Free Into the Wild by Beth Ciotta Page A

temples.
    â€œHelluva thing to break to his daughter,” said Gordo.
    â€œI need verification.”
    Silence.
    Spenser imagined his partner scratching his beard and then rubbing the back of his neck.
    â€œI’ll find Kane’s guide,” he finally said. “If not tonight, then tomorrow.”
    â€œI’ll wait for your call.”
    â€œSure you will.” Gordo disconnected.
    Spenser tossed the phone on the bed and glanced at his watch: 10:15 p.m. At this hour Gordo was trolling bars, known hangouts for guides and thrill-seekers. By 1:00 a.m. his friend would be three sheets to the wind and feeling no pain.
    Sober and miserable, Spenser fell back on his rented bed and stared up at the cracked ceiling. Forthe umpteenth time in the last five hours, he thought about his outing with River. He’d been a bastard, but he’d wanted her to understand the danger associated with Llanganatis. He hadn’t told her everything he’d learned from Cyrus about her dad’s cursed expedition, because he wasn’t sure how much was true. Cy was a good man, but eccentric. The treasure hunter’s eccentric nature had made him the odd man out. He’d been known to embellish stories simply to garner attention. His take on Kane’s expedition had been troubling. Spenser had wanted to spare River the gruesome details—real or imagined. Even though she played the tough chick, on the inside she was a wary lamb. The dichotomy was a powerful aphrodisiac. The entire time that he’d been trying to warn her away, he’d ached to hold her close. To kiss away her worries. Kissing River was fast becoming an obsessive fantasy.
    He closed his eyes and groaned.
    Love at first sight was a curse all its own.
    The antiquated TV and ineffectual air conditioner droned in the background, along with the muffled sounds of the street. He was blocking memories, craving tequila and damning River Kane when his cell rang.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNice greeting.”
    â€œWhat do you want, Jack?” His best friend and soon-to-be official brother-in-law. In truth, Spenser knew what the man wanted.
    â€œI want to know you’re okay.”
    â€œI’m okay.”
    â€œYou’re in Baños.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œYou swore off that town. Swore off that legend.”
    â€œI don’t care about the legend.”
    â€œLiar.”
    â€œWhat do you want, Jack?”
    â€œYour sister’s on my ass. About you. About River.”
    â€œRiver’s fine.” She, too, was holed up in her room. Thinking or sleeping or watching TV, and no doubt cursing Spenser. He’d booked the room across from hers. The two times she’d stepped out, he’d stepped out, too. Both times she’d glared, done a one-eighty and slammed her door in his face. The scent of laundry-fresh bug repellent had lingered in the air, taunting him as keenly as Chanel 5.
    â€œI spoke to Gordo,” Jack said. “He told me who River’s dad is and where you think he might be.”
    Shit.
    â€œAre you going after Professor Kane, Spense?”
    â€œI’m going to drive River to the nearest airport and put her on a plane bound for the States.” The sooner, the better. “Then I’m going to get back to business and search for El Dorado. I’ve got a show to film.” He hoped.
    â€œWhat about Kane?”
    â€œThe authorities are aware he’s missing. If they learn anything of consequence, they’ll contact his daughter.”
    After a tense pause, Jack said, “You’re an expert onthat region, that legend. If Kane used Valverde’s guide or even that other guy’s map—”
    â€œBrunner.”
    â€œYou could probably find him. Dead or alive. At least River wouldn’t be left wondering. Also…maybe you could find closure yourself, Spense.”
    â€œFace my demons?”
    â€œWhatever it takes to move on.”
    Spenser swung out of