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  “I should have Miss Kane’s location within the hour,” Con said as he snapped shut his cell and poured himself another drink.

  Gator pressed a makeshift ice pack to his busted nose, envisioned a confrontation with blondie. Al her belongings—her duffel, camera bag and purse—were in this suite. He’d concentrate this search on her person. “Could get rough.”

  Con toyed with the silver sacrificial knife—more booty from Bovedine—before stabbing it into the table. “Harm River Kane and I’ll slice off your dick,” he said, then returned his attention to the whiskey and journal.

  Dead or dickless. Gator was tired of the threats, the physical and verbal abuse. He should collect payment for services rendered and walk away, but something told him he was in too deep. Con wouldn’t let him walk. He’d have to slip away and run…without payment.

  Fuck that.

  “Pour yourself a drink, then order in some food. You look like you’re going to pass out. I need you fit and alert.”

  Said the man who just broke my fucking nose. Gator poured three fingers of straight whiskey, contemplated the motivation and mind-set of the man currently skimming a cryptic journal while fondling a pair of satin panties he’d pulled from blondie’s duffel.

  Motivation: Eight billion dollars.

  Mind-set: Cra-zee.

  Gator downed the liquor and poured another glass. He helped himself to a Cuban cigar, then eyed the most expensive item on the room service menu. One way or another, The Conquistador would pay.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EVEN WITH HIS EXTENSIVE shopping list, Spenser was in and out of Ambato in less than two hours. He knew exactly what he wanted and what River needed. Or at least what she thought she needed. He wouldn’t have found three-quarters of the supplies in Triunfo.

  Midway through his shopping excursion, he’d gotten a call from Mel. River would be relieved to know the man was alive and recovering, although he’d be out of commission for a week or more. Partly because of the wound. Partly because of the dead bandit. Spenser had assured him he hadn’t contacted the police. He’d also assured him River was fine, his temper flaring the more Mel asked for details.

  “In case you’ve forgotten,” Spenser lied, “River’s mine.” To which Mel responded, “Didn’t see a ring on her finger.”

  The Aussie’s interest bothered him more than it should have. It’s not like he had a chance of seducing River. As soon as she found her dad, she’d be heading off to patch things up with David. That bothered Spenser, too. Why would she want a man who’d made it clear he didn’t want her?

  Joviana slammed into his heart and mind. “Why did you want me, Spenser?” At the time, he could’ve listed a hundred reasons.

  Desperate to avoid morbid thoughts, Spenser cranked up his MP3 player, listening to Green Day and mentally reviewing the route he’d taken on his second expedition into the Llanganatis—Brunner’s route.

  Twenty minutes from Lana and Duke’s jungle lodge, Spenser got a call from the person he’d been itching to hear from all day.

  “Found him,” Gordo said.

  “You’re a miracle worker.”

  “Won’t argue that. Your Andean guide didn’t want to be found. He fled Ecuador to escape the curse.

  Said every other guide associated with Professor Kane’s expedition died a grisly death.” So Cy had gotten that much right. “Go on.”

  “Juan swore he’d be taunting fate if he even talked about the expedition.”

  “But you swayed him.”

  “Like you said, I’m a miracle worker. Also helps that he’s a fan of Into the Wild.”

  “No shit.”

  “Still cost us.”

  “I owe you, Gordo.”

  “Get away from the Llanganatis and we’ll be square.”

  Spenser focused on the one-lane dirt road chiseled into the thousand-foot cliffs as he drove higher into the cloud forest, deeper into the mists. He thought about River, who’d find her way into the “beard of the world” (as Brunner had called the forsaken region), even if Spenser turned back. “Consider me in your debt.”

  Gordo sighed. “Short version. Your man Cyrus didn’t exaggerate.” Damn.

  “Kane’s a whack job, Spense.”

  “Eccentric.” Though they’d only met once, Spenser liked the man. Plus, he understood the powerful pull of Atahualpa’s ransom. “Delusional maybe. Obsession screws with a man’s mind. So do the Llanganatis. The professor’s been in and out of those mountains for almost a year straight.”

  “Yeah,” Gordo said. “And the last person to see him alive, the guide who tried to follow the professor back to wherever he kept disappearing, got a poisoned arrow through the heart. Juan said—”

  “I know. Cy told me. I don’t believe it. You met Kane. The man’s a marshmallow.”

  “Even marshmallows are capable of murder if they’re loco.”

  “That image doesn’t compute.”

  “Neither does Professor Kane’s farfetched claim.” Gordo blew out a breath. “The professor’s been missing for what, three months? How long can a crazy man survive in the wild alone?”

  “Depends on the man.”

  “After what you told me about that cursed region, considering Juan’s story and all I’ve read…Kane’s probably dead.”

  “Probably.”

  “You have to tell River.”

  “I know.”

