Chapter Thirteen
I came out of the meeting with the queens, and as soon as I crossed the threshold, I felt the tingle in my throat. I brushed my hands through my hair, then swiped my thumb over my lips, even though any lip gloss was long melted off in the heat of the jungle. Knowing my body was on display, I turned slowly, straightening my back, which touted my ass and perked up my boobs. But when my head got round to the other side, my shoulders slumped.
“Hey, manita.”
I cleared my throat, pushing through my disappointment. “Hey, Diaz.”
I peered over his shoulder, but the hall was empty. Further in the distance I saw men’s bare-chested bodies moving outside. The chests were all a warmly-roasted umber and not a tan olive that spoke of the Mediterranean.
“He’s up on the roof,” said Dia
