Page 36 of Girl in the Water

Daniela smashed the biggest one with her rubber flip-flop without missing a beat. “The bite makes you hear things that are not there,” she whispered.

He gave her an appreciative nod. Tonight would be a bad night to start hallucinating.

They climbed in, then paddled hard, keeping to the river’s edge where the current was much slower and more easily overpowered than in the middle. And here, near the bank, the shadows of overhanging trees would soon hide them.

Moving upriver in a canoe required hard work, but between the two of them, they managed.

Once the bastards who’d attacked them realized that the fishing boat Ian had sent across the river for twenty US dollars held only a lone, local fisherman, they would search for Ian and Daniela downriver. People fleeing nearly always went downriver. Easier. Just like on dry ground, people fleeing went downhill, nine times out of ten.

When you ran from someone, instinct said to get as far away from your pursuers as quickly as possible, so you picked the fastest path. Of course, most professional trackers knew that. Doing the opposite was a basic evasion tactic Ian had learned in the army.

He paddled hard, and the canoe made decent progress. They both put muscle into it, as much as they each had.

Daniela didn’t burst into tears, didn’t freak out, didn’t go into shock.

He hadn’t been sure she wouldn’t. Being tough while training was wholly different from reacting to a live, armed attack where bullets flew at your head.

He respected the hell out of her for the way she’d responded. But at the same time, he hated that an armed ambush wasn’t even the worst thing that had happened to her in her life. Being attacked by killers was something she could take in stride, and it hadn’t been only because of the training he’d given her.

They passed two sleeping villages, each no more than a smattering of huts. Hours passed before they reached the next town, smaller than Santana. A brightly lit-up house sat at the edge of the water, sounds of music floating from inside.

“That’s Rosa’s house,” Daniela whispered.

Ian’s blood boiled. His paddle stilled in the water. He would have liked to have a few words with Rosa, or, say, set the damn place on fire. But now was not the time to cause that kind of disturbance. He began paddling again.

He wanted to know what Daniela was thinking, but she didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t see her face.

“How far is it to your village?”

“Another hour, I think.”

She sounded winded. So was he. But he was willing to get more winded to get her to safety.

“We’ll go there.”

If the men behind them did search for them up this way, they’d search the first town they came across. They wouldn’t think anyone would want to go farther, against the current, on the night river.

He didn’t like doing it either. A floating log could easily capsize them. But Daniela sat in the front, and she had excellent night vision. He trusted her. He ignored his aching muscles and kept working against the current.

They reached Daniela’s village in a little under an hour and a half. Fewer than a hundred huts scattered on a hillside, nothing but shadows in the scant moonlight. The village slept.

Ian and Daniela pulled up the canoe and got out. They didn’t stop to rest.

Daniela took his hand and drew him forward. “I’ll show you my home. We can spend the rest of the night in the hut.”

Had that been excitement in her tone? She walked fast, clearly happy to be here. He followed her, ruled by entirely different emotions: anger and protectiveness.

He wanted to go from hut to hut and shake people. Why in hell had nobody protected her?

A couple of dogs ran up to them, but they were friendly—small jungle dogs to keep houses free of snakes and rats. They sniffed the visitors, then licked their hands, tails wiggling in greeting.

Goats bleated in their pens.

Daniela led the way up an overgrown path to a small hut that was leaning off its stilts, the roof in tatters.

The spring went right out of her step. She came to a lurching halt and stared at the ruin. And in the moonlight, Ian saw tears roll down her face for the first time ever. He’d seen her with tears in her eyes, seen her with tear streaks that one morning. But she had never once cried in front of him.

She cried silently now, her slim arms wrapped around her.