Page 26 of Uncharted

Chapter12

Setting Battle Sails

Dante

Sam’s eyes flick over her.

The guy totally opened her suitcase, and by the oh so lovely pink blush trailing up Haley’s neck, I want to see too. “Let me take that for you, Haley. We don’t want to strain your ankle.”

“My ankle’s fine. We don’t want to overtax your strength.”

I laugh and take the suitcase from her.

“Haley? We need your help,” Zane calls.

“Excuse me.” She eyes the suitcase but doesn’t reach for it. She takes off for the shelter. Her limp is completely gone, but that’s not the point. Sam needs to know that we’ve been through some shit.

He moves toward the path to follow her, but I step in front of him. I shake my head. The energy is weird, and I don’t do weird. I clear it out, get the problem out in the open.

“We’re all fucking. And by fucking, I mean it’s more than fucking. We are all into her.” I cross my arms over my chest. Sure, I’m going rogue. Haley thinks she should be the one to tell him, but fuck that. I’m not having Sam making her feel that she’s done anything wrong.

“Each other?” His eyebrows raise, he looks out over the ocean and a second later back at me.

“No. I’m the only guy here who’s bi, but without Haley, I’m pretty sure Rockwell and Green would be going at it, given enough time—or they might kill each other. Guess we have to wait and find out. But no, just Haley. The thought of fucking the other guys makes me want to clean the grease fryer with my tongue. Just Haley.” I give a little shiver at my own metaphor.

His face goes from ashy to red and back to ashen again.

“You heard the ‘it’s not just fucking’ part?” Haley is going to be pissed, but Sam needs to know. And she’s not going to tell him. Not without a big push. Not without too much time passing. She’s too nice. She’d never want to hurt him, or us. Hence hurting all of us.

“I did.”

“And?”

“What do you want me to say, Dante? Pass the fucking lube?”

“Well, that’s up to you.” Telling him I’m trying to work out the best consistency of lube isn’t the right thing to do. Not yet. I’ll save that gem for another day. “Are you hungry?”

“What?”

I’ve dazed him. Which I don’t mind. Having him a little out of his element is a good thing.

“Like, do you want something to eat? I’ve made a crab salad with pomelo and seaweed. Along with a coconut cream fish chowder. We didn’t know when you’d be getting here, so I wanted it to hold.”

His jaw drops. “I ate half a can of beans and a scoop of cold rice. Yeah, I could eat. Thanks.”

“No problem. You’re welcome.”

“I brought...” He’s staring out over the ocean. I’m not sure which has stunned him more—the fucking or the food. He shakes his head. “I brought some bowls, plates, and stuff too. Your list was oddly specific until it wasn’t.”

“I suppose ‘the entire boat’ was leaving things pretty wide open.”

“Yeah, I can bring more things back tomorrow or the next day. I’m hoping Calvin and Zane come back with me to start troubleshooting.” He’s talking to me like I have some sort of say. Strictly by age, I’m the closest to him. I’ve been on yachts for a hell of a long time. I have enough money saved that I’ve thought about opening a restaurant. But then I have to make fifty perfect table tops a night instead of one. And the same fucking thing over and over again. On a yacht, it’s always something new. Well, except for the time I was cooking on a Russian 125 meter. He wanted me to make him a replica of McDonald’s hamburger and fries every night. It was either quit or ask him to shoot me.

I nod. “We should all go back, at least for a look around. Clean things up. The freezers have to be rank by now.”

“No, I thought of that. I cooked a good amount of the meat on the back grill. Penny ate well. As things turned moldy, I tossed them overboard.”

I nod. “Smart.” Calvin’s not wrong; the guy’s a good man.

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