Page 70 of August

August jumped on the boat as Rami powered up the motor. Ghost and Toth took their seats near the back and stretched out.

“How’d you get this?” August asked, as Rami steered away from the dock.

“Rental.”

“How long’s the ride?” Ghost called over the drone of the motor.

“Hour or so,” August answered. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. If the wind didn’t hold the familiar biting promise of fall, he’d think it was high summer.

“Fuck,” Ghost said. “So we’ll lose reception.”

“Only till we reach the island,” Toth answered.

August pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. He should’ve called Gigi before getting on the boat. They might have a few minutes before they lost service, but it was too loud to call now. And when they got to the island, he’d have to be on alert.

As soon as he got back to Anacortes, he’d check in. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he fought the tension ripping up and down his spine.

He didn’t like this. None of it. Being away from Gigi, not being able to reach her, and potentially walking into a trap. August had the deadliest team of men he could ask for and more guns and ammunition than necessary, yet he couldn’t shake this nagging feeling something would go wrong.

It can’t. I won’t let it.

Dropping his head back to absorb the sun’s warm rays, he forced his ass to sit still when all he wanted to do was pace. Which would probably get him tossed overboard. At least he couldn’t hear Ghost’s bitching over the sound of the motor.

An hour later, August checked his phone for the third time. Still no bars.

Toth nudged him. “Not much longer. Get your things together.”

Everyone leapt into action, loading their holsters and stowing their bags as the island came into view. They wore their bulletproof vests beneath their shirts so as not to draw attention, but except for the odd boat they’d passed on the water, the area around San Juan was quiet.

Rami steered toward one of the docks and cut the motor. They sailed smoothly toward the wood. Toth and Ghost tied up the boat, and in seconds all of them had disembarked.

“Is this their place?” Ghost asked, as the team’s footsteps stomped heavily on the worn wooden planks.

“Yup,” August said.

Rami whistled, Toth grunted, and Ghost muttered something about filthy rich politicians. The large brick-and-wood-clad home stretched out across the rolling, lush green grass. Thick white trim boxed in the array of windows, making the house look both opulent and inviting. A mixture of Douglas fir and spruce trees dotted the property.

Standing outside next to the back door, which faced the water, was a security guard dressed in a black suit and a crisp white shirt. As August and the guys approached, the guard withdrew a gun from his holster and lifted his fingers to his ear, presumably as he spoke into a mouthpiece.

Yeah, this was the right place.

August’s fingers flexed around the gun in his hand as he swept his gaze across the property for signs of other threats.

“More guards.” Ghost nodded toward the west side of the house, where two other men rounded the corner, guns drawn, dressed equally as dorky.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Toth said. “We’re basically threatening the senator, for god’s sake.”

“Not threatening,” August said. “Blackmailing.”

Ghost snorted, the first almost-laugh August had heard from him. “This oughta be interesting.”

“We’re here for one thing,” Rami said. “Todd.”

August moved a little quicker toward the house, Rami at his side and Toth and Ghost a pace behind.

“Stop right there!” The guard near the back door left his post to approach them. The other two guards joined him. August drew to a halt and the guys spread out beside him. The seven of them faced off on the walking path of neatly laid cobblestones.

“We’re here for Todd,” August announced. “Senator Radcliffe is expecting us.”

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