Come Back (Dirty, Dark, and Deadly 2)

“Which harbor?”

“Newport. You ready?” James smiles at me. I smile back. “We’re gonna walk this way, OK?”

But Newport rings a bell for me for some reason. I’ve never been here, but I’ve heard of it. Where? Why? Why have I heard of it? I rack my brain as James leads me along a dock and stops at a charter. He helps me get in and I have to admit, I like this trip. “Are we gonna watch the sunset tonight?”

“You bet, babe.”

I’m irritated with his answers and now that I’m coming out of my drugged-up stupor, none of this is making sense. James is not manning the boat. He’s facing me and Sasha is sitting up near the bow, in front of the captain. It’s a little boat, only seats four, so we’ve filled it all up.

We are going very slow because of the boat races. There must be a hundred sailboats in the harbor, all following their pattern. We weave in and out between them and the salty air refreshes me and starts to lift the confusion.

God, I’ve missed being on a boat. I smile and then laugh a little when we pick up speed and I get splashed with saltwater. I am hungry. I open my eyes and spot a nice-sized yacht anchored off to the side. “Where are we going again?”

But just as the words are out of my mouth I remember why I know of this harbor.

Megayachts.

Megayachts can anchor here if they get permission.

I look at James and he’s staring at me intently. He’s got hold of my wrists and he reads the understanding on my face and squeezes them tightly. “Don’t fight me, Harper. I won’t put up with it.” His face is deathly serious.

I stand up and he stands with me. My head turns, looking. And there she is. It’s pretty hard to miss a two-hundred-twenty-foot sailing yacht. “You sold me out.” I don’t scream it or get hysterical. It sorta comes out matter-of-factly. Like it was inevitable. Like I’ve always known I was nothing to him but a mission.

We slow down again as the boat captain tries to weave his way through the sailboats to get to the open garage of the yacht. It’s the High Summer. My favorite. The one I left last summer. The one where I committed all my crimes. My father is waiting. He actually smiles, and then he frowns. I follow his gaze and it lands on Sasha. She’s ignoring everyone. Me, James, the looks my father is shooting at her. The seat she’s sitting on is way in the tip of the bow, and she’s leaning over. I look back to my father and catch him nodding in my direction.

But it’s not me he’s nodding at, it’s James.

When I look back to James he’s got a gun out. It’s a big gun with a silencer thing on the end of it. He points it at Sasha, just as she stands up on her cushion and turns to smile and wave at me.

James shoots her in the chest, the fluff from her life vest flies up in the air, and then her body falls overboard.

All I hear is my scream and then I’m being hauled out of the boat and into the garage. Four men are holding me by my limbs. I’m not even allowed to walk, I’m carried. I squirm, elbowing one in the neck as he loses his hold, my feet get free, and then James is in front of me. I lift both legs and give him a two-footed kick to the chest. He stumbles backwards, the breath knocked out of him. But he never stops looking at me.

His eyes are saying something, but it’s not anything I want to hear.

“You’re a traitor,” I spit at him. “You are a traitor!” I scream it this time.

He says nothing. My father walks up to him and claps him on the back. “Well done, James. And the card? Did you find the card?”

James shakes his head. “No, sir. But I know where it is. I’m going there next.” He drags his eyes from me and stares at my father. I’m being carried away, my arms and legs again captured by the security guards, and some of his words get lost in the bustle.

But then I hear it.

“Ten days,” he says. “I’ll have your son and the card in ten days.”

He looks straight at me and lowers his sunglasses.

And that’s the last I see of James Fenici as I’m dragged into the interior of the ship.

Chapter Forty - Sasha

Don’t let anyone tell you getting shot is a piece of cake. I’m looking at you, James Fenici.

Of course, he’s not here. So I’m really just talking shit in my head.

I shiver as Harrison pilots the sailboat back to shore. My custom made-in-Colombia-for-drug-dealers’-kids bulletproof life vest is gone. Ceramic panels and layers of Kevlar tucked inside some Disney cartoon fabric is not exactly the best flotation device. I had to slip that thing off as soon as I hit the water or I’d sink straight to the bottom. So I’m pretty cold right now.

“You OK, kid?” Harrison asks.

“Do I look OK?” I ask back.

He shrugs. “You could be worse, I think.”

“I’m freezing. How much longer?”

“Well, we’re sailing, so the wind is our engine. We have a motor too, and we could speed off like we’re getting away from something, but it’s better to play it cool.”

He’s right. We came this far. I got shot, Harper is back on her fancy yacht, out of the way. And James is probably on his way to the meeting place. “Play it cool then,” I sigh.

It takes us another half an hour to get to shore, and by this time the sun is going down, the sailboat races are over, and the harbor is clearing out. I can still see Harper’s ship. It’s very hard to miss since that thing is as big as an apartment building, and I have to admit, I’d sorta like to be her right now.