Page 125 of Fire Island
I make the back of the hut without incident and lean up against the weathered wood, peering in through the grimy window. Three figures inside. Two move about like shadows while the third sits. I’m guessing that’s Reese tied to a chair.
Their voices are dulled through the wood, and I strain to hear.
“I’m nothing to her. Fuck, man, you have to believe me. You want someone she’ll actually come for, you should have nabbed the old man.”
The little fucker.
“He’ll never let her come, she’s his frigging pet. He ain’t going to swap her for me, so just let me go.”
He’s deflecting, disconnecting from the primary target... Smart boy.
Guy, I guess.
Reese is no more a boy than I’m a girl.
His ruse couldn’t be further from the truth. Cal will do anything to protect his family, and Reese is family. Whether he likes it or not.
“Shut it!” The larger of the men lashes out, kicking his chair.
Big guy.
Great.
The chair topples over, and Reese grunts as he meets the floor. If I could break him free of the chair, it would be two against two. Not this two-against-one situation I find myself in. Even numbers mean much better odds.
To do that, I’m going to need a distraction...
Something to draw them out of the hut for a few minutes.
Something like . . .
A decoy.
My gut flips with the idea that surfaces.
If they see me, get a fleeting glance, and make chase, I can circle back. Free Reese. Run like hell for the southern tip. And pray Em and Cal are waiting.
Simple, really, when you think about it.
It’s the execution that has my nerve up. Adrenaline flooding my veins.
“Maybe we dispose of you, anyway. If you’re really no use to us...” one of the men says.
Timothy.
His voice will be burned into my memory until the day I die.
Which hopefully won’t be today.
Fingers crossed.
“No! Please, I’ll do anything you wan?—”
I take off at a run for the east side of the cabin, making sure to give the hut a large enough berth so I’m not easily heard or seen. I find a half-shrouded position, half hidden by bushes, and haul in a lungful that stretches my chest.
“Hello?!”
Hand brushing over the small of my back, I double-check my knife is securely where I left it.
