Chapter 66
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Wyatt wants me to piss on him.
I scrub at a plate to get the nasty peanut butter off as Oakley dries the plates I’ve done.
There isn’t a lot of fresh food here, but it beats whatever mystery meat was at the cafeteria.
As I scrub, the large sweatpants I’ve rolled over a few times shift down on my hips, and I have to use my wet hands to pull them back up again.
It’s wash day again, and I wish that I had more than one pair of clothes, but at least the house has a washer and dryer.
Peeking at Wyatt, who’s on the couch cleaning a rifle, presumably to add to the stash he’s piled up all around the room, I wonder if he remembers asking me that.
I mean, of course he does, but we’re both ignoring it like it didn’t happen.
In fact, I should be more concerned with him having a gun, but I’m just…
not. Oakley also didn’t say anything about the gun.
Probably ‘cause Kyan was out earlier and asked to stick the barrel up Oakley’s ass.
I shake my head. The atmosphere is odd… It’s like we go back and forth between comfortable coexistence and tense silence.
Weston is still out there, and he’s clearly still a threat.
There’s the crunch of footsteps outside the door.
I stiffen, but Wyatt stands, going to the door and opening it.
“Boss man!” A man’s voice sounds, and a tall, blond fucker is striding into the room with a grin on his face.
Oakley throws an arm in front of me as I try to dive for the trashcan to get the pistol.
The man is big, with a top knot of messy hair and tattoos covering his skin. Behind him follows an even bigger man with dark hair and a mean aura, followed by a muscled brunette.
Wyatt claps hands with all of them, and I pause. He…knows them?
Oakley is still trying to pull me behind him, and I growl at him.
The fact that he thinks he needs to protect me at every turn pisses me off.
Pisses me off ‘cause it scares me. What if he literally does throw himself in front of a bullet for me? I can’t do it again.
Maybe I can do it again, but I don’t want to. Not with Oakley. Or Wyatt.
There’s a woman here now, too, and I stop short.
She’s dressed in a cute outfit—jeans and some sort of tank top with her curly blonde hair up in a ponytail and makeup on. She looks so out of place, and my mouth drops open for a second.
“Thank you for coming,” Wyatt says.
“You kidding? Retired life was getting boring.” The man with the top knot is grinning like he was just handed money. “So, where do you keep the goods?”
“Sawyer.” The dark-haired man growls, his gaze sweeping over Oakley and me. Everyone silences, and suddenly, Oakley and I are the center of attention.
I feel Oakley move to block me again, and instead I grab his hand, gripping it, standing beside him.
We face them together, staring down the gazes of the three new men.
They’re dangerous, I can tell by the way they’re holding their bodies, the cold look in their eyes, and the guns I now see strapped to their belts.
Suddenly, I’m glad Oakley stopped me from grabbing the gun.
“Oh, thank god.” The woman throws me a blinding smile. “Too much testosterone.” The brunette beside her subtly grabs the woman’s hand and pulls her to him.
I stare at them, unable to figure out what’s happening. I don’t recognize them as other players. So where the hell did they come from?
I don’t have much time to overthink it ‘cause other voices are coming up, and other people are coming in. It’s Riley, Manson, and Rachel.
For a second, it’s quiet, and then the quiet woman and Rachel dart toward each other.
The blonde woman squeals and wraps Rachel in a hug, who returns it.
It looks like they’re reuniting. Manson is shaking hands with the other men, and Riley is standing back, evaluating the new men as if she’s sizing up the competition.
When the brunette goes to shake her hand, she gives a slight snarl.
“Hey,” the blond—Sawyer—growls, stepping up between them. “You have a problem?”
“No.” Riley arches an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Manson steps up to snarl at Sawyer, and the temperature in the room drops. I have the urge to grab that gun again. Everyone is tense, and the blonde woman pats Sawyer’s arm, pulling him back. “No need for dick measuring.”
“Right.” Riley grins. “‘Cause mine’s bigger.”
Sawyer gives her a long look. It’s a mean one.
“So.” Wyatt gestures at the weapons he’s brought into the living room.
“Weston has the main stash of guns.” They start talking about Weston and their plan to eliminate him.
All the while, the tension simmers in the room.
I pick up that the other two men with Sawyer are Ryder and Miles, and their girl is Cali.
Cali and Rachel seem to know each other somehow, and they stand together talking and squealing.
Cali reaches out like she’s going to grab Rachel’s neck, and I flinch.
Only, Cali just brushes her fingers through Rachel’s blue-highlighted hair, and they chat excitedly. Watching them makes the old version of Holli feel a sort of homesickness for girlfriends, and that cuts through my chest with a vicious heat.
Will I ever get that?
