Page 67 of Wild Thing

“You are playing, sweetheart.”

Fuck. This makes me mad. I pull out my last card—the story Archer told me several days ago.

“Okay. If you take me, I’ll throw in a good word for you to Maddy.”

Nothing changes in his expression. God, even Archer has a wider range of emotions in his poker face. My dad probably does too.

“You stay close,” he says suddenly, catching me by surprise, as we stop by the speedboat. “You do what I tell you. When I’m gone, you stay with a guard.”

“Yes and yes and yes,” I say, my heart pumping with excitement. So, he does have a soft spot for Maddy. What do you know?

Without looking, Raven stretches his hand toward me, and I stare at it in surprise until he lifts his indifferent gaze to me and motions with his eyes to the boat.

Oh.

I take his helping hand as I get in—out of politeness.

Right.

He’s a gentleman with a Swiss Army knife in his pocket.

Who the hell is this guy?

I’m yet to find out, but one thing is for sure—I’m about to get the most exciting tour yet.

28

KAT

Haveyou ever traveled to a small tourist town after pandemic and economic decline?

Have you been to third-world countries’ small towns that have pretty ethnic facades, but three blocks from the main street, women smoke in doorways, selling themselves, teenagers offer drugs, jobless men sit on half-broken chairs, drink beer, and play cards while little kids run around in torn dirty clothes and play with empty tin cans?

Camden outside Philly? The outskirts of Tijuana? South Beach after Spring Break? Combine it all, add an ocean breeze, flowering trees, vague sounds of reggaeton, the smell of smokers and burnt rubber, excessive garbage that litters the streets, and occasional armed patrols.

Ta-da!

Welcome to Port Mrei!

The port is decent, despite the excessive armed guards’ presence. Everything seems to be coated with salt—buildings, roads, piers, guards’ clothes, and their grumpy attitudes.

I wait with two guards while Raven disappears into one of the warehouses. Excitement almost draws a happy squeal out of me. I now understand what Marlow meant by island fever. Being out of Ayana is refreshing.

We take a military jeep that has too many storage containers—for guns, I know that much, and a static mount, a turret—whoa—to secure an automatic weapon—jeez, intense—and do a drive around town.

One guard is driving. The other is in the back seat next to me.

In the front, Raven is silent like I offended him greatly, though somehow, out of everything I said, Maddy was the golden word.

“I think he has his eye on her,” Archer said the other night.

“Maddy? Out of all people?”

“Uh-huh.” Archer wiggled his eyebrows. “He doesn’t have a chance.”

Maybe not, but mentioning her to Raven worked magic.

As we ride through Port Mrei, the guard next to me gives me the shittiest tour of my lifetime.

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