Angelica came out of the library, book in hand, and the thug whose face resembled a wax figure after a house fire stood waiting for her.

“What do you want?” she demanded, in a voice that she hoped echoed courage she didn’t really feel. This particular thug scared her. Suddenly this end of the house seemed too empty, too isolated. Enrique was too weak to help her, and by now was likely already on his way down to the village. She’d seen the eagerness in his eyes and had no doubt he’d already left through the opposite door.

Much as he’d wanted to help her, he certainly wasn’t going to go out of his way to be seen with her. But could she truly blame him?

Angelica looked at the book in her hand, a hardcover murder mystery. Not a particularly promising weapon but better than, say, a paperback. She considered whapping him in the face with it and running.

Probably not her best plan.

“You’re not to be running around without someone watching you,” the man said, spitting out the words. Of course, he was the man she’d accused of being too stupid to learn to knock before opening a door. She swallowed against a dry throat. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to antagonize him.

“So, you’ve been assigned as my escort?” She’d meant to sound defiant, but the words got caught in her throat. She wondered if she sounded afraid.

“That’s right.” He walked over to her, each step a swagger, his smile greasy and thick. He reeked of garlic or something, and his hand clenched into a fist. Then he opened it again. Once more, he made a fist and the knuckles of his hand crackled and ground, bone against bone.

Yeah, tonight wasn’t going to end well for her.

She drew herself up, angry. Defiant. “I’m supposed to see Griselda.” It was a gamble. Honestly, she wasn’t, but it was the illusion of authority she was after. She’d used that same tone back in her internship, to get around a male nurse who had delighted in bullying her.

He hadn’t lasted real long at that hospital. She’d seen to that. Angelica had a hearty dislike for bullies.

“What if she don’t want to see you?” He stood close enough that he towered over her. She knew it was a trick, a cheap way to make her feel small and vulnerable. Damn thing was that it worked. Especially wearing that little cotton dress. She thought that she might even feel less threatened in less clothing, the dress was so... innocuous. Griselda had chosen well; she was using her gender against her.

Another reason to hate her.

Angelica crossed her arms, keeping the book topmost so she could use it as a weapon if she needed to. She absolutely refused to be cowed. She was done being a victim, and was only biding her time until Taylor got there. Something had changed in the library. She’d found herself again. No more scared little girl.

Her voice rang out, each word a verbal slap. “What if she does and you were too stupid to let me? Think she wouldn’t find out?”

The man cracked his knuckles again. “When this is all over, I’m going to ask her for you. You can be my special pet.”

“Enjoy your dreams,” she whispered. She was shaking, she couldn’t help that, but she wasn’t going let him see her afraid. And wasn’t courage about pressing forward even when you were frightened? “No one knows if you dream after death. I doubt it. I’m sure you’ll know soon enough, though.”

He didn’t like it, and growled low in his throat. “That way.” He pointed toward the stairs. “You first.”

She walked up the stairs before it occurred to her that he was hesitating. It put him behind and below her; he got a good view of her ass as she climbed. She clenched her teeth and said nothing. It wasn’t lust with him, not anymore. This was about power and she hated him for it.

Whether I live or not, I refuse to cower or beg. I’m better than this cretin. I’m better than this situation. And even if Taylor doesn’t show up, I’m not giving in. I will find a way out of here. I am not going to die here.

Besides, Taylor was out there. She was going to live. Wanted to live. Come morning, Taylor and the bag would be gone from where they had left them. If she was still here then, she was dead. If she was still here then, this man would ask Griselda to hurt her. Badly.

Nope, that wasn’t going to happen.

So, right now, she had to think. Ignore the cretin behind her and formulate a plan, the right words that would put Griselda off balance. That would take back a small measure of power.

What had Enrique said? ‘You need to be very careful around her. She is very dangerous; my brother fears her.’

But there was no reason that she would say no. Griselda was a psychopath, even Angelica’s small training in psychology told her that much. And this man wanted to hurt her, wanted to punish her for making him feel small, for not cowering at his anger. So he degraded her. Made her feel small, built on her fears and restored his sense of self-worth.

