Wild (17 page)

Mateo returned with a backpack instead of his beach bag. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and worn Levi’s, which he appeared to have pulled on over his shorts. She presented the combat boots and socks to him, admiring his well-muscled thighs.

Emma hit the button to make the tiger growl.
Mrowr
.

Chloe rose to her feet, with his help. Leaving him with the boots, she browsed around, grabbing an extra outfit for Emma. She also searched through the ladies’ garments, selecting cropped yoga pants and a soft T-shirt. They might have to spend the night on the floor of the hospital, or who knew where.

Mateo tucked his jeans into the boots and stood, testing their comfort. She smiled at his utilitarian fashion choices. Lyle’s slouching rocker style and skinny frame paled in comparison. “Do they fit?”

“Sí
,
mamita.”

“What does that mean?”

He laughed at the question. Instead of answering, he just shrugged. She put her extra clothes in his backpack, along with Emma’s book. Before they left the store, he paused at the dusty front counter to scribble on scrap paper.
“Cuántos cuestan?”
he asked, referring to the items they’d gathered. “How much?”

“Forty dollars,” she guessed. The note read:

Mateo Calderón Torres

Ave. Redonda No. 14

Cuidad Panamá, Panamá

Te debo 50 dólares

“Mateo Calderón Torres,” she said, arching a brow. “That’s a mouthful.”

He didn’t appear to understand, but he stared at her lips in a way that reminded her of this morning’s kiss. Feeling self-conscious, she took the pen from him, adding “Chloe Garrison” and her own phone number to the bottom. He didn’t protest.

On the way out, he almost tripped over a cane lying on the floor. It was serendipity. He handed her the cane, which was smooth wood with a rubber grip. She brandished it with ease, hobbling forward. The little bit of help made a lot of difference.

Chloe felt good as they stepped out together. She had new shoes, a better way to get around and a fresh outlook. Emma wanted to be carried, and she even allowed Mateo to put her on his shoulders. Unless they encountered an insurmountable obstacle, they were going to make it to the hospital today.

They hit a stretch of unblemished road and made excellent time, reaching Park Street without incident. The weather shifted from cool and misty to sunny and hot, which didn’t help the air quality. She removed her hooded sweatshirt and tied it around her waist. She should have picked up hats and sunglasses at the thrift shop.

They only saw a handful of people that day. There was a mumbling homeless man pushing a grocery cart, and a roving band of young men, armed with impromptu weapons. Mateo ignored the vagrant, not the gang. He directed Chloe and Emma into a hiding place and put his arms around them until the men passed. Chloe was grateful for his protection. She didn’t want to know what the men would do with a lone woman.

At midmorning, they came upon a large structure fire. It was blocks in the distance, involving what appeared to be an apartment complex and several industrial buildings. They’d have to find a way around.

Chloe pointed east with her old-man cane. It was uphill, so maybe they could get a better view of the area.

Two blocks later, at the top of the slope, she caught a glimpse of the freeway. And halted dead in her tracks.

Interstate 5 was a parking lot.

Looking north, the direction they were headed, there was a major accident. Not just another fire, but some kind of structure collapse and a huge pileup. Although she couldn’t see clearly through the smoke, she got the impression of hundreds of vehicles. She imagined charred flesh and burning bodies. There were news helicopters in the sky, miles away. But no organized rescue effort, as far as she could tell.

No end in sight.

She glanced at Mateo, distraught. They would have to turn back and approach the naval hospital from the west side. It meant adding many extra blocks to their route. He took Emma off his shoulders and pointed to a bus bench under a shady tree. This was a quiet street, and the surrounding area looked safe. Chloe nodded her agreement.

When she arrived at the bench, she lowered herself to a sitting position with a groan. She hadn’t realized how sore her muscles were. The cane was helpful, but her good leg ached from overcompensating. They drank water and ate pieces of flatbread. The bland meal was perfect for her uneasy stomach.

Emma explored the area under the tree, gathering the spiky green seed balls that had fallen from the branches.

