Page 7

SEVEN

KENJI

I was shaking so hard my teeth were rattling. One of the older men I recognized from the retreat was pale and sweating. His poor wife seemed justifiably concerned for him, but she was obviously too scared to draw attention by asking for help again. The first time she’d tried it, the closest gunman had gotten in her face and barked at her in Spanish while pointing the muzzle of the gun at the husband’s forehead. The woman had quickly clamped her mouth and eyes closed, leaving fat tears falling, accompanied only by the sounds of her jagged breathing.

There were half a dozen armed men in the room, but they didn’t appear to be under any kind of organized command. Several of them were in street clothes, and others were in quasi-military garb. It was unclear who exactly they were or what their plans for us were.

“You’re bleeding,” Lindsey whispered from beside me.

The lively influencer I’d met on the airport transfer van two weeks ago looked shaken and hollow-eyed now, barely recognizable.

I felt the heat of her stare on the side of my face, where the blood was still warm and sticky at the edge of my hairline.

“It’s fine,” I said as softly as possible, keeping my eye on the nearest gunman. My head throbbed from where it had hit the corner of a decorative statue when one of the gunmen had shoved me into the resort’s open-air restaurant. Now, we were all lined up side by side against the long interior wall while the gorgeous summer day and pristine turquoise water outside mocked us.

Here against the wall, there was no breeze to mitigate the oppressive humidity, and I was already covered in sweat and sand. Thankfully, I’d had an elastic band around my wrist when I was pulled from my room, so I was able to get the hair off my neck, at least.

“How long can they possibly keep us?” she asked.

I refused to answer such a ridiculous question. How the hell should I know? It wasn’t like I’d ever been held at gunpoint by an angry mob before. Besides, we wouldn’t have to worry about being released if they killed us first for talking.

“I wish I had my phone,” she whined softly, not for the first time.

I didn’t dare mention I had mine in the pocket of my running tights alongside my passport and a credit card. I’d quickly yanked off the long-sleeve half-zip I’d gone running in and tied it around my waist to hide the phone-shaped bulge on the outside of my thigh.

There was a sudden commotion in the doorway to the restaurant as they brought two more guests in and shoved them toward the group with a shout.

One of them was Jamie.

My heart rate picked up. When he hadn’t been in the group of resort guests, I’d worried something had happened to him, so I was relieved to see him alive and well.

Thankfully, he noticed me, and I made a quick “come here” gesture with my hand. Jamie moved toward me quickly and took a spot on my other side.

“Thank god you’re alright,” he whispered, nudging my shoulder with his.

“Same.” I lowered my voice further and took the opportunity to say more while the guards were talking amongst themselves. “Your dad’s working on a plan to get you out.”

“My…” His eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

Before I could answer, a woman’s sobs filled the air—the same woman from before with the sick husband. The entire room held our collective breath to see what the gunmen would do to her.

One of the gunmen stepped aggressively in her direction. “ ?Cállate! ”

She nodded frantically and turned to bury her face in her husband’s shoulder. Thankfully, the husband didn’t look any worse. While the man didn’t look great, he wasn’t clutching at his chest or arms, so I hoped he wasn’t as ill as he looked. I silently urged the crying woman to settle down so they didn’t get hurt.

Lindsey muttered under her breath, “How’s she supposed to be quiet when her husband’s probably dying of a heart attack?”

Over the next two hours, they brought in the rest of the guests to the restaurant. During that time, three different men had tried to be a hero and had gotten shoved, punched, or pistol-whipped for their efforts.

Part of me wished I was that kind of guy—the brave hero type—but the other part of me wasn’t stupid enough to put myself in the crosshairs. And I wasn’t cocky enough to think my efforts would have any impact on half a dozen armed and angry men.

“You okay?” Jamie asked softly a couple of hours later. The guards had stepped far enough away that the whispering didn’t seem to be a problem.

“No,” I admitted.

He moved a little closer and leaned his shoulder into mine. “How do you know about my father’s plans?”

I looked down at my clasped hands, wishing one of them was held safely in Landry’s larger ones. “Stupid boy told me.”

