Page 71 of Wayward
“Dante.” Haley cocks her head at him.
Dante smiles insincerely and nods at the guard.
Calvin tenses in the chair to the right of me, and I’m with him. This whole thing is odd. How did Holloway know where to find us? And this jet was clearly waiting—like we’re some sort of VIPs. I’ve had to take guests to private airstrips before. Just because you own a plane doesn’t mean you aren’t on some sort of schedule. Planes have slots to leave just like big yachts have to dock.
Leaning toward the window, I see ramp agents standing on the far edge of the hangar, ready to get us out of here. I stare out the window at the trio of men in yellow vests, two of them with lighted orange wands in their hands. I wonder how much they’re paid to look the other way. What other people have they seen stolen away in the night? I hope it’s worth it for them. I hope Z is willing to pay them well enough to turn a blind eye. Hopefully, they can’t sleep at night. I wonder what the going rate is for six lives? Maybe it’s just some sort of steppingstone into the Zambrano family’s society of people who can be bought off. A steppingstone in crime.
Haley puts her hand on my knee, and I turn back to her.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” the guard barks.
Haley nods, and I place my hands on the table in front of me. I don’t get motion sickness, but facing backward on a plane is going to be a new thing for me.
Holloway’s up the stairs. He ducks his head into the cockpit, and then he’s back. He comes to the rear of the plane, one hand on Calvin’s chair and the other on the table beside Haley. Thelarge man looks tired, ragged, worn. And I can’t help but give an inward chuckle about it. Good for him. Hope he sleeps well in hell.
A male flight attendant steps out of the cockpit. The stairs retract, and he does something to the door.
“We’ll be off in a second. First, I have someone who wants to talk to you. Watch the screen. He can see you,” Holloway says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about Father Christmas, God, or Z.
Z’s face fills the screen. “Ah, there you are. The lot of you are quite troublesome.” He’s obviously in his mansion—the one we invaded a few days ago. Behind him is a dark bookcase that matches the one in Ed’s office. The file is in Dante’s rucksack—hidden behind the cushioning on the back and the back fabric. Thayer looks just like any other finance bro about to give a presentation on Zoom. “I would love to come with you, but my father is flying in. We have a wedding to go to—Krit Niran and Stella Freeman.”
“Stella.” Haley inhales Stella’s name on a whisper.
“Krit Niran and I went to boarding school together when we were twelve in Switzerland. His mother and my father have a bond. He called me, and you’re damn lucky. When I say that you’d be dead if my dad’s men had found you, I’m not exaggerating. The man who raised me is many things, and one of them is single-minded. When he makes a decision, there’s no going back. And in his mind, you all must die. I’m the only thing keeping you safe. And yet, you want to get away from here. That’s fine. I’m taking you away, but you must not try to escape again, or your lives are worthless. If you let anyone know that you are alive, he will find you. You’re just damn lucky I found you first—and that I was willing to pay . . . Now Holloway will give you more instructions. Be good. And stop trying to get yourselves killed.”
Sam clears his throat. “So that’s it? You expect us to just . . . what? Live as prisoners for the rest of our lives? Just to stay alive? Now that we’re back in society, we’re supposed to forget we have friends? Families? Jobs? Opportunities? You want us to remain captives? You should’ve just left us on the damn island. We were happy.”
“Yes—except my father knew where you were. Trust me, I thought about it. Thought about faking it. Lying. Saying we didn’t find you. But the freelancers he hired—the thugs—would’ve just kept coming back, again and again, looking for a new payday. That wasn’t going away. So no, I couldn’t leave you on the island.
“And now, I hope we can work through this. But you’re going to have to wait until I can take care of my father. I don’t know how long that will take. Could be months. Could be years. Trust me, I have no intention of keeping you forever.”
“Wait,” Sam says.
“Yes, Captain?”
Sam leans forward in his seat. “What if we issue a truce, a compromise?”
“What do you propose?” Z scowls into the camera. “From where I’m sitting, you don’t have much to bargain with.”
“We go along with your planto protect us,” Sam says with disdain. “And you agree to let us go in a week.”
Z turns to the side. Is he looking at someone out of frame? “Two weeks, and I’ll do what I can to get you out of dad’s crosshairs. If I can’t, then my conscience is clean. I won’t like being responsible for your deaths. But that’s up to you.”
I want to scream at the screen,then turn your fucking father in. But that’s not the way his type works.
“Indeed.” Sam turns, looks at each one of us in turn, and we all nod. Even Easton. His jaw is clenched and there’s a feral lookin his eyes, but he’s resolute. “It’s a deal. We give our word to follow Holloway’s directions,” Sam says.
“Good,” Z replies. “Holloway?” Holloway steps closer to the screen. “You and your men have the plans. Stick to the schedule, and everything should be fine.”
There’s a weird pause, like Z and Holloway are trying not to argue. Z’s jaw flexes, and Holloway’s hand twitches at his side. Whatever compromise they reached must’ve been shaky. But we’re here. That means someone gave in. The video call ends.
“You heard the man. Paul, tell the cockpit we’re ready to get out of here,” Holloway announces to the flight attendant in the front galley. “How do you turn these damn things around again?” Holloway’s fiddling with a lever on Calvin’s seat.
It takes a few minutes, but the flight attendant turns the chairs around to facing forward. He moves Haley and me to more comfortable bucket seats.
And then we’re in the air.
Going somewhere.