Mateo picked up a pointy stick from below the bench. Chloe watched as he drew lazy circles in the flat dirt at their feet. She wanted to connect with him, but the language barrier made it difficult. Then an idea occurred to her. Even though he didn’t
speak
English, he often understood what she was saying. They could communicate another way.

“How old are you?” she asked, gesturing to the stick.

He stopped making circles and wrote
21
. Chloe smiled at his quick comprehension, as well as the number. She was glad he was close to her age.

“Y tú?”
he asked, handing her the stick.

She wrote
23
.

He smiled, too. Maybe he liked older women.

“Tell me about your family. Do you have brothers or sisters?” She returned the stick.

He smoothed the dirt with the sole of his boot and drew three triangles with circle heads.
“Tres hermanas.”

“Three sisters?”

“Sí.”

“Older or younger?”

He wrote a
24
next to the first girl figure. Then
17
and
15
. Two younger, one older. Drawing a line from the older sister, he made two more triangle shapes.
“Mis sobrinas.”

“Your nieces?”

He nodded and wrote
3
next to both shapes.
“Gemelas.”

“Twins?”

“Sí,”
he said. Then a crease formed between his brows, and he started over. He drew two boy figures and two number
21
s. He crossed one out.
“Mi hermano. Se murió.”

She studied his face, interpreting the sadness in his eyes as well as the marks in the dirt. Two brothers, both 21. They had to be twins, as well. He had a twin brother…who was dead. “I’m so sorry,” she said, touching his shoulder.

He gave back the stick.

Chloe glanced at Emma, who was still playing with spike balls. Then she drew her own boy figure, and
29
. “My brother, Josh.”

He waited, as if expecting her to add more.

“That’s all,” she said. “One brother.”

His gaze traveled up the length of her bare arm. Reaching out, he grasped her wrist and tilted it gently.
“Que te pasó?”

She tried to pull her arm back, but he wouldn’t let go. He was talking about her scars. The faint white lines were barely visible, more self-harm than hesitation marks. She hadn’t been brave enough to cut deep or open up a vein. “It’s nothing.”

He asked another question, but she didn't understand. She looked at Emma again, tears filling her eyes. During her darkest days, Chloe had been convinced that her daughter would be better off without her. She didn’t know how to tell Mateo that, when she didn’t understand it herself. She’d do anything for Emma, even die.

He leaned forward and put his other arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, accepting the comfort. It wasn’t easy to interpret his reaction, but he seemed more concerned than disapproving. His embrace was warm and quiet. He wasn’t frowning, like her mother had. He wasn’t frantic.

Emma climbed into her lap, inserting herself between them. She had a spikey ball clutched in her chubby little fist. Chloe could smell the saltwater in her hair and detect the faint, stale scent of saliva on her fingers.

Chloe had cried when she found out she was pregnant. She hadn’t been ready for motherhood. Her parents wouldn’t have objected if she’d had an abortion. But she’d been in love with Lyle, and he’d promised to take care of them.

What bullshit.

Lyle had only pretended to clean up his act. Her pregnancy had made it very easy for him to sneak around. While she’d stayed home, nauseous and tired, he’d been out late every night. He claimed to be working at a fast-food place. In reality, he was partying with his boys, attending band practice and selling drugs on the side.

She’d known this about him before the contraception fail. She’d partied
with
him.

He hadn’t slowed down for Emma's sake. He hadn’t seemed affected by fatherhood at all.

Lyle’s disinterest in Emma had broken Chloe’s heart. She wanted to be a good mother, so she’d changed for the better. He’d gone the opposite direction. A month after Emma was born, Chloe caught him snorting coke in the bathroom at her parents’ house. She told him it was over on the spot.

He’d stolen the money from her purse and left, high as a kite. He hadn’t called her since then or attempted to visit Emma. Not once in the past two years. At the time, she’d been devastated by his apathy. A combination of postpartum depression and breakup blues had brought her low. She’d cut her arm one afternoon and taken a handful of pills the next.