Jamie met my eyes. “Not so stupid, then?”

I shook my head and tried not to cry.

He was right. Landry, the man I’d told myself for three years was “unreliable,” was the one working to save me from this nightmare… and I knew without a shred of doubt that he’d salt the earth to get me to safety.

Over the next several hours, I thought back to all the times Landry had tried to turn our enemies-with-benefits situationship into more . There’d been the conversation at Christmas—the first time he’d actually asked me in so many words—but there had been a dozen smaller attempts before that. Invitations to dinner, to long weekends away, to be his date at various galas. Each time, I’d turned him down with an eye roll, and each time—until Christmas—he’d grinned and laughed like it was all a joke, cementing my belief that I couldn’t take him seriously.

But if he wasn’t trustworthy or responsible, why was I suddenly so sure I could count on him? Why had I been fighting so hard to keep our relationship as shallow as possible?

Because the truth was my feelings toward Landry weren’t meek or mild. They were fraught and passionate. Deeper and more possessive than I wanted to admit, even to myself. Love and hate were two sides of the same coin, and I suddenly felt like the coin had been tossed high in the air.

Fuck.

What did it say about my real feelings if Landry was the one person I wanted to see, when my moments left on Earth might be limited? That the memory of being in his arms was the happy place I wanted to escape to?

I’d spent years fighting my attraction to Landry, afraid he’d let me down if I dared give him my heart. Now, I wondered if life was too short to be so cautious and if I’d been wasting time.

Maybe I needed to give Landry a chance. Allow myself to trust him. Maybe he’d grown up and was ready to take things more seriously.

He was great with Lellie, and he’d proven himself a steadfast friend to the Brotherhood in recent years, especially Zane. He was protective of him and seemed to always be there for him.

Could I let him do the same for me?

Lindsey shifted next to me and whispered, “If I can find a way to get out of here, is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

I blinked at her. “What?”

She firmed her jaw. “Next time they take us to the bathroom, I’m going to find a way to sneak out. I’m just saying, I can call someone for you.”

“How… generous,” I murmured.

I used to think Landry was the kind of guy who would take off and leave his friends behind, but hearing Lindsey’s plans to do it made me realize Landry would never leave a friend behind like that. If anything, he was too generous, buying drinks for the whole bar, contributing anonymously to every charity that contacted him, and starting an education fund for Lellie even though her own father was a billionaire.

I’d always interpreted those things as signs he was careless with his money, but in reality, they were signs of selflessness and affection.

The night was a long one. Thankfully, we were allowed a trip to the bathroom every few hours in small groups, and they let us stretch out and lie down, in case anyone could possibly sleep in this situation.

My head throbbed from where I’d hit it earlier, and my thoughts raced with a lifetime’s worth of regrets.

Sometime in the middle of the night, when several people were sleeping and the restaurant space was nearly silent, three of the gunmen got into a rapid-fire argument that escalated in volume enough to wake everyone up. They shoved and threatened each other with their weapons until the noise brought in another gunman from outside. As soon as that man entered and shouted at them, one of the fighting men turned his weapon and shot.

The noise made everyone jump. Screams rang out. The man who’d entered the restaurant was on the ground, writhing in pain, clutching his side. Blood began puddling under him.

The other gunmen shouted at each other even more, presumably blaming each other. When they finally decided to help their friend, two of them dragged the man out of the restaurant, leaving a giant smear of blood on the tile floor. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried not to think about the escalating tension. None of the men holding us seemed calm or rational. They were angry and uncoordinated, which made the situation even more dangerous.

“You okay?” Jamie asked again.

“No,” I said as emphatically as I could without making noise.

“I’m scared,” Lindsey whimpered from my other side. “What are we going to do? We need to get the fuck out of here. If only I had a phone, I could livestream this shit and get us some news coverage.”

“Assuming they don’t still have the communications locked down,” Jamie said.

“I managed to get a call out earlier,” I admitted. “For about two seconds. News outlets already have the story. But even if someone sent a rescue crew, it would take time to get here.”

