Page 40 of Undertow

Her attention fixes on something through the window, probably just a plant or bird, but it’s not my prying eyes, so it’s enough for her.

I sigh in frustration. “If they’re as evil as you say, then I could be writing my death sentence by helping you. It’s only fair that I know why.”

“You’re not going to get hurt.”

I meet her gaze, and she looks away. We both know she can’t promise that.

“It’s complicated.”

“I can handle complicated.”

“I know.” Her eyes lock on mine with a blistering message.

Remember when I touched you, Shaw? Remember how I taste? How we writhed and melted in each other’s hands? We could be in my bedroom right now.

I wonder what color her sheets are. There’s no doubt I’ll know soon if we continue on this path—dangerous or not.

After another charged silence, she straightens and places her mug on the counter. “Okay, look. The truth is, our families hate each other.”

“You and the McArthurs?”

She nods. “My family has inhabited this island for generations. It’sours.But things got tight for my great-grandfather fifty years ago and he sold over half the land to the McArthurs.

“He thought the resort would be good for us. As part of the agreement, the McArthurs would pay us in perpetuity for access to their property. Kind of a licensing fee for our roads, marina, and pier. We still own the entire perimeter of the island, including all the beaches and land surrounding the resort. They lease the beaches on the Palmetto Acres side for the resort guests, but the contract expressly forbids the development of direct access points. There’s also an exclusive toll every time they come and go through our territory. My great-grandfather thought the deal was a good way to sell the land while still maintaining our sovereignty over the island.”

“I’m going to guess that arrangement didn’t sit well with the McArthurs for very long.”

She smirks. “No. And it turns out, they’re monsters. We don’t know exactly what’s going on in that resort, but we’ve seen enough to know it’s not something we want on our turf. We want them gone and our land back as much as they want us annihilated so they can have control of the island.”

“But the tourists fund your existence. What would you do without them?”

I catch the slight hesitation before her nod. She’s hiding something. I knew she was, but this is the first conclusive evidence. Tourism isn’t what funds their operations, at least not primarily. Monsters come in varying degrees and can inhabit two sides of an island.

Monsters can inhabit anything.

“Tourists could still visit Undertow without the McArthurs,” she says. “They already frequent our shops and restaurants, and we’ve set up other attractions over the years. My cousin Tyler does sport fishing expeditions, Jade has her jewelry shop, Linc his cooking… Even our baby brother Theo got in the game with his miniature golf park last year. The nannies bring the kids to play while the parents golf for real in Palmetto Acres. It was his idea, and he’s been raking it in.

“We’ve also talked about maintaining the resort ourselves, but on our own terms. We need the guests, not the McArthurs.”

Her tone and proud smile seem dissonant with the underlying message my expert intuition is picking up. In my brief time here, I’ve noted there are a lot of small businesses in Undertow and not many people running them. Julia already said she has to leave in a few minutes to “check on some things at the marina” before her afternoon shift at Mama’s Café. In addition, I’m pretty sureTyler the Fishermanwas also the one collecting the toll from my drive in with Abe.

Then there was the other hint last night. After my rejection, Julia recovered from the blow by saying she had a lot of work to do. I found that odd since it was after eleven, and watched closely as she pulled a laptop from its case as part of her angry dismissal. In that brief moment, I caught a glimpse of several bricks of bills in her bag.

Mama’s Café is cash-only. I need to see if all the other operations are as well. If so, that will tell me a lot.

“No wonder you’re so busy all the time,” I say with a smile.

She returns it. “Someone has to keep this place running. Speaking of which, I should get going. What time are you heading back to the resort?”

I let my smile fade. “Soon.”

She softens when I look away. “You can do this, Shaw. Just play it cool. And if you need to run,run.”

Run.

I tried that once.

THEN: RUNNING

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