Page 94 of The Oscar Escape
The judge raised his gavel above his head like a medieval warlord. “And tonight, that sacrifice will be made by the newlyweds, Aria and Oscar.”
Chapter17
OSCAR
Sacrifice the newlyweds?
Were he and Aria on the chopping block—for real?
Oscar plastered a wide grin on his face. Hoping he didn’t appear homicidal, he surveyed the packed room. “Yeah, about that sacrifice, Aria and I need a second to have a quick chat—about newlywed stuff. You know how it goes.” He wrapped his arm around his fake wife’s shoulders and guided her a few feet away toward the wall of windows. He flashed his plastic smile over his shoulder at the residents, then met his fake wife’s gaze. “Did he say sacrifice? Like toss-people-into-an-angry-volcano sacrifice?”
Aria threw a nervous glance toward the islanders. “I had a feeling this place was a cult. And you had to go and call me your wife.”
His jaw nearly hit the floor. “This is my fault?”
She stared at him.
Shit!She had him there.
“Yeah, this is my fault.” He checked on the islanders. He didn’t see any pitchforks or tiki torches. That had to be a good sign. Still, they were mightily outnumbered. “We could make a run for it. Take Del’s boat and hightail it to the mainland.”
Aria twisted the cuff of her sweater. “I don’t think it’s safe to take a boat out in the dark. We don’t know these waters. Let’s stick to land. We could run to the nature preserve and hide in the bushes.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “This island is tiny. They’d find us, eventually.”
“You and that gavel,” Georgia thundered, shaking her head as she relieved her husband of the courtroom tool. “Aria, Oscar, don’t worry. Nobody’s being sacrificed.”
“But it sounded wicked imposing when the judge said it, don’t you think, Clawdia Junior?” Del remarked, conferring with the crustacean.
They’d have to keep an eye on that guy.
“You should see your faces,” the judge said with a jowly smirk.
Georgia gestured to the islanders. “We want to share something with you. It’s not so much a sacrifice, but a tradition—something that connects us to our island’s history. It’s a ritual we haven’t been able to practice for many years.”
Oh damn, Georgia had seemed so levelheaded until she dropped the word—
“Ritual?” Aria eked out, filling in the blank.
“Yeah, about that,” Oscar said, tightening his hold on her. “Ritual and sacrifice sound pretty similar.”
“How about this?” Georgia mused. “You both will live through what’s about to happen.”
“Nope, try again,” Aria replied, her voice rising an anxious octave as she pressed her back against the window.
There was no escape at The Sweet Escape Inn.
“Go on ahead, everyone. We’ll meet you on the beach,” Etta said to the group. The woman patted the top of a circular table. “Let’s have a chat,” she continued, then eyed her husband. “And Del, put that poor lobster back in her tank.”
“But she likes being with everyone.”
“Delmar Alden,” Etta chided with a terse bend to the syllables.
“All right, all right,” the man conceded. “Let’s get you back in the water, you pretty little thing.”
“We’re just talking?” Oscar asked, still not ready to let go of Aria or stop brainstorming getaway plans. It was good he had her beside him. She might be their salvation. She’d already busted a window on the island. She could throw something through one of the inn’s panes of glass to create a jagged—and most likely perilous—escape route, but an escape, nevertheless.
“How much do you know about Havenmatch Island’s history?” the judge asked, settling into a chair. “You spent some time inside the lighthouse museum. Were you able to learn about the island’s founders?”
