Chapter Twenty-Two 3 page

Zoe didn’t know what to say. Her mind was whirling as she tried to process everything. She opened her mouth a few times but nothing came out.

“I know it’s a lot to take in at once.”

“So you’re not a guerrilla?” That was the only question she could manage.

“No.”

“And you’re American, obviously.”

“I have an American passport, but that’s a whole other irrelevant and somewhat complicated story.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Zoe stood up, feeling restless and edgy and she didn’t know what else. It was all too much, suddenly finding out that everything she thought she knew about someone wasn’t at all close to reality.

Gianna laughed. “That’s a first.”

“Really, Doc?” Zoe faced her. “You picked this moment to develop a sense of humor?” She left the protection of the tarp and paced in the rain. “What am I saying, you’re not a doctor. You’re a…what are you, exactly?”

“I work for a private organization.”

“Military?”

“Not exclusively. Although I specialize in hostage SAR missions. Mostly in the Middle East.”

“So that makes you a private contractor.”

“Of sorts, yes.”

“Like Blackwater?”

“They’re called Xe nowadays. And no, nothing like those goons.” Gianna looked at Zoe curiously. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”

“My father has contacts in British intelligence. MI5 and what not. I hear things.”

Gianna raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some bizarre aberration. There’s more to me than sexual intrigue and Manolo Blahniks.”

“What’s a Manloblanik?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. What self-respecting modern woman didn’t know about the finest fashion footwear ever made? She looked down at Gianna’s well-worn combat boots. “Never mind.”

“You’re soaked. Get back under here.”

Zoe had been too absorbed with the mind-boggling revelations of the last few minutes to realize she was getting drenched. She returned to her seat under the tarp to dry off. “When will this rain ever stop?”

“Soon, I hope.”

Zoe stared at Gianna’s profile. It still hadn’t really sunk in that she wasn’t a guerrilla, but some of the things she’d said in recent days now made sense. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

“I couldn’t jeopardize the mission or my cover. I didn’t know if I could trust you. If they suspected anything, they would’ve tortured us both until they got what they wanted. And killed us anyway.”

“Why did you tell me now? We’re not exactly tucked safely in our beds yet. We have another two days, you said, before your people come get us.”

“Because I trust you. And, frankly,” Gianna shrugged, “at this point it doesn’t matter. If they find us, the guerillas won’t be interested in the whos or whys. They’ll shoot me first, then you. If you’re lucky. If not, they’ll take you back and make hell seem like a pretty good place.” The brief, tortured look in Gianna’s eyes told Zoe she was speaking from firsthand experience. “Even if you told them about me, they still wouldn’t know who I work for, and it would only alert them to any potential mission to get you out.”

The words “make hell seem like a pretty good place” reverberated in Zoe’s mind. What the rebels might do to her terrified her. “I can’t go back there.”

“You won’t. I refuse to let that happen.”

Zoe found the resolve in Gianna’s voice reassuring. She needed to believe it was true. If she was caught, no matter how much she was determined to get out of this situation alive, she wouldn’t be able to endure the kind of cruelty the rebels were capable of. She’d had only a taste of it during the twelve days the FARC had held her, and it had already been worse than any nightmare she’d ever had or could have imagined. Though she’d never considered taking her own life, right now it felt like the only alternative.

She had to control her fears. Like Gianna had said earlier, they would only distract her. She had to master them and use them to her advantage. She was with a specialist now, and the knowledge that this woman had done this many times before gave her newfound strength. “They’re the reason I’m here,” she’d said about the Italians. Now it made sense. And last night, she’d told Zoe, “Don’t ever assume to know who I am.”

Zoe also replayed the hurtful and malicious accusations she’d thrown back at Gianna. Christ. “I feel really stupid now about the things I said to you last night.”

“You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ve been meaning to bring it up all day but…” Heat rose to her cheeks from her shame and embarrassment. “Apologies are not my strongest suit.”

Gianna smiled. “I can see that.”

“Funny,” Zoe said, and laughed. “Guerrilla or not, you risked your life to save me, and I had no right to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” Gianna looked away.

