Page 63 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“Two of their members have been jailed for trying that, and where did it get them? Nowhere. You think Kamryn and Frank will end up in prison?”
Hopefully.
“Do you want them to?”
“Honestly?” Marc let go of me and perched on the edge of an oversized plant pot. “A slap on the wrist would be more appropriate than a jail sentence, especially if that developer backtracks and builds his resort on Malati.”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t be sure of that. Heath said he was Kamryn’s father?”
“Heath’s right.”
“From what she told me, Lonnie McDonald came out of the same mould as your dad. There’s some bad blood between them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to wriggle out of his promise once this storm has blown over.”
“He can’t. Emmy bought the land from him.”
“What?”
“Yup. For a whole two bucks.”
“But…but why would he sell it? Surely even if he can’t build there, it has to be worth more than that.”
“Because before we came to find you, we flew to Thailand and caught McDonald in a compromising position with a minor.”
Marc’s eyes bugged out. “Are you serious?”
“I’d show you the video, but you’ve seen enough shit already this week.”
He was silent for a moment, processing, his hand resting on my hip. I should have pushed it away, but I didn’t.
“What will Emmy do with the land?”
“She mentioned a wildlife sanctuary. Maybe some kind of conservation project if the locals are on board with that. Which reminds me, I need to speak with Kamryn before I leave. Warn her that if she opens her mouth about anything she saw, I’ll personally napalm the entire east side of the island.”
“How about you let me speak with her instead? I might be a little more diplomatic.”
“Really? What would you say? Threaten to bring down the entire organisation with a barrage of strategically edited BuzzHub posts?”
“I’d offer to publicise the plight of the tarsiers and highlight the importance of conservation in exchange for her silence, and if she didn’t accept my proposal, then I’d introduce the napalm option.”
“I can’t believe you’re not freaking out about this.”
“About your napalm habits? Believe me, I am; I’m just good at hiding it.” He cupped my cheek with his other hand. “Phae, I hate the thought of you rushing headlong into danger.”
I swallowed hard. “And I hate the thought of you being pawed by pretty young starlets at parties, so let’s call it even.”
“I won’t pretend I’ve stayed celibate for the past decade, but I quit my starlet habit several years ago.” He tilted his head to one side. “So, are you going to break my heart and tell me you’re dating Captain America?”
“I’m hardly relationship material.”
When you joined the Choir or any other point team, you basically accepted that your teammates were your new family. Okay, so Jez somehow managed to hold down a steady relationship, as did Echo, plus Tulsa hate-fucked a Mafia-adjacent wise guy every few months and bitched about it for weeks afterward. Sin had a thing going with a hot hockey player. And Priest had a habit of marrying random women—seven and counting—which always ended in divorce or annulment. The rest of us? We depended on battery-operated boyfriends and one-night stands.
When I got myself off, I pictured Marc’s face.
His fingers.
His cock.
