Cravings by Liz Everly

me to the real deal,” Jackson said, frowning.
    â€œWe’ll have you out by then, my friend,” Sanj said as he regarded his old friend. He’d lost weight and aged about ten years since the last time he’d seen him eight months ago. Dark circles hung beneath his green eyes.
    â€œSo, what happened?” Sanj asked, sitting down on the chair next to him. A guard walked by. Jackson’s eyes followed him.
    He shrugged. The shrug comforted Sanj; it was a gesture he’d seen Jackson make countless times.
    â€œIt was Maeve,” he said with a lowered voice. “I’m not sure what was going on. But we were in a bar. She accused José Mozingo of using pesticides on his cacao trees and stealing something. And he became irate.”
    â€œJosé Mozingo?”
    â€œKnow him?”
    Sanj shook his head. “No.”
    â€œHe owns several farms—here, in Brazil, and Trinidad. Big,” Jackson said. “You know me, I wish I’d paid more attention. I just don’t have any details. That’s Maeve’s thing. I just take the pictures.”
    â€œI get that. Okay. She offended him. But how did you end up here?”
    Jackson leaned back on his chair. “I don’t know. Maeve went to the john. He offered me money to shut her up. I said I’d be happy to take his money, but I couldn’t shut her up if I tried.”
    Sanj couldn’t help but grin.
    â€œHe told me American men don’t know how to deal with their women. He sort of scowled. He said she needed to be reminded of her place. Well, that pissed me off.”
    Sanj shook his head. “You didn’t . . .”
    â€œWell, not right then. But when she came back, he actually grabbed her and pulled her to him, put his hands all over her. It was like the guys all around us were kind of watching. It was the weirdest fucking thing.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd I told him to take his hands off my wife. He laughed.”
    â€œJesus.”
    â€œHe started to like drag her away from me. Right there. All of these men were getting between us, pushing me away. I couldn’t get to her.” Jackson lowered his voice, his eyes shifted around.
    â€œDid you threaten to kill him?”
    â€œI’m sure I did, but I don’t really remember because I was hit over the head with something and the next thing I knew . . .”
    â€œYou were brought here,” Sanj said. “So you think this guy has Maeve?”
    Jackson nodded. “I told the consul all of this, too. The police. Everybody. I don’t know why nothing has been done about it. The man is easy enough to find. They’ve questioned him and he told the officials Maeve ran away that night and he’s not seen her since.”
    â€œWell, that’s possible, knowing Maeve.”
    Sanj could think of several times that Maeve had “disappeared.” He didn’t know her then, but Jackson had filled him in with stories about her. It could be that she was undercover somewhere, on to a good story, and could not risk a phone call. But she could also be in trouble. Or worse.
    â€œAnything is possible,” Jackson said. “But if she’s not with Mozingo, where the fuck is she?”
    Jackson’s green eyes were filled with terror, anger, fear.
    â€œAnd you . . . Jackson, how are you doing?”
    He stood up and started pacing. “Sanj, everything here is fine. I mean I’m treated well. But I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. Good food. Comfortable warm bed. But no answers from anybody. And where is my wife? Is she okay? Is she dead?”
    â€œC’mon. You know Maeve. She’s a survivor, smart, strong.”
    â€œYeah, but what could she do against a bunch of guys? What could I do? All I could do was . . . nothing. What kind of a husband am I?”
    His hands covered his face.
    Â 
    Walking out of the building into what felt like a wall of wet heat, Sanj was determined to find