Page 49 of Wayward
“Give me the rope, Haley.” I hold out my hand.
“I’ve got it. I practiced enough knots on the island.” She ties a really solid clove hitch and bowline. I watch them out of the corner of my eye. The controls for the lift are easy, and I lower the boat into the water.
By the time I’m back to the starboard side of the boat, everyone else is on board.
“Wait,” Turner says.
I snap around, my hand on the gunwale, about to jump aboard. Sam’s at the wheel, ready to turn over the engines.
“You can’t let anyone know you’re here. Not until you’re out of the country. Z has agents throughout the area. You won’t make it if you let anyone know,” Turner says.
I stare at him. Because it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to get out of here without Easton making some phone calls, even with the cash we have. “The police? A consultant?”
The whizz of the outboard motors lowering screeches through the boathouse.
“He doesn’t have them all in his pocket. But it only takes one call to have the rest of the elder Z’s men called in with their guns blaring. Honestly, I don’t want to be here tonight when they come in. Go.”
I nod.
Fuck, I thought we’d just walk into the police station. I jump over the gunwale onto the boat with everyone else. “Thank you.” Sam fires up the motors the second my feet hit the deck.
“You can thank me by not getting fucking caught. There’s a dock to the south of the large city on the next island over. Treasure Resort. We have slips there. They would take theGreen Summitwithout expecting a docking fee. Slips twenty to twenty-two,” he yells over the engines.
I nod and push the boat off from the dock. Zane’s got Dante working with him to get the bumpers pulled in.
“Did he say the fuckingGreen Summit?” Easton yells over the engines.
“Easton?” Haley puts her arm around his waist.
“Everyone down below before we pull out,” Sam orders. “TheRosewoodwill be able to see us.”
“I’ve got it, Sam. You should rest your leg.” I stand next to him as everyone else moves below.
“I’m fine. And I look most like the engineer.” He cocks his head to where the guy is tied up in a deck chair. No one’s going to believe we did that. I’m surprised Haley didn’t get him a beverage and ask what he wanted for dinner.
“His name is Turner, if someone calls on the radio. Channel an inner Midwestern rage and you should be fine.” I swipe a black stocking cap from the console and toss it at him. He pulls it low over the bridge of his forehead. I tap his shoulder and head partway down the stairs. Just a few steps though, enough that I can pop up if he calls for me. But enough to hear what’s going on down below too.
Sam looks down the stairs at me as he pulls out. They’ve backed in all the boats, which makes for an easy departure for the owners. The roof of the boathouse vanishes and is replaced with inky black sky and stars. He turns the boat hard.
“Hang on,” I call to everyone below.
When we’re out a few minutes, the breakers have us jostling, and I grab both handrails on either side to keep from tumbling down.
Sam glances down. “I’m swinging port of theRosewoodnow.”
The radio squawks. I can barely hear it over the waves. I climb up a step to hear better.
“Green Summit,Rosewood, over.”
I look up at Sam. He doesn’t take his hands off the wheel.
“Turner,Rosewood, come in, over,”Rosewoodrepeats.
“Green Summit, over,” Sam says.
“Are you almost done? Over.”
“I need to open her up. Clearing the fuel out of the lines. Over.” Sam glances down at me.
