Page 1 of Wayward (Wrecked #4)

Landing

Easton

T he tender bounces on the breakers, heading toward our beach, and the life jacket around my neck smells of its new plastic buckles.

I glance behind us, back at the yacht. I can’t see Penny anymore.

She lunged to get into the tender with us.

It took a guard and their chief stew, Kennedy, to hold her back.

Penny wanting to get in the tender? Yeah, she can sense something’s wrong the same way we can.

I put my arm around Haley. She smiles. But she’s worried too.

The pirate ship’s gone, something we couldn’t tell from our cabin.

Sunk? Driven off? I don’t know, and we haven’t discussed it.

Dante, Sam, and Calvin have made it clear that we can’t talk in our cabin.

And they’re right. There’s no way Z’s men aren’t watching us or listening to us.

The wind’s howling, and it’s weird, weird to be looking at our beach from this angle.

Weird thinking this is the last time I’ll ever see it.

My eyes flick over to the guard in the front of the boat, then to the ones on the beach.

There’s another tender already tied up to the big rock.

Three other guards stare at us from behind their Ray-Bans.

There was little talking when Calvin came back into the room, Pepper firmly under his arm.

But something happened. There’s something going on with Calvin again.

He did tell us about the guards picking up the other feral cats on the other side of the island.

I didn’t sleep much. I thought about making Calvin go off our guard duty, but I know him well enough now.

He wouldn’t sleep, anyway. He’s even more watchful than I would have expected, and his grunting and scowling is at a hundred percent. Dante’s right there with Calvin.

We bounce onto the beach. Zane hops out. Holloway, Thayer’s chief of security, puts his hand over the gun of the guard next to him. “He’s doing his job. He’s on autopilot, going back to being a deckhand.”

Zane and another of the Rosewood guards tie up the tender. Holloway stands at the edge of the tender like he’s going to help us out. Calvin and Dante ignore the male and step into the surf.

“I’ve got it,” Sam says, and he turns back to help Haley. She takes his hand, and I jump out without saying anything to the thick-necked guard.

“Here,” a guard says, passing out tubs to each of us. “Collect what you want. Two of you up to the camp.”

Haley and Sam go first up the trail to the camp, followed by three guards.

The rest of us sit on the beach, staring at the Rosewood, at least four guards at our backs. My stomach’s clenched. My eyes flick to the jungle where Haley and I hid yesterday, waiting for our chance to take the pirates. That was bad, but somehow this feels worse.

It’s been a long time. Calvin’s leaning into Dante. The wind’s at our backs, and I can barely make out what he’s saying. But there’s no way the guards can hear him with the wind. “Thayer’s dad wants us dead.”

Sam and Haley are back, tears coming down her cheeks.

“Haley,” Dante barks, stepping toward her.

“Wait your turn, chef,” the guard yells, stepping between Dante and Haley.

“It’s okay—I’m okay, Dante. Just sad.” Haley’s guard is holding an extra box. They must have decided that Sam and her aren’t a threat. The guard takes the box he’s holding to the tender and comes back for Sam’s and Haley’s. “Holloway says the rest of you can go together.”

The four of us trudge up the well-worn path to camp. My throat’s dry and tight. I’m not going to cry. But this place changed my life. My eyes flick to the gun on the guard closest to me . . . I’m hoping we can all get out of here alive.

Calvin picks up the table. Zane rights a couple of chairs.

It’s weird. Not only did Mr. Z’s crew clean up the body in the middle of camp, all signs of the rubble that dropped on the pirate are gone.

Other than the table and a chair turned over, there’s not much out of place.

We’ve had worse messes after a heavy storm during the rainy season.

“Try to keep it to a minimum,” Holloway says.

I put my Christmas presents in the bottom of my bin, along with my crew jacket that I find on the ground on the other side of camp.

Other than that, there’s nothing I want here.

But then, I have a feeling there’s something that Mr. Z is going to want.

Though it’s buried at the waterfall. I put my box on the table and glance over at my guard.

He’s staying a respectful five feet behind me. “What does the Z in Mr. Z stand for?”

The guard’s jaw ticks.

“Right.” I nod. I don’t blame him for keeping quiet.

Men like Mr. Z aren’t going to forgive you when you make a mistake.

Zane was the one who noticed what a good job the crew was doing, never having a phone out.

He doesn’t think they carry their personal phones.

I’ve started looking at their back pockets since then, and I think he’s right.

The guards all have guns and radios, the deck crew and stews only radios.

The Rock Candy had a giant screen that would come down for watching movies.

Not that I ever saw it in use, but Zane pointed it out one day.

Nowhere on the Rosewood have I seen so much as a TV.

The radio on my guard’s belt beeps, and the guards around the camp all stand straighter.

“What’s that mean?” I ask, fully expecting to be ignored again.

“Mr. Z’s on the beach.”

A few minutes later, he strolls up through the zigzag blind.

The wire’s long gone. Nothing to be afraid of on the beach now.

Nothing but him. Dante glares at him. I don’t like Thayer, but Dante’s taking it to a new level.

His glare could kill. Hell, if I were Thayer, I wouldn’t eat anything Dante made for me.

He’s here, next to his guard, wearing a crisp white T-shirt, khakis, and deck shoes.

It’s like he’s about to pull into a dockside bar in Miami.

There’s just something about the guy. I feel like I’ve seen him before.

Not in person . . . but like on social media.

But that doesn’t make sense. Men with small army forces don’t plaster their faces all over social platforms.

“Whoa, look at this place. You’ve made yourself a regular Swiss Family Robinson attraction. You could sell this to an amusement park. But I guess that’s already been done?” He laughs.

