Rogue Wave, Isabel Jolie [ink ebook reader .TXT] 📗

“No problem, man. I made a lot more than that yesterday. Plan G in effect. My contact at the New York Times got back to me. I think he’s gonna want to meet you.”

I smashed the screen against my ear, uncertain what Zane could hear.

“Let me send you over the account details for the wire transfer.” I ended the call then texted the details Zane provided while looking over my shoulder. Gabe texted back a transfer confirmation. The money wouldn’t immediately transfer. There would be a temporary hold on an amount that large. Zane requested the wire details, and he sent the information off into the ether. Deal done.

“Can you give me a ride back to the marina?”

“You have a boat there?” I’d assumed he had a dinghy or something up on the beach.

“Small craft.”

“Sure. Come on.” The sooner he got off the island, the better. Then I could go pick up Luna and Jasmine and tell them everything was okay.

Left down Wynd Road would be the most direct path, but Zane pointed right. “Can we go that way? I’ve been watching this island, and I’d like to see the middle. I’m curious.”

Turning right then driving down the middle of the island would add maybe five to ten minutes, tops. I didn’t see any harm in taking the longer route. I also didn’t have a choice.

“Sure.” I turned right.

He shifted in the seat to study the beach houses that lined the path. Pretty much standard for anyone going this way. The cool breeze stung my cheeks, and my tension eased. Those fucking photos had had me edgy. The unspoken threat terrified me, as intended. All I needed to do was borrow from a friend who had more money than a small country. Problem solved.

“My sources say you’re thinking of downloading info on Native Shipping. You do that, you’ll make enemies.” There was no threat in the statement. He dropped the comment in an offhanded, casual manner.

“Not sure what your sources are saying, but I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“Really? No plans to share information with the New York Times?”

I felt his eyes on me even as I stared straight ahead. We entered the shade of the middle island, the path covered by overhead tree branches. The hum of crickets, frogs, and birds surrounded us.

I swallowed. He waited.

“No plans. Besides, even if I was going to do something like that, it wouldn’t make sense now, right? I’ve paid you. You and I are even. Native Shipping and I are even.”

“Yeah, but you’re one of those environmentalists. You probably have a problem with what they do.”

“Oh, you mean illegal fishing? Or are you talking about smuggling guns and drugs? Or the human trafficking bit? Because, like you said, they’re massive. Billion-dollar company, right? Have they ventured into all the areas of the trade? Or are they still staying out of piracy?”

“You publish any nonsense, and it means pressure from some countries might increase and make life difficult. Don’t do it.”

“What countries do they care about? Haiti? Liberia? Ghana? Somalia?” The list could go on and on. Ports of call to cater to the high sea criminals weren’t exactly small in number.

“God damn. You’re such a fucking bleeding heart.”

My grip on the steering wheel tightened. “You know, I think people use the term bleeding heart because it’s the only negative they can come up with for someone who wants to do good. And the only reason people like you don’t like it is that doing good stymies your ability to commit crimes against nature.”

A hard object jammed into my ribcage, and I twisted away from it, right as his large, gloved hand fell over mine. My attention zoned in on the black leather glove. The temperature hung in the fifties. Chilly, but not glove weather.

“Stop the cart.”

I pulled to a stop. A bone deep chill penetrated my hands, then deep within my chest.

I’d paid him. Now, his only remaining objective would be to shut me up. Another rogue wave, never entirely unexpected. Keep your head and ride it.

“It’s not like what I know matters. Plenty of articles about crimes on the high seas exist. TV shows, even movies. There’s nothing in it for me to share what I know.”

“Probably. But there’s no reason to take on unnecessary risk. Tensions between China and the U.S. and Iran are sky-high. If a story breaks, impossible to say who’d try to use it to their advantage. Better to nip the small fires before they spread.”

He pointed his gun down a nature trail through the marsh. “Walk.”

I didn’t move, and he walked around to my side and pointed the gun at my head.

I lifted my phone and dialed Gabe’s number, said, “Cancel the wire transfer,” and disconnected.

Zane’s eyes bulged. “What the fuck? You have a death wish?”

“You’re going to kill me anyway, right? That’s the plan?” He raised his gun, and perspiration kicked in. I slipped into negotiation mode. He taught me how to do this. Stay calm. Be in control. “Where’d you want to walk to?”

He muttered a string of expletives. Called someone. Paced. Gritted his teeth. Cursed. Kicked a rock.

“Transfer canceled.” The cold metal of his pistol pressed hard against my forehead.

“Go ahead. Shoot.”

He cocked the gun. “Wire. That. Money.”

“Your plan is to kill me. Why would I wire you the funds?”

“All right. Take me back to my boat. Then wire the money. I’ll leave you alone. You have my word.”

“Get in.”

We drove back to the marina in silence. I ran through scenarios in my head as I drove. Negotiating with Zane would never lead to a win. Especially now that I had people in my life to protect. As soon as the marina came into view, I stopped the cart.

“You always said repo men aren’t bad guys. You told me we make threats, but we don’t actually break the law. No violence. No guns. That’s what you said.”

“And you were naive enough to believe me. Now, call your friend back. Wire that money. If