  “No reason to go into the Llanganatis.”

  “I know.”

  “You say I know, but you don’t sound convinced.”

  “River’s determined to find her dad.” He flashed back on her panicked rambling about closure. “Even if I share every gruesome detail of Juan’s story, she’ll insist on tracking him.”

  “Let her hire another guide.”

  “She did. Mel Sutherland.”

  “She’s with Mel?”

  “Was.” Spenser relayed the road bandit account.

  “Another victim of the curse.”

  “Mel’s not dead.”

  “The day’s young.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He’s gun shot! Infection? Complications?”

  Spenser grunted. “Sometimes you’re such a girl.”

  “This is about facing your demons, isn’t it?”

  “Partly.”

  “And because of the promise to your sister.”

  “Partly.”

  “There’s a third part? Oh, hell. Don’t tell me you think Professor Kane’s ravings have merit?” Considering, Spenser pulled into the small parking area of the Diablo Jungle Lodge. “What if he made contact with the Sambellas?” They were a lost tribe. The last survivors of a people never conquered by the Spaniards.

  “Another legend, Spense.”

  “But it could account for his claim. A mix-up in translation, maybe.”

  “You’re grasping at straws.”

  “I’m…” Spenser trailed off at the sound of a man shouting. Dressed in brown cargo shorts and a green

  “Diablo” T-shirt, the lodge employee ran into the main lobby, then blew back out with Lana and Duke in tow. Lana spied Spenser and sprinted toward the jeep while Duke and the harried employee continued into the jungle. “I’ll call you back, Gordo.”

  “But—”

  Spenser disconnected and left the jeep just as Lana skidded to his toes. “I’m sorry, Spenser. I had no idea she was so susceptible. Then she showed up in the kitchen, asking for a refill and the cook complied. Three cups later, she asked about our most adventurous activities and he hooked her up with Nick.” Lana palmed her fore head, glanced toward the thick tangle of trees. “We’ve never had anything like this happen.”

  “Where’s River?”

  “Zip-lining through the canopy, high as a kite on coca tea.” BY THE TIME SPENSER and Lana caught up to Duke, he and Nick (a college kid working as a seasonal guide) were three-quarters up the side of a capirona tree. Capironas typically grew to over one hundred feet, high enough to jut out of the main c
anopy.

  “The initial platform is up there,” Lana said. “River’s swinging between landing platforms two and three. Not sure if the mechanism malfunctioned or if she used the brake and then froze. Nick—” Spenser didn’t wait for details. He climbed the wooden rungs bolted into the tree trunk. When he reached the man-made platform, Duke was strapping into a harness.

  They traded a look.

  “Right,” Duke said, easing out of the gear. “You go.”

  Spenser had zip-lined in Costa Rica, Peru and Belize. Duke knew and trusted his expertise, plus if any one could reason with River, he could. Or so his friend assumed, just like he must have assumed Spenser and River were an item.

  Nick rambled as Spenser suited up. “I didn’t know she was high,” he said. “I just thought she was energetic. A free spirit. I got her to wear the leather gloves but she refused a helmet. I know,” he said when Spenser shot him a fiery look. “But she was so damned pretty and…determined.”

  “You thought if you let her have her way, you’d get laid,” Spenser said.

  “It wasn’t like that. Okay. I admit I wanted her to like me. But it didn’t seem like a big deal,” the kid went on. “She said she’d zip-lined before, but then she stopped midair and I couldn’t get her to move on. She was hanging there for, I don’t know, fifteen minutes? I kept shouting from the platform but she didn’t budge. The system’s designed for one person at a time. I didn’t know what to do. I—”

  “Shut up, Nick.” Duke latched Spenser’s rig to the cable. “There are four platforms total,” he said.

  “Then you’re out of the canopy and zip-lining over the river. Lana and I will meet you on the other side and drive you back. Do me a favor, Spense, and don’t let River charm you into anything stupid,” he said with a disgusted glance at Nick. “Get her down as quickly as possible, but take it slow.”

  “Good luck with that,” Nick said to Spenser. “She’s a speed demon. Oh, and prepare yourself. Pretty as hell, but she smells like she took a bath in deet.”

  Spenser almost smiled. He pushed off, strapped into a rappeller’s harness, attached by carabiner to a zip line of stainless steel aircraft cable, and soared to River’s rescue. Spenser flew through the treetops, marveling that River had had the nerve to soar like a bird. She didn’t strike him as a thrill seeker. Then again, thanks to an overdose of coca, her judgment and senses were skewed. Now she was stuck between platforms, suspended eighty feet above the ground, surrounded by trees and various canopy wildlife. That had to be sobering. He expected to find her in hysterics or, like this morning, in a repressed zombie state.

