Dark Vengeance by Kristi Belcamino (electric book reader .txt) 📕

We lived lives that were too different for him to talk to me that way.

Didn’t he know we didn’t stand a chance?

What game was he playing?

I knew it was stupid to be angry, but I was.

Punching the letters, I typed “Fuck you!” and then immediately deleted them.

No. I would not answer. At least I wouldn’t answer now. I’d done enough drunk texting in my life. My quota was up. I didn’t need to have any more regrets. I’d ignore him and look at it again in the morning.

I slammed my phone down onto the table and ordered a third drink.

Fuck it. I could wheel my bike back to the hotel so I didn’t kill myself—or worse—someone else by drunken driving. Because I was going to get drunk.

Then in the morning, I’d get up early, probably with a hangover, and head back to the islands to find Rose.

If I found X first, I’d just kill him. No questions asked.

Yeah. That was my plan, I thought smiling to myself. Yes. That would work out just fine. A salty sweet breeze brushed across my bare arms and lifted the hair off the back of my neck. I shivered and pulled my leather jacket on, tugging the collar up.

A couple at a nearby table shot me concerned looks. I realized I’d been mumbling to myself, as well.

I lifted my glass to them.

The next time the waiter came over I told him I was buying their dinner.

I don’t really remember getting back to the hotel. I just recall standing there shoving money at the doorman who threatened to call the “authorities” whatever the fuck that meant.

When I realized he wasn’t budging, I crossed the street and paid for a room at a dumpier hotel or motel or whatever fucking type of paid flop house they wanted to call it.

They gave me a first-floor room and let me put my bike in the room with me. I was too afraid to actually lie down on the sheets in my T-shirt and underwear, so I slept fully clothed, hoping crabs or whatever might be on the bed wouldn’t penetrate my jeans and leather jacket. I woke dry mouthed, sweating, and disoriented before dawn.

I sat up gingerly in bed and was relieved I didn’t have a headache. I just needed a drink of water before I fell down dead. I cupped my palms and gulped water from the bathroom sink since there were no glasses to be found.

Then after splashing water on my face and swishing my mouth with some dried-up toothpaste I had in my backpack, I snuck out into the dark morning and headed for the marina.

I fell asleep on the ferry. The operator nudged my shoulder with a broom to wake me. I probably seemed homeless. There was a big drop of wet on the leg of my jeans so I figured I was most likely snoring and drooling. Super cute.

Come to think of it, I was homeless. A nomad. And it suited me. At least for now.

15

Back at the surf camp, nobody was surfing. Instead, they were all gathered around the bonfire. As I approached, I could see the mood was solemn. Makeda had a concerned look on her face when she turned to see me. My heart jumped into my throat. Rose.

“What’s going on?” I said, hating the frantic tone of my voice.

“Keiki disappeared again. But this time she went to X’s house.”

Matteo spit into the fire.

“I’m done talking. I’m going to go get her.”

“Let her live her own life.” The voice came from outside the circle. We all turned. It was Dre, the blonde.

“Fuck you,” Matteo said. “You are the one who got her into this mess. You were the one who got her hooked.”

The blonde stepped forward and with his face only inches away from the other guy’s face, said in a low, dangerous voice. “I didn’t do anything except let her do what she wants. She’s not a fucking child. She is capable of making her own choices.”

Before anyone could react, Matteo had Dre in a headlock and then they were both rolling in the sand, fighting.

After a few minutes, some other guys broke them apart.

Dre stood there in the sand, legs wide, chest heaving. “You’ll pay for that,” he said.

That’s when several of the other guys stood in a line before him.

“You’re done, buddy,” one of the Australian’s said. “Go find another camp to bunk with. We don’t want you here anymore.”

“I’ll make all of you pay.”

He turned and stomped off toward the road, swearing under his breath.

Matteo exhaled loudly. “I need to go get her—before it’s too late.”

“I told you we’ll come up with a plan,” Makeda said. “Otherwise, you’re going to end up dead. We’re just waiting for Cam to come back with information on whether Keiki is at his house.”

“Fuck that,” he said. “By the time you come up with a plan, she’ll have overdosed or been taken to Padang.”

“Let me go,” I said in a firm voice.

Heads swiveled to face me.

“I know how to get in. I’ve been there.”

Matteo frowned. “You were there?”

Then he kicked the sand. “You killed his man? It was you?” He had an astonished look on his face. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t really look like a killer. I looked like an addict right then with my unwashed body and tangled hair.

“Listen. I can—” I started to say, but I was interrupted.

“Do you even know what kind of shitshow you started?” he yelled.

Makeda turned to me and said in a low voice, “X came back from Sumatra last night. When he found his man dead, he took it out on some of the villagers.”

I closed my eyes for a second. Exactly what I had been afraid of. My fault. All my fault. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

I felt sick as Makeda filled me in. I’d thought I’d be back in time to stop him, but I was too late.

She told me the damage: The garage