Page 13 of Wayward (Wrecked #4)

First Light

Zane

E aston, Haley, and I are huddled together in bed. There’s a pink line of light on the horizon and dots of light in the far distance. A knock shakes the door, and it bounces open.

“Green, Morris, both of you come with us.” Holloway’s growl rattles through the room.

“Where are you taking them?” Haley shakes her head.

I kiss her cheek and hold on to her. “I’ll be back,” I say, not knowing if it’s true. I only let go of her so Calvin can give her a hug.

“Let’s go,” Holloway barks. “Move it. Now.” The man’s done with this, and us. His hand rests on his gun. It’s casually threatening.

“Happy to oblige.” I dip my head to him.

“Just move, man.” Holloway gestures with his left hand.

I step out into the corridor. Calvin’s behind me, and our cabin door closes with a thud. A lump rises up my throat. My eyes lock with Calvin’s, and I mentally push at him: Be Helpful . But what I want to say is ...is fuck this. Going along with what Z and the Rosewood crew say was Calvin’s idea.

Calvin’s chest expands, and the most uncomfortable smile appears on his lips. “Where are we going, Holloway?”

“You’re going to clean up cat shit, Green. After I drop Morris in the galley to wait for Mr. Z.”

I’m going to decipher the book with Haley not around again today. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Holloway winds us through the crew stairwells ― where we don’t come across anyone else.

It’s barely light. But that doesn’t mean anything on a ship.

Where is the Rosewood crew? There’s always something to be done.

My eyes flick over to Calvin. But the plan isn’t to try and take over the boat.

At least not yet. And certainly not with Holloway.

I have a really strong feeling if I even flinched at Holloway, I’d be shark food.

He yanks the galley door open. Sam’s sitting on the other side of the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand like we’re not prisoners on a madman’s yacht.

“Sam.” Calvin lifts his chin at Sam, waiting in the doorway.

I jump when Dante steps out from the pantry, an apron over his borrowed Rosewood pajamas.

“What’s going on here?” I raise my eyebrows at Dante.

“Well, they had an unexpected opening on the staff.” Dante rounds the counter to a pantry on the opposite side of the cooking space. What would normally be the steward’s pantry. He takes two coffee cups from the cabinet and pours coffee in both. He holds the first one out in front of Holloway.

“I’m good.” The guard waves him off.

“The water filter hadn’t been cleaned since the Rosewood hit the water. You might want to change your mind.” Dante continues holding the mug out.

Holloway takes it. And fuck me. It’s a good thing we’re all on the same page of waiting because this would be a good time to try and take out the lead muscle of the ship. Four of us, one of him. But instead, I watch the head of Rosewood security sip the coffee. His eyebrows shoot up.

“See, I told you. Paying attention to what you’re doing makes a difference.” Dante moves around the counter to the center of the galley like it’s always been his domain.

“And where did you go?” Calvin asks Sam.

“ Rosewood captain, Haakon Lindholm, wanted to see me about his charts and where we went dead in the water with the Rock Candy .” Sam says it so monotone that it takes me a minute to register what he really said.

My heart thuds in my chest. Because Haakon Lindholm sounds a hell of a lot like Hawk Lindholm, the deckhand who spent the last few seasons with us on the Mermaid’s Tale , Rocky’s old boat.

I’m watching Sam carefully, but then so is Holloway.

“Were you able to help Captain Lynholmes?” Calvin mispronounces Lindholm the same way Hawk always hated it.

“I told him what I know. Which isn’t much.”

Fuck me, I’m jumping inside ― the captain of the Rosewood is the father of one of the most decent guys I’ve ever worked with.

In fact, the only reason he left this season was he was ready to be bosun.

And with me and Anders in his way, there wouldn’t be anywhere for him to move up to for the long haul.

Damn. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if Hawk was on board with us.

I study Calvin, but I can’t tell if he’s thinking the same thing.

Maybe he is. Dante, however, hasn’t a clue, and it’s going to have to stay that way.

If Hawk’s dad is going to help us, there’s no way anyone can know he has a tie to us.

But fuck, if he can at least get Haley to safety?

Though he didn’t step in yesterday. So how far is the Norwegian captain really willing to go to help some friends of his son?

And honestly, he probably doesn’t even know about any of us, only that his son was a sailor under Sam.

Sam and Hawk weren’t close. It was two years of sailing with Hawk before I even knew his dad was a sailor too.

Though I guess I know why he kept it to his chest now.

There’s no reason to go bragging about your dad if he’s working for a criminal.

Hell, I don’t even know where Hawk’s working this season .