Taylor, I could really use you about now!

She walked straight and proud, head high. She couldn’t keep this moron from watching her ass, but she would not allow him to see that it bothered her in any way. At the second-floor landing, she stood off to one side and allowed him to lead her.

He took her arm and dragged her beside him, stumbling until they stopped at a door that stood out from the others. Not only was it twice as wide, a double door in a hallway of single doors, but it was elaborate and carved with small ornamentations: dragons, saints, crosses. Her escort knocked twice.

“What?” Griselda didn’t sound happy to be interrupted. Her shout was laced with a solid warning that this had better be good.

“Doctor to see you.”

There was a moment of silence and Griselda opened the door. “I see,” she said, looking Angelica up and down before raising an eyebrow at the guard. “And you follow her orders now?”

“No, Ma’am,” the man said sorrowfully. He shot Angelica a look that promised this would be revisited as soon as they were alone.

“Well, come in then, Doctor,” Griselda said, stepping aside. “You. Wait here. Stay!” She closed the door on his face before turning toward her unwanted guest. “What is it that you need, Doctor?”

Angelica swallowed hard. With a lift of her chin, her eyes hard as steel, she answered with only two words. “My clothing.” Then, “Please,” as an afterthought.

Griselda looked up at her. She was such a short little woman and quite round. She looked like a woman who would fuss and badger a new vicar, telling him that wasn’t how Mass was done in her day, or someone with unruly grandchildren high on sugar. Angelica tried to keep that image in the forefront of her mind, and not think about Griselda the heartless killer.

Griselda laughed. It started as a chuckle and then it spread and rolled over her. Her vast bulk lifted and shook with mirth as it grew louder and stronger.

“That... is priceless.” Griselda said, wiping a tear from her eye. “It truly is priceless! Here I was, buried in paperwork. The Polícia Federal are adapting a new policy against corruption that is going to cost me a fortune in higher pay-offs and bribes. Half the men I sent to retrieve your tight ass are overdue and not responding to their radio, and I find out that Carlos was skimming funds...” Griselda’s voice had risen as she spoke; she was nearly screaming now. “But wait! I have been concentrating on all the wrong things! Instead of all that trivia, I should have been looking into the really important matter of finding your fucking pants!” She glared at Angelica, her chest heaving, eyes flashing.

Angelica realized that she had a tiger by the tail, and it wasn’t Taylor. “I understand you’re prepared to kill me,” Angelica said quietly. “There is nothing I can do about that. But I have cooperated with you since we met. I have told you everything I know, and I do not deserve to be humiliated and dragged through the mud while waiting for my death.”

Griselda blinked. She stared at Angelica and ground her teeth. “Did you send Enrique to the village?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He has a girl. He needed some downtime to heal. I felt this woman would take care of him, tend his wounds. Make sure he rests.”

Griselda nodded. She turned and stalked across the length of the office. It had a thick layer of carpeting, a useless item in the heat and humidity of the rainforest. The only reason for it to exist was to impress upon people that the owner of this office had enough money to waste on something idiotic and expensive to import.

Angelica looked around the room for truly the first time. She noted the bookshelves of a deep rosewood, also imported, and various knick-knacks, all of which were ornate, gaudy, useless, and priceless. The ornate desk set on the end of the room against floor-to-ceiling windows. That made sense. The windows had screens that kept the flying denizens of the jungle out of the room, but allowed the breeze free access to cool the area.

Facing the desk, two enormous wing-backed chairs sat stately and incongruously against the darkness of the jungle. They were leather, and large enough to hold a person completely. That also precluded any sort of breeze from getting to the person in the chair, and in the oppressive heat of the jungle that was stifling.

They were there as a showcase for the air-conditioning, perhaps. A rarity by itself, and frighteningly expensive to operate out here. But the room was cool. Almost chilly. Griselda motioned for her to sit in the chair to the left of the desk. Angelica caught her breath when she saw the other chair was occupied. She couldn’t see who sat there, the shape of the chair was obscuring her vision of his face, but based on the slacks and boots it had to be one of the men of the cartel.

