by Alice Ward
Wyatt shrugged. Maybe he didn’t think so, but something definitely stunk around here.
I took out my phone, ready to film. But though we passed workers in the field, they waved and smiled at us as we passed. They looked happy. The plantation itself seemed well cared for. There were no maltreated workers dying in the fields, no burned out former rain forests, no dead animal carcasses littering the ground.
I should’ve been happy. But I wanted the smoking gun.
Sighing, I was just reaching into my daypack to reapply my bug spray when Wyatt shouted, “Stop!”
Before the cart had come to a complete stop, though, he jumped out of the side of it and set out on a tear through the rows of palms. I craned my neck and saw what he was running toward; a plume of smoke rising through the trees.
I threw myself out of the cart and took off after him.
I arrived in the clearing and stopped short. The dozen or so workers there had been picking up the palm fruits from the ground and loading them into a yellow container, but now they stopped, surprised to see us bursting through the trees. They were all practically skeletal, moving slowly, wavering on their feet.
Most of them looked like children.
My eyes widened as Wyatt approached another man in a straw hat, who was sitting under the shade in an old metal lounge chair, a walkie-talkie on his knee. “Are you in charge here?”
The man frowned and gave him a confused look, like he didn’t speak English. After his jaw worked up and down a few times, he started to speak a mile a minute in another language, gesturing wildly. Wyatt cursed and looked for Farish, who was hanging back by the cart. Wyatt motioned him over.
I walked slowly along the line, studying these poor children. They were dirty, wearing rags, their hands covered in deep blisters. There was hopelessness and fatigue in their eyes. I gasped when I saw a little girl in messy braids who couldn’t have been more than five.
Then I remembered my phone. I opened it and started to film as Farish appeared in the clearing.
“Farish,” Wyatt said. “What is the meaning of this? These are children. Do they work here?”
Farish spoke to the other man, and they went back and forth, having a careful conversation as they studied us. Then Farish said, “I am sorry, Mr. Watts. They’re of legal age and paid the going rate.”
That was an obvious lie. I pointed at the child. “That girl can’t be more than five!”
Wyatt didn’t back down on the two men. “Are you fucking kidding me? They look like they’re starving!”
“They’re paid well,” Farish said, and I wasn’t sure what he was translating and what he already had been rehearsed to say. “If they don’t have enough money perhaps it’s because they choose to spend their money in other ways.”
“Other ways? Like on what? They certainly don’t have designer clothing.”
Farish and the other man exchanged looks, but neither said anything. They hung their heads as if there was nothing they could do. I got it. They were likely middlemen, doing what they were instructed to do. And who’d instructed them? Maybe not Wyatt, but it was WE buying from them that kept them in business.
Wyatt crossed his arms and looked at the ground, shaking his head. “This is unacceptable.” Then his eyes fell on me. “Let’s go.”
He took off toward the cart, and I followed, trying to keep up with his powerful strides. “Go?” I called out breathlessly after him. “We’re just going to leave them out here? Seriously? What are you going to do?”
He slid into the cart and said, “What I have to do. I have to make sure that we don’t have any dealings with plantations that employ child labor. But how do I do that?”
“I…” He was asking me?
He tore off his sunglasses and those deadly blue eyes searched the rows of trees before falling on me. It was like an arrow through the heart.
And I couldn’t think of a thing. Right then, he looked so broken, so sad, the only thing I could think of doing was taking his mind off the horror we’d just witnessed, a horror I knew he felt guilty for contributing to.
I reached out and cupped his cheek in my hand. “We’ll figure it out.”
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into my palm, and for a moment, all I could think about was taking him to a secluded spot in the jungle and stripping off our clothes, the way his eyes seemed to say they wanted to.
Damn him.
I really wished he would be the bad guy. Because maybe then he’d be easier to resist.
CHAPTER TEN
Wyatt
Well, that went well.
After Farish drove us back to headquarters, I climbed out of the cart and stalked back to the truck. Atlee followed along, too slowly for my liking. I waited for her, and when she was close enough, I put my hand at the small of her back, unable to resist moving it up and down the curve of her spine.
It was like my body knew what would relieve the tension of this moment and wanted to be nibbling and licking my way down her bare skin. I could nearly taste the salty-sweetness of her.
“Are we leaving?” she asked when we were back inside the Defender. I’d asked someone to fill up the gas tank while we were gone, and a quick look at the dashboard showed a full tank. At least something was going right today.
I blinked at her question. One moment, I was incensed at being fucked over by our contractors, and the next minute I’d gone on an erotic tangent. How the hell was she so good at distracting me? I’d practically hit every pothole on the way up here because I couldn’t stop gazing at her gorgeous bare legs. Knowing what I saw — what I felt last night — how could I not?
I shook my head and looked at Farish, who was eyeing us suspiciously. I mouthed, I’ll be back, then put on my sunglasses and started the truck, throwing it into reverse. But I was no terminator, I knew. I didn’t know how to fix this. But what I did know was that I was damn and sure going to try.
I headed down the path toward the main road where we’d entered. “That was the official tour. Now, it’s time for the backlot incognito tour.”
