by Sara Hubbard
“Go slow or I won’t last.”
I remove my mouth and smile. “I don’t want you to last,” I say, my voice husky. I spread my lips again and glide them over his shaft and I don’t stop until he tickles my vocal cords.
“I love you,” he says with a sigh.
We lay naked on some towels on the deck after our bodies are exhausted from sex. It wasn’t enough for me to make him come; the second he found his sweet release he flipped me over and spread my legs wide so he could return the favor. My hand rests on his cock now and absentmindedly I stroke my thumb along the line of one of his veins.
“If you keep doing that, we might not ever make it back to shore.”
“Fine by me,” I say.
He kisses my forehead and pulls me close and we stare up at the stars and the moon overhead as violet clouds wave across it. “Come on, babe.” He squeezes my shoulders, “I promised I’d have the boat back,” he glances at his watch, “over an hour ago.”
I feel like a petulant child right now as I groan, wanting to pout and chant, “but I don’t want to.” Of course, I don’t. I just roll my eyes at him instead. I could have stayed out here all night. But then, I can’t ever get enough of just being near him.
We tie the boat up at the marina and hand the keys off to Damien’s friend who lives nearby. Although they invite us in, we don’t stay. I’m ready to have Damien all to myself on the hammock. Maybe even sleep there again. When we turn to leave, Guillaume—or Guy, as he likes to be called—hollers the name Lucas. Damien doesn’t respond at first; it still takes us both a moment to realize that’s his name here, the same name that’s on his passport.
“I almost forgot! Lana met one of your friends at Port Zante.”
“Friends?” Damien asks. I link my elbow with his for comfort. I don’t like the way he says “friend,” like it’s someone visiting the island, someone who doesn’t belong here.
“Yes,” he says, before calling out to his wife inside.
“Lana, what was the name of that man you met today who asked you about Lucas?”
Lana sighs and taps a finger to her lips. “You know, I don’t remember his name. He showed me a picture, said not to tell you he asked because he wanted to surprise you. But he seemed odd to me, and a little tense, otherwise I would have let him have his surprise.”
“What did he look like?” I say, jumping in quickly.
Guy and Lana glance at each other and she frowns before she responds. “Well, tall and thick”—she pronounces it tick—“maybe forty? But an old forty.”
“Tattoos?”
“Oui,” she says, her French accent coming through. “Many. I didn’t notice what they were, except for a sun, a big one, on his arm.” She runs her hand down over her long braid that falls over her chest. “Mon dieu,” she whispers. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” Damien lies, hiding his apprehension well, as if he rehearsed all day.
I can’t hide my fear like he can, because I feel like I’m about to collapse. “I knew this couldn’t last,” I whisper as we walk away. “I knew it.”
“Shh,” he says, caressing my shoulder. “We’ll get through this.”
“Damien, you said you didn’t think they’d feel threatened by me. You said you didn’t think they’d care enough to come looking.”
“Well, it seems I was wrong.”
I stop and spin around to face him. “What now? If we react and get rid of them, Frankie will only send more.”
“We need to find out how they found us.”
“How?”
“Leave it to me,” he says.
Our cabin is on the hillside, tucked in between tall, green, lush trees. You can see a glimpse of it from the ocean, but it’s only because it’s painted such a bright color. We know the area well now; we’ve explored it a fair bit in our spare time. There’s a path through the mountain that we can take to get to our cabin from above. We take this route, figuring Frankie’s men would take the most obvious way, on the dirt road that meanders off the main one.
We crouch in the trees, watching, waiting. We don’t have long to wait. An hour or two. I fidget, almost breaking my fingers and Damien reaches out to grip my hand to stop me. “We’re fine,” he says. “We just need to maintain the upper hand.”
“I don’t feel fine, Damien. I feel like we’re about to lose everything and I want to pull the gun out of my purse and start shooting.”
“I promise you, reacting without thinking will get us both killed. Just trust me.” He reaches out to touch my face and his thumb strokes my cheek. “You trust me?”
“With my life,” I whisper.
There are two of them—but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more on the island somewhere, holding our photos up and raising suspicion about us. If they disappear, people will ask questions. Cops will come looking for us, the two people those assholes were searching for. Guaranteed. Damien wants to think we can get out of this and continue on like it didn’t happen. He’s delusional. I’d love to believe that, but I’ve always been a realist. Don’t react, he says? Does he know me at all?
Damien pushes the tall, dark green weeds apart and crawls on his hands and knees closer to the edge of the ledge we hide on. Some mosquitoes buzz around me, and I swat them away, killing one mid-bite on my hand.
I follow after him, watching intently. I half-expect Damien to start putting lines of mud on his face and go all soldier on me, but his expression is calm, thoughtful, intent. The wheels are spinning in his beautiful head and I want to know exactly what he’s planning.
One of the men walks around the back of the cabin while Sunny—the one with the sun tattoo—goes around front. I remember Sunny well. At one point, he and Mickey worked together. I’m not sure if he helped him kill people, but I assume that’s why they spent so much time together before Mickey took an interest in other pursuits.
