Sharks, Matt Rogers [shoe dog free ebook TXT] 📗

That leaves a pair like us in an awkward spot, doesn’t it? We literally put our lives on the line to make good coin — that’s how much it meant to us. Now we still have those skills, but less of a desire to prostitute ourselves for money, so to speak. So why not use them to help people who genuinely need it? Tell me why we’d need an ulterior motive.’

Teddy stared at them.

‘You wouldn’t,’ the old man said. ‘But is that the truth?’

King said, ‘Completely.’

It was brilliant on Slater’s part. Truth was, neither of them had really cared about the money. It had come and gone as if it had always been destined to slip through their fingers, spent as fast as they could make it. There’d been some excess left over when they’d got out, sure, but the fact they were so wealthy now had nothing to do with their desire for it. But Teddy wouldn’t believe that, so Slater made the fact they had money seem far more important than it actually was.

There’s a reason he’s a psychological wizard, King thought, looking at his brother-in-arms.

Teddy said, ‘I know some things.’

‘About Walcott?’

A twitch. ‘Of course.’

King got a hunch. ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’re not the judging type.’

‘You clearly are,’ Teddy said, ‘if it’s your judgments that dictate your actions.’

‘Cut the shit, Teddy,’ Slater said, sitting forward. ‘Philosophising won’t get you anywhere. Telling us why you’re fucked is probably a good place to start.’

Teddy stared at Slater, thrown off by the drastic change of tone.

King thought, Good. You be the bad guy.

Slater said, ‘You borrowed money from Dylan Walcott. Let’s start there.’

Teddy said, ‘I don’t think I want to speak to the two of you anymore. Have a good day.’

He got up.

Slater turned to King and said, ‘Three tables. Over or under?’

‘Under.’

Teddy looked down at them, cleaning cloth in one hand. ‘What?’

Slater said, ‘I give it three tables before you realise there’s no way out of the debt you’re in, and that it’s only going to get worse as the weeks go on, and that sooner or later you’ll be in real danger, not to mention whatever family you might have. That’s going to sink in at the same time you realise we might be your only lifeline and then you’ll slink back here with your tail between your legs.’

Teddy stared at them.

Slater said, ‘My friend here chose the under. He thinks it’ll take less than three tables. Maybe even one.’

Teddy seemed to come to a decision.

He sat back down.

He said, ‘Alright. I need help.’

31

Alexis saw them over her shoulder.

Fear hit her like a punch to the chest.

Constricting her airways, shooting her pulse through the roof, leaving her snatching for each shallow breath as she quickened her pace. But it hadn’t caught her off-guard. She wanted to feel it. In all likelihood the pair probably lived down this trail, which branched off to a number of unkempt lots on the way to the mangroves. She probably had nothing to worry about.

Or…

The trail constricted to a choke point where it ended in a mass of brambles and twisting trees. She eyed branches, a scattering of green amidst the blackness, and beyond the natural barrier of vegetation, the dark swathe of dead mangroves.

Not a beach, but a dead end.

She second-guessed herself, cursed herself, unable to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay.

What were you thinking? she scolded herself. You spend a couple of months hitting a bag and you think you can take on the world. You come out here for no good reason, and now you’re going to get yourself raped and murdered.

She turned around, putting her back to the dead end.

The silhouettes kept advancing down the trail.

There were no houses out here.

They weren’t heading home.

She thought of the consequences. Will’s never going to be the same. He’ll never forgive himself. They’ll find your body out here, and they’ll abandon their pursuit of Walcott.

You’re going to be the reason they fail.

Or…

Again, that “or…”

It was empowering.

Or you can use this fear as fuel. Or you can use this adversity as motivation. Or you can stick your chest out and hold your chin high instead of cowering as soon as you feel terror.

She didn’t wait.

She walked straight forward.

They were far bigger than her. Both thin, but strong with corded muscle. They were caked in days-old dirt and grime, their shirts tattered, their shorts faded. They were both in their early twenties, she guessed, but hard lives had aged them prematurely. She guessed they were fishermen or labourers, given their strong hands and weather-ruddied complexions. They’d spent a lifetime outdoors.

And she was a small woman, in no way prepared to fight them, let alone resist whatever they wanted to do to her.

They leered at her in the semi-darkness.

She remained defiant. ‘I’m lost.’

‘Yeah,’ one of them said.

It wasn’t an offer to help. It wasn’t in any way supposed to reassure her. It was simply a confirmation, an agreement.

You sure are.

There was no real language barrier. The men were Afro-Bahamian, and almost certainly spoke English-based Bahamianese, so they were choosing not to elaborate instead of it being outside their abilities.

Alexis said, ‘Could you show me the way back?’

No one spoke.

There was nothing that suggested they were evil. No over-the-top looks at one another, or grotesque smiles, or shared maniacal laughter. This wasn’t a B-movie. There was only a rippling undercurrent of tension, amplified by their silence. It gave them room to imagine. To soak in her damp skin, her exposed abdomen, how soft and supple she looked.

They moved imperceptibly. The guy on the right shifted a little to the left, and the guy on the left shifted a little to the right. Forming a wall. Blocking her way through.

She felt the shift in her brain.

Didn’t let it show, but experienced every microscopic sensation of fear shifting to anger.

Then the man on the left pulled out a knife.

The anger melted straight back to fear, and any game plan she’d been forming went straight out