Page 43 of Killer Honeymoon

“Half up front, and he’d give us the other half at the end of the vacation,” Jen said.

Chrissy dropped her gaze to the ground. “Mr. Moore said he’d double the money if we were successful in driving Frank from his property.”

“We’re awful people,” Jen said and began to cry.

“The worst,” Chrissy whispered. “I don’t care that Mr. Moore has reneged on our agreement. I just want to apologize to Frank and go home.”

“Me too,” Clint and Jen said.

“Hold up,” Royce said. “How did he renege on the deal?”

“He called Evan this afternoon and said he wasn’t paying us the second half,” Clint said. “He told us to pack our things and catch a ferry off the island before the storm hit.”

“He threatened to file trespassing complaints if we didn’t,” Jen added.

Chrissy puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “We all said we didn’t care, but Evan was furious.”

“Is that where Evan went? To confront Lester Moore?”

The three of them nodded once more.

“When the storm clears,” Royce said, “we’ll deal with Lester Moore. You apologize to Frank and make travel arrangements as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint said.

“And let this be a valuable lesson to you,” Sawyer said.

“And grow the hell up,” Royce added. “You might be young, but you’re old enough to know right from wrong. If not, learn fast. This world doesn’t owe you assholes anything.”

“Yes, sir,” they all said.

The storm raged on for hours. They played more games with the kids and got to know them better. The trio wasn’t too bad once they let their guards down.

It was still dark when they exited the storm cellar.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Sawyer told them.

The kids thanked them again and headed back across the street to get some sleep.

They couldn’t assess the damage to the house or property until daylight, so Royce used a flashlight to fire up the generator, then decided to straighten up the poker mess while Sawyer went across the street to check on Frank. Royce recycled the revealing cellar conversation in his mind, growing angrier with each spin.

He looked up when the front door opened. Sawyer stepped inside with a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Royce asked.

“Frank isn’t home.”

Royce dropped another armload of sticks onto the brush pile, placed his hands on his hips, and stretched his back. It had taken them a while to get to sleep because they’d both been concerned about Frank. Royce eventually convinced them both that staying up all night wringing their hands wouldn’t benefit anyone. Frank wasn’t a babe in the woods; he was a veteran islander who knew how to weather anything. They slept until nearly ten, made breakfast, then headed outside to clean up the detritus left over from the storm. A few smaller trees had come down in the yard, but thankfully none had landed on the cottage, though there were enough downed limbs to build a fort.

He and Sawyer had worked in the yard for a few hours, but Royce could tell Sawyer’s nerves were getting to him. After they finished cutting the fallen trees into logs, he sent Sawyer to check out Frank’s place while he started a brush pile for the branches and chunks of bark scattered all over the yard. Royce was hoping they could enjoy a bonfire before they had to head home. If the power didn’t come back on soon, it might be the only mode of food preparation. The generator was going through the stored gasoline quickly.

Royce caught movement in his periphery and glanced over to see Sawyer striding across the yard. His man hadn’t been gone for very long, and the pensive expression on his face said Frank still wasn’t home.

“No luck?” Royce called out anyway.

Sawyer stopped to pick up a few branches and brought them over to the pile. “Nope, and I’m starting to get worried. I walked around back and noticed Frank hadn’t hooked his generator up. He must’ve gone somewhere before the storm hit and stayed there.”

“If Frank hunkered down someplace else, then he had a good reason.” Royce waggled his brows. “Maybe he has a lady friend.”

Sawyer’s scowl softened slightly. “Perhaps. His generation wouldn’t be the kind to boast about it.”