100 Hours

  But I can’t stop thinking about what she said. Nico is the one who got Neda out of the jungle. I just paid for her ride. Like my father, I threw money at the problem, even when the problem was one of my best friends.

  Indiana takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine.

  Neda comes back on the air, and I hold my breath as she introduces Amanda Goh. Penelope looks close to tears, and I let go of Indiana’s hand to go comfort her. But then Holden puts his arm around her, and I remember that she chose him over our friendship.

  “Please give our daughter back to us,” Mrs. Goh begs over the radio, her voice half choked with tears. “We’ve raised just over a million dollars.” Probably donated by people who remember watching Penelope Goh take Olympic silver on the uneven bars. She’s an American hero, and her fans will do anything to bring her home.

  Penelope presses the heels of her hands to her eyes to hold back tears. She’s been doing that since she failed to place in her very first gymnastics meet, when she was six.

  “One million for the little acrobat!” Silvana stands near the fire pit closest to the headquarters tent, her arms raised in victory.

  Wait. I practically offered to write Sebastián a blank check, and she’s ready to celebrate over a mere million?

  “We’ll send it wherever you want,” Mrs. Goh adds. “However you want it. Just please call. Please tell us how to get Penelope back.”

  “What?” Silvana spins around with a look so furious I catch my breath.

  The radio goes to another commercial break, but no one’s listening anymore because Silvana is on the warpath.

  She marches across the clearing, and men move out of her way. “Why doesn’t she know where to send the money, Sebastián?” Silvana demands. “Why haven’t you called in the ransoms?”

  MADDIE

  Luke holds a branch out of the path for me, but won’t make eye contact. He hasn’t looked directly at me or said a word since we packed up after lunch.

  Since we kissed.

  He seemed like he was into it, but now I’m afraid I ruined everything. I need to fix it. But I have no idea how.

  “Hey.” I nudge his shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

  Luke stiffens, and I want to take it all back. Obviously the direct approach was a mistake.

  But then static crackles from the two-way radio clipped to his waist, and we both stop, frozen. Staring at each other in tense silence while we wait.

  The static fades into nothing, but Luke is still looking right at me. “Why did you kiss me, Maddie?”

  I’m not sure how to answer that. I’ve never made the first move before. I should have known better, after Benard. After Sebastián. Kissing hasn’t turned out well for me so far, and I don’t want to mess things up with Luke.

  But he’s looking at me like his whole life is riding on whatever I say next, and that’s terrifying in a completely different way than having a gun pointed at my head.

  “Um . . . It was a thank you. For the marshmallow. And for hiking through the jungle with me. For burying my brother. For hitting Moisés with a rock.”

  “That was just a thank you?” He sounds wounded. Does he want me to tell him that he’s funny and sweet? That I saw him looking down at me with the stream gurgling, the fire crackling, and the birds chirping all around us, and I just wanted to touch him? That I hadn’t given it any real thought?

  And suddenly I understand my mistake.

  “That came out wrong. It wasn’t just a thank you.”

  Luke scruffs his cap over his curls and his focus drops to his feet. “You know I like you. You have to know that. Right?”

  “I . . . yeah, I guess.” I shrug. “I mean, you’re here.”

  “Maddie, I’m here because you need help, and because combining our skill sets gives us a better chance of surviving the jungle than we’d have on our own. But you don’t owe me anything. Especially not . . . that.” His flush extends down his neck and beneath his collar. “That’s not what I wanted.”

  “You didn’t want me to kiss you?” The thought makes my throat feel raw.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He shifts his pack on his shoulders and finally looks at me again. “I’m just saying I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t need any incentive to be here.”

  My cheeks flame and I close my eyes. Is that what he thinks I was doing? Manipulating him to keep him around? Like I’m no different than Genesis.

  Is he right?

  I replay the memory of our kiss, filling each ambiguous moment with self-doubt.

  No. My eyes fly open. I don’t use people.

  “I’m not trying to bribe you, Luke.” I swipe at my damp eyes with both hands. I can’t handle any more complications right now. This is life and death. I need to focus. “If that’s what you think, I don’t even want you here.”

  “Whoa, Maddie, I never said that.” Luke reaches for me, but I back away from him. “I just don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it. And you don’t mean it.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth! You don’t know what I mean!” I don’t even know what I mean. “All I know is that everything was miserable. Then you gave me a marshmallow and made me laugh, and everything was a little less miserable.” I swipe both hands over my face again, hoping he won’t notice how damp my eyes are. “But you’re right. Everything is really hard right now, and I shouldn’t have complicated that by kissing you.” I turn and continue down the trail. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

  “That’s not what I . . .” Luke sounds like I just punched him, and the blow hurts me too.

  “Look, let’s just forget it ever happened, okay?” I say as he jogs to catch up with me. “I never kissed you.”

  His hurt expression hardens into anger. “Good. Because I never wanted you to.”

  I push guilt to the back of my mind. He doesn’t mean that, but he should mean it. If I’ve learned anything from Genesis, it’s that anger is much more productive than pain.