. . I swallow hard. They have my phone. And it’s a damn good thing it’s locked.

Because there’s two years' worth of photos of me, Sam, Anders, Calvin, and Hawk all over the bloody Med and Caribbean.

But then, I doubt Mr. Z’s versed in his crew’s families. And I don’t plan to find out. I’m only hoping that Hawk’s dad is willing to do something to help us get the hell out of here.

Dante hands the other cup to Calvin before pouring a third and handing it to me.

It’s the first cup I’ve had in months. Since we had our last pot over the holidays.

When I thought it would be the last cup I’d ever have.

Honestly, I didn’t think we’d ever get off the island.

And I certainly didn’t think we’d be sipping coffee in a galley wondering when and how we’ll escape.

More than once, I pictured being found by a cargo ship or a fisherman.

Leaving the island surrounded by stinking fish.

“There’s lights out there.” I nod to the small port window above the counter.

“Yes, we’re coming up on Kaohsiung, Taiwan for fuel,” Sam says.

“Captain Lindholm told you that?” Holloway puts his empty cup down on the counter.

“No, we were looking at charts so he could fill in the log about the Rock Candy , and I figured out where we were.” Sam puts his coffee down and turns to Holloway. It’s a quick interaction but one that’s sincere, and it must be enough for Holloway.

“Leave your mug. Time to work, Green. Stay here, Morris. I’ll be back in a minute to gather you.” Holloway points for Calvin to leave through the stew pantry.

Calvin waves and ducks to get out of the galley. It was easy to forget how big he was on the island. But it’s not now. Holloway is big. Calvin’s massive.

I raise my eyebrows at Dante and Sam. But Dante’s not looking; he’s chopping onions with the smallest knife I’ve ever seen. I guess they’re not fully ready to trust us yet.

“How’s that knife working for you, mate?” I ask.

Dante puts the blade on the cutting board and gives me a middle finger but then turns his hand to the side and shows me a blister the size of a two-pound coin.

“Fuck.”

“No thank you.” Dante picks the knife up and keeps chopping. “It’s going to take all day to finish this, no time for fucking.”

“Let me take a go.” I move around the counter to wash my hands ― and yes, I’m still taken aback by running water and soap.

Dante hands me the hilt of the knife. And I wish there was some way of telling him about Hawk.

“Yachting’s a small world,” I say and nod my head at Sam. There’s no guard with us right now. In the galley, the cameras aren’t hidden. There’s not one but three green lights glaring at us from different parts of the kitchen.

Sam clears his throat. “I should have offered before. Let me have a turn.” He takes his coffee cup to the sink and washes his hands.

And he’s right. There’s no way of telling Dante.

Not now. Not without endangering anything Hawk’s dad might be willing to do for us.

Sam’s looking out the porthole while I’m trying not to cry from the onions.

It’s only a few minutes before Holloway is back. “Let’s go, Morris.”

“You want another cup?” Dante asks the guard.

“Yeah, sure.” He takes the seat Sam vacated.

I glance over my shoulder. Sam’s peeling carrots in the sink. Oi. I bet we could do some damage with a peeler and the world’s smallest paring knife. I raise my eyebrows at Dante, but he’s not picking it up. And that’s not the plan, anyway. I guess living with Calvin for a year has really ruined me.

Holloway drains the bottom of his cup. “Let’s go, genius. You’re too smart to be a peeler goblin.”

Dante lets a laugh burst out. “You’re not so bad, Holloway.”

Holloway’s face drops. “Move, Morris.”

I nod at him. But I’d rather slice onions for ten hours than translate Rocky’s journal. Especially while making it take long enough that we have a chance of getting off this yacht in one piece.

“I’ll be back for you.” Holloway points at Sam.

“Don’t take both of my peeler goblins,” Dante says.

Holloway stops. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Though I’d rather have a goblinette helping me out.”

“Yeah, Z has a strict policy about that. You can have the old guy for a few more minutes.”

“Old guy,” Sam mumbles as we leave the galley.

“This way.” Holloway turns me away from the grand salon I was in yesterday and back to the windowless conference room. The journal’s on the table along with my notes from before. “Z will be in. Make progress.” And he closes the door with a click.

“Right.” Make progress. But not too much.

I flip through the journal. That’s the problem.

The second time you do a puzzle, it comes a lot faster.

I could read him the whole thing right now if I wanted to.

Like the Swiss bank routing and account numbers where all the money Rocky syphoned off went.

Along with when Rocky figured out that Harding was laundering money for Ed.

But there’s something else, something that doesn’t make sense.

And I want to talk to Easton about it first. But not now, not when Z or anyone else can hear it.