Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(21)

Her lips pursed. “Dangerous job.”

His hand strayed to his bandage. He probably shouldn’t have told her, but he couldn’t take back his admission now. Maybe that was the point.

Stella frowned, deepening a vertical line between her brows. “How long?”

“Three years.”

“Three years of hanging out in the jungle, snooping on drug traffickers, and pretending to be studying otters?”

“Well, I actually do observe the otters. I’ve published several papers on family group behavior. Local kids are always wandering into camp. It’s important that my cover be well-established.” Mac sank back into his chair. “And I like otters.”

She deadpanned.

“What?” He raised a hand, palm up. “Otters are badass.”

“Seriously?” Stella shook her head in disbelief.

“They eat piranha. Once, I saw four adults kill a young caiman that showed too much interest in their den.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She stabbed the table with a forefinger. “When I first met you, everyone treated you as if you were a space cadet, but I knew it was an act. You’re smart, and you were too good at planning that search last November. Now it all makes perfect sense.”

Mac felt heat rise into his face.

“Do your brother and sister know about the job with the DEA?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want them to worry.”

Her head tilted. “Why did you tell me?”

Good question. The first time he’d met her, Stella Dane had left an impression on him that he hadn’t been able to shake. But he could hardly tell her that. “You’re a good cop, and I want you to take this disappearing woman seriously.”

Her face turned solemn. “I would have anyway. I only asked for a drug test because your story was so strange, and I was concerned.”

She’d been worried about him. The idea pleased him. Most people simply assumed the worst, but Stella was different, which brought on a whole other set of concerns. Mac would be heading back to Brazil in eight weeks. He was spread thin trying to establish a connection with his family. But Stella . . .

She made him think about things he’d never considered before, like not coming home to an empty house. Like having someone to share a late-night meal.

Or his bed.

“So that’s what you were doing when you were shot? Investigating drug traffickers.”

“I’ve been working in that region studying wildlife since I was an undergraduate. I know many of the villagers. Until I went to work for the DEA, I was a simple wildlife biologist studying the effects of deforestation and pollution on giant river otters. Now my expeditions are funded by a fake university that’s actually a front for the DEA. Before this trip, I always worked alone, but my new boss wanted me to have a team.” In reality, his new boss hadn’t trusted him. “So this time I was paired with a special agent and a guide. We were only supposed to observe,” he said. “There’s been an increase in traffic on the Amazon River from Peru and Colombia into Brazil. Our job was to report who was moving what.”

“How did you end up with the DEA?”

“I am a wildlife biologist, but three years ago, I accidentally ran into drug traffickers who’d captured two agents. They were in the process of torturing them. I couldn’t walk away.”

“You saved them?” Stella slid her cardboard cup back and forth between her hands.

“I set the place on fire. When the traffickers left the men inside to burn, I went in after them.”

“Interesting tactic.”

“I was outnumbered twelve machine guns to my machete. Not good odds.” Mac traced a scar in his oak table. Even if he’d failed and the agents had burned, a quick death by fire would have been better than an entire night of having their bits and pieces lopped off one by one. Mac had known from personal experience that drug traffickers were the bane of humanity, but seeing them in action had flipped a switch inside him. Before that night, he’d never taken a life. But he’d killed three men, easily, almost automatically, as the Colonel’s training and Mac’s muscle memory had taken over his body.

Respect crossed Stella’s face, and maybe a little shock, as if the true risk of his job was just sinking in. Was that why he’d told her? To impress a pretty girl? She wasn’t just a pretty girl, he reasoned. She was a cop. They were on the same side. Maybe it was time he gave up being the Lone Ranger.

“So the DEA recruited you?”

“It felt good to strike back at the people who flood our country with the poison that ruins lives.”

“Like yours?”

“Yes. Like mine.” And everyone else in his family who’d been affected by his bad choices.

Stella nodded. “What happened to the rest of your team?”

“My guide conveniently disappeared, and my partner was killed.” In his mind’s eye, Cheryl reached out to him through the rain. He blinked it away. In his heart, he knew the bureaucrat who’d assigned an inexperienced field agent to his team was to blame, but that knowledge didn’t ease his conscience.

“I’m sorry.” She digested that tidbit for a minute. “Was your cover compromised?”

“I don’t know.”