  16.5 HOURS EARLIER

  GENESIS

  “Sebastián?” Silvana demands. “Start talking.”

  The entire base camp goes still. Óscar turns off the radio, leaving nothing to fill the silence but croaks and hoots from the jungle, and I swallow my disappointment. I’m desperate for news from Miami as my father’s deadline draws closer.

  “I don’t answer to you,” Sebastián says, and we all turn to watch the tense volley of power. “When my boss tells me to make the demands, I’ll make the demands.”

  “No money, no distribution channel,” Silvana growls. “That was the deal.”

  “And maybe it still would be, if you actually had a distribution channel.” Sebastián points in my direction without looking at me. “So far all you have is one-third of the leverage that was supposed to make Hernán Valencia cooperate.”

  “She’s plenty,” Silvana snaps. “Hernán still has three and a half hours, and he will respond by the deadline. And so would the others, if you’d called in the ransoms. Wainwright alone is worth a fortune! Make the calls, Sebastián.”

  Sebastián shrugs. “You can tell Moreno that he doesn’t get his money until Hernán agrees—”

  “¡Cállate!” Silvana cuts him off with a glance at me. But finding out she works for Gael Moreno, head of the infamous Moreno cartel, is no real surprise.

  The part I can’t quite wrap my head around is that Silvana and her boss aren’t behind the plan to ship bombs to the United States. They’re just in this for money.

  The bombs are all Sebastián.

  16 HOURS EARLIER

  MADDIE

  “Hey, Tim, what’s your ETA?” a staticky voice calls from the two-way radio clipped to Luke’s waistband.

  I freeze, clutching a thin branch to help keep myself from sliding downhill. Luke goes still on my right, his eyes wide.

  We’re so close to the beach we can hear the waves crash over the shore.

  “They can’t hear us if we don’t push t
he button, right?” I whisper.

  “Right.” His voice is so soft I can hardly hear him. He hasn’t come within two feet of me since our fight, and I don’t know how to safely breach the gulf between us. Or even if I should. “But if they’re close enough for us to pick up their signal through the dense vegetation, they might be able to hear us stomping around out here. Depending upon the range.”

  I let go of the branch with exaggerated caution, just in case.

  “I’m about half an hour out,” Tim replies through the static and there’s something about his voice.

  “I don’t think they’re the kidnappers,” I say, and Luke shushes me with one finger pressed against his lips. “They sound American. Maybe they can help us.”

  Luke pulls the radio from his belt. His thumb hovers over the button on the side. “Should I say something?”

  I stare at the radio, frozen in fear. They might be dangerous even if they’re not with the kidnappers. But they might end up saving our lives.

  “They could move out of range any second,” Luke reminds me.

  Finally I nod. “Say something.”

  Luke brings the radio up to his mouth.

  “Have you guys seen Moisés?” that first staticky voice asks.

  Adrenaline shoots through me. I snatch the radio from Luke’s hand before his thumb can press the button. He stares at me, surprised. “What—?”

  “They’re working for Silvana and Sebastián,” I whisper.

  He frowns. “But they sound American.”

  “I know,” I murmur. Why would Americans be mixed up in a kidnapping in the middle of the Colombian jungle?

  “Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning,” the other voice calls over the radio. “Why?”

  “Silvana sent him on an errand yesterday, and he never came back.”

  “Silvana’s thugs are her own problem,” Tim says. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  The radio goes silent.

  I stare at Luke. “What the hell is going on out here?”

  15.25 HOURS EARLIER

  GENESIS

  A long, slim afternoon shadow falls over me, and I look up to find Silvana heading my way with a folding metal chair under one arm. In her free hand, she carries a half-empty bottle of aguardiente and a plastic shot glass.

  She unfolds the chair next to my stump and takes a seat. “Okay, princesa.” She pours a shot, then sets the bottle on the ground between her feet. “You and I are going to have a nice, civilized chat.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “¿Por qué?” She offers me the shot, and when I shake my head, she drinks it herself, then follows it with a swig of water. “Only your papi can call you princesa?”

  I hold her gaze. Like any predator, if she sees weakness, she will pounce. “How do you know my dad?”

  “We go way back. Professionally and personally.” Her raised brows imply things I don’t even want to think about.

  “You’re lying.” My dad recognized her on the phone, but that doesn’t mean they were ever involved.

  Silvana turns sideways in her chair to face me, one arm stretched out over the metal back. “He takes his coffee with cardamom and canela, like his mami always made it. He sleeps in satin boxers. And he’s a very generous man, when he’s happy.” She leans forward, eyeing me in the flicker of the nearest fire pit, and cruelty shines in her dark eyes. She’s tuned in to my pain like a dog on the scent of prey. “I know how to make him very, very happy.”

  A sour lump rises in my throat. I’m going to be sick.

  Silvana pours another shot and holds it out to me. “Change your mind?”

  I take the glass, and she laughs when I throw it back in a single gulp. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to convince your papi that resuming our business relationship will be beneficial for everyone involved. Particularly for you.”

