The delivery took less than ten minutes. The deckhands disappeared, and Wallace and his men drove away, leaving Wes alone and undiscovered against the shed. He opened his secure DEA email app and sent the audio and video feed. Next he opened the encrypted message app and typed rapidly with his thumbs to his contact at headquarters, Hugh Parker. Video of the drug transfer and some incriminating audio on its way to you. Keep the Coast Guard on high alert for any activity to or from the island until the bust is complete. Are your guys on standby? When can they be here?
He waited three very long minutes before receiving Hugh’s reply. Good job! We’re nearly there. Unfortunately, there’s been a hiccup with top brass. Some issue with North Carolina bigwig connections very high up regarding Wallace. I’m fighting it as hard as I can. The audio and video you sent should go a long way to resolving the issue in our favor. Coast Guard on alert. Hang tight a while longer.
“Fuck,” Wes swore softly. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. It looked like he was going to have to continue undercover a little longer, which meant he’d have to participate in the bizarre hunt, just the thought of which made his skin crawl.
He slipped away from the dock, moving silently beneath the dense tapestry of stars in the huge night sky. When he returned to his room, he let himself back into his veranda and pulled back the sliding glass door.
Whitney was awake, propped on her elbows. She watched silently as he reentered the room. Wes sat down on the end of the bed. “Hey,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
Whitney shook her head. “No.” She smiled and pushed the sheet down, spreading her long, coltish legs in invitation. “Let me serve you, sir,” she said. In a nearly inaudible whisper, she added with a wink, “You could close your eyes and pretend I’m a guy.” In a louder voice, she continued, “I was born to serve. It is my goal, my pleasure and my delight to make you happy, sir. Very, very happy.”
As before, she said the words in an odd kind of singsong way, as if they were just syllables strung together without meaning. Now that he knew it was only a matter of hours until this whole operation was taken down, Wes asked softly, “Are you here voluntarily, Whitney? Is it your choice to work here?”
Whitney paled, her eyes growing wide, her hands fluttering to her mouth. “Oh!” she gasped, and again her eyes slid toward the light fixture and then away again. “I love it here on Pirate Island. We live a life of luxury. I was born to serve. It is my goal, my pleasure and my delight to make you happy, sir. Very, very happy.” She was smiling fixedly, though her eyes had filled with tears.
Alarmed, Wes reached for her and pulled her close. All his instincts were screaming. Something was very, very wrong. “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. Whatever’s going on, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
He lay down, Whitney still in his arms. “Sleep,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Go back to sleep.” He held her close until she relaxed once more against him. Only then did he close his eyes. Utterly exhausted, he fell instantly asleep.
Chapter 10
With DJ in front and Curtis bringing up the rear, the girls filed through the trees wearing only backpacks and sneakers. The men wore long-sleeved shirts, long pants and boots. They led the girls deep into the heart of the small woods, stopping finally in a clearing near the scummy salt bog. Curtis came up to stand beside DJ. He gave a short blast of the whistle around his neck. “Stand at attention, girls, hands behind your back,” he ordered. The three girls, standing now side-by-side, did as the glorified gym teacher commanded.
“Okay, girls, listen up,” he said. “Remember everything I’ve taught you about wilderness survival. You get an hour’s head start to get yourself situated. Try not to get caught in the first five minutes.” His grin was ugly and Mara looked away.
“The hunt lasts four hours,” DJ added. “Like Curtis said, you want to give the guys a challenge so they feel like they got their money’s worth. If I think you just gave up right off the bat, you’ll be very, very sorry.” He glared from one girl to the next to emphasize his point.
“Excuse me, sir,” Raeanne said, “may I ask a question?”
“What’s that?” DJ fixed his piggy eyes on Raeanne.
“What if we manage to stay hidden until the four hours are up?” Raeanne elaborated.
DJ sneered. “Don’t count on it. This will be the sixth hunt we’ve done, and so far no girl has lasted through the whole thing.” He waved his arm. “These woods ain’t that big, as you should know from your training with Curtis. The only way you’re going to avoid capture is by constantly moving. You’ll have to stay one step ahead of the men, and stay out of sight. If you last more than two hours, consider your job well done.”