CHAPTER 14
OLIVER
Iclose my eyes, take a deep breath, and then I let it out slowly… I do it once, then twice, and keep going until I reach eleven. Of all the things I do to make up for what my family has done, this is my least favorite.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the result, but the execution?
Damn…
This is the 45th time I’m doing this, and the nerves still make me want to puke.
“We’re five minutes out,” Castor says. He’s one of my father’s favorite men, and the one responsible for disposing of bodies and handling any other ‘inconveniences’ that could… arise.
I open my eyes, see the docks getting closer through the window, and my palms begin to sweat.
Damn it…
I pass my hands over my thighs, drying them against the fabric of my pants.
Calm down, Ollie. You knew this would happen, so calm down…
And yes, I knew this would happen because this is always the part of the plan when my nerves hit the hardest.
And why, you may ask?
Probably because there’s a man, his wife, and their kids locked in the trunk of our van, likely scared out of their minds, and I will have to get them into a yacht without anything going wrong…
I guess this is like that moment right before impact.
You know, when something painful is about to happen, your body tenses up, and your mind races through the worst possible outcomes, and it isn’t until you’re actually in the thick of it that you realize you can control the situation, or that it isn’t as bad as you thought.
Well… kinda like that. I say “kinda” because if I fail here, I’ll be putting an entire family’s lives at risk.
No, no. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.
Positive like… what would Damián do in this situation?
Uff, what wouldn’t he do?
Unlike me, whose power comes from lies and control, Damián’s power comes from himself. He is so strong, agile, and powerful.
I don’t know why I imagine him getting rid of all the bad guys and saving this family with his bare hands… while shirtless.
Yes… Preferably shirtless.
I look over at Zara, who is the only other person sitting in the back with me, and she smiles knowing I’m probably having a mental freak-out. She reaches out, takes my hand, and squeezes it.
It’s a small gesture, but it is incredibly reassuring.
I squeeze back, before moving my hand to my pants to dry them again.
Okay, Ollie, you can do this… Let’s get these kids and their parents a happy new life.
The driver finally pulls to a stop near the dock, right where the yacht is waiting for us, and flashes the car’s headlights three times. He then steps out and pulls my door open.
As soon as I get out of the car, Castor is right beside me.
“Is the dock empty?” I ask.
“Yes, the staff was paid in advance.”
“Good job,” I nod toward Zara, who is happily taking selfies with the yacht in the back. “You know what to do.”
Castor limps closer to me and passes me a large, black duffel bag… which is, literally, a serial killer kit.
It has a combination lock, and inside there are gloves, a change of clothes, handcuffs, scissors, small specimen tubes inside a fake, hollow bottle of shaving cream, a fucking gun, and… what is this?
I pull out a small plastic toy, turn it around, and it is… a SpongeBob SquarePants Pez dispenser.
Oh, my God, Zara… what the hell are you putting in my murder bag?
I never should have given her the lock code.
“Everyone will be here in ten minutes.” Castor limps toward the driver, while I put on the gloves and double-check that the gun’s safety is on. “Take her to the front of the yacht. There’s a bar there, so offer her a drink and make sure she stays away from the back. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Castor,” the driver answers, and he immediately goes to collect Zara, who is currently playing up her oblivious Instagrammer persona perfectly.
I place my hands against the van’s trunk and close my eyes, centering myself and praying for one last time that this all ends well.
“How many men?” I ask.
“Three of ours, two from the yacht.”
“The yacht’s staff will want to stay close to the guest areas,” I tell him, which he knows, but when you want something like this to go without any losses, it’s always good to remind him of things like that. “Put the staff on guard duty at the bow and the main deck, and keep our guys in the back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want our men on the sides and one at the bar. You will guard the stairs leading down to the cabins. No guests go past the main area, and absolutely no one goes down those stairs. Are we clear?” I ask.
He nods.
I draw my gun, keeping the safety on, and press it hard against Castor’s hip. “I said, no one goes down the fucking stairs. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Once we stop, I want all three of our men to make sure everyone, including the staff, stays at the front of the boat. The captain has the boxes of fish bait; I want you in charge of throwing them into the ocean… I don’t want any of that shit getting on my clothes.”
I move the gun away from his hip, but keep it pointing in his direction as I talk.