She straightened her spine beside me and grasped the handle over her head for dear life as I veered off the main road, heading down a path that was barely wide enough for the truck.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” she asked.
“No, but…” I reached into the pocket of my shirt and pulled out a brochure I’d swiped from the office. I handed it to her.
She opened it. “No map. It says the total land of the plantation is twenty thousand hectares. What does that mean?”
I did the calculation in my head. “Eighty square miles, give or take.”
She looked impressed for a flash, but it soon dissolved to worry. “Eighty? So we’re just going to tool around these unmarked pathways looking for people doing bad things? What if we get lost?”
“Hey, you want film for your blog, right?” There was a small stream running across the path, so I gunned the accelerator so we could go through it. Mud splashed the windshield, and I quickly ran the wipers, though it didn’t help much. “Besides, we won’t get lost. I have an excellent sense of direction. Like a compass in my head.”
She wrinkled her nose doubtfully, then sat back and looked at the brochure. “Says here they’re one of the largest plantations in the country and employ nearly one thousand people. I wonder if the government knows that they’re treating children like slaves.”
I sucked in a breath. “How are they able to do that?”
“They import them from other countries,” she said. “I read about it. These people come over from impoverished countries, like Bangladesh and Myanmar, on the promise that they can have a better life while working the plantations in Malaysia. But once they’re here, they’re treated terribly, like slaves. They’re charged exorbitant fees for housing and food, so they quickly go into debt at an interest rate they can never pay off. In desperation, their children are made to work. And they aren’t citizens, so they have no rights.”
> I wiped the sweat from my brow, thinking of the man I met at the other plantation. Mat had been from Bangladesh and had said there was good and bad. Was this the bad he was speaking of? “Are you kidding me?”
“And it also says in here that they are committed to sustainable farming practices,” she says, crumbling the piece of literature and throwing it in the back seat. “Hundred bucks says that’s bullshit too.”
She was angry, for sure. She pulled her hair out of the knot, fluffing it and throwing it to the side. She lifted the top of her tank top and fanned it back and forth against her body, leaving me so mesmerized I nearly ran head-on into a tree.
“God, it’s hot as hell here,” she murmured with a sexy pout.
“Yeah. Jungle. Equator,” I muttered in answer.
She lifted her water bottle and drained it. I glanced over and watched the graceful curve of her throat. She caught me watching and scowled. “If you were going to get a gas-guzzler, you should’ve gotten one with AC.”
My blood boiled, part from anger, and part from Atlee. I wanted to pull over here, in the middle of nowhere, climb into the back of this truck she hated so much, bend her over the seat, and fuck her until she was hoarse from screaming my name.
Instead, I murmured, “Next time, I’ll let you pick the car.” We came to a fork in the road. Not wanting to land myself right at the headquarters again, I hung a left.
“I would’ve gone right.”
Of course she would have. She slipped off her glasses, polished the foggy lenses, and set them on her lap, arching her back as she stretched. Fuck it, I wanted her.
But what I didn’t want was to feel the slap of her palm against my face. Something told me that if I came onto her, and she didn’t want it, it would be downright excruciating. Not to mention the icy four-hour drive back to the resort.
Yeah. I couldn’t chance it.
It was better to keep focused on the task at hand. “So, you really don’t have any ideas as to how I can stop these plantations from taking advantage of me and ensure they don’t employ underage workers? You’re a lawyer, right?”
She gnawed on her lip. “I am a lawyer, thank you very much, my specialty isn’t in labor. Not off the top of my head, but I can google it?”
I frowned. “Seriously? Those who can, do. Those who can’t… google.”
“What?” She crossed her arms. “Googling is a very effective method for—”
“Yeah. Why actually learn any skill or commit anything to memory when you have all the answers so readily available in the palm of your hand, right?” She just stared at me, her frown threatening to take over her face, that crease between her eyes growing. “So you talk a good game with this video blog of yours, but you don’t really have the answers? You don’t know how to make companies truly sustainable?”
“I didn’t create the mess!” she exploded on me. “You did! Don’t ask me for answers. Find them yourself. My job is to create awareness and convince people and companies to change their practices. Which is your responsibility to figure out how to do.”
I thought she might whip off her seatbelt and attack me. Or try to jump out, but she didn’t.
Tense silence filled the cabin as we drove for at least another half hour without seeing any human life. Barreling through rows of palms, we eventually came back to the pristine rain forest. We took a trail that led up into some heavily wooded hills, with foliage so thick that it smacked against the windshield and invaded the windows. But there were no people.
“I’m getting hungry,” she said after the iciest half hour this sweltering jungle had probably ever experienced.
I motioned to the cooler I’d brought in the back. “I brought food.”
Her lips curled into a snarl. “Meat?”
I looked at her. “You know, there isn’t a restaurant or food store anywhere within a hundred miles. So are you telling me you’d seriously just starve rather than eat meat?”
“Yep.”
“That’s fucked up,” I muttered.
“No, it’s not. It’s called having convictions. Something you probably aren’t familiar with.”
I lifted my chin. “I’ll have you know that I have many convictions.”
