Page 34 of Clean Slade
King glanced at me and sighed.
“Fine.”
Mac hugged him and rushed to put her shoes on while King turned to me.
“Be care—”
“I will. I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise.”
He nodded with sad, defeated eyes, and I wanted to hug him. I could only imagine the storm happening in his head. And as much as I could protect him from, that was one thing I couldn’t.
“Can we get candy?” Mac asked me as we were coming out of the yurt, and I gave one last glance at King before I closed the door. He laughed and turned his back to us.
“Of course we can!”
She was already going through so much, having her life change in just a few moments. She hadn’t shown any dislike for the change of location, but if I knew one thing about kids, they hated change. I just hoped things would be resolved by the time Mac started to miss home.
I drove us into Chatham and stopped at the gas station. I’d gone into a bigger store the day before, but I saw no reason to risk making a longer trip where there were more people around.
While we were in the convenience store, I checked my messages. My reception at the yurt retreat was patchy, so some messages or calls didn’t come through until I was closer to a cell tower.
It turned out I did have a missed call, accompanied by a new message.
Wyatt:
There’s been some movement around town, but nothing conclusive yet. If he’s here, he’s laying low as we expected.
That wasn’t good. If it hadn’t been for the cartel, maybe the guys could have flushed Tony Ferraro out by now, but with the increased federal traffic on the island, he wasn’t going to parade himself around.
Ferraro was notorious for staying under the radar. Most people didn’t even know what he looked like. He avoided cameras, CCTV, social media, anything that could expose or threaten him.
Was it crazy that a team of retired Navy SEALs thought they could do what a professional team of covert agents couldn’t?
Maybe King was right. Maybe he would have to run away and get a new life.
Another message came through before I could think too much about it and despair.
Rhett:
Hey, big bro. How’s it going in your little dot in the Atlantic. Haven’t heard from you in over a week.
Rhett:
Happy New Year. You should call Mom.
Rhett:
Helloooo?
Rhett:
Anybody there?
Rhett:
Hey, douche! Remember us?
Shit.
