Page 4 of Wayward
The guards say nothing. None of them. One rubs the side of his face. He’s got a long scratch down his cheek. He glares back but says nothing. The only ones who have talked to us more than “get in," "go here," "get out” are Holloway and the chief stew.
I scan their faces until I get to Holloway standing by the path to the beach. I hold his stare. “They’re people. With families, jobs. Hard workers. Just like all of you.”
“You knowing about them doesn’t change their fate,” Holloway says. The asshole might be right. But it makes a difference to me, and I know it makes a difference to Haley. Her blue eyes flick to me before settling back on Dante.
“Perhaps not, but it would ease our minds.”
“Or send you into grief,” Holloway counters.
Haley gasps.
“Relax. I don’t know anything about your crew.” Holloway looks through the blind to the beach. He’s got the best view out of anyone, being almost on the path. “Mr. Z’s coming.” He cocks his head at the other guards. And I fucking don’t like how he’s phrased it. Mr. Z’s coming. Not Easton and Mr. Z . . . but Easton appears in front of Z.
Haley gasps again. She’s got a better view of Easton. I have to take a step to the side before I can see Easton’s eye is swollen.
“I tripped,” Easton says.
Z has a hand in his pocket. “Yes, you should really be more careful about where you step. Hughes, Holloway, and Harris, you’re with me and Rockwell here. The rest of you take the boxes to the Rosewood, along with the rest of our guests.”
“No,” Haley calls out and runs for Easton. She throws her arms around his neck. A nameless guard steps up to them at the same time as Calvin. I’m there too.
“Back up, Green,” Easton says before I can.
“You know, Hal should come with us too. After all, she fits right in with Hughes, Holloway, and Harris,” Mr. Z says.
“No,” Calvin grunts.
Dante’s not yelling, but he’s a breath away from strangling Z. Like he’s a feral dog on a leash. The four of us move to stand beside Haley. I’m ready to grab Dante around the waist. Laying a finger on Z is definitely a way to die.
“Very interesting. It’s such an interesting island, Hal. And I hear you know all about the flora and fauna of the land. I insist that you accompany Mr. Rockwell and myself while the rest of you head to the Rosewood.”
There’s a poke in my back, and it’s not a stick.
“Off you go. You first, Captain. Show your men how to behave.” Mr. Z inclines his head to me.
“See you soon.” I hold Haley’s eyes. This is the toughest thing I’ve ever done, walking away from her. Walking away from her when I know Z is going to use her to get Easton to do whatever it is he wants. The diamond . . . or something else. “Green, Jones, Morris.” I step toward the beach. “Go.”
Calvin’s got his hand around Dante’s wrist. I hate this feeling hopeless. Out of control.
On the beach, they’ve got our boxes in one tender. The other’s empty. Haley’s box and suitcase are separated from our things.
“Move in a line next to the tender,” a guard says. He’s young, early twenties. He’s got a wiry smile on his face. And I instantly dislike him.
Zane wades in first, then me. Dante’s between me and Calvin, whose feet are barely in the water. My heart’s dancing around, making its own rhythm while I’m doing the best I can to not show it. I’m still scared as fuck. There’s a group of guards behind, six at least, and three in front of us with the punk. He throws the lead at the bow of the tender but misses. It floats in the front of the tender, slapping against the hull. I’m watching it . . . Zane’s watching it too. And when it winds back on a wave and brushes against Zane’s hand, he takes it. The tender slows its sideways motion.
“All right, Holloway told me you’re doing one of two things: You’re getting in the tender without causing a fuss . . .” He stares at each one of us down the line. He’s a power-hungry punk.
“Or?” Dante hisses out. And I want to push Dante into the water myself. You don’t give a lunatic a reason to shoot you.
The punk squints. “Or your little slut's things take their own boat back to the mainland . . . and we kill you. I don’t care much, really.”
I want to kill the punk.
Calvin grabs Dante’s wrist, and the punk laughs.
“Collins,” an older voice behind us growls.
“Just having a little fun. Get in the damn tender.” Collins motions with his gun. The front of the tender is swaying left and right. Zane’s holding on to the lead rope.
