Page 48 of Chasing Paradise

“Jaguars. Black Caiman. Electric Eels. Poison Dart Frogs. Fucking bullet ants…”

“Ants? Those human-sized spiders are cool, but you’re scared of ants?”

“Not normal ants. But bullet ants have a bite that is ranked as the most painful sting or bite of any insect. It’s been described as walking over burning coals with a long, rusted spike embedded in your foot. And the pain can last twenty-four hours.”

Violet watched my profile for a long moment before declaring, “You know, I think we’re done with school time today. Don’t tell me anything else.”

Yeah, I couldn’t blame her for that one.

We fell into a companionable silence again. Occasionally, I would reach out to grab her hip, steering her away from a creepy crawler before she could have a jump scare about it.

Each time, she had a full-body shiver. And, here and there, I caught her patting herself down. Like she felt like the bugs were crawling all over her or something.

I hoped we got out before the damn mosquitoes came out. They were a whole different beast in this area than she was used to. And could be carrying malaria or Zika.

I had bug spray to try to keep them away, but even that might not cut it.

We were heading into the wet season for the rainforest. And that always made the mosquito populations pop off.

“Wick,” she called, making me realize she’d fallen a few yards behind.

“What’s up?”

“I can’t. I need a break. I can’t do it.”

It killed her to admit that.

But one look at her—red-faced, sweat-covered, and panting—said she’d probably reached her max a solid hour ago, but had suffered in silence in the hopes of us reaching our destination before she had to tap out.

“Okay,” I said, tamping down my own impatience so my tone was calm. I let out a whistle for Marco, hoping he would just hold still for a bit, then reached in my bag for an emergency instant ice pack.

Cracking it, I reached to place it behind her neck.

A shiver moved through her, and I tried like hell not to notice the way her nipples hardened against the wet material of her shirt.

“You should have left me in the car.”

“You’re doing fine,” I assured her. “I probably should have warned you that Marco kept a punishing pace.”

“How would you know? He doesn’t speak.”

“I’ve worked with him before. And I’m pretty sure he does speak, but just doesn’t want to bullshit with tourists. Or, I imagine, have to be a walking encyclopedia for the rainforest.”

“I guess that’s fair. I just don’t get how he can set such a quick pace when we both have longer legs and are struggling.”

“Just has a body that is more accustomed to this exact exercise. I bet you’d wipe the floor with him in a hand-to-hand situation.”

“Flattery won’t make me forget you have now made me afraid of ants.”

“Noted,” I agreed. “You want to put something in your stomach, or go empty? I tend to get nauseated if I eat when I’m too hot.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually turning down food, but no. I think I’m better sticking to water right now. How far are we?”

“Close. I think. It’s gotta be close. We’ve covered a lot of ground.”

Sure enough, within the next half an hour, Marco was slowing, then waving up at the canopy of trees.

At first, I saw nothing.

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