Page 16 of Wayward

And I want to smack Thayer. Dante grabs my wrist like he can read my mind. “Sassy,” he whispers.

“And a damn good one. But my hobby is solving cryptograms and puzzles. I can get you the information you need. I know things already that no one but the older Rockwell knows.”

My eyes flick over the guys. Sam leans in hopefully. Calvin and Dante are stone-faced, probably planning how to kill everyone. And Easton? Easton’s doing his best to conceal his anger and confusion.

“Get me the book,” Thayer says to Holloway.

“Yes, sir.” Holloway picks up the radio.

“No, you get me the book,” Thayer barks. “No one but you goes into the room.”

The room. What room?

Now I want to go into the room.

“Do you want a second guard?” Holloway lingers in the doorway between the grand salon and the back deck.

“No.” Thayer waves him off and stares at us. The six of us and one guard. Calvin taught me a lot. All of us, really. I’m waiting for him to give a signal. I’m not the only one. Sam and Dante are watching him too.

Calvin’s jaw twitches. “You can relax, Z. You’re in charge. You and your firepower can rule the world, or at least this corner of the South Pacific.”

“You’re really something, Green. You would have made one hell of a CEO.”

“I make one hell of an engineer. But again, you didn’t bring us on board out of charity. You want something.”

“Green,” Sam growls.

“Shut the fuck up, Green,” Dante adds.

Thayer’s hazel eyes sparkle in the afternoon light. Calvin’s right. There’s something there. Thayer’s rich and arrogant, but he’s also wounded. And maybe not all that bad? No . . . no, he’s all that bad. He was about to kill us. Have us lined up and shot off the end of the boat. Because he doesn’t have women on his boat for his dad to sexually assault, and he doesn’t like killing women employees, but he’s still willing to kill the men who work for him. Ones that don’t do what he wants them to. And Calvin’s pushing him.

I’ve spent a year thinking that Calvin could fix anything. That he’d save us from ourselves and starvation. He did, though. The fish weir provided for us. But he’s a man too. Not a god. Not infallible.

“Please,” I say. The word has power with my guys. So much so that I try not to use it. I don’t want to beg Thayer. Not for my life. But for the guys? Yes, I’ll beg as much as I have to.

“What will you do for me, Hal? With your please?”

There’s an echo of noes behind me.

Boisterous laughter rolls from Z. The tension’s cut, so much so that the guard behind him squints in confusion. And I have to agree. “You and your family, Hal. It’s beyond interesting. I would never have thought of something like this . . . that something like this could work. You know . . . Fuck. Take them back to their room. All of them but the bosun and Hal, here. I’m going to have a fireside chat with them,” Z throws over his shoulder to the guard as he walks away. The lounge doors open, and two other guards walk out as Z walks in. So much for being able to overpower the remaining guard and take down our host. I glance at Dante, and he smiles.

“You’re developing a violent streak, Sassy?”

“When in Rome . . .”

“I love Rome. Have you spent much time there?” Dante moves as a guard points at the stairs with his gun.

I’m nowhere near as good at pretending I’m not scared to the point of passing out as Dante is. My heart is still slamming out a questioning beat. Like it’s asking me what the hell is going on. Honestly, I have no idea. “No, Dante, I haven’t spent much time in Rome. It’s on my list. I’ve been to Portofino, Sardinia, and Genoa.”

“Ah, don’t get me started on pesto alla genovese. So good. I’ll make it for you. You have to try it?it’s this silky, vibrant green sauce made from the freshest basil, garlic, pine nuts, Parmesan, and olive oil, and it tastes like the heart of Liguria in every bite.”

“Fuck, I want that,” the guard standing next to me says.

Dante and I both glare at him, and Dante’s smile turns to a smirk. I hope the guard doesn’t see it for what I do: Dante’spushing in. A crack to manipulate. “You’d love it. I’m not sure if I made it for the Russian, but you should ask Harris about my lasagna. Homemade pasta and homemade ricotta make it out of this world.”

“Rosewood chef uses canned sauce for us.”

“That’s not right.”