Haley and Sam are behind him.

“Well, show me around, Hal.” He glances back at Haley.

“This is it. Three platforms, living room, sleeping, and our version of a bathroom. It’s lovely.

” There’s trepidation in her voice, and I fucking hate it.

I’m pretty sure it’s fear, but there’s a chance it’s her insecurity sneaking back.

I get it. We don’t know what is going on with Thayer.

And talking about it as a group isn’t possible because Dante’s right.

He set that room up for us. They’ll be listening.

At least tonight we’ll be able to write notes to each other and get a few private thoughts across.

“That’s all you want to take, Easton?” Mr. Z asks. I hate that we’re addressing this ass who’s my age as Mr. Z and he’s calling me by my first name. It’s getting under my skin. But I’m sure that’s another one of his methods: get us off-guard, especially me.

The thing is, Mr. Z isn’t here out of the goodness of his heart.

No, he wants something. There are three things he could want: The Rock Candy, which doesn’t make sense.

We don’t have it, and anyone who can afford the yacht he has doesn’t need it.

Second is me. But me alive or me dead? That’s the real question.

And the third thing is the Pink Phoenix diamond.

Seeing that Haley told us Thayer didn’t realize Sam floated to the island on the Rock Candy, and the same pirates that took the Rock Candy are the same ones who came to the island, it stands to reason the older Mr. Z.

knew about Sam being here . . . and also knew that the diamond wasn’t on the Rock Candy.

Sure, it’s an expensive diamond. And murders happen every day for a lot less. A lot less.

I look to the beach where the Rosewood’s anchored offshore. There’s something else. Or maybe there isn’t. Maybe it’s all the things put together. Dead or alive―the words echo in my head like a bad western movie―that’s the question.

“Need any help?” I ask Dante. He’s gathered things that people made him, and by people, I mean mostly Calvin and Zane. And honestly, it’s refreshing. I would have thought Dante would have dusted his hands of everything here. But he’s being a lot more sentimental.

“I’m just about wrapping things up.” His box is overflowing.

So is Zane’s and Sam’s. I climb up the ladder, but my guard doesn’t follow. I see why when I get up to the sleeping platform. Calvin, Haley, and two guards are in the room already. And Mr. Z follows behind me.

“Well, isn’t this something? You are all really ingenious.

I would have spent the year huddled on the beach covered in seaweed, but look at the lot of you.

You’ve got your own little cuddle pile going here.

” He walks over to Haley’s suitcase, and I pray it’s locked.

“I can see why you wanted to come back and grab more things. That’s some impressive luggage. ” He turns to me.

“Not mine―Haley’s,” I say.

“A primary gave it to me a few years ago,” Haley answers.

Z raises his eyebrows. “That’s a nice tip.”

Haley shrugs. “She was a nice person.”

“I’ve never been that nice of a person, have I, Hughes?” Mr. Z. asks one of his guards, who doesn’t answer. “No really, Hughes, have I been?”

“You’re a fair boss, and that’s better than nice.”

“A true diplomat,” Mr. Z says.

More like a man who wants to keep his job and his life.

Haley has a large pile. “I suppose I don’t need to take all these things. But some of them don’t belong to me, and I’d like to give them back.”

Z reaches down and picks up one of Emily’s shirts.

My sister’s entire wardrobe, even three years after college, has always been T-shirts and sweatshirts from her college and high school.

Living in a couple of houses in Miami and an apartment in New York City, she just filled her closets with them.

Then when she turned environmentalist, I think she felt bad about the waste and decided to adopt them as her permanent uniform.

Z drops the college shirt and picks up one of Emily’s Pine Green Academy shirts.

“Oh, I think we can find room for your friend’s things.

” He smiles at Haley but doesn’t put the shirt down.

Instead, he carefully folds it and rolls it up.

Just the way Emily always does. I’m staring at him―Z.

It’s just a quintessential motion. A lot of people must fold their T-shirts and then roll them.

“Let’s get Ms. Brewster a third box.” He motions for his guard, who radios to the tender.

I want to ask him if he knows anything about my sister and dad, but I don’t want to give him that power over me. “Anything else here?” Z asks.

“Just this pile,” Haley says. She folds her arms over her chest and turns to look around the room. I don’t think she’s going to cry again, but I might. Fuck. From day one, I thought we would be rescued. Not that I think Z is rescuing us. But this place―yeah, I could just stay.

Calvin’s hovering close to Haley. And I see the way the guards are watching us all.

It might be my imagination, but it feels like they’re all trying to figure out who’s with her.

I pick up her suitcase and attach it to the rope, lowering it to the ground.

Zane unlatches it. I could have carried it, but it was fun to use the pulley one more time.

“Right, well, I’ll see you all back on board for dinner.

You’ll need to make sure your pockets are emptied.

You’ll be checked for weapons and any contraband.

Cell phones, knives, paper―everything in the box, please.

I’ll have the stews wash your clothes and deliver them to your cabin.

” He takes a few steps. “Mr. Rockwell, would you join me on the beach?”

My heart slams into my chest. This is fucking it. Haley grabs my hand and squeezes it.

“Alone,” Z says bluntly.

“Anything you want to say, you can say in front of them.” I motion to . . . to my friends―my family.

“Alone, just you and me. And Holloway standing off in the distance.”

My guard furrows his eyebrows and pushes me with the motion of his eyes.

“That’s not exactly alone.” I let Haley’s hand drop and follow Z.

“It is to me.”

I follow him silently out to the beach, where he waves off everyone but his chief and me.

“Ingenious,” Z says, sitting on the big rock. He points to the fish weir.

“It fed us most days.”