Page 62 of Wayward

I nod. Sam’s got his captain’s take-charge voice on, and I have to squeeze my legs together. I hope he doesn’t notice.

“You like it bossy, don’t you, Little Bird,” Zane says and kisses my cheek.

“We’re taking everything. Because the front desk has probably already figured out our little trick.” Dante puts on the backpack. It’s a lot fuller now. “I have your spare black clothes, Sassy.”

I nod. But I hope I never have to put them back on. Even though this dress is hideous, especially with the dark tennis shoes, it’s better than the ill-fitting cargo pants. I look around the room. “I’m tempted to leave a tip but . . .”

“I’ll send one after we’re safe.” Easton hugs my shoulders.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Calvin and Dante slip out the front door.

I glance up at Sam. “We have a meeting spot in case . . . ?”

“Yes. And I’ve got a map of the city. It’s one of those tourist things. You want to hold it?” He hands me the map. There are several routes laid out and three starred spots. “Anan’s, the police station if things go sideways, and a women’s shelter if everything goes to complete shit.”

“I’d put it in my bra, but that’s where I’m keeping the cash. And this lovely thing doesn’t have any pockets.” I do a little twirl.

“You make anything look good, Sugar.” Sam takes my hand. “Ready?”

“We’re ten minutes behind you,” Zane says. “Love you. Be safe.” He pulls the door shut behind us.

My heart is thudding.

“It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s a nice day and the clouds are keeping the temperature down.” Sam smiles.

It’s at least eighty degrees and humid. But I agree with Sam, no point in making it worse.

There are people walking around the villas. I’m keeping my head down or looking at Sam every time we pass a group of people going to the beach or pool. They’re made up from head to toe, designer hats to top of the line sandals and wraps. I’ve got on this odd dress, black athletic shoes with a wrapped ankle.

Several older women with British accents slow as they pass us. “Good afternoon. Taking your daughter out to lunch?” one says as they pass.

“Afternoon,” Sam says in a low voice.

I’m about to jump in and say something to them when Sam grabs my elbow.

“You don’t look that old,” I say, because he doesn’t. The woman must need glasses.

“No, but your dress is more of a romper for a pre-teen.”

“I suppose it is.” I hold his gaze as we make our way past another villa. Another group passes us and slows.

“Haley?” a woman’s voice says behind me.

My heart stops, then races. I glance over at Sam. I’ve already slowed, but we haven’t stopped.

A hand touches my shoulder. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Haley?”

I can’t breathe. I turn slowly, because running will make the whole thing worse. “I’m afraid you have . . .” It’s Stella.

“You’re Haley, right?”

“Stella, I’ll see you at the beach.” Her friend’s eyes flick over me and linger a little too long on Sam before she pivots back in the direction she and Stella were going.

“You were chief stew on the yacht my father rented for my graduation from grad school. Come on, it’s you. I saw that you were lost at sea. I was so worried. I’m so glad you’re okay. I hadn’t heard that you were found. The damn news can be so fickle. They only like to report bad stuff.”

I take Sam’s hand. This isn’t flying under the radar. And down the path, I can see that Zane and Easton have stopped near a bench.

“Stella! Congratulations.” I give her a hug while holding down the back side of the dress. “So, honestly . . .” I flick my eyes to Sam. He inclines his head. He’s letting me make the call. “Right, honestly, we just made our way back to land. No one knows yet.”