“Right.” She started to count off with her fingers. “First one: Money. Second one: Sex.” She held up a third finger and paused. “Nope. Just two. Always good to meet a man so well rounded.”
Heat burst in my face. She was incorrigible, and it was starting to piss me off how attracted I was to her.
I poked her on the thigh with my index finger. “Actually, my first one is that people mean more than convictions. Even you. You can’t really show off those shiny convictions of yours when you’re dead.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. I marked that as a score for me. Her eyes trailed to the cooler, then back to me. “Ugh. Please. Don’t tell me there is meat in there. It makes me gag. You really brought meat?”
“Yes. Ribs. And a side of beef.” When she made a face like her life was coming to an end, I sighed before she could launch into another rant. “Actually, nasi kerabu.”
“Nazi what?”
“Malaysian rice with vegetables, hold the fish sauce. I asked the lady at the counter to get me something vegan, and she recommended it.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see her smile. A glance over proved that she appeared to be genuinely touched. “Really?”
“Really. Because you’re so fucking annoying, and I didn’t want to have to spend eight hours listening to you bitch about it.”
Her smile fell. She gave me the finger. “I do not bitch that much.”
I begged to differ, but I dropped it. I really did not want to hear her bitch about how little she bitched.
We drove along in silence for another minute until she craned her neck to look up at the sky. “We should turn back,” she said, that worry crease appearing. “Don’t you want to get home before dark?”
“We’re fine. Have a good few hours of daylight left.” I pointed at her phone. “Did you get enough for your video?”
“I can make do. I recorded that whole conversation with the plantation manager. I’ll just need to record my part, where I’ll—”
“Call him a scumbag?”
She crossed her arms. “Well, you don’t corner the market on that name.”
“So, you do still think I’m a scumbag?” When she opened her mouth to answer, I didn’t give her the chance. “And yet I made you so wet last night.” Nope. Just couldn’t resist tossing that little factoid out there.
Her jaw hung open. “That was… no, you didn’t.”
I slowed, draping my hands over the wheel. “Believe me. I felt it. Just as I’m sure you felt how hard I was for you.”
“I…” I could practically see her heart beating under her tank top. “I… wait!”
At her near scream, I stomped on the brakes, sending us lurching forward. I squinted out the window, by now so caked with mud and dried insect carcasses that it was difficult to see through, and noticed nothing strange. “What?”
“The road ends up there.”
I rolled the truck forward a little closer, to get a better look. “It’s not ending. Looks like a T.”
She pushed her glasses back onto her nose, wrinkling it as she peered down each path. They all looked similarly dark and… like jungle. “Yeah, but which way do we go? I think right.”
“No. That’ll take us to the wrong place. Left.”
“I heard a truck. I think it’s definitely this way.” She pointed out her window to the way she wanted to go.
I’d heard that truck too, but we’d curved around, so it definitely sounded like it was coming from the road on the left. I shook my head and started to turn the wheel to the left, but she reached over, grabbing it, and yanked it toward her. “Right!”
“Hey!” The car lurched again as I threw the transmission into neutral, glaring at her with the force of every emotion I owned. She was making my cock
hard, even now, staring at me with her intense eyes that were telling me to go straight to hell. “Don’t touch my wheel.”
She scowled.
I waited a beat, two, until the tension ebbed. Then I took a breath, and said very calmly, “I thought I heard something this way, so that’s the way we’re going. Got it?”
She crossed her arms, turned her head toward the window, and started to mimic my voice under her breath, like a little kid who’d been admonished by her father.
I smiled, took the car out of neutral, and continued on my way.
Left.
She whirled on me as I drove. “Who the hell died and made you boss of the universe? You think because you’re CEO of a company you can boss everyone around? I have half a mind to get out of this truck and walk back.”
“Be my guest. I’m not stopping.”
“Right. Scumbag.” She crossed her arms.
I opened my mouth to put her in her place when she whipped around on me again. “Let’s not talk. You infuriate me. You are a corporate stiff CEO like all the other corporate stiff CEOs, who run their mouth, spouting a good game but who only care enough to make changes if it doesn’t cost you money. Because the only thing that matters is money. Oh, and sex too. Great. Those are some high morals you’ve got. Not to mention that you think because you run a company, you run the world and everyone in it.”
I gazed at her as she ranted, getting so wound up gesturing that her whole body was shaking and her cheeks reddening. I knew she was trying to teach me a lesson, but really, I didn’t hear a word she said.
It did turn me on, though. If only I could find a way to redirect that passion.
“Fine. I won’t say a word.”
“Fine!” she hissed at me, a snake ready to go in for the kill. “This trip was a mistake. I hate everything you stand for, Mr. Watts. I think you should know that.”
She punctuated it with a nod, like Ha, I really told him off, then turned to gaze out the window. Then she fiddled with the side of her seat and pulled the lever, reclining the seat all the way back. Without another word, she crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.
Damn, that woman. Now, instead of a leech, I thought she might have been a jellyfish in a former life, intent on stinging the shit out of me. I whirled to her as I drove over a hilltop, pointer finger extended in a warning, ready to give her a piece of my mind. “Listen to me. You need to…”