“And as always, once the cargo is in the water, we leave immediately, and you and your men are free to drink or do as much coke as you want,” I explain, and to add an extra touch of fucking cray-cray, I smile. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Great.”
I shove the gun into the front of my waistband and pat him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s have some fun.”
And just like planned, our men keep Zara distracted while Castor and I escort the man and his family onto the yacht.
Once inside, I shove the family into the main room, pull out a magnetic doorbell camera, slap it onto the center of the door, and check my phone screen to make sure the video feed is working fine.
“To your fucking station, Castor.” I glare at him from the doorway, watching him limp down the corridor until he is completely out of sight.
Only then do I step inside, lock the cabin’s door, and turn on the music.
“Are you guys okay?” I ask, moving quickly to help the husband untie his hands.
“We are fine,” he whispers, glancing nervously at the door.
“Oh, don’t worry. No one is going to come in here, but if anyone gets close, we can see them.” I prop up my phone to show the live feed of the empty hallway, and they noticeably relax. “See? All good.”
The husband helps me untie his wife, and I walk over to the closet and open the mini-fridge. “You guys have water in here, some juice for the kids, and in that drawer, you’ll find some toys.”
“Thank you,” the wife cries, rubbing her bruised wrists. “Thank you for doing all this.”
I smile, because I don’t know how else to answer.
I mean, what can I say?
You’re welcome for helping you escape my father?
The wife settles the kids on the bed and hands them the toys, which, luckily, are an immediate success in distracting them.
I grab a box full of snacks, set it on the bed, and then sit on the couch, unzipping my duffel bag.
“Did Kaleo tell you anything about this?” I ask the husband. “About what is going to happen?”
“Not much,” he twists the cap off a bottle of water and hands it to his wife. “He said the less we knew, the better. But he told us to be open-minded and that we should trust you no matter what.”
Ha! Open-minded?… Jesus, Kaleo, what an absolutely insane choice of words for this.
“I know this plan is going to sound terrifying, but this is the best way to keep you and your family alive while making Elijah think you’re dead.” I tell him, “Also, know we’ve done it dozens of times, and as crazy as the plan is, it actually works. Okay?”
“Okay… What do we have to do?”
“After years doing this, we’ve learned that the only way to control a situation that’s nothing but chaos is to create an extremely specific routine, and that if I get my men used to following it, no one questions me along the way.
” I pull out the scissors, the handcuffs, and the rest of the supplies, laying them out on the coffee table.
“For example, we have twenty-six minutes before we reach the coordinates. So right now, I’m supposed to be torturing you…
mentally, of course…I don’t like blood.” I make the distinction as if that makes any difference, but whatever.
I hand the scissors to the husband, and he takes them, staring at me, confused.
“Since my reputation as a sociopath helps to keep my father’s men in line, I need you to cut a small lock of hair from everyone, and put them in here…” I pull out the Barbasol shaving cream can from the duffel bag and twist the bottom open.
The husband’s eyes go wide. “Is that… like the can from Jurassic Park?”
“Yes!” I grin excitedly as I slide out the hidden rack of test tubes. “I love that movie, and when I saw it, I was completely obsessed with this thing.” I pass it to him.
“Me too,” he says, and pops open the vials while his wife starts snipping tiny strands of hair from the kids.
“After this, what do we do?” the wife asks, as she’s snipping a strand of her hair.
“We just wait.” I set a glass of water next to the handcuffs on the table.
“When we have five minutes left, my alarm will go off. We’ll stash everything you ate or drank in a box under the bed.
Then, for dramatic effect, I’ll tape your mouths and put you in handcuffs.
But don’t worry about the cuffs; they’re made of 3D-printed PVA…
which means they’ll dissolve the second they touch the water. ”
To prove it, I pour a bottle of water into an empty ice bucket and grab one of the spare cuffs. “Hey kids, want to see a magic trick?” I ask.
They nod eagerly, so I dip the handcuff into the water, and it instantly melts away against my fingers.
“Wow!” they gasp in unison.
“You know what the coolest part is? You’ll get to be magicians, too,” I tell them.
The kids instantly jump with excitement, but their mother shushes them and redirects their attention back to their toys.
“What happens after you handcuff us?” the husband asks, and I notice his hand never leaves his wife’s side.