  He touched down on the second platform, checked his gear and peered down the cable. There she was, hanging in the distance, a bright speck of turquoise amidst the vivid green jungle. His heart lodged in his throat. Even though he knew Duke’s system was top of the line and that the safety equipment was top notch, he didn’t trust the man who’d allowed her to zip-line without a helmet, a man who’d panicked and left her dangling out here alone. What if Nick hadn’t buckled her properly into the harness? What if she started flailing around, trying to force free her jammed pulley? That’s if it was jammed. Maybe Lana was right. Maybe she’d frozen in fear.

  Instead of wasting time shouting out or running for help like Nick, he reattached his cable and slowly descended. The added weight caused the cable to sag and bounce. Not a lot, but enough to rouse a reaction from River. She turned and he could see now she’d been taking pictures.

  “Dammit, McGraw,” she shouted, “you screwed up my shot!”

  She didn’t sound scared, just annoyed. That was good. “There’ll be others!”

  “Not like that. And I can’t get a steady shot when you’re…dammit,” she said after a glance back at a specific tree. “You scared away the monkeys. Go back!”

  “This is a one-way ride, angel.”

  “Then stop!”

  Spenser manipulated his gear, slowing, but not stopping. “Is your brake jammed?”

  “What? No. I locked it down because I saw—”

  “Release it and continue to the next platform.”

  “But—”

  “You’re not only playing loose with your safety, but mine. This cable system is designed to handle one person at a time.”

  “You’re the one who put us at risk,” she shot back. “Couldn’t you just wait on the platform until I was done—”

  “You’re done. Session over.” He was close enough now to reach out and touch her. His heart hammered in his chest, his adrenaline spiked. He had a vision of her falling, of Andy falling. Of reaching out and… “Strap down your camera, put your glove back on and zip to the next platform. Slowly.” She started to argue, then thought better of it. “You are a spoilsport.”

  “I can honestly say, you’re the first to think so.” He watched as she followed his instructions. Seconds later, she was in motion. “Slow,” he shouted.

  “Spoilsport!”

  He gave her some lead time then followed. She didn’t look like a pro, but you didn’t need special athletic abilities to navigate this zip-line. Gravity did most of the work. What worried him was there was no guide waiting on the landing platform to help her decrease her speed. Fortunately, she descended at a reasonable pace and touched down without incident.

  He stepped in behind her, tempered his actions. He wanted to haul her into his arms, to crush her against his body and somehow transport her to safety without letting her go. He ached to kiss her, out of relief, out of need, but they had that damned agreement.

  She was also buzzed.

  He could see it in her eyes now, in the way she shifted from foot to foot. Pumped up on adrenaline and coca. Christ. “Well done,” he said while checking over her gear.

  “It’s not like it’s hard. Nick showed me what to do.”

  “Plus you’ve zip-lined before.”

  “Never.” She giggled. “What a rush!”

  He frowned. “You told Nick—”

  “He was being a drip. Said he’d never done a solo run with a newbie, so I eased his mind.”

  “With a lie.”

  “I had to do this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because David picked an adventure in Peru over a life with me. Because when I find him I’m going to prove I’m not fragile or overly cautious. That I’m capable of taking spontaneous risks.”

  “Like zip-lining.”

  She shoved her curls out of her eyes with the back of her gloved hand and smiled. “I was feeling exceptionally motivated.”

  “Hmm.” That smile could light up Finland’s sunless winters. It certainly warmed the dark corners of his heart. “Just how much coca tea did you drink?” he asked while tightening her shoulder straps.

  She shrugged. “Four, five cups? Lana said it would cure my altitude sickness and, boy, did it.” She pumped a fist in the air. “I feel great!”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “My heart feels really fluttery, but that’s probably from soaring though the jungle like a flipping toucan! Or,” she said, leaning in and batting her thick lashes at him, “maybe it’s because I’m standing so close to the hunky star of Into the Wild.”

  He’d never seen this side of River—flirtatious, carefree, bold. He wondered if anyone, aside from the horny college guide, ever had. Sure, she smelled like mosquito repellent, but she hadn’t whipped out a bottle of sanitizer or asked what direction they were traveling. Her normally pale skin glowed and her green eyes sparkled. This moment she didn’t appear fragile at all, but hearty and full of life. She looked goddamned beautiful, even in her goofy getup. The baggy striped pants he’d bought in the gift shop, her turquoise slicker, the pumpkin-orange scarf, the thick leather work gloves and diaper-like harness.

  There wasn’t a single sexy thing about her attire, yet every fiber of his body hummed with desire. Part of him cut college boy some slack. The other part damned the horny kid to hell.

  Spenser gripped River’s shoulders. His gaze
locked on those lush pink lips. “Keep flirting like that, angel, and you’re going to get more than you bargained for.”

  “I bet you know a lot of tricks,” she said in a breathless voice. “In bed, I mean.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Ever done it in a tree?”

  “You’re confusing me with those monkeys you photographed.”