Page 40 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“I’ll come, but in a strictly observational capacity.”
“Aw, you don’t want an awkward run-in with your ex?”
“Something like that.”
“Have you considered womaning up and just, I don’t know, talking to him?”
“Have you considered minding your own fucking business?”
“It’s honestly not that hard. I still work with all of my exes in some capacity. Hell, I even played bridesmaid at one of their weddings.”
“That’s my idea of a nightmare.”
“Nah, the nightmare part was when a bird stole the rings and muggins here got sent up a tree to retrieve them.”
“Are you serious?”
“It was that or shoot the creature down, but people frown on that kind of thing. Would you have used a bullet?”
“Not unless I intended to pluck the bird and eat it.”
I still hunted occasionally, but only for food. Posing with dead endangered species had been my father’s hobby, not mine. He’d definitely have shot the bird, and probably the tarsiers too.
“Fair enough,” Emmy said. “So, you want me to rescue Marc while you stand on the sidelines?”
My fists clenched involuntarily. I’d grudgingly learned to respect Emmy, but that didn’t make the idea of her getting up close and personal with the man I still loved any easier to swallow.
“Yes, that’s precisely what I want.”
CHAPTER 15
Marc
“Use less cinnamon for the next batch.” Serena pulled a face. “I can hardly taste the pineapple.”
“I told you Indonesian cinnamon is stronger than the Sri Lankan stuff,” Katie said from her hammock. “But did you listen?”
“I used half the amount I normally use,” Marc told her.
Maybe this could be a movie? The Big Lebowski meets Dumb and Dumber, but with extra insects. After a tropical downpour soaked not only the roof of their makeshift prison but the inside of the room too, they’d been allowed a change of scene while they waited for everything to dry out. Katie had run around with a mop and bucket, and Havana had hauled the mattress outside into the sunshine.
Marc and Serena were still tied up, but this time the handcuffs had been moved to their ankles with the chains fastened to a post in a barn-like shelter. They could take a few steps outside, as if they were dogs in a yard, but freedom was still an impossible dream. Although if they did escape, where would they go? Thick jungle bordered the rickety wooden buildings on three sides, with the ocean on the fourth, and who knew how far they were from civilisation? Apart from the hushed chatter of the handful of Wild Roots representatives who’d made themselves at home in the jungle, the only sounds came from nature—the melodious chirping of a bird of paradise, the clicking of tree kangaroos, and the meep of frogs. Katie had been educating them about the various species.
Only she and Havana came close, but Marc memorised the other faces he saw for later. He’d be expected to make a report to the authorities when they finally escaped this place, although he wasn’t sure how much he’d tell them. These people weren’t the enemy. Okay, yes, they’d kidnapped him, but how else were they supposed to get the world’s attention?
Earlier, while they were mopping up pools of water, Katie had explained the lengths they’d gone to already—the petitions they’d started, the ad campaigns they’d run, the letters they’d written to government officials. Two of the group’s members were languishing in a godforsaken hellhole of a jail after they handcuffed themselves to trees on Malati several months ago, an act that had caused barely a ripple in the media.
“You should have asked for their release as a condition of ours,” Marc had told her, only for Serena to kick his foot. “Not that I want to put ideas in your head or anything.”
“We thought of that, but we didn’t want to give the government room to negotiate. That’s our next project. Umar and Rain understand. They want us to save Malati at all costs.”
“Umar and Rain are the prisoners?”
She’d nodded. “I probably shouldn’t have told you their names.”
“When we get home, I’ll make an appeal for them.”
“You will?”
