Page 12 of Bastard

“After the child drowns, they close the well.”

His head snaps up like I pushed the child into that well. “What?”

“It’s a Mexican proverb. It means it’s better to prevent a tragedy before it happens.”

Donovan makes a noise in his throat. “But how did you know you wouldn’t become the tragedy?”

“I didn’t.” With a sigh, I dig into my daypack, uncertain how long it will take before the trucks pass by but wanting to be prepared for when they do.

“What are you doing volunteering in Malawi? You should be working in law enforcement, like the FBI.”

“Think so?”

“An adrenaline junkie like you? I know so.”

I bite my lip, considering his words. Knowing deep down it’s not the FBI I’d find myself working for ...

We fall silent and count the minutes until three trucks come barreling up the narrow roadway. “You focus on the last vehicle,” I whisper, predicting it’ll be difficult to read the numbers of the first two trucks whizzing by.

The vehicles zip by and we jot down the plate numbers. But the flash of red taillights has me looking up from my notepad.

Dios. They’ve stopped.

Two men jump out. I blink in disbelief as they promptly get into a fist fight.

“This is your goddamn fault. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did back there. You headed straight for the sharpest rocks in the road, you fuck. What are we going to tell Vladimir? That flat tires caused us to arrive bloody late to the mine?”

“Shut up, Johan,” the second man grinds out, punching Johan in the head. “I’d like to put a bullet right here.”

The tall blond man hurries out of his truck. “Zere’s a dirt road going northeast.”He moves around to stand in front of the brawling men. “But terrain is rough—”

“And this moron can’t fucking drive,” Johan adds, shoving the second man away from him.

The third man, with an accent I can’t place, continues. “Zis route vill get us to the mine in time to greet Vladimir’s investors.”

“And if we have more tire trouble?” Johan persists.

“That villager gave us his spare along with four tires,” the second man pants, breathless and defeated.

Johan now glares at the blond man. “And if that Westerner saw us and starts running his mouth?”

“Ve don’t have time to hunt him down. Vladimir vill kill us if ve delay getting there.” The third man shrugs. “The militants vill kill him, sooner or later.”

The second man strides toward the lead truck. “Let’s go.” The other men do the same and seconds later, the caravan speeds off.

I pluck the notepaper out of Donovan’s hand and safely stash both pieces inside my daypack. We wait for the dust to settle before entering the road and following it back to the village.

“What the hell was that about?” Donovan murmurs. “All that talk about a mine and investors. Think they’re diamond traders?”

I shrug. “It’s likely. Especially if investors are involved. Blood diamonds, probably. Why else would they be carrying assault weapons? Or worried about being seen by a Westerner?”

“Sounded like they don’t normally travel this way. Think they’ll return?”

“Don’t know. But there is something I do know.”

“What’s that?”

I stop and place my hands on my hips. “You’re going to remove everything that says This-Belongs-To-The-Westerner-Donovan from your possessions.”