Page 25 of Shark Bait

She’s a kidnapped person I discovered

I introduced her to Alessio

I want to add that she’s right when she said she sucks great dick and that it definitely makes me want to marry her, but I keep that reason off my list.

That’s if she agrees to marry me. From the way she talked about her home, I doubt she’ll be thrilled when she finds out she’s not allowed to return.

“Shall we?” I ask. I want to get off the plane and maybe even crawl out of my skin. I’m disgusted with myself for taking her, and yet I couldn’t have left her, and I couldn’t have ended her.

The rock has met the hard place.

NINE

YOU CAN CALL ME ANYTHING

TROY

Shark’s friend Capital leads us off the private jet and into the air-conditioned lobby of a small airport called Giulia Angelini Airport. I’ll bet a hundred (that’s not a cheap bet, no matter what Shark says) that Giulia is Capital’s relative. Maybe his mom or a rich aunt, not that this guy needs a rich aunt. Judging by his tailored black suit and the crown on the expensive watch he keeps checking, he’s probably someone’s rich uncle.

It occurs to me that when Shark said I can keep the money from the safe, I became rich as well. Since I’m the youngest of six, when my brothers have kids, I’ll be the rich aunt. I will buy everyone a house on the same street, and hell, maybe I’ll buy myself an airport and name it Sharkport.

“Hey.” I playfully bump into Shark.

“Hey back.” He adjusts the big sack of cash he’s carrying. I feel bad that he’s having to carry my money around, but hopefully the bank (or the laundromat he mentioned) isn’t too far from here.

“Imma build an airport and name it after you,” I say. “For saving my life, you know.”

He side-eyes me. “I spared it, didn’t save it.”

“Same difference to me.”

I get a glance from him again.

“What’s the matter, cowboy?” I tease. “You think a girl can’t buy an airport?”

“She can.”

I spot a sign for the ladies’ room and head that way. “BRB,” I throw over my shoulder, in a hurry to get inside and release the pressure in my bladder. Once done, I come out of the stall to freshen up in front of the giant mirror and rub my belly. “We’re gonna be all right now, you and me.”

It’s one of those fancy black-and-white bathrooms with helpful toiletries packed into tiny bottles, and I can’t resist taking a lotion with a label that readsAngelini Cosmetics. The last name keeps coming up, so I’m sure it’s Capital’s last name. I wonder about their names, but I don’t need them either. They know mine, so they can look me up and figure out how they’ll get me back to Tennessee.

I’m hoping that’s what they’ll do but also dreading it a little. What do I tell my daddy about the baby? How am I gonna tell him I was an idiot who fell into the trap of a stranger I met on the internet? I can’t even think about that now.

I pop the cap and sniff the lotion, expecting a plain, inoffensive scent, but I get a rich, lush floral one. “Damn, this smells good.” I dump half the bottle into my palm, rub my hands together, then apply it on my neck and arms. I want to keep the rest, but the stupid dress Fis made me wear on the yacht has no pockets. “Double damn.”

A woman comes out of the stall and scares me. I spin around and scream, then press myself into the nearest corner.

It’s a middle-aged lady in a beige hat, and she starts to apologize. “Sorry, didn’t meant to?—”

The next thing I know, Shark’s in the bathroom, gun aimed at the woman.

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