Page 107 of Everything That Kills Me
It was hard to know how much to push, how much to wait for. Maybe this could be done tonight and he could be on his way back to Zeph within a few hours. He made the assessment that the Saudi wanted someone young and innocent, rather than a guy who’d been paid to be with him. He could be wrong, but he leaned in. “I didn’t like being told you’d make this worth my while.”
Al-Shuaibi scowled. “Yusuf said that?”
Ah, not Al-Shuaibi’s instruction, then.“I don’t want him to get into trouble. Please don’t say anything. He’s just doing his job looking after you. But I have no need of money.”
The guy laughed.
Jack shrugged. “My father’s rich. I have a trust fund. I could gamble and make a living at it. I get…bored sometimes. Even with winning. You’re different.”
Al-Shuaibi stared at him. “So are you.”
Jack leaned in again. “Like to fuck me or want me to fuck you? Either’s fine. Though I’d like to fuck you.”
It was a risk, but judging from the way the guy’s eyes widened, it had paid off.
“You want to come on the yacht for the day tomorrow? We could go out to sea.”
No.That was too long in this fucker’s company and too far out to sea was a problem.
“I can’t tomorrow. My father and stepmother are flying in. My father expects me to be waiting at the airport.” He rubbed his forehead. “You think you could get me some water?”
He made his hands shake.
“Are you all right?” Al-Shuaibi asked.
Jack groaned. “Yes, but how freaked out are you by medical stuff?”
The Saudi furrowed his brow.
Jack pulled his backpack onto his lap and within a second, Yusuf was in his face, grabbing it from him.
“I need to test my blood sugar,” Jack said to Al-Shuaibi. “I’m diabetic. My kit’s in my bag.”
Al-Shuaibi took the backpack from Yusuf and pushed it towards Jack. The test was easy to fake. Jack had it all set up. The indicator to show he had low blood sugar, then a syringe of water to inject into his stomach. Jack wanted them to see the kit, for them to think there was no danger because he didn’t want to be on that yacht with no drug and no gun. The other thing he did was swallow Viagra with the water they’d brought him. He put everything away and leaned back.
“You okay?” Al-Shuaibi asked.
“Yes. Sorry. Too much lemonade. It’s type one diabetes, newly diagnosed, and I’m still adjusting to what I can drink and eat. It pisses me off. I should have checked before I drank. I’ll befine now. We haven’t even introduced ourselves, have we? I’m Sebastian Green.”
“Saad Al-Shuaibi. Sure you’re okay?”
Jack nodded.
“Would you like to see my yacht?”
“I would love to see your yacht.” Jack grinned.
Al-Shuaibi asked him more about the diabetes on the way back to the marina. Jack was well versed on what to say.
“When I get hungry and shaky, or develop a headache, it’s a sign I need to check my blood sugar. I’ll adjust. If I don’t, I’ll develop worse health problems. I wasn’t planning on dying young.”
“That would be a shame.” The Saudi had his hand on Jack’s thigh and was massaging gently.
Fortunately, the marina wasn’t far and Jack followed Al-Shuaibi and Yusuf down the pontoon to the superyacht. The other guy brought up the rear. It was impossible not to be impressed. Jack had no problem admiring the craft and gathered information as he asked questions.
“How many people does it take to crew something this size?”
“As many as fourteen, but I only need seven. There are eight cabins, space for sixteen guests. A media room, a pool—as you can see—a gym, lots of toys: water skis, wakeboards, kayaks, inflatables. Three tenders.”