In the end, I was right.

Late the second night, when half the room was asleep again and my stomach was grumbling after only being given some bread and an apple all day, the room suddenly exploded in blinding light and deafening noise.

I was yanked off my feet and thrown over someone’s shoulder before my brain came back online. I was too terrified to protest or ask questions, wondering if I was being taken to my death or to safety.

It wasn’t until I was placed in a small inflatable boat that I realized the people taking me were speaking English. They were also wearing clean, black tactical gear and speaking into advanced comms equipment.

My eyes were fucked, and my head rang like a bell.

“What’s happening?” I asked stupidly.

“Name?”

I nodded and swallowed. “Kenji Toma.”

He turned to someone else. “And you?”

“James Winthrop.”

I turned to see Jamie huddled on the opposite side of the boat. It seemed as though we were the only ones who’d been taken.

The man in charge snapped orders into his comms, and within seconds, we were speeding away from the beach. Water sprayed over the edges of the boat, making me just wet enough to start shaking from the cold. The night air had been plenty warm in the protected area of the restaurant, but it was freezing as we raced over the water at top speed.

There were four men in the rescue group, and they all seemed busy with various jobs. I didn’t dare interrupt them to ask questions.

Jamie wasn’t so hesitant. “Where are you taking us?” He had to shout over the sound of the outboard motors and the wind.

One of the men glanced over at Jamie. “Manta, Ecuador. There’s a plane waiting to take you home.”

Jamie nodded as if all of these arrangements were standard fare instead of miraculous and amazing. “How long will it take to get to Manta?”

“One hour to the ship. We’ll load into a helicopter. After that, should be two hours to Manta.”

“Th-thank you,” I said, still speaking in a low voice out of habit.

The man glanced at me and noticed I was shaking. “I have an emergency blanket in my kit.” He found the packet and opened it, fighting the wind to get the thing wrapped around my shoulders. As soon as I pulled it close, I closed my eyes in relief. It wasn’t necessarily cozy, but it made a huge difference.

I tried to zone out and calm down now that we were relatively safe, but I couldn’t help wondering what would happen to the other resort guests.

“Do you know if they’re going to let the rest of the hostages go?” I asked. “Are they asking for ransom or are they trying to get the toxin safety rules back in place? What do they want, exactly?”

The man shot me an apologetic look. “Not sure. We’ve been head-down planning this op. The bigger-picture stuff is above my pay grade.”

I nodded. Selfishly, I was glad to be out of San Cordova, but the guilt was eating at me. It wasn’t fair that money had saved me and had left many others behind.

For the remainder of the wet ride, I tried to meditate and manifest a safe outcome for everyone we’d left behind. While it might not make a damned bit of difference to the situation, it would at least keep me from spiraling into a panic attack.

After we met up with a larger military-type ship, I tried calling Landry to let him know I was safe, but my phone was completely out of charge.

We moved onto the ship and waited while the rescue team dismantled and deflated the boat before transferring to a very large helicopter on the top deck of the ship. Within half an hour, we were airborne.

The rescue crew handed us each a paper bag with food and a bottle of water in it. I devoured the sandwich, cheese and crackers, banana, and cookies before washing it all down with the water.

I was exhausted from not sleeping for the past two days, but there was no way I could fall asleep in the current conditions. As a result, by the time we landed on the helicopter pad in Manta, I felt like the walking dead. My clothes were rough from dried sea spray, my hair was a tangled mess, and I probably had an entire luggage set under my eyes.

When we stepped off the helicopter, a handful of official-looking people were waiting for us on the tarmac, but I paid no attention. All I wanted was to get to a hotel to shower, sleep, and, most importantly, talk to Landry before finding a way back to the States. I knew if I could just hear his voice, something inside me would settle.

Long blond hair blowing in the wind caught my eye, and I took a closer look at the assembled people.

I blinked. Was I tired enough to hallucinate Landry?

I squinted into the morning sun. He was wearing familiar designer jeans and a Zee Barlo concert tee, faded to a soft black from the wash. My eyes filled as I let out a little whimper.

And then I started running.