“Never mind him,” Griselda said. “We were just finishing up, anyway.” She sat behind the desk and folded her fingers together and smiled at Angelica. “Were you aware that the plane your little boyfriend stole was filled with cocaine?”

“I suspected as much,” Angelica admitted, “but I had no way to determine what the substance was.”

“You guessed...” Griselda nodded. “And did you guess how much the value of that particular shipment would have been?”

“No,” Angelica said, and met her gaze squarely. Unblinking. “I would have no way of knowing.

Griselda nodded. “That’s right, that’s right, you wouldn’t know. Well, as it is, that was pure. Perhaps you don’t understand the importance of such things.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers. “See, when a distributor gets the pure cocaine, they add things like... baking powder, or sugar to increase the volume. So one kilogram here becomes one and half there, and so on and so on until it gets shoved up someone’s nose or shot into their arm.”

Angelica nodded her understanding of this. She had heard such things before in the crime shows she used to watch back when she was in med school and desperately needed downtime from studying.

“As it sat, that was a million-dollar debacle. Once cut, it would be worth closer to two million give or take a little.” She waved that off. “You cost me two million dollars so far, you see? I didn’t mention it before because we had been getting along so well I didn’t want to spoil things between us.” She sighed. “Besides, we managed to save most of it. But now...” Griselda held up her hands.

“Now?”

“Now, it’s gone, again. So is Javier, by the way, and two more of my men and three men from the village who we hired to help unload the plane.”

Angelica remembered the workers; she doubted very much that any of them were actually hired.

“I came in here, to speak to Carlos,” she said, nodding to the other chair. “He was rather upset that his little brother had run off to follow some whore. We did have a discussion and did say some things that indicated that he was not happy in my employ. His employment has been terminated.”

Angelica froze. She should’ve known. The man had been sitting too quietly, too still. She leaned forward, cautious. Slow. Turning her head with infinite care, not wanting to see, but needing to.

Carlos was sitting in the chair, his hands resting on the arms, his legs crossed. There was a small hole in his forehead and a spray of blood and gore trickling down his cheek.

Angelica fought an urge to throw up.

Severe trauma to the brain and skull, the bullet created a small entry point and then expanded once entering the cranium and destroyed... destroyed...

She hung on to the voice in her mind that had guided her through her first autopsy, through the time when a little girl had been crushed by a falling tree, when the needs of being a doctor required her to set aside her humanity, so she could save a patient or determine the cause of death or...

The chemoreceptor trigger zone lies in the fourth ventricle of the brain. It contains receptors for the neurotransmitter substance P. When stimulated, this gives rise to pathways leading to vomiting and nausea.

She sat back where she could no longer see the ruin that was once a man. She looked straight ahead at Griselda. It didn’t help a great deal.

“Now, Doctor,” Griselda said, sitting back in her chair. Confident. In control. “I really do need those papers. But I am also aware that leaving anything in the jungle overnight is likely to be lost and the bulk of those papers were soaked in the crash. I have, therefore, come to the conclusion that I really no longer need to detain you. You’ve been sorely—”

The lights went out.

It was amazing how much sound was created by civilization. The silence fell like a shroud, covering them. Even the cries of the jungle had gone silent.

A wild roar sounded from somewhere outside. Close enough that the windows rattled in their panes.

Angelica bolted for the door; she heard a shot ring out behind her, but the darkness of the jungle was absolute. She flung the door open and rolled. The man standing guard was in the way. She hit his legs and he tripped, falling into the room. She heard what she thought was his gun hitting the floor.

The tiger’s roar rumbled through the jungle again. No other creature made a sound, even the insects were too afraid to call its notice. Angelica rose to her knees behind the man as he was rising and yelled with all the strength and terror at her disposal. “TAYLOR!”

Griselda fired, seeming to aim the sound of her voice. Angelica was still down on the floor; the guard had been scrambling to his feet. The thug grunted and fell. Angelica fled, finding the stairs by touch.

Then she smelled smoke.