Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Malcolm sighs. “That’s all you are, isn’t it? Just a mafia thug with no imagination. I’m trying to find a way to work with you and you’re talking about killing me. Where’s your business sense? It’s a big school, Emilio. We can coexist.”
“I left my business sense behind when you kidnapped my friend.” I turn away and start to head back to the house. “Twenty-four hours, Malcolm. That’s all you get.”
“Think about what I said,” he calls after me but I’m already shaking my head. “We split the island. We make it work!”
But there’s no working with him.
Maybe before he kidnapped Lesley. Hell, if he’d slapped her around a bit but let her go after catching her, I would’ve said she got what she deserved. I told her not to go, but she insisted. I knew this shit would happen.
Kidnapping her, though, that’s too fucking far.
“What’s the plan?” Nathan asks, all ice and fire, chomping at the bit for a fight. He’ll go out there and crack skulls without a second thought, and I might need that before this is all over.
“We wait. If he fails to release her, we go and we kill him.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Dom groans.
“I’m very serious.”
Nathan glances at me. “We’re not back home, brother. You can’t just kill someone and expect the family to clean up after you. We can hurt them, break some bones, make them understand—but murder?” He shakes his head.
I grin at him and punch his arm lightly. “I clean up my own messes. Don’t you worry about that.”
“His proposal sounded almost reasonable,” Dom said, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe we should consider it.”
“After Lesley’s back, I’ll think about negotiating. I’m not going to make business decisions at such a disadvantage, no way in hell.” I squeeze his arm and push him gently in the direction of Calico House. “Go make sure everyone’s on high alert.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I have some business to attend to.”
He frowns but doesn’t argue. Dom and Terrence go with him, and I watch as they disappear down the path.
I don’t plan on negotiating, even when Lesley comes home.
As soon as I allow Malcolm to exist, my operation will drastically change. If I let him make his runs, then others are going to start making the attempt. Competition will ruin me, and I can’t allow that to happen.
There can be only one smuggler on this fucking island.
I remain on the edge of campus. It’s beginning to come to life. Students are waking, walking around, getting coffee and breakfast, laughing and living their lives.
The world continues on its path even when it feels like the planet already shattered beneath me.
Lesley saved my life two years ago. She dragged me from the water on one of my early, failed attempts at sailing into the caves. If it weren’t for her, Calico might never have grown as powerful as it has. I owe her a lot, and I’m not about to let some piece of shit like Malcolm hurt her, not even if she brought this on herself.
I don’t have many options. Negotiate and give him what he wants, but that’s not possible. Fight him, but that might make the situation worse.
No, I need to do something drastic, something he won’t see coming.
It’s time to call in a favor.
Chapter 19
Emilio
The administrative residences are a series of townhouses and apartments built behind the soccer fields. They exclusively house teachers and staff, and while students aren’t forbidden from entering them, it’s definitely frowned upon. I pause at the chain-link fence, watching for any movement. I hate coming here during the day—there’s no cover and anyone could spot me—but I don’t have much of a choice. This can’t be delayed. I check my watch, nod to myself grimly, and walk the long way around the cluster of white structures with their red roofs and big windows.
I move around the back of the row, up along a stretch of underbrush bordering the cut lawns and the beach beyond, trying to stay quiet. The beach isn’t far and the waves help mask some of the noise. I hear whistling from one of the windows, and a TV’s playing a cowboy movie nearby. Life goes on, life continues, even if I feel like mine’s on hold. I inch my way through the back yards until I reach the very last one, with its metal lawn chairs and the back porch I helped fund last year. I walk up the steps and pause at the back door, trying to look inside, but the glare from the sun makes it impossible.
I pull a key from my pocket and unlock the bolt. It thunks undone. I turn the handle and the door creaks softly, the hinges warped from the salty ocean air, and step inside.
The back hallway has a bathroom on the left and laundry on the right. I smell coffee and eggs and a radio is tuned to NPR. I creep into the living room and pause at the edge of the kitchen. Vintage typewriters are lined up on the windowsill, and one’s sitting on the floor, half taken apart, its ink smudged across a towel.