Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(50)
“I think you should get drunk.”
She narrows bloodshot eyes at me. “I don’t drink.”
“I bet you do.”
“I’ll fall asleep. I’ll probably…drool.”
“Drool away. We’re about to enter the world’s most luxurious witness protection program—who gives a f*ck?”
***
Hours later, we touch down in Male.
The heat here slaughters your senses. You feel it pushing down on your chest—surprisingly light, like the touch of an innocent—but you feel it, nonetheless. You see it bouncing off the shiny black hair of the locals; look into the sky and it’s blinding. And God, you can smell it. Everything is gently roasted here—the wooden walls of the small airport, the sand underfoot.
Our destination is down in the Southern Ari Atoll—a cluster of tiny islands barely bigger than a college campus apiece—and our transfer involves a short ride in a small plane, followed by a boat. While we wait at the airport, we’re ushered into a private bar area right on the water’s edge, where a waiter seats us at sticky tables and serves Coke in glass bottles. It warms as soon as it hits the air, bubbles fizzing fiercely, and I’d bitch about the lack of ice, but I’m tired. We’re all tired. Our body clocks think we should be in bed, but here, the day is just beginning.
Ash—who is overtired, overexcited and running on his last dregs of happy—stares about with huge eyes, drinking in the palm trees and cyan ocean and criss-crossed decks leading to small planes. I’ve never taken him on vacation before; I get Ethan to take him skiing or to Disney, but he’s never been this far from home. For a kid his age, this must be like falling into a movie. It’s quintessential tropical paradise. He watches the staff as they traipse about between the planes in their canvas deck shoes, white smiles flashing, pilot hats frequently removed so they can wipe the sweat from their brows. Ethan has already kicked his shoes off and sits on the side of the bar deck, swilling his feet about the warm water. He’s gotten used to a little luxury since working for me, but this is a first for him too. We all reek of coconut sun lotion—I insisted. Cancer isn’t exactly on my bucket list.
Leo, who sits beside me with her chin on my shoulder, tucks her sunglasses up so she can rub her eyes. They’re almost black at the best of times, and the sun makes her pupils swell to ebony. “My newest theory,” she yawns, “is that you faked that email for an excuse to come here.”
“Someone’s sounding cheerier.”
She reaches for her Coke bottle, lets it dangle from her fingers. “Aren’t you? This place…it’s amazeballs.”
“Amazeballs.”
“Stop cringing, you big killjoy.” She gives me a poke in the ribs with her free hand, and then glances over at Gwen and Harvey on the other side of the table. “Gwen. This was like, the best idea, ever.”
Gwen looks up from her phone, resting bitch face intact. “Oh. Thank you.”
“So how does this work, exactly?” Leo lowers her voice. “I mean…people are still going to see us, aren’t they?”
Harvey clears his throat. “Do you know how many islands the Maldives is comprised of?”
“I forgot to check Wikipedia, what with not knowing where the hell we were headed. So no.”
“Over a thousand. Most are only home to one resort. We’ve rented an entire island; the only other people there will be the staff, and we’re assured that they practice discretion at all times.”
I find Leo’s thigh beneath the table and give it a hard squeeze. “Far enough from Russia for you?”
“It’ll do.” She grins. I like the way the sun compliments her tanned skin, casting the scene around her in varying shades of honey. “It’s almost romantic.”
“If you’re into running for your life,” Harvey adds dryly. He’s already got Speedos on beneath his chino shorts; the hem pokes out when he straightens his polo shirt.
“You know what’s not romantic? Sitting around to watch the rest of the US media paint me as a serial killer.” I shake the heat from beneath my collar in irritation. “Gwen, did you sort that press release?”
“Uhuh. Done and dusted.”
Tomorrow morning, my channels will tell the world I’ve taken my nearest and dearest to a secluded location in Europe, in order to avoid media attention and to keep everyone out of harm’s way. In the meantime, I’ll sit back and wait for Blood Honey to kill again. Because he will. He’s just waiting. And with me out of the picture, the association will fade, and I can return. With any luck, his story will overshadow any Rachel Fordham crap people can dig up.
Even if anyone thought to look for us in this part of the world…how the hell will they find us on a private island? The more I look out across the endless ocean, sparkling almost white in the dull ache of heat, the more I’m content to be here. No, I didn’t want to run…but Jesus, it’s been a long time since I took this kind of vacation. Even if we were on some psycho’s hit list, it’s all too easy to forget it with a view like this.
“Look!” Ash dashes over to Ethan and grabs him by the jaw. “The plane! The plane is flying!”
One of the smaller planes, brightly colored in blue and yellow, takes off into the sky with a low rumble. The tiny thing can’t seat more than about ten people; it flies low, but soon melts into the distance and is nothing more than a bird amid sinewy wisps of cloud. I’m not used to this kind of peace. It’s…I don’t know whether I’m unsettled or actually happy.