“You’re not that good an actor,” Zoe said quietly. “You were quite angry when you threw me down. I must have hit a nerve.”

Gianna sighed and looked at the ground. “You said I disgusted you.”

“I didn’t mean it. I…I needed someone to blame for my decision to go along with leaving the others behind.”

“I know that, rationally. But I wasn’t feeling great, and it all got to be too much.”

“You were in pain. I noticed you rubbing your head.”

“I take different meds for various reasons when I’m on the job. I had enough for four months, but recovering the hostages took longer than expected. They ran out two months ago and headaches are one of the side effects.”

“How do you feel now?”

“It’s been better today. But I can feel one coming on.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gianna dug into her backpack for a bottle of ibuprofen, then returned to her seat on the log. “These help some,” she said, and took a few with a long swig of water. She closed her eyes and bent forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and began to rub her temples.

Zoe watched her, wishing she could make Gianna feel better, then suddenly remembered a technique her mother used on her when she complained of a headache. It had always seemed to work. She got up and stood in front of Gianna. “I might be able to help.”

Gianna looked up at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Let me try something.” Zoe moved closer, nudging Gianna’s legs apart so she could stand between them. “Just relax,” she said softly, as she cradled the sides of Gianna’s face in her hands, her thumbs over the other woman’s temples. It was hard to see her expression under the dark canvas, but Gianna complied with a nod.

Zoe rubbed her temples with slow circular motions, starting gently, then with a bit more pressure. After a while, she inched her movements slowly across Gianna’s scalp toward the back of her head, exerting pressure with her fingertips first along the base of her neck, then moving upward. Zoe heard her groan. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Gianna said. “I never knew it felt so good,” she drawled lazily.

“What?”

“Massage,” Gianna mumbled

“You’ve never been massaged?”

“Huh? By specialists, for…injuries, but…not otherwise.” Her voice was barely audible. “No one’s ever offered.”

How strange. Zoe kept on massaging Gianna’s scalp, moving over her entire head with slow, circular strokes. Surely, Sam must have… When that question entered her mind, she pushed it away. Right now, she didn’t want to think about Gianna with any other woman.

Her mother’s remedy was apparently having the desired effect, because Gianna groaned again and relaxed so much her head started to fall back. Zoe caught it and pulled it gently forward until Gianna’s face was resting between her breasts, then continued her massage, moving down to work on Gianna’s shoulders and biceps.

After a few more moans of pleasure, Gianna fell silent. As she worked, Zoe tried to ignore the feel of Gianna’s warm breath between her breasts, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She looked down at the dark head as Gianna turned her face a bit; her mouth was now practically on Zoe’s nipple.

As her breath caught at the warm sensation, Gianna placed her hands on Zoe’s hips.

Without realizing it, she’d stopped massaging and was now stroking Gianna’s hair, gently pushing her head closer to the desired target. Zoe was so starved for contact she thought she might come if Gianna put her mouth on her nipple. She gasped when Gianna’s hands moved higher up her sides, until her thumbs were just beneath the curves of her breasts. Zoe was so aroused her heart was pounding, and she was panting for air. A moan escaped her.

“This is wrong.” Gianna was breathing hard, too, and her hands gripped Zoe’s sides tighter.

“Is it?”

In response, Gianna abruptly pushed her back a step and released her, then shot to her feet. “It’s stopped raining,” she said hoarsely, before turning to face Zoe, her chest heaving, hands making fists at her sides. Her eyes were almost black, and her lids only half-open. “Time to move again.”

“Do you feel better?” Zoe asked, staring at Gianna’s lips and wanting so much to rip off her mask to kiss her.

“Painfully so,” Gianna replied, turning away to take down the tarp.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Fetch rolled up the tarp and stashed it in her backpack as she fought to bring her body under control. “You can take your mask off,” she told Zoe as she reached for her own and set it back in place, almost grateful for the opportunity to hide her expression from the other woman while she worked through in her mind what had just happened between them.

Ten minutes later, after reapplying mosquito repellent and breaking off more panela to munch on, they were marching through the jungle again, neither speaking.