In the aftermath of this incident, her mother had been awarded temporary custody of Emma. Chloe had continued to live at home with Emma, but she didn’t get her full rights back for several months.

She was glad she’d fought her way out of that dark period, with the help of medication. Now she was strong again, and she had the tools to stay healthy. But she also recognized her potential for slipping. During an experience like this, it was hard to think positive. Having a supportive person beside her made all the difference.

“Thank you,” she said to Mateo, lifting her head. He might never know how much his help meant to her.

“Por nada, mamita,”
he said.
“Por nada.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J
OSH STUDIED
H
ELENA
as they rode the Skylift back to the front of the park.

She appeared conflicted, even nauseated by what they’d done, which wasn’t very flattering. Her fear of heights probably factored into the equation, but so did guilt. She hadn’t lied to him about her relationship with Mitch.

Josh curled his hand around the safety bar, uneasy. He
wasn’t
a poacher. Dancing with Melody to get Trent’s goat was a far cry from actively pursuing another man’s girlfriend. He’d crossed the line with Helena and then some. What happened to his principles? Not only had he been eager for her to use him, he’d demanded a rain check.

He didn’t think Mitch was right for her. His opinion was clouded by his own desire, of course, but now he was more certain than ever. Their chemistry was off the charts. He knew she’d felt it. She’d tried to
unbuckle his belt
. He could have had her right then. They’d both been primed and ready. Danger had heightened their emotions, exposing the attraction between them. It hadn’t created the heat, just the intensity.

Even so, she clearly still had feelings for Mitch. Josh should back off. Give her the space she needed to figure things out.

He didn’t want to, though. He wanted to finish what they’d started. He wanted her wet and hot and trembling. Legs spread, bare tits against his chest, nails digging into his shoulders. Lips parted in ecstasy as she came.

He tore his gaze away from her, willing his cock not to get hard again. They were almost to the loading dock. It would be awkward to jump out of the tram car with a boner. Bambang might be there, ready to bite any protruding body part.

Josh didn’t see the Komodo dragon in the station. He exited the car first and turned off the generator. Then Helena handed him the meat and stepped out with the rope. “If Bam comes at us, throw it down,” she said. “He’s probably just hungry.”

They didn’t encounter the Komodo dragon on their way to the truck. He set the meat down in the back, and they retrieved a portable crate from the storage yard. It was a large, heavy-duty cage with steel bars.

“Do you think we can dart Zuma the same way?” he asked.

“I doubt it. She’s sneakier than Tau, and she probably knows what happened to him.” Mulling it over, she said, “Let’s drug the meat and leave it by his cage. She might come to investigate tonight, when she thinks the coast is clear.”

“Good plan,” he said, impressed by her strategy. Maybe it took one fierce, cunning female to catch another.

They stopped by the hospital for the appropriate narcotics and continued to the lion enclosure. This was the riskiest part of the plan. They had to leave the safety of the truck, carry the crate to Tau and shove him in it. He was a huge animal, so it wouldn’t be easy. They would also be vulnerable to attack, should Zuma decide to interfere.

Josh parked at the rift in the road and got out with the rifle. He helped Helena unload the crate and carry it past the broken section of asphalt. Then he stood guard while she retrieved a burlap blanket and the hunk of meat from the back end of the truck, placing both on top of the crate. She wheeled the crate the short distance to the sleeping lion.

Tau had looked big from a distance. Up close, he was a monster. His head was enormous. His furry neck appeared larger than the circle of Josh’s arms. Josh didn’t want to get anywhere near this massive beast. He glanced around for Zuma with his rifle poised, blood pumping with adrenaline.

“How are we going to get him in the crate?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Helena didn’t seem afraid of Tau. But she’d always been fearless—on the ground. “It won’t be easy,” she said. Setting the meat aside, she bent to adjust the crate’s wheels, securing it in place. Then she opened the gate and grabbed the burlap blanket, spreading it out next to Tau. “We have to roll him over and drag him inside.”