“Wow,” Gail whispered. “That’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”
High at the bow and low at the stern, this vessel was capable of carrying significant cargo. “Me too,” Jonathan agreed. “That thing is designed to float more than just troops.”
“Like what, do you think?”
“Let’s think about that. How many commodities are worth the expense of transporting a small army?”
“Drugs?” Gail guessed.
“It’d take a shit ton of drugs to fill the hold on that ship.”
“Gold, then?”
“I vote weapons,” Jonathan said.
Gail looked at him, clearly waiting for more. “Because high-end resorts are famous for attracting gunrunners?”
“I just can’t think of any other terrorist-worthy cargo that would require that much boat.”
A long silence followed in which Jonathan could feel Gail’s glare. “You’re staring at me,” he said.
“Are we going to board that ship?” she asked.
“Can you think of a better way to gather intel?”
Gail sighed. “Unfortunately, no. Doing nothing really isn’t a viable plan, is it?”
“Die hiding or win fighting,” Jonathan said.
Gail knew better than to offer up the obvious third option—die fighting. First, it was head space where Jonathan was famously reticent to go. Second, there was no denying that dying while fighting was demonstrably better than dying while curled up in a ball, begging for your life.
“Have you ever taken down a ship before?” she asked.
“I’ve trained for it.”
“Dare I ask how big the assault force was?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
She waited.
“Twenty-three,” he said with a chuckle. “But the scenarios were all about a vessel at sea with a full complement of bad guys. This ship is, like, parked.”
“I believe the term is moored. Or maybe berthed.”
Jonathan gave her a long look, and then reached out for her hand. “We joke about this, but it’s serious shit. Are you really up for it?”
“Is there a choice?”
“Don’t do that,” Jonathan said. “I’m not in charge. I don’t want to push you beyond—”
“Whoa, cowboy,” Gail said, covering his hand with her own. “I wasn’t being passive-aggressive. I really don’t think we have a choice. ‘Win fighting,’ right?”
He covered her hand, too. Hands all in. “You know, this is not the trip I planned.”
“Glad to hear that,” she said. “Otherwise, there’d be some serious counseling in your future.”
* * *
“This Scorpion guy,” Hunter said. “You know that’s not his real name, right? His real name is Digger. Who said he was in charge?”
Tyler had spent countless days and nights dealing with boundless egos and senses of entitlement, but Hunter and Lori were of a class all their own. “They seem to know what they’re doing,” he said.
“Having guns doesn’t make you an expert in anything,” Lori said.
“How’d they get their guns?” Jaime asked.
“By killing their previous owners,” Tyler said. “With knives, right?”
“Suppose they find the terrorists’ boat and sail away without us?” Hunter said. “The only way to be sure that doesn’t happen is to be there with them.”
“They’re gonna pick a fight with the people on the boat,” Tyler said, “and the people on the boat are going to fight back. I don’t want anything to do with that.”
“They left us defenseless,” Lori said. “Suppose the terrorists come here and find us—”
“They won’t,” Jaime said. “No one knows of this place.”
“No one knows of this island,” Hunter said. “Yet here we are being invaded. Whoever these people are, they seem to know a lot, whether you think they should know it or not. If they do figure out that this shantytown is here, and they do come to clear it out, we’ll be doomed. Scorpion and Gunslinger—and what stupid names those are—care more about themselves than about us. Why else would they leave us unprotected and insist on going ahead without us?”
“Maybe when you kill your own terrorist, you can keep the gun,” Tyler said.
Hunter didn’t seem to hear. “I think we need to catch up with them,” he said. “I don’t want to get left behind.”
Tyler evaluated everyone’s reaction to be within the same sleeve as his own: “Are you out of your mind?”
“What?” Hunter said. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you want to be abandoned? If we follow them, we have a chance to get off this island. We have a chance to save our lives.”
“I’m staying here,” Tyler said, and he wanted there to be no doubt about his commitment. “Rattlesnake and Straight Shooter—whatever the hell their names are—are out looking for a fight. I am the very opposite of that. I am proud to declare myself a devout coward.”
“That’s not true,” Jaime said. “You dared to escape.”
Tyler accepted the kind words with a nod. The fact that he left Annie behind was a big asterisk on that particular act of bravery.
“You,” Hunter said. “Jamie, is it?”
“Jaime.”
“Right. Jaime. How did you get up here? Do you have a golf cart, too?”
Jaime looked to Tyler, who said nothing. He knew that Jaime had his own personal transportation, but that was not for him to reveal or conceal.
“I do,” Jaime said. Tyler didn’t think his friend was capable of telling a lie, but this seemed like a good time to start.
“Let me borrow it,” Hunter said.
Jaime pointed to a spot beyond and behind the restored hut. “It’s back there,” he said. “But I think you’re making a huge mistake.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we’re safe here, at least for now. People with guns are already looking for us. Why would you deliberately