The other guy is Simon Trent. I hate that fucker to death. He came on hard to Carrie one night, and usually Carrie’s up for whatever, but this guy had some kinky shit in mind. If Damien knew…well…not sure how he’d take that. Might want to tuck that information in my pocket for later.
There’s a crash of glass and Trent sticks his hand through the door to unlock it. As he goes through the back, Sunny waits on the front porch, sitting in my fucking chair.
Trent comes out the front door and they enter together, waiting for us.
“Do you think there are more of them?” Damien asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Frankie’s numbers are down since Mona took down a bunch of them. They wouldn’t be able to leave the country while on trial. But…who knows? If they have our address, I would think they would all have it and they’d all be here waiting.”
“Look around, what do you see? What do you hear?”
“The ocean, trees. I hear the wind, some music in the distance. Fucking flies buzzing around my head driving me crazy.”
He frowns at me.
“We’re looking for their friends. Look for movements in the trees, in the distance. People who look suspicious. Rustling leaves, moving branches. Anything that suggests they’re not alone.” He points straight ahead. “Watch our left flank, and I’ll take the right.”
“Flank? What the hell is a flank?”
“Just watch left of the cabin. If the coast looks clear, I’ll go in and you can stay here and keep watch.”
“Not a chance.”
“Beth, I let you have your way all the time. This is familiar to me and I’m good at it. I’m not going to fight with you. You’ll stay here and you’ll do what I say or I’ll tie you to the fucking tree over there.”
“Did you just swear at me?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Beth…”
“All right, fine.”
He glares at me.
“Fine,” I say again, because he seems to need additional confirmation. But we both know I’m lying.
“I swear to God…”
“I’m
staying,” I say, full of sass.
He snatches my purse and pulls out my gun. “Just in case.” He tucks it into the back of his pants. His gun is snugly situated in one of his work boots that he insists on wearing all the damn time. He crawls forward, but I yank him back, and slap him across the face. He stares at me blankly.
“In case you don’t come back. I won’t forgive you.” I know I shouldn’t respond this way, but I want to tell him I love him and this just isn’t the time for that. I can’t let myself be vulnerable when our lives are at stake.
He opens his mouth and I swear I’m about to get an earful but instead he says, “I love you, too,” and presses a kiss to my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“You can make it up to me later.”
He crawls off, and the trees and weeds are thick enough that I am unable to see him. But he’s there. The weeds sway just a little more than they should with the light breeze and I hear his hands and feet scuffing along the foliage with tiny snaps and cracks of stray twigs and branches.
I bite my lip and draw blood but swallow it down.
Damien, you better come back.
Please come back.
He moves to his knees and I can only see the back of his dark shirt. The moon is full and bright now and as it hits the ocean there is more than enough light for me to make out shapes and movements.
As he reaches the edge of the weeds and bushes, he rises to a crouching position. He pulls his gun from his boots, and still crouching, he jogs to the western wall of the house. I cover my open mouth and my whole body clenches with worry as he cocks his weapon and opens the door.
Chapter Seventeen
“Fuck this,” I say, moving forward. I don’t have my gun anymore, but I’ll be damned if I stay here and let him try to take them out on his own. That is what he’s doing, right? How would I know? Because he never let me in on his plan. I want to scream in frustration.
It’s not okay for me to kill people but it’s okay for him?
I crawl forward, through the weeds, wincing as I pass over some small rocks and some thorns. The mosquitoes follow me, nipping at my neck. I try to to focus on Damien, and try to be quiet so I can hear what’s going on.
I hear nothing.
How can that be, unless he’s taking them out quietly? But he had no knife. No silencer. Nothing. When I reach the edge of the overgrown grass and weeds, I stand and do as Damien did—duck down and run for the house. With my back to the wall, I sidestep to the back door.
Wait.
Listen.
I hear voices. Then I hear crashing. I can’t go in the back door; I’ll be a sitting duck. The window to our bedroom is open slightly and inside I can see that Damien is aiming a gun at Sunny and Trent. They have their hands up. How the hell did he manage that? Impressed and completely relieved, I let out a breath and the tension in my muscles relaxes.
I stride to the back door and open it, stepping inside. “Damien?” I say so he knows it’s me. I don’t want him to think he’s got more company than the two assholes in front of him.
I snatch a knife from the counter and it scrapes along the stone. The noise barely registers in my ears. I’m too focused on Sunny and Trent, who are sitting on the couch.
“What now?” I say.
“Get some rope.”
Rope? Where the hell am I going to get rope? There’s a shed out behind the cabins that the yard workers use. I dash into the darkness to the building. With a big, sharp rock, I smash the combination lock that hangs from the latch connecting the doors. It takes me a few tries and I’m sweating when I finally hear the clank of metal as the lock drops to the concrete skirt around the base of the structure.
I open the doors and fight to see through the darkness. Then I have a bright idea and pull out my phone, pushing the flashlight button. Shovels, lawnmowers, gas tanks, paint, brushes, broken chairs…and aha! Rope. I snatch the cord and run back to the cabin, worrying I’ve been gone too long. It only takes a minute for a situation to change completely. But I can relax. When I get back, everyone is right where I left them. I’m not sure if they even blinked.
