Thin Skinned Margo Collins (rosie project .txt) 📖

As we taxied to a stop, my stomach clenched around the diamonds. Or maybe that was a hard knot of fear in my belly.

I didn’t want to die in the jungle. I wasn’t entirely certain how I’d gone so quickly from having the upper hand to being in this standoff that had just fizzled out.

I mean, I knew how it had happened, as in the events that had taken place. But still, I really was confused—more about my own actions than anything. Why had I done this? The longer I spent in even half-human form, the more my human logic took over.

If I survived this trip, I was going to have to work on that.

When I glanced over at Lori and Hale, Lori was twitching like crazy. Hale didn’t have it much better, covered in flop sweat. I didn’t know whether it would be kinder to give them a hit or let them go ahead and go through withdrawal.

“What you looking at, snake bitch?” Hale demanded.

No. I took it back. He could go through withdrawal for all I cared. Lori had leaned in close to him and was muttering something under her breath. Hail shoved her away hard enough she almost lost her grip on the baby, who woke from a light doze and started wailing.

“Shut the kid up,” Phil snarled. “El Lobo doesn’t need kids screeching around him.”

El Lobo? The name suddenly hit me. Oh, no. Doesn’t that mean crazy?

I paused, blinking. No. It’s not crazy. It’s something else.

We thumped down to a bumpy landing and rolled to a stop. The men in the plane started shifting around, getting ready to leave. Lori picked up the bag she carried. I hoped it at least had diapers in it.

I rested on my coils, glaring at all of them.

This had been an absolutely insane day. And I was about to get off the plane and go meet someone named Mr. Crazy.

Except that’s not what his name meant. I wracked my brains...

Wolf! That’s what his name meant in Spanish—The Wolf.

That couldn’t be good.

Phil had been willing to talk to me most of the way out here, even if it was to taunt me. I turned to him. “El Lobo? I asked. “The Wolf?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I failed miserably, I was sure.

Phil’s delighted laugh set my teeth on edge, but I was willing to put up with it to get information. Information like, would it be better for me to take off into the jungle immediately and skip out on meeting this Wolf altogether? Or should I stick it out and see what happened next?

What was my best option for getting out of the consequences of this stupid decision I’d made—and then actually making it home alive?

Phil pulled a bag down from an overhead bin, bent over the seat, and came up with a wicked-looking pistol in his hand. And of course, it was pointed right at me.

Behind me, Ron sighed.

I really should have taken all the guns away. All the guns and all the cell phones, and I maybe should have gone ahead and killed Phil, too, while I was at it. All those thoughts and more ran through my mind as I stared down a barrel for the second time in less than half an hour.

“I’m guessing you’re thinking about slithering off into the jungle and hiding out there like the monster you are.”

It was disturbing how well he could predict my thoughts. Am I that obvious?

“I’m not saying that I’m wouldn’t be willing to let you do just that. But El Lobo likes rarities.” He waved his gun up and down to indicate my entire form. “And you are definitely a rarity.”

Really, his willingness to sell me off to his Wolf friend proved how adaptable the human mind really is. It had only been an hour, tops, since I’d burst out of Abuela’s casket. And although Phil clearly recognized that I was an oddity among humans—to say the least—he was also beginning to accept me as a normal part of his world.

Not so normal that he didn’t wave me forward with a gun, of course.

“And don’t pull any of that striking-like-a-snake business, either—I’ve seen your moves and I can pull the trigger before you’re done striking at me.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “If it would make you feel safer, I could shift to my human legs.” He sneered, and it occurred to me I shouldn’t taunt the man with the gun. “It’ll make it easier for me to walk with you,” I added.

“I want El Lobo to see you exactly as you are in this shape.”

I could’ve changed without his permission, but I was worried that he might take offense and shoot me anyway. And I was far too busy berating myself for ever thinking I could get the upper hand with these guys to deal with causing myself any more pain.

The three Spanish-speaking men who’d been on the plane opened the door and walked in front of us as we exited down the steps past a ground crew that consisted of apparently two guys. Phil and Ron exited behind Lori, Hale, and me. The pilot and copilot came last.

We were headed toward the buildings. The tan earth that had once held jungle and now was just strip for airplanes puffed up dust into our faces as we walked. It was hotter here than in Texas, something about the plants holding in the humidity. I wanted to curl up in it, soak it in, relax in the warmth.

That desire was making it hard to pay attention to the rest of what was going on. That inability to resist my animal instincts when I was in my animal form had helped land me in this mess in the first place. I fought against those instincts harder now.

As we drew closer to the buildings, I caught a glimpse of another group headed toward us. They raised their hands and spoke a few