“You okay?” Oakley murmurs in my ear. I glance at him, and he’s watching me closely. I clear my throat. “Yeah. Uh.” I glance at everyone and stand on my tiptoes to get to Oakley’s ear. He bends for me. “Where did they come from?”
“Not sure.” He frowns as he watches everyone.
“No, I mean, is the plane here?” I ask, voice low.
Oakley freezes.
If the plane is here, then maybe we can escape this island. After everything, we can escape.
I watch Wyatt planning something on a map with Ryder. He’s talking quietly, but I see the urgency in his voice. He looks back at me. Our gazes lock, and for a moment, it’s just us. His gaze softens for a bit, and he turns back.
There’s a weird feeling in my chest, and I focus my attention back on their conversation.
“I can take plenty of them out; we don’t need heavy artillery.” Sawyer is tapping his holster with one finger.
Riley snorts.
Sawyer slowly turns his gaze on her. A slow smile creeps across his face before he moves, and in a split second, the gun is out and pointed at Riley. There’s an explosion, and I gasp as everyone darts to their feet, Manson darting in front of Riley.
Riley just raises an eyebrow and glances at the wall behind her, where there’s a bullet hole.
“Congrats. Three inches above my head when you’re like, ten feet away?”
Then she pulls a gun from her waistband, and before I realize it, she’s fired a round at the floor. Only, it’s not at the floor, it was at Sawyer’s feet.
He glances down, a hole an inch from his right foot.
“Oh wow,” he says in a bored tone. “You trust yourself so much, don’t you?”
“I would have gone for your nuts, but Rachel would kill me.”
“Sawyer,” Ryder barks, and Sawyer immediately turns. “She started it!”
Ryder turns to Riley. “Kindly don’t shoot my boyfriend, and I won’t have to shoot you.”
Manson’s hand drops to his weapon. “Wanna say that again, champ?”
Wyatt rolls his eyes. “None of you are useful to me dead. Save the killing until after Weston is dead.”
“Depending on who comes back alive.” Miles stares at the map. “There are what, thirty armed men? I don’t have a good feeling about this. They have the entire building to hunker down in. Food. Resources.”
“Oh yeah.” Riley checks her nails. “Forgot to say the villa’s on fire.”
Everyone turns to stare at her. She ignores them.
“It wasn’t when we left,” Manson growls.
Riley just shrugs.
“Your bathroom break?” Rachel gasps.
“Look.” Riley throws her hands up. “Do you really want Weston to have the high ground? Weapons, hiding places, and food? Killing him would be like trying to shoot a groundhog that keeps popping up in different places.”
There’s another long silence.
Miles blows out a breath. “Well, it being on fire is the best-case scenario. It would give us a leg-up.”
“And bring everyone here,” Wyatt says.
They continue talking, and I watch as Sawyer, Ryder, and Miles work together like a team, handing each other things before they ask.
Manson and Riley share silent words with their gazes.
Cali and Rachel hang with the ease of family.
They’re like a mixture of lethal danger and family familiarity, and I find myself feeling… left out.
Which is the weirdest feeling, and I stuff it back down.
Left out? I should be trying to sneak out and get on the plane.
But I can’t stop watching the group, realizing that against all odds, I want what they have.
I want the safety that comes with violence and the family that comes with love.
I want physical and emotional safety that can only come from people who are willing to kill for you and who know you well enough to finish your sentences.
As I stare at the violent people in the room, I realize I’ll never be able to go back home and be normal. That plane could come and take me back, and nothing will ever be the same.
I will never be the same.
My chest swells with some sort of discomfort at that thought, but it’s followed quickly by satisfaction.
Good. I don’t want to be the same. That Holli was alone and invisible. Unable to protect herself. I’m not like that now. I’ll kill without a second thought.
But am I still alone?
I look around the room. Oakley gives me a ‘what the hell’ eyebrow raise, and Wyatt sneaks another look back at me as he makes plans to annihilate every living thing on this island.
I cross my arms.
These are two very traumatized men who seem to like me in their own ways. Two obsessive men who seem to want to keep me safe. Three, if you count Kyan.
A warm feeling spreads through me, followed quickly by the cold of familiar fear, and I just stand there and notice it.
Notice it while I watch Riley flip Sawyer off behind his back and Rachel smack her.
Notice it while these big, burly men throw adoring eyes at their women when they think no one is looking.
They live such dangerous lives, and yet their women choose to love them anyway. Aren’t they afraid?
Deep down, the therapist side of me knows you can have love and fear at the same time. Love always hurts, in some way.
I just don’t want it to. I’ve spent my whole adulthood running from that hurt, and yet it has always managed to keep up with me. But these people aren’t running. They’re loving, fully.
Will that ever be an option for me?