As she walked, Fetch tried to push away the unfamiliar sensations that Zoe had sparked. Sure, Zoe was an attractive woman; that was a fact no one could deny. But what Fetch had felt back there was beyond physical need. It had been years since she’d felt comfortable in a woman’s embrace, or even allowed it.

Before Sam, her sexual encounters had been brief, anonymous, and inconsequential. She didn’t even give them her name. Fetch never took women back to her hotel room, nor had she ever seen the inside of their homes. It was always done in clubs in some dark corner, or occasionally a room in a nearby motel.

And it was perpetually about giving and never taking. Not because she didn’t need to be touched, but she didn’t want to because it would be like allowing someone to take part of her. Like giving away pieces of a puzzle she had struggled to put together. The puzzle that was her life—her goals and who she had ultimately become. To lose that self-image was to lose control of her life. Giving someone that power, even a piece of it, was out of the question.

Years of training and years in the field had taught her that unless she was the sole owner of her life, she’d never be able to completely focus on what needed to be done. Instead, her focus became those she left behind and the promises made to them, because that’s what happened when she left pieces of herself behind.

Sam had been the only woman she’d allowed in, and Fetch had given and taken not because Sam asked her to, but because she hadn’t. Sam had never demanded a promise or a touch. She, like Fetch, knew the score. All Sam had asked for was today, and it wasn’t until that moment that Fetch realized she wanted to give her a tomorrow.

For two years after Sam’s death, she had no need for the hunt or another woman’s body or the small talk that preceded superficial sex. Her libido had fallen into a coma.

And even when her body did reawaken, the thought of having to put effort into satisfying her needs exhausted her. The solution came in the form of a business card given to her by another op, Landis Coolidge. Landis, like Fetch, liked to keep it simple. The card was for a girl-only escort service. The sex was satisfying, varied, and impersonal, and that suited Fetch fine. She’d immediately chosen and settled on a woman going by the name Mira. Mira had never asked her name, and Fetch hadn’t cared to ask for her real one, either. Her own world was comprised of aliases anyway.

But what Zoe made her feel was a sensation she’d long forgotten and considered forever lost. The need to be close to someone and not care about the consequences. Fetch had lost herself in Zoe’s touch and had felt comfortable to let Zoe see it. So comfortable, in fact, she’d compromised their safety. She hadn’t immediately realized it’d stopped raining, and if she’d missed that, she could have missed the sight or sound of approaching guerrillas.

That temporary loss of control had shocked and angered her. She couldn’t afford to give that power to anyone, let alone a woman notorious for her promiscuity. Although Zoe had surprised and impressed her with her compassion, strength, and insight, Fetch would never fit or feel comfortable in a world of spotlights and gossip. She cherished her privacy and largely depended on it.

Zoe would tire of Fetch’s subdued and secretive life too soon, anyway, and move on to the glam gals she was used to. Fetch couldn’t blame Zoe; she was well aware of the patience someone would have to possess to be with her. Her absences were long and her future uncertain, not to mention the moodiness that came after her return from a mission. She often cocooned in a remote part of her mind no one could access.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Zoe said from behind her, breaking Fetch’s reverie.

She stopped and turned to see what had captured Zoe’s attention, but it was nearly dark and Fetch couldn’t immediately make out what Zoe was pointing to in a thicket beside the path. “What are you looking at?”

Fetch gasped when she finally saw it. She couldn’t be sure how long it was because it was curled around branches, but the black and yellow serpent was one of the biggest snakes she’d ever seen. Instinctively, she bent over to release the Glock with its silencer that was strapped to her calf.

“What are you doing?” Zoe stared at the gun with a horrified expression. “It’s harmless.” She started toward the snake.

“Stay away from that thing,” Fetch whispered.

“Put that down. It’s only a yellowtail cribo.”

“I don’t care what it is.”

“I’ve never come across one of these. But snakes are a hobby of mine. I used to keep one as a child, and I’ve read tons of books on them. These babies can get to be ten feet long, but they’re not venomous, and generally docile.”

Fetch’s expression must have given away how terrified she was of the slithery damn things because Zoe laughed.

“Look at you,” Zoe said, clearly enjoying her discomfort far too much. “All weak-kneed about a snake.”

