante’s absence shouldn’t have hit me as hard as it did. I was leaving in the morning anyway, but that kiss, our passion, the unspoken meaning, then he left so suddenly. His eyes said everything I desperately wanted to hear from his mouth. He robbed me of time and stole away the opportunity to tell him how I really feel, even if it still meant we would be oceans apart. At least I would be blessed with his truth and honesty. That was the very quality he demanded from me.
I’m deep in thought as Laoch sleeps soundly on my lap. He’s doped up on a herbal tincture rubbed on his gums by none other than Dante Valez. For a man prepared to shoot the vulnerable little guy in the head, he certainly went to great lengths to appease his pain.
Jackson reassured me that Laoch will be well enough to return to the wild by the morning. He also admitted a secret about Dante, alleging he’s a master of blending natural remedies. Apparently, the locals schooled him on the benefits of indigenous plants and the healing properties of Amazonian flora. In his own way, he’s an eco-warrior, just like me. Which is why he made an exception for the biologists, granting permission for strangers to erect a temporary lab close to his resort.
“Do you want to go to the cabana?” Sal rubs his eyes and stretches his arms to the ceiling. “We need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” I sigh, letting my head drop back. The antsy gnawing in my chest has starved me of feelings. “I’d rather hang out with Laoch while he’s resting. When he wakes up, he won’t know where he is.”
“You’ll be hungry at some point. I’ll ask the kitchen staff to prepare a few meals and send them here if you like. That way you can stay close to him.” He nods at the blanket in my arms.
“Okay,” I say with little energy.
Laoch’s weighty warmth siphons comfort to my heavy soul. His steady heartbeat and gentleness of breath settles the ruckus in my chest. I found a home in el Fantasma’s violence and a belonging in Dante’s eyes. Now I’m unsure where I fit in, where my place in this world should be. It’s not here anymore, and I don’t think it’s at home either.
I know he made love to me. The sensation burst inside me like the sun exploding. It showered both of us with sunbeams, and then he crossed over to the other side. Back into the darkness where he belongs. The very place he warned he would ultimately revisit.
None of this should have happened. I thought I was ready for the adventure of a lifetime, which turned out to be him. Nothing could have prepared me for Dante. No one has ever kissed me the way he did, and I doubt another man ever will. Not with pain, purpose and longing.