  “Resuming?” I want to call her a liar again, but she wouldn’t be so confident in her verbal arsenal if she were shooting blanks.

  Yet I know better than anyone that the truth can be twisted. Their business dealings could have been perfectly innocent.

  “Until nine months ago, your father shipped our product all over the world.”

  “Your product?” I stare at Silvana, waiting for the punch line.

  “Snow.” She frowns. “You know—dust. Blow. Cocaína.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know what it is. I just don’t believe you.”

  I have no illusion that my father is a saint. In international shipping, as in any business, palms have to be greased and sometimes votes have to be bought. But there are lines he would never cross. “My dad would never work with you or with Gael Moreno.” I stand and grab my bag.

  “Oh, niña. Do you truly believe your father built a multi-billion dollar shipping company in under two decades because he’s a brilliant businessman? Or because he poured his heart and soul into the company? What he poured into Genesis Shipping is drug money. We gave him the means to expand early in his career. To invest in advancements. To buy out competitors. We did that because he knows who to pay off in customs and how to take the product off our narco subs and load it onto his ships in the middle of the gulf, without being seen. I laughed when you were born, and he renamed his dirty empire!” Her smile is a bitter parody of joy, mocking my pain. “Genesis Shipping is a tribute to his only child. The one thing in the world that he loves more than the company itself.”

  Numb, I shake my head. “Bullshit. My father worked for everything he has. He deserves all of it.” Everything he’s given me.

  “Yes, he works very hard, niña.” Silvana’s laughter bruises me all the way into my soul. “Until nine months ago, your father was the most successful drug trafficker in the world.”

  MADDIE

  I stare through the tree line, so relieved to see the crystalline Caribbean coast that I can practically taste the salt water. I want to fall to my knees in the sand, but we can’t just stroll down the beach like tourists. We have to follow the shore from the cover of the jungle so we’ll see anyone on the beach before they see us.

  Because we’re within radio range of Silvana’s men.

  As we pick our way through yet more dense vegetation, I have to bite my tongue to keep from channeling Neda.

  The beach is right there. My legs ache for the faster, easier pace of packed sand. My gaze keeps sliding back to the rifle. If I could think of a plausible excuse to take it from Luke, I would.

  I need to be ready the moment we find Julian.

  Luke pulls his cell phone from his pocket and angles it toward the beach. I check the screen. Still no signal.

  “Hey, Shawn?” Tim’s voice calls over the radio, and Luke and I freeze in a thick patch of undergrowth. “I’m not going to make it back in time to help load the subs.”

  “Subs?” I mouth silently to Luke.

  He shrugs, staring at the radio. He still hardly looks at me.

  “Got it.” Shawn’s response is shot through with static. “We’ll . . . without you. Hey, have . . . from Moisés yet? Silvana’s furious.”

  “Not a word.” The signal from Tim is much stronger.

  Shawn unleashes a static-riddled stream of curses, but Luke and I share a relieved smile.

  “What’s going on over there?” Tim asks.

  “. . . lost two of the VIPs,” Shawn says. “The boy’s confirmed KIA . . . sister . . . off a cliff . . . hasn’t washed up yet. Moisés . . . off the grid too.”

  Luke frowns. “Moisés must have managed to untie himself.”

  “Then why don’t they know where he is?” I shake my head, though the answer seems obvious. He’s afraid to go back to Silvana until he catches us. Or they haven’t yet looked for him at the bunkhouse.

  “The static means Shawn’s farther away, right?” I whisper, and Luke nods.

  “So they’re down to one VIP?” Tim whistles over the static. “God help us all when the boss finds out.”

  In the silen
ce that follows, Luke looks up from the radio to stare at me in astonished confusion. “You’re a VIP.”

  Well, that’s a first. “Let me know if you find the velvet rope section of the jungle.”

  “What do you think it means?” he asks as we continue on a covered path parallel to the beach, and I’m so glad he’s talking to me after hours of near silence that I don’t even care how morbid the topic is.

  “They were probably hoping for triple the ransom from my uncle, for me, Ryan, and Genesis. But why would they care about finding my body?”

  “Maybe they think your uncle will pay to get it back,” Luke says softly. “You know. For a proper burial.”

  The bastards want to ransom my corpse. Does that mean they plan to dig my brother up?

  My eyes close as the horrific scene plays out in my head.

  I won’t let that happen.

  I open my eyes, fresh fury burning in my gut. I failed Ryan in life, but I will damn well have his back now.

  14 HOURS EARLIER

  GENESIS

  Silvana’s heartless laughter drowns out everything but the roar of my pulse in my ears.

  Across the clearing, Indiana stands. He can see that something is wrong, but I shake my head, telling him to stay back. I don’t want him to hear any of this.

  Drug trafficker.

  My father quit working for Moreno nine months ago.

  Uncle David died nine months ago.

  There are no coincidences.

  My voice is an angry whisper. “Did my dad stop working for you because you killed his brother, or was it the other way around?”

  “Brother . . . ?” Silvana laughs again, but this time the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s not going to answer my question. No one wants to talk about what happened to my uncle.