Page 225 of Deviant

“Shouldn’t it be four thousand if the price of just one is two?”

“The extra thousand is for my time. Take it or leave it,” he rebukes, pointing his gun to the swamp and pulling the trigger to scare off a crocodile.

When I don’t flinch at the sound, he pulls his straw hat back and gives me a toothless smile.

“You got steel in your veins or something, girlie?”

“Girlie,” I repeat with a halfhearted laugh, my mind instantly going to Joe. “I used to have a friend who called me that same nickname.”

“Yeah? This friend… is he the one looking for you?” he asks.

“Why would you think that anyone is looking for me?”

“Two passports… loads of cash to burn…. I’d say a pretty thing like you is on the run for something she’s done. Maybe you stole some cash from the wrong people. Am I close?”

“As close as you’ll ever get. Trust me.”

“I thought so.” He smiles, thinking he’s got me pegged. “Hand the cash over, and I’ll have your passports ready by tomorrow.”

“You’ll get half first and the other half after I get my papers.”

His sly grin lifts at the corners of his mouth.

“And here I thought you were just another pretty face. Glad to see you have some brains on you too, girlie.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, at first light. They better be ready by then,” I warn as I hold the wad of cash in my hand. “Because if they’re not, and this is some con, you’ll find out that brains are not all that I have. I have a pretty bad temper too and an itchy trigger finger to match,” I add, showing him the gun holster hidden under my jacket.

I then hand him his money and walk back to the beat-up old truck I stole from a Target back in Florida.

“First light, Jim!” I shout before I slide behind the wheel.

“I heard you the first time,” he grumbles back, exiting his porch and rushing into his house to start working on my passports.

The thing about conducting illegal deals like getting forged passports, you have to deal with lowlifes like Jim all the time. And the only thing men like him respond to are intimidation and shows of strength. Luckily for me, I’m a better shot than I am at throwing knives, so having a gun is way more practical. I can thank my father for that since he would take me hunting with him every Thanksgiving. Of course, once Jim gets me my passports, my trusty gun will be dumped in the swamp with the rest of my belongings, leaving no trace that I was even in New Orleans.

I drive back to my cheap motel room that sits right out of the interstate, stopping only for food and gas. Once I’m back in my shitty room, I make sure to triple-check that I have everything ready for tomorrow’s trip.

Small backpack with two changes of clothes—check.

Burner phone—check.

A little over thirty thousand dollars—check.

Eight sets of passports, social security numbers and birth certificates—check.

With Jim’s additional two passports that makes ten.

I will need all those aliases to complete the next part of my plan. I have to have a backup plan, and two or three others, just in case something goes awry. I can’t be too careful.

As soon as Jim gives me the passports, I’ll throw my stuff in the swamp and drive the seven hours it takes to get to Atlanta. From there, I’ll fly over to the Caiman Islands and make the transfer of the hundred million dollars to the Swiss bank account I opened a few months ago. Once I see that the money is there, I’ll make a second transfer to a Singapore bank account under a different name and then transfer it again to one in Panama. When the money finally makes its way there, I’ll already be at the bank’s door, ready to cash it all out. I’ll hang low in South America for a while, and when a few months have passed where the name Rowen Hawthorne is just a name on paper and nothing else, I’ll fly to Europe and start a new life there.

But before peace and freedom are achieved, there are many moving parts that need to be perfectly executed, and I can’t drop the ball now. Not when I’m this close.

If Elias was here, I’m sure he’d be proud of me.

Harper and Abbie, too.

Even Nora.

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