Damien nods to the men and I tie them up, so tightly that Sunny winces. So I pull it a little harder just for good measure. That’s for ruining my new life, asshole.
Damien yanks Sunny up and drops him in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He is in the middle of the room as Damien circles him like a predator. He would have been good at this. He would have been an asset to Jimmy and his crew. Jocelyn saw this easily, but not me. I couldn’t see through his soft nature. Not even in those moments where I drove him crazy. This realization hits me hard.
“You took them easy,” I say softly.
“They weren’t a challenge,” he says.
Hmm. When I’d trekked down the hill to help him, I worried he’d be in here bleeding and I’d have to find some way to save him. But he didn’t need my help.
He kneels down so he’s eye to eye with Sunny. “I need information. And you’re going to give it to me.”
Sunny scoffs at him. Then he snaps his head back and spits in Damien’s face. My hand flies to Sunny’s face and I slap him hard. Damien frowns and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “I can handle this.”
That much is very clear. “So handle it.”
“How did you find us?” he asks.
“I didn’t,” Sunny says. “I was told where to go.”
“And how did Frankie know?”
“Frankie?” he scoffs. “Frankie didn’t send me.”
“What did you say?” I ask, grabbing his shirt to make him face me.
“You know, Beth, I always thought you were a sweet kid. I didn’t realize you were a raging bitch like your aunt.”
Damien stands and holds me back while I kick and flail, trying to get close to Sunny.
“Enough, Beth. Enough.”
When I agree to be calm, he lets me go. But as I walk by Sunny, I punch him in the junk.
“Beth!” Damien yells.
Sunny tries to bend over, coughing and sputtering and retching. I’d say I’m sorry but I’m really not and I promised I would never lie to him, so…what does he want from me?
When Sunny collects himself, Damien tries again. I sit in the kitchen, a few feet away because Damien won’t let me get closer.
“Who sent you?” he asks.
Sunny keeps his mouth shut, and Damien hauls off and punches him in the face. Damien’s knuckles are bloodied and I’m not sure if it’s his own blood or from the open cut on Sunny’s nose. Damien looks at his hands and I see a shift in him, though he recovers quickly. Our eyes meet and I mouth, “I love you.” He returns from wherever he retreated to and focuses once again on the man in front of him. It warms me to know I could do that for him. And it also makes me feel better to think he might need me as much as I need him. We make each other stronger. Even if it’s not in the same way for him as it is for me.
Sunny laughs at Damien and I know this is going nowhere quick. Damien doesn’t have the stomach to push Sunny in a way that’ll make him sing, and I’m happy for it. I love him for it, but that doesn’t help us today. Because right now we need to be warriors and fuck the costs.
“Was it Jocelyn?” I ask.
Sunny’s lips remain sealed.
“Fine.” I stand up and start rooting through the drawer underneath the microwave. I find a pair of pliers and, satisfied, I go to Damien’s side.
“What are you going to do with those?” he asks.
“I’m going to rip off his dick.”
“Beth?”
“Damien, if you don’t want to watch, you can go outside. But he’s threatening our lives right now and I won’t let anyone take anything else from me. He talks or I make him. That’s just the way it is.”
Damien licks his lips, pretends to debate it, though we both know he’s not letting me rip anyone’s dick off. Guys are weird about that, anyway.
Sunny opens his mouth. “All right,
all right.”
“Well, that was easy,” I say, swinging the pliers around my finger.
“Fuck,” Sunny says. “You’re fucking crazy!”
Trent screams at Sunny, “I’ll kill you myself if you talk!”
“It was Jocelyn,” he says. “She beat it out of the Knowles kid.”
I gasp. “Carrie?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Is Frankie looking for us?” I ask.
“How the fuck should I know? I worked for Jimmy, not Frankie, and Frankie’s pretty fucking selective about who works for him these days.”
“We can’t let them leave, Damien,” I whisper.
He shakes his head and props his hands on his hips. “She’ll send someone else and then where does it end?”
“It ends when we kill them and move somewhere else. We don’t tell a soul where we’ve gone. And we take Carrie with us. Jocelyn won’t find us again.”
“This is what you want? To kill them?”
“It’s them or us, Damien. Don’t you see that?”
He hands me the gun and steps aside. “Then do it.”
I hold the gun in my hand, take my stance, and grip it the way he showed me, with two hands. I point at Sunny, see the sweat building on his brow. Trent sneers at us, spitting on the ground as his friend did.
I cock it and point, line up my sights, aiming for his head. Sunny’s eyes widen, and his body tenses. He closes his eyes and under his breath, I hear him whispering something that sounds like a prayer.
“Just fucking do it,” Trent yells. “Fucking pussy!” he screams.
I bite my lip; my hands start to shake. I can do this. I know I can. I just have to pull the trigger. Just pull the trigger. That’s it. But my arms get weak and my eyeballs are wet and it’s only now I see what Damien knew all along. No matter how hard I try to pull this damn trigger, I just can’t do it. Tears spring to my lids and they fall and I hear Trent taunting me in the background but it just enters my ears as noise. Damien’s warm hands cover mine as he takes the gun from my hands and wraps his arms around me.
