Chapter Forty
Nico’s prediction about the rest of the journey proved correct.
Neither of us spoke in the dinghy. For me, it was because the approaching shore possessed a fantastical quality that I was struggling to wrap my head around.
For Nico... well, I didn’t know. He’d barely said a word since we’d left the bathroom, leaving me no clue what was going on inside that head of his.
Regret? Relief? Concern? Worry about what the future might hold?
Any of them would have been understandable.
The whole thing felt so surreal that it wouldn’t have come as a surprise to find my suitcase exactly where I left it.
It wasn’t.
A scan of the beach as we stepped ashore didn’t reveal so much as a trace of it. There was probably a homeless man somewhere wearing my entire wardrobe, smelling marginally better thanks to my deodorant and cologne. I could think of it as a donation to charity.
“This is where we first met,” I said as we reached the railing. “You were all mysterious and perfectly tailored, and I was―”
“Not very good at pretending you didn’t find me attractive.”
“Probably true,” I admitted.
“Definitely true.”
Nico hooked his elbows over the railing, settling into exactly the same position I’d first seen him in. Whether by accident or design, I couldn’t tell.
I joined him. It was late enough that everything had closed, the cafe where we’d shared breakfast silent and dark. The surreal feeling returned as I reluctantly turned my gaze to the sea, where Wonderland rose from it like the back of some sleeping leviathan.
Determined not to dwell on the past few weeks, I forced myself to look to the future instead.
“So I guess we get a hotel tonight. We can try the one I stayed at before. It’s not fancy, but the food’s okay and the beds are comfortable.
If they’re full, there’s another one just up the road.
My car should still be parked nearby too, assuming no one’s stolen it.
Then tomorrow we can drive to my place. It’s a two-hour drive, so not too bad.
I rent, so if you don’t like it we can always find somewhere bigger.
” I smiled. “Though I’m assuming we’ll only need the one bedroom. ”
Nico pushed himself away from the railing and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a brown leather wallet, opened it, and removed a thick wad of notes. “For the hotel and the petrol.” He held them out.
I pushed his hand away. “Or you could just pay for things. I’ll let you,” I joked. “I promise not to complain about being a kept man.”
He offered the money again. Something in his expression made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’re not coming with me?”
“No.”
A black hole opened up in my stomach. It threatened to spread if I let it. I took the money automatically, more interested in buying myself a few seconds to compose myself than putting it in my wallet. “I don’t understand.” Understatement of the century. “I thought we…”
Nico turned back to face the sea. Every inch of him looked perfectly relaxed, and I hated him for it.
I refused to finish the sentence. “So you’re just going to dump me here?”
He laughed. “That’s a little dramatic. No one’s dumping you. I returned you to where you started.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Did I promise you anything?”
“No.” The truth of the word burned.
“Did I ever say what would happen once we got off the island?”
“No.” That one came out angrier.
“You think you want me.”
“I do want you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Oh, I’m glad that makes you happy, you fucker.”
The smile vanished. “Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?”
“Sure. Someone gets kidnapped and develops an emotional attachment to their captor.”
Nico said nothing.
I laughed. “You think that’s what’s happening with me? You didn’t kidnap me.”
“No. But it was an emotionally charged situation where you had to rely on me because you had no one else. You have to see the similarities.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
He shrugged. “You asked for an explanation. I’m giving you one.”
“If you knew you were going to walk away, what was all that about on the boat?”
“What was what about?”
“Don’t play dumb. You were different. Sweeter. More thoughtful.” The answer hit me before he could speak. “That was you saying goodbye.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Fuck you.”
I half expected him to walk away then and there, leaving my bitter words as the last thing we’d ever say to each other. He didn’t. Instead, he turned back to face me. “If I give you some advice, will you take it?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I don’t think they’ll come after you, but it would be wise to take a few precautions.”
“What sort of precautions?”
“Get out of here as soon as you can. You mentioned leaving tomorrow. Stick to that. Never come back. Change your address. Change your job.”
“I’m probably fired anyway for not showing up.”
“Good. That makes it easier.” He thought for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone what happened there.”
“Nobody?”
“Nobody.”
“What am I supposed to say when people ask where I’ve been? I have friends and family, you know. They’re going to expect some sort of explanation.”
“Use your imagination. Make something up. A midlife crisis—”
“Screw you. I’m not old enough.”
Nico rolled his eyes. “A holiday romance. Say you fell, hit your head, and got amnesia. Anything but the truth.”
“What about when I go to the police?”
He stared at me. “That’s a joke, right?”
“No, it’s not a fucking joke. Not the police here, obviously, because they’re all corrupt. I mean once I get home.”
He was already shaking his head. “Do not go to the police. If you do, they’ll definitely track you down.”
I gestured angrily toward Wonderland, the island seeming to taunt me from across the water.
“I’m just supposed to let everything that happens over there carry on?
People lured there to become sex slaves.
People imprisoned. Sold. Kellan Hart raping and torturing anyone he pleases.
People trapped in a slum because they can’t leave.