“Don’t like ‘em.”

Zoe got even closer to the serpent and it turned its head in her direction.

Fetch stepped back, ready to use the 9mm if necessary.

“What kind of a soldier are you?” Zoe asked bemusedly.

“Can we move on now?” Fetch broke out in a sweat.

“Give me a second. Just when you need a camera,” Zoe mumbled as she stopped in front of the snake to study it more closely. Her face was mere inches away from the thing. “See, I told you. It’s just a cribo. They’re a member of the Drymarchon genus, which kill their prey by grabbing it and swinging it around until they immobilize it and swallow it whole.”

Fetch almost passed out when the snake suddenly unfurled from the branch and crawled onto Zoe’s shoulder. “Aw, isn’t that cute?” Zoe turned to smile at her as the serpent made its way down over her breast and wrapped around her waist. “It likes—” Zoe stopped when her eyes met Fetch’s. “Gianna, get a grip, you’ve completely blanched.”

“Don’t like ‘em,” she said again. Fetch pivoted and started off in the direction they’d been headed. “If you don’t come with me now, you’re on your own,” she called back over her shoulder.

“You wouldn’t,” Zoe said.

“Catch you later.” Fetch continued walking, but hid behind a large tree nearby. She wasn’t about to let Zoe out of her sight. A few seconds later, Zoe frantically ran past her, whispering her name.

Fetch caught up from behind, moving quietly. “Looking for me?”

Zoe spun around. “Thank God. Don’t ever do that again. It’s not funny. I thought something had happened to you.”

“You didn’t really think I’d leave you. I was just a few feet away.” Fetch smiled.

“I also never thought someone like you would be afraid of a little snake.”

“I’ll never hear the end of this,” Fetch muttered to herself as they set off again.

“If it wasn’t for snakes, the world would be overrun by rodents, you know.”

“I don’t care if they hold the key to the universe.”

“They’re very necessary for the balance of—”

“What will it take to unsubscribe from this conversation?” Fetch sighed. “I think they’re freak shows.”

Zoe laughed and Fetch stopped to looked at her.

“I just think it’s funny.”

Fetch had to laugh, too. “Like you don’t have any phobias,” she said.

“No,” Zoe replied, a little too quickly.

“Nothing?”

“Not a thing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m just different.” Zoe smiled. “And by different, I mean better.”

“So the panic attack over that little spider in your hut was a show of endearment,” Fetch replied, and smiled back.

“What? Can’t hear you,” Zoe said, and covered her mouth to muffle her voice. “I’m in a tunnel.”

They both laughed again, and Fetch realized how much she’d missed that simple act. It’d been so long since she’d had any reason to.

As darkness fell, Fetch veered even farther from the faint path between Barriga’s camp and the next one. They were getting close to the other rebel encampment she’d been to, near the safe house, and Barriga might have radioed that camp to send men out after them. Fetch cleared a way through the dense foliage, pushing leaves and branches aside but careful not to break them. She didn’t want to leave a trace of their passage should the guerrillas come that way. Zoe followed close behind.

“I guess I was surprised with your reaction to the snake because you always seem to have everything under control,” Zoe said. “Even when Barriga hit you, I felt like you let him do it. Like you could’ve killed him if it wasn’t for me.”

Fetch wasn’t sure how to answer. “It would’ve been a bad move since I was highly outnumbered.”

“How can someone kill the way you did that guard and be afraid of a snake?”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that killing is something I do casually.”

“You didn’t,” Zoe quickly replied, her voice apologetic. “I don’t know why I said that. It came out all wrong. Please forget I said it.”

Fetch didn’t reply right away. It bothered her that Zoe thought of her that way. “It’s never easy,” she finally said.

“Then how do you do it? How can anyone kill, for that matter? Can something like that be taught?”

“Yes. But the reasons and consequences are different for everyone.”

“How?”

“Some hate it in the beginning, but eventually become immune. They don’t realize half the time it’s a human being they killed. It’s merely a target they eliminated.” Fetch paused. She’d seen many soldiers lose themselves in that spiral. “Thankfully, only a very few see it as a hunting game and get pleasure from it. I think in many of those cases, they’re taking out all their anger from the life they left behind. That’s the cruelest kind of war.”

