Page 65 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

Varro nods, his posture instantly alert as his eyes dart to Jenny. “It sounds like Jenny, but she’s right here. It’s coming from the direction of the compound.”

Heart racing, I strain my ears. The sound grows louder. It must be a boat engine. Excitement flies through me as I envision our rescue, complete with loving phone calls to family and a warm cup of coffee—severalcups of coffee. Then my fantasies dissolve as reality returns—stark and foreboding.

“It can’t be Garrison, can it?” If he’s waited all this time to return, I doubt it’s to rescue a woman he abandoned six months ago. Has he come back to… kill me?

“Whoever it is, we need to be cautious.” Varro’s voice is low and serious. “Let me look from the roof; maybe I can see something.”

He climbs to the top of the stone wall and perches on his knees, looking toward the compound. My heart is beating so hardit’s pounding in my throat.

“Three men, looking for something.” He’s still as a statue, his voice barely a whisper. If we can see them, they most probably can see us, too, if they look this way. “They just went into the compound.”

He climbs down and grabs my shoulders. “You’re in danger. I don’t know who these men are or what they want, but my mind is screaming warnings. I doubt they came in peace. Run to the little cave near where the seals sunbathe. You can crouch there and hide. Don’t come out until you hear me call you.”

“Fat chance, gladiator. It’s you and me together.” Interesting how my voice sounded full of confidence, yet my insides are quaking with fear.

When he argues, I press a finger against his lips. “We don’t have time to debate, my love. I’m with you. Always. Now, what’s our next move?”

We consider the choices and decide to stay here, defending from our home rather than being on the attack in the compound where there are dozens of hiding places and a hundred things that can be used as weapons against us.

We step into the cottage, muscles tense and senses on high alert. Varro grabs his spear—a sturdy branch topped with Rick’s diving knife—while I clutch Invictus, its familiar weight offering little comfort.

My phone tells me an hour has passed, the tension mounting with each minute. Every so often, Varro urges me to run and hide, but I have no intention of abandoning him, though I love him even more for wanting to protect me.

Finally, we hear voices approaching our cottage.

“I’m telling you, they have to be here somewhere. They never returned to the States,” a gruff voice carries on the wind. “The ship is wrecked, and the compound was abandoned, but someone’s been living on this island, draining the fuel and food.”

It’s not Garrison’s voice. My blood runs cold as I realize these are strangers, and they’re looking for us—well, looking for me. Noone in their right mind would dream a frozen dead body came back to life.

Varro and I have made dozens of trips back and forth to the compound, both in Jenny and on foot. The path is well trodden and leads straight to us. Before the men come any closer, we dart out of the cottage and hide on the far side of the structure.

“Varro.” My whisper is urgent. “What now?” He’s fought thousands of sparring matches and battled in arenas all over Italy. He can strategize far better than me.

He nods, eyes never leaving the direction of their voices as he thinks. “When they come into view, I’ll confront them. You stay hidden, ready with Invictus if things go wrong.”

“Looks like we found at least part of the crew,” one of the men calls out.

Clearly, they’ve caught sight of the cottage. Varro steps out, makeshift spear in hand, before they conduct a thorough search and find me.

“What do we have here?”

I listen, heart pounding.

“Who are you?” Varro demands, his slightly accented voice carrying the authority of a seasoned gladiator.

“Name’s Merrivale. I’m looking for Garrison and his crew. You one of his divers? The mechanic?” He glances around, his two men equally wary. “Where are the rest of them? They’ve got to be here. One thing’s for sure, that damaged boat didn’t get them off the island.”

“There’s no one here but me. I never met anyone named Garrison.”

Merrivale’s face darkens. “Bullshit. I know they found the gold. My inside man emailed me just before he went radio silent.”

Inside man? Was it one of the divers? Tony the mechanic? Did these thugs come here to steal the gold I spent more than a decade searching for?

My mind reels. It’s been months since Garrison and the men left. Why doesn’t the whole world know about the find by now?

“Gold? There’s no gold here.” Varro’s voice is no longer full of confidence. It’s desperate because he’s scared—for me. One of the robbers rounds the corner of the cottage and, before he can lay a hand on me, I step around him and scurry, still clutching Invictus, to stand next to Varro.

“Garrison abandoned us. We’re the only two on the island, and Garrison absconded with the gold. He’s from Florida. Look for him there.”

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