The other one narrows his eyes, ignoring the spit on my face. I do the same. He wants a reaction. He’s not getting one from me. I don’t reach to wipe it or even acknowledge it. I keep my eyes on the hands of the guy with the gun. Oh, I’m watching the other one with my peripheral vision. You don’t become captain of a boat without being able to do five things at once. My sister told me it was great practice for being a dad at some point.
Fuck. I want to see my niece and nephew again. I want to see Haley pregnant, my ring on her hand. Yeah, I’m going to do everything I can to keep her safe. To get all of us out of here alive.
The gun-less young one limps over to the other one and reaches for the gun. There’s more shouting and a momentary split second where the gun isn’t on me but in the middle of thechest of the one from the pit. It’s not long, not enough for me to make a run for it. The other one throws his hands up in the air and shouts.
After a minute, the gunman motions for me to walk back to camp. Fuck, it feels like I’ve been here for a long time, but it’s not even fifteen minutes. Much less, even.
“Go.” The one with the gun motions and pushes me in the back as I walk past. “Faster.” I’m walking as slow as I can to be considered fast. The longer I give Haley and Calvin and Easton to get away, the better.
We pass the cut-off path where Easton would have gone. I walk quickly past it, keeping my steps even. But the one with the gun pauses. He says something to the other one, and I think he’s going to run the other way, but the young one shouts back.
They both come with me back to camp. I’m hoping that Dante’s net worked.
The gunman grabs my arm and presses the barrel of the gun into the middle of my back. Then I see why. Dante’s holding a gun. A gun he has aimed at the young guy from the pit.
Dante yells at him in French. I understand, “You and...” well, that’s it. My French is horrible. But I’m watching Dante, waiting for him to give me a signal or anything that might mean duck, dodge, or fight back. Until then, I’m letting the two with the guns be in charge.
The man behind me yells back in rapid-fire French.
“Non,” Dante says.
“Oui,” the man behind me says, followed by a long stretch that I catch none of.
Dante looks at me and shakes his head.
There’s shouting from the jungle from the direction Zane ran. And in a heartbeat, the kid who spat in my face darts off with a limp, but damn, he’s still fast.
Dante kicks over the table with a thud and ducks behind it.
The gun pushes harder into my back. And fuck. The pirate lets out a string of words.
Dante says something. And the gunman grabs my hair with his free hand, ratcheting my head back. “Oui.”
Dante pushes the gun out and comes around the table with his hands up.
Fuck.
Chapter 39
Tactics
Zane
Ifucking overshot the pit. I thought I had him, but he ran right by it. The thicket’s kept me hidden, though he’s sniffing around me. He’ll be around again, and the next time he does, I’m doing a cut-back. It’s my favorite football play. Sure, it doesn’t always work, but what else do I have to try? He’s going to find me here eventually. Though the sun is dropping in the sky.
I freeze, contemplating my next move. There’s a chance I might be able to dart off, round back to where the thicket on the other side of the island is. I’d have to cross the stream behind the pool, but I could still do it. Meet up with Easton.
But no, we need to keep him safe too. Haley first, Easton next. Sam’s right. They want Easton—he’s the money item. I’ve been bouncing back and forth between two ways of thinking: either they want him alive for ransom, or they want him dead because he was supposed to be killed the first time around.
But I don’t think these guys were involved with the saboteur. They’re not that suave. They don’t seem to have an overall gameplan. It’s more of a money grab. So now I think they’re after the ransom or reward, whatever you want to call it. But they still don’t want to give the ship up, so they can’t exactly just hand us over.
Something doesn’t fit. There’s part of this puzzle I’m missing and have been for months now. I feel like I can almost reach it, but it’s out of my grasp.
My pursuer circles back around again. I think this might be the time that I need to do it. I crouch under the large clump of ferns that I’ve been tucked beneath and ready myself for takeoff. I hold myself in a sprint position until he’s close enough to see me but too far to take a good shot. Unlike the one who chased after Sam, this one isn’t sporting an AK-47—he’s got a handgun. And so far, he’s fired no shots, something else I need to be cognizant of.
He takes a few more steps. The wind is blowing in through the jungle from the ocean. It’s that time of late afternoon that if we’re going to get more rain, it’s going to happen now. Instead of that little burst we had right as they landed, it could turn into a full-blown storm, or it could blow over. That’s the nature of this place.
I hold, waiting, just like when we were pulling the wire. The wire worked. It didn’t quite work how I thought it was going to—I was hoping it would really slice into them, cause them more damage, instead of just slowing them down. But it’s allowed us to at least try and work the plan this far. I hold, and I hold, sweat pouring from my brow, the muscles in my legs twitching, wanting to go.