“How about you?” Zoe asked.

“I’m like most. It’s a matter of survival. But every life I take haunts me.”

“Even the guard back there?”

“Even him. Just like any other soldier, he was following orders.”

“The orders of a drug-smuggling, kidnapping megalomaniac,” Zoe mumbled.

Fetch paused and turned to look at Zoe. It was so dark she couldn’t really see her face, but she needed to set her straight. “Because the megalomaniac told him the profits would help the poor of his country and give his family the life and choices he never had. He was just a pawn.” She kept pushing her way carefully through the thick brush.

“Why do you do it if it haunts you?” Zoe asked next. “Your job, I mean. Does it make you happy?”

“It’s not about making me happy. I want to help save lives and keep people safe. I have to believe that for every life I’ve taken, I’ve saved hundreds in return.”

“But it doesn’t make you happy.”

“It makes me necessary.”

They trudged on in silence for several more minutes before Zoe spoke again. “Do you think it’s your responsibility to save others?”

“In a way. I can’t imagine turning a blind eye. What would happen if we all did?”

“Why can’t people just get along? Or at least ignore each other if they can’t?” Zoe pondered aloud.

“Because there’s one element behind every war. One reason that obliterates any reasoning. One motive that makes people disregard everything that really matters, and that’s money.”

“And power.”

“Which is impossible without the first. Sadly money can buy you everything. From respect, to health, to sex, and even love.”

“Love?” Zoe repeated skeptically.

“When you have cash, people can’t wait to love you.”

“But then it’s not real.”

“The buyer doesn’t care, as long as it’s convincing, or as long as they have what they want. Strange, isn’t it, how we have everything we want and very little of what we need?” Fetch mused. “Our instincts tell us what we should be doing with our lives—giving back instead of constantly taking, enriching what’s on the inside. But we treat those instincts like annoyances, ignoring them to focus instead on the things that line our pockets.”

“I know. I see it every day. It’s ludicrous, the extent to how much we’re worth defines our significance.”

“It’s the world we live in.”

“And we’re all guilty of it.”

Fetch paused again to glance back at her. “Some more than others,” she couldn’t resist pointing out before moving on. Why, she wondered, was she telling all this to a woman who lived the kind of life she didn’t understand? Even if it wasn’t Zoe’s fault, she lived in a shallow world, where war and pain existed only as long as the news networks allowed.

Zoe caught the deliberate hesitation before Gianna’s remark, but couldn’t believe the words were directed at her personally. “I hope you’re not implying that I’m in the some category.”

“That’s not for me to say. I don’t know you well enough to—”

“You don’t know me at all. I may live a privileged life, but I’m not oblivious to what goes on around me.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

Zoe bristled at the patronizing undercurrent. “I am well aware of how rough life is for many, and I do not think less of those who—”

“What are you doing about it?”

“What I can. I give donations. I support Amnesty International, The Global Hunger Project, CARE.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Not at all,” Gianna replied, in that irritatingly placating tone. “It’s all you’re prepared to do, and that’s better than nothing.”

“Would I be a better person if I grabbed a gun and joined the army?”

“No. Like I said, you’re doing what you can. Considering your life, I don’t see how you could fit more in.”

“I have an actual job, you know. It’s not like I sit around waiting for the next party.”

“Do you enjoy your work? Is it satisfying?”

“It’s a job. One that, should I survive this,” Zoe gestured to the jungle, “and the virus, I will no longer have.”

“You quit?”

“I was fired. And cut off financially.”

“By your father?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he got tired of picking up my mess. The nasty exposure I keep getting in the stupid tabloids is hurting his rep, I suppose.”

“Not yours?”

“I used to care about that, but not anymore. They’ll write anything to fill those rags. They don’t care if it’s true or who it hurts.”

“None of it has any merit?”

“Most are lies.”

“And the Greek tycoon’s wife was also a lie?”

How the hell had she found out about that?

“They sell those rags here, too, you know.”

“I would’ve never considered you the type to read that trash.”

