Page 53 of Wayward
There’s a large thud on the ground behind us. Calvin’s the last one over the fence. “You’re not fine,” he growls and sweeps me up onto his shoulder. “Hang on, Chiefie.” His feet pound as we make it down the rest of the dock onto solid ground.
I can’t see where we’re going anymore. But I wrap my arms around Calvin’s waist and hold on tight, pushing my cheek against his ass. The guards are coming down the dock. There are five of them, and even with my head bouncing against Calvin’s ass, I can make out Holloway’s scowl. He’s the only one I can make out, though. I tuck my head in tighter and wish I could be more graceful. Twisting my ankle couldn’t have happened at a worse time?Calvin carrying me has got to be slowing us down.
“This way,” Zane says up ahead. The snack bar and harbormaster’s house disappear behind us.
It’s hard to get my bearings?things are sideways at best and mostly upside down. There’s a long sandy beach to one side. Cabanas with blue and white striped roofs are buttoned up tight for the night. The moonlit beach has been raked to perfection. In the other direction, there’s an alleyway of booths. Everywhere, the signs are in Thai and English. There’s no one around. The boardwalk below Calvin’s feet is polished teak. This resort has serious money. I clench my eyes tight from the sand flying up from Calvin’s quickly moving feet. And when I open them again, we’ve taken a sharp turn. There’s a large building along the side. It’s darker here, quieter. There’s no crashing waves, only the sound of the guys’ feet.
“Here,” Dante says, and we duck between two buildings. The moonlight is completely gone in the alley.
“Shh,” Sam says behind me. He peers around the corner from where we came.
There’s a squeak and a rush of cool air on my arms.
Calvin steps into a room.
“Can you walk, Sassy? Having the Viking carry you through the resort?” Dante says.
Calvin’s growl cuts him off.
“Let me try. You can pick me up if I can’t do it.” I let go of Calvin’s waist, and he eases me to the ground. Dante steps back to the door and yanks on it.
“It’s locked,” Sam says.
I wince when I put my weight on my foot. I take a step away from the door, where Calvin and Zane are doing something. My heartbeat echoes in my ears. We need to get out of sight; Holloway can’t be too far behind us.
There’s a loud thud, and Zane says in a hushed voice. “I’ve got it.”
We’re in a hotel, a hallway, but it’s elegant. Wallpaper embossed with golden threads lines the walls, while the carpet is plush and sculpted. There’s a framed tapestry on the wall behind Sam that’s worth being the star of a room. “We need to keep moving. Holloway’s not dumb. He’s going to find us.”
“You saw Holloway, not Ed’s guys?” Sam asks.
“It was definitely Holloway. I didn’t recognize any of the guys with them, though,” I whisper. I take another step, but it’s clear to everyone that I’m not fine.
“We’ve got this.” Calvin drops to his knees and pulls my shoes off. “Here, Rockwell, hold these.” He tosses my shoes to Easton before picking me up, this time in front of him like a bride. “Less I captured you, more I saved you from a poor footwear choice. Let’s go.” He leads the guys down the hall. “Hold on, Chiefie.”
His strides are long enough to be the same speed as someone running. My arms are looped firmly around his neck, and I’ve got my head tucked into his chest. Up ahead, the hallway opens up into what I’m assuming is a lobby. Being in yachting, I’ve seen the inside of five-star hotels all over the world. Deliveringforgotten designer sunglasses. Or picking up a special bottle of wine or a three-tier wedding cake. And this place? It’s right up there with some of the finest I’ve seen in the French Riviera. We step out into the grand lobby. It soars up at least three stories. There’s plush, overstuffed furniture arranged in conversation areas around the room. On the far side, there’s a long, polished mahogany front desk with a wide-eyed attendant. I didn’t see how the door we came in was opened, but I’m guessing it wasn’t left unlocked.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, you can,” Dante says, his shoulders squared as he marches over to the front desk. “We were supposed to be picked up, but we were left to find our way here from the airport by ourselves. On top of that, we’ve lost our luggage and all we have to wear are these damn rags from our last gig.”
“And you are, sir? I do apologize, but I didn’t see that we had any guests coming in on a late-night flight tonight.”
I have no idea where Dante’s going with this because we definitely don’t look like guests. All the guys have beards or scruff. My hair and nails look . . . well, like I’ve spent a year living on a beach. None of our clothes fit correctly. Calvin’s are too tight, Sam’s too loose, and I’m barefoot.
“Guests? No, we’re staff brought in for the big wedding.”
“Big wedding?” he repeats as he types. He stops and glances up at Dante, but Dante stands close-mouthed with that look of impatience in his eyes. The one he does so well. The agent types again. “Oh, the Freeman wedding. That’s not until next week.”
“Exactly, you know them. They want everything perfect. This isn’t perfect, now is it?” He waves back at us. “Look at them? And now at me. We had three connections and twenty hours of flying. Do you have our rooms?”
“Rooms, right . . .” His fingers fly over the keyboard.
Anxiety boils in the pit of my stomach. There are five hallways around the space and a set of large doors that open out onto what must be the main entrance. “I see it here. Do you have your passports? You’re three days early, but you’re in luck, I have space. It really is going to be quite the event.”
“Of course it is, but I told you we lost all our luggage.”
“You put your passports in your luggage?”
