Savage Hearts

Danny shrugs, one of those shrugs that could mean anything or nothing, and reaches for the door handle. “Let’s go shoot something. Maybe you’ll feel like listening after.”

Barely suppressing a growl of frustration, I swing out of the car and slam the door behind me, leading the way down the trail twisting into the jungle without looking back to see if Danny is following. I know he is, just as I know it will be hell to get rid of him if he doesn’t want to go. He’s the only person I’ve ever met more stubborn than I am.

Or more stubborn than I used to be, anyway.

He might be surprised how far I’ll go to get my point across now. I don’t want to have to frighten him away, but if he leaves me no choice…

I take a deep breath and quicken my pace, not wanting to go there just yet.

According to my research, there’s a shallow canyon at the end of the trail, tucked behind the old airstrip. In the forties, before the Costa Rican military was disbanded, the army used to test weapons out there.

Local gossip holds that the ground is poisoned with old biological warfare agents. The canyon is supposedly still beautiful, but the locals avoid it, and since it’s on the flight path of commercial planes, the drug lords do the same.

There are no monkeys hanging from the trees pressing in on the trail, but as we get closer to the canyon, the call of toucans and the other tropical birds makes it feel like we’re a thousand miles from civilization. Just around a turn, a scarlet flash flutters across the trail as a parrot lands on a low limb and fans its wings wide, stretching in the morning sun.

Danny pauses behind me, grunting softly as the bird squawks down at us from above.

Even I—as focused on the destination, not the journey, as I am—can’t keep from stopping to admire the creature for a moment. I’ve never seen anything like it outside of a zoo or a pet store. It’s so beautiful, so over the top gorgeous with its brilliant feathers that it’s almost magical.

“Remember when we used to talk about surfing our way through South America?” Danny says from over my shoulder. “I brought my board. If you want to go out later, we could swap out. I hear there’s a good break not far from town.”

I glance at him, too stunned by the suggestion to form a response.

“Just because you’re here to kill people doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time, too,” he says, mouth curving in a lopsided smile.

I shake my head. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know it’s not,” he says, smile fading. “It’s not a game, and if you get caught with that gun, you could spend eight years in jail.”

My lips part, but he pushes on before I can get a word in.

“You don’t even have to shoot anyone with it. Just having it in your possession would be enough.” He steps closer, sending his Danny smell swirling around me all over again. “They don’t fuck around with gun laws here. Even citizens have to jump through hoops to own a gun and get put in jail if they’re caught with an illegal weapon.”

“I’m not going to get caught.”

“The Seasons has its own security team,” he says. “Did you know that? And from what I’ve seen so far, they’re better organized than the local police. If you shoot four men on their property, the chances of you getting off the property before they catch you are slim to none.”

“I don’t care,” I say, angry that he knows something I don’t when all I’ve done for the past year is prepare for this. “As long as I take care of them first.”

“So you want to end up in jail?” His eyes narrow. “How does that even the scales? If you end up going to prison for the rest of your life for murder?”

“I told you, as long as they’re dead, I don’t care.”

“Well you should,” Danny says, heat in his tone for the first time since he showed up at the worst possible moment. “Because you deserve to have a life after this. A real life. Not dying isn’t the same as living, Sam. You know that. You have to know it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating the sound of my name on his lips and that he has pushed me to the edge of losing control with a few stupid questions. I’m better than this, harder than this, and I have to prove it to him or he’ll never leave me in peace.

With a deep breath, I open my eyes, staring up at him, willing him to believe the truth I’m about to tell. “I will never have the kind of life you’re talking about again. It’s too late for that.”