“I don’t. Just happened to see the cover.”

She was glad it was so dark Gianna couldn’t see her face clearly if she decided to turn around again right then. The anger that had been building for the last several minutes gave way to shame. In retrospect, she’d deserved much of the criticism. She didn’t know why Gianna’s opinion of her seemed to matter so much, but it did, and Zoe wished she wasn’t as familiar as she apparently was with her history. “Yes, I have been promiscuous,” she said. “I have gotten drunk in public. And I have been seen without my makeup, five pounds overweight, and in sweats. Yes, it’s all true. Happy?”

“How you choose to live is up to you, and you’re right, I don’t know you but…” she paused to clear the way again. “The Zoe I have seen here is a woman so full of potential.”

“Please don’t sound like my father.”

“If I am, then he’s a smart guy. You are compassionate, driven, and a fighter. I’ve seen you stand as tall and as strong as any soldier, and you do it from instinct, from the heart. Not because you were taught or told to. You don’t realize it, Zoe, but you are built not of stereotypes but of stone. And I know you could be doing so much more with those qualities.”

“Like what?” Zoe was exasperated, not because of Gianna, but because she knew and had known for a long time that what she was saying was true. Yet she’d never found the motivation to change the status quo.

“I think you know the answer.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then you’re not listening to your intuition. Choose the life you were meant to live, not the one you’ve settled for. People like you and me need to be challenged or we become numb. And I think numb is exactly what you are.”

Zoe couldn’t have put it better herself. “Is it that obvious?”

“When you become indifferent about hurting those who love you, then, yes.”

Until this moment, she hadn’t really spent much time thinking about how her father must have anguished over some of her poor choices. “I don’t like hurting my father. I don’t mean to. We’ve been each other’s best friend since my mother died,” Zoe said. “He means the world to me.”

“I bet he knows that.”

“Because?”

“He fired you.”

Gianna had been painfully on target with her insights so far, but Zoe thought she was wrong about this one. “He said I needed to grow up. But I think he wanted to distance himself from the disappointment I’ve become.”

“To the contrary. I suspect he knows you’re disappointing yourself more than you could ever disappoint him, and he let you go so you can find what matters. He knows it’s not the company or your job. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what you still haven’t figured out.”

“Maybe—” She froze when Gianna abruptly pivoted and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Get down,” Gianna whispered in her ear, as she wrapped her arm around Zoe’s shoulder and guided her quickly but quietly to the ground.

Zoe’s breathing accelerated instantly and her heart pounded. She remained completely still. Seconds later, she heard it, too. Voices, heading toward them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Don’t move,” Gianna whispered.

Zoe nodded, not knowing if Gianna could see her in the dark. When Gianna pulled her down, she’d put Zoe on her side. Their packs rubbed against each other as Gianna settled and lay still, facing in the opposite direction, toward where the voices were coming from. Zoe had to be alert to anything coming at them from her side, the side Gianna couldn’t see. Not that she could see anything. It was pitch black, and they were lying in a thicket as tall as they were. Control the fear, she told herself, repeating it like a mantra.

The voices were getting closer. Listening intently, she began to discern the sound of their boots crushing the undergrowth. Soon, she could hear them clearly, and if she had known Spanish she could have followed what they were saying. She tried to make out how many of them there were by the different tones. Two—no, three.

One of them said something that sounded very loud—he had to be almost on top of them. Then Zoe heard his footsteps pushing through the grass; his boots snapped a branch so close she thought he would trip over them any second. The footfalls abruptly ceased, and Zoe thought her heart would stop. Had he seen them?

Then she heard the distinctive sound of a steady stream of liquid beating against leaves. He was peeing. A few moments later, the footsteps resumed, but headed away. She’d been holding her breath.

The three men congregated nearby, talking with each other for a few more minutes, then apparently walked away, their voices fading. Zoe still didn’t dare move because Gianna hadn’t. They stayed as they were for another fifteen minutes, until Gianna grabbed her wrist.

Zoe turned her head to look at her, still too scared to speak.

“We’re lying low for a while,” Gianna whispered. “I’ll find us a place to rest. Stay here, and don’t move. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 707