Percy and Lola wielding scalpels and playing dress-up like they’re dealing with mannequins instead of human beings. ”
I searched for anything I’d missed. “The art gallery. The drugging. You expect me to know all that and do nothing?”
“If you want to stay alive, yes.” His voice remained maddeningly calm.
“Do you really think you can take on an organization like Wonderland?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
“You can’t. You have no idea of the breadth of legal expertise the Harts have at their disposal.
Their lawyers would chew you up and spit you out before breakfast. You think you know a lot.
You’ve barely scratched the surface. They make millions.
If you think they’ll surrender that without a fight, you’re even more na?ve than I thought. ”
“You could do it.”
“I could.”
“But you won’t.”
“It would be stupid. Some might say suicidal.” He gave a slight shrug. “And I’m many things, but I’m not suicidal.”
“Or you just don’t want to incriminate yourself.”
“Or that.”
A woman walking her dog passed us. Her determined effort not to look our way suggested that our raised voices had carried. The dog had no such reservations, almost tripping over its own paws in its eagerness to look back at us.
“Promise me,” Nico said.
“Promise you what?”
“That you won’t go to the police. That you won’t tell anyone what happened. That you’ll make something up.”
I pictured myself walking into another police station with an even more unbelievable story than the first time. Then I imagined sitting opposite a friend in a cafe and casually explaining that I’d been drugged, sold, and nearly ended up as someone’s ‘dog.’
“I promise.”
“Good.” A flicker of relief crossed his face before disappearing. “I didn’t get you out of there just so you could walk straight back into danger.”
“You almost sound as if you care.”
“I do care.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I already explained—”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fully Stockholm-syndromed because I don’t know my own mind.”
“You need time.”
When he pushed himself away from the railing, panic flared inside me. “Come to the hotel tonight.” My words came out in a rush. “You have to sleep somewhere. Then you can leave in the morning.”
He shook his head. “It’s better this way.”
“Better for you, maybe. I’ve had all of three seconds to get used to the idea. I’m only asking for a few more hours.”
He took a couple of slow steps backward. “Think carefully about what you want, Lysander. If you decide that’s me… come and find me.”
“Find you! How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I know nothing about you except your name.”
His silence made me want to slap him. The urge vanished as soon as he turned and walked away. I shoved a hand into my pocket, my fingers brushing the cold metal there.
“Wait.” He kept walking. “Nico, wait.”
This time he stopped and turned back. I held up his watch. “I forgot to give this to you.”
“Keep it.” He smiled faintly. “I smashed your last one. If you ever need money, sell it. It’s worth a bit.”
Then he turned away again.
And all I could do was stand there and watch the man who’d saved my life walk out of it.
The hotel had a vacancy. Either they didn’t remember me from my previous stay, or they did an excellent job of pretending they didn’t. They also didn’t bat an eyelid at me arriving with a black eye, no luggage, and paying in cash.
The pretty receptionist apologized for the view from the room, explaining that the only two vacancies overlooked the car park. I told her that as long as there was a bed in it, I didn’t care if all I could see were bins.
I went straight to the window once I was in the room. A rusted fire escape snaked down the rear of the building, overlooking a half-full car park that shimmered beneath the yellow glow of security lights.
It wasn’t pretty, but the anonymous concrete and parked cars were a relief—far preferable to a room overlooking the sea. I didn’t want Wonderland in sight. It would be too soon if I ever saw it again.
I showered first, lingering beneath the hot spray long past the point I would normally have gotten out.
I might have stayed there even longer had my stomach not begun loudly protesting.
Not surprising, considering the only thing I’d eaten all day was a single piece of toast. My abduction, the court case, and then my time in Kellan’s ‘custody’ had ruled out anything else.
During my last stay at the hotel, the room service menu hadn’t warranted so much as a glance. This time, with the alternative being to venture out into the world, I counted the cash Nico had given me, decided I could afford it, and ordered far more than any one person needed.
Chips. Sandwiches. Cake. Not exactly a balanced meal, but I wasn’t in the mood to be sensible.
The food arrived suspiciously quickly. Sure enough, the chips had clearly been reheated, their limpness and the oil clinging to them a dead giveaway.
The sandwiches weren’t much better, the fillings having long since merged into a single indistinct flavor, every bite carrying that unmistakable refrigerator dampness.
The cake was better, largely because of its incarceration in plastic.
I recognized the irony that, under normal circumstances, my role as an environmental health inspector would have compelled me to reject them without hesitation. But that was also pre-rat-soup days, so I ate every mouthful instead.
Afterward, I stripped for bed and slid beneath the cool sheets, my thoughts inevitably drifting back to Nico.
What was he doing now? Where was he staying?
Somehow I doubted he was making do with stale sandwiches and reheated chips.
Was he thinking about me?
Or had he already put Wonderland—and me—behind him?
The questions followed me into the darkness.
Was it Stockholm syndrome?
For my sake, I hoped it was. Tomorrow I’d go home. Things would get easier once I put some distance between myself and this place.
At least...
I hoped they would.