Page 5 of Wayward

I climb in first, and Calvin and Dante do the same down the line. “Get in the boat, Brit.” Collins shoots the water a few feet from Zane.

There are grunts and yelling but not from us?it’s the other guards. I lean over and give Zane my hand before the asshole does it again. Zane drops the line and grabs my arm around the wrist. I steady him into the tender.

“Fucking hell, Collins,” the older guard says.

“They’re listening now,” Collins sneers.

The older guard throws his gun around his back and picks up Haley’s box and her suitcase. He hands the box to Calvin. “Hold this on your lap.” The suitcase, he momentarily holds out to Dante, but even I can see what a convincing weapon the metal shiny case is. He places it in the front hollow of the tender, near Calvin’s feet. “Collins, stop being an asshole and take the motor.”

Another guard slides in next to me while Collins wades in. The weighted tender with only one rope sways to the side and back with a big wave and knocks Collins on his ass in the surf. It’s hard to not laugh, but I manage it. But Dante’s got a wide smile on his face now.

Collins grasps the side of the tender, and the guard next to me helps him in. He’s drenched from his shoulders down. “You think it’s funny, Chef?” Collins glares at Dante.

And I’m praying Dante keeps?—

“Yes.”

Damn it. Listening devices or not in the cabin, I’m having words with Dante. He’s going to get himself or someone else killed.

“Shut the fuck up, Chef. You too, Collins,” the old guy grumbles. “Move over?I’m going to pilot the damn thing. You’d probably run us aground.”

“Whatever, Durant. I know how to drive the tender.”

“Sure. And Chef, I don’t want to see another smirk out of you or hear a fucking word come out of your mouth.”

Dante nods.

“Bunch of fucking babies,” Durant says and pulls the cord starting the outboard.

I watch the island slip away. The only good thing about the lunatic Collins is it’s made me forget about Haley and Easton being out there on the island?somewhere.

“Toss the rope, deckhand,” Durant says, turning the rudder like a pro.

Zane takes the wet bow line and tosses it to the Rosewood deckhand. We’re marched up the stairs and down the side deck, Durant behind us, another guard in the front.

“Hold up, Durant?I want to have a word with the Chef there,” Collins says behind him. We’re single file. A random guard, Dante, Calvin, Zane, me, and then Durant. The Rosewood’s a beast of a yacht, but the outside deck isn’t meant for passengers. It’s a working strip along the top for deckhands to work the lines.

“Take it up with Z,” Durant says. “Keep moving.”

“No. I want to teach him to have respect,” Collins says.

Metal slaps against the side of the Rosewood. It’s a quick click. But I’m fast enough to press forward into Zane. Durant’s got Collins’ gun in one hand, and his other hand he’s got wrapped around the young guy’s neck. He headbutts him, and it sounds like a hammer hitting metal. And with a shove, Collinsis falling backwards into the ocean. It’s a good twenty-five foot drop to the choppy water below.

The splash thuds upward, and when Collins surfaces, Durant is pointing his own gun at him. “You need to learn manners just as much. Now swim before I fucking shoot you,” Durant says, following him with the barrel of his gun.

“Hey, everything okay down there, Durant?” a voice says from the crow’s nest.

“Good. I’m taking our guests back to their cabin. Have Collins locked up until Holloway gets back.”

“Collins?” the voice asks.

“He’ll be on the swim platform.”

“Fucking kids,” the voice says.

“Damn right.” Durant slings Collins’ gun over his shoulder. “Metal plate in my head from a car accident when I was twenty. Don’t drink and drive.”

“No way, mate,” Zane says.