Page 106 of Still See You Everywhere

You’re welcome, I beam at him broadly, just so I can watch his face turn three shades of red. I might not be capable of violence myself, but my ability to drive other people batshit crazy is a point of personal pride. Especially right now, when my limbs are twitchy and my body jittery, and I’m not sure whether to burst into screams or break down sobbing.

Which puts me on par with about everyone else in the room.

“My lodge,” MacManus says, also thinking out loud. “That’s an even more defensible position, being surrounded by the ocean on three sides, while providing more comfort.” He gestures toward Marilee, who remains flat on the table, breathing heavily. Vaughn’s first aid efforts appear to have stanched the bleeding from her gunshot wound, but she still appears pale and clammy. Shock, most likely.

“We’re eighteen people,” Vaughn counters. “How to safely transport a group of that size from here to there?”

“Fifteen. Minus Brent. Minus Jason.” MacManus’s throat works at the mention of his personal security. Lea pats his arm soothingly.

As if it’s not her sister who’s going to kill us all in the end.

They’re in it together. I’m nearly certain of it. But why, how? This elaborate ruse—from Leilani’s fake notes begging for help to Keahi reaching out for my personal assistance. It seems needlessly dramatic for a prison break. Unless it was the law of unintended consequence—Keahi’s lawyer, Victoria, insisting on involving me, others getting caught up in Lea’s ruse. But that feels overly random.

There’s a master plan here. I just can’t see it yet, which is unfortunate, as I’m already certain cracking that strategy will keep us safer than any piece of real estate.

Night is falling. Fifteen souls. A large screened-in porch. Three armed guards. And when people need to use the facilities, or start falling asleep? I can tell others are asking themselves the same questions and reaching equally terrifying conclusions.

“How long before someone comes looking for you?” Vaughn directs this question to MacManus, the only in-demand international mogul present.

“Given all my dealings, I regularly check in by sat phone even when I’m here. By later tonight, my COO, Francis, will start wondering. But midday tomorrow, he’ll grow worried. Day two might bring some kind of proactive outreach. Day three at worst.”

“And what would proactive outreach look like?”

“I already have the private jet, told them I’d be keeping it for a bit. My other plane—”

“Your other plane?” I can’t keep the edge out of my voice.

“My other corporate jet,” MacManus continues steadily, “is too big for this runway. So my best guest—Francis would contact the Coast Guard. They’d make an attempt to radio. Failing that, maybe send a ship.”

“Which takes a week to get here from Honolulu,” Vaughn supplies. He rakes a bloody hand through his hair, immediately grimaces. He crosses to the sink to wash up, while the mood in the room trends from grim to grimmer.

Based on that math, we have one week plus three days to hold out. That doesn’t feel highly probable.

“Parlay,” I state again. I like saying the word just to gauge Lea’s reaction. She hunkers closer to MacManus, all whimpering, simpering phoniness. He pats her arm reassuringly.

“What would that even look like?” He shakes his head at me. “Send one of us out, waving a white flag? Calling, ‘Here, killer, killer, killer’?”

“We could bring French pastries.”

MacManus scowls, but I notice Ronin and Aolani taking the idea seriously. It gives me the courage to forge ahead.

“Look, we can’t just hang out here for ten days. We don’t even know what they want. Shouldn’t we at least try to negotiate terms? Isn’t that corporate 101?”

“What terms?” he challenges back. “Hand over Lea, or someone else?”

“You,” I volunteer sweetly.

“Not going to happen,” Vaughn interjects flatly, returning from the sink. “We’re not selling out our own. We’re in this together. Are we clear?”

Vaughn has mastered the kind of tone that brooks no argument. He dictates, we follow, some of us more grudgingly than others.

“However,” he continues now, “a conversation isn’t a bad idea. What else do we have that they might want?”

“Food,” Aolani speaks up from her position guarding the side door. “They can draw drinking water straight from the cistern. But we have the kitchen and all its provisions.”

“They can access the outside walk-in fridge and freezer,” Ronin counters. “We don’t have the manpower to guard there and here. It is an incomplete mix of supplies, but enough to get them through.”

“What’s their end game?” I murmur, my gaze on Leilani. “Brent got Keahi all the way here. Now what?”

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