Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Early in the morning, Hunter’s low curses jolted me out of my sleep like someone had lit a fire under me.
A distant ache echoed in my muscles and bones from sleeping on the ground.
I rubbed my eyes and then focused on Hunter.
Tension laced his forearm as he gripped the binoculars.
I didn’t have to ask what was wrong, and my insides twisted with a visceral fear.
The time on his watch was six-thirty in the morning.
I slowly crawled to him and looked over his shoulder and through branches.
The skies were the color of a bruise, and thunder rolled somewhere in the distance.
A dinghy with two men quickly approached the shore.
One of them was Tom. My heart hammered faster the closer they got.
In my mind, I repeated our simple plan: we run to the dinghy as soon as they reach the hut.
“Do you see anyone on the big boat?” I whispered, zeroing in on the sailboat in the bay. It looked different from the one Tom had arrived on the previous time.
“No, and it’s strange,” Hunter whispered back. “Tom would have brought more than just Garry.”
“Maybe he couldn’t find anyone else at short notice, or they are on the boat hiding.
” I closely watched the larger boat in the bay, trying to see if I’d notice anyone on it.
It appeared empty. They wouldn’t be hiding.
What did Tom care if we knew he brought more men with him?
So maybe it was our lucky day, and once we reached the main boat, it was ours without a fight.
“By the way, that’s my boat,” Hunter grumbled.
“That’s the Nauti Guy?”
Hunter’s jaw ticked. “The shithead stole my boat.”
They killed the motor in shallow waters, and soon, the dinghy beached exactly where Hunter and I expected it to. It was a little further for us to run, but we could make it in under fifteen seconds. The two men hopped out of the boat and pulled it to the dry sand.
The second man, Garry, was a heavy guy. He wore a bandana around his bald head, long navy pants and a T-shirt with a red scuba diving logo.
Tom hadn’t changed his clothes from yesterday.
He and Garry surveyed the area. I couldn’t see if they had any weapons with them.
Then Tom said something, pointing toward the path that led to the hut.
My breath hitched as they walked in that direction.
Hunter touched my shoulder and moved in closer until his mouth was near my ear.
“As soon as they step inside, run.” I turned to look at him, and he gently clasped my face in his hands and brought his lips to my forehead.
“We’ll be okay.” He smiled, but it was apparent he wasn’t sure about the words he said.
I didn’t feel brave and wanted to hide in here until they left.
Last night, Hunter and I had closed the window shutters and made two human shapes under the flat sheet in the bed in the hope it would fool Tom for a split second that we were asleep inside and buy us extra time to steal the dinghy.
I watched through the leaves, their figures slowly approaching the porch.
Tom stopped at the door and tilted his head as if listening for the sounds inside. Then his hand went to the handle, and he slowly opened the door. After another few seconds, they walked inside. My heart hammered in my chest to the point it was about to explode. It was now or never.
Hunter and I broke through the bushes.
Eyes trained on the boat.
My feet worked hard against the cool sand.
Hunter was several feet ahead of me.
My heart rattled in my ribcage.
The boat was twenty yards away.
Did they see us?
Ten.
Were they out of the hut?
Five.
Were they after us?
Three.
Fuck.
A scrawny man lay flat on the bottom of the boat, pointing a gun at us.
Goddamnit. I wanted to scream and cry and kick the sand with my feet.
I should throw sand in his eyes. Knock the gun out of his hand.
Tackle his skinny ass down. Drag him with us back into the boat if needed and then throw him overboard later.
Yet, in shock, I stood there frozen, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Sneaky, fucking Tom. How did we not think about this scenario? We were fucked.
“Hello, Hunter,” he said, sitting up.
The man was short, with greasy, thinning, sandy hair and a face resembling a taxidermy gone wrong, with one of his eyes bulging out. His outfit was similar to Tom’s, but it was all black. The man gave me a once-over and made a low whistle.
“Jack, at least now I know you’re good at something.” Hunter shook his head with a humorless laugh. “You can hide in a small boat.”
Jack glared at Hunter and jerked his hand with the gun. “Move back.”
I lifted my palms up as we stepped back. Jack got out of the boat and stuffed the gun into his pants, his eyes drifting to something behind us. Or someone.
“Did you really think I would let you just take my boat?” Tom called out, his voice like sandpaper against a raw wound. He and Garry sauntered to us, both grinning like sharks.
Up close, I could see that Garry had a face made for radio, with a potato nose and a huge bottom lip swallowing a nonexistent top. His T-shirt was two sizes too small and exposed a sliver of hairy belly.
Tentacles of terror clasped tight around my stomach as my eyes focused on one, two, three handguns visibly stuffed in their shorts. This situation had turned into a shitstorm sandwich fast, and we were dead smack in the middle of it.
“Why did you have to take my Nauti Guy?” Hunter asked.
“Until you pay me back every penny, that is my boat,” Tom said. “And now the interest is doubled.”
“Unbelievable,” Hunter muttered. “Is Barry on the Nauti Guy?”
Tom scratched his unshaven jaw. “It didn’t work out between us. He owed me money, too, you know.”
What the hell did he mean by that? Barry was either fish food or no longer associated with Tom.
Probably the former. I bristled, feeling the blood drain from my face.
But then the idea struck me. If Barry wasn’t here, did that mean that the bigger boat was empty, and that there were only three of them, and they were all here on the island?
A small hope flared within at me. If our Plan B worked, the Nauti Guy would easily be ours.
“Are you ready to give us a ride to Rarotonga?” Hunter said, straightening his broad shoulders. “At least let me take Sydney back. She is not part of it.”
“Mate, you sound like a broken record,” Tom said with an air of reproach, bending and grabbing a backpack from the boat I hadn’t noticed before. “I’ll take you and her back, but only once you show me what you found.”
“I told you. We haven’t found anything here. It’s all in the sea.”
“Let’s discuss our business like civilized people over a cup of coffee and some breakfast.” Tom lifted the bag, smiling. “I came bearing gifts.”
My senses prickled with awareness. The story in the Bible had three wise men who visited the infant Jesus, bringing gifts.
Garry and Jack looked more like dull-witted savages than wise, but the number of the men standing before us matched.
And yesterday, we found the Virgin Mary with baby Jesus.
This was a sick joke. The heavy man jerked his head, signaling us to follow Tom.