Rogue Wave by Isabel Jolie (reading eggs books txt) 📕

Jasmine fingered her bracelet and beamed. She’d been given so many new things since she arrived in the States, but gifts were still new enough that every single one touched her. I pressed my forearm against hers, so we could compare the bracelets. They reminded me of the friendship bracelets I once wore in middle school, only Alice had woven in small pieces of smooth sea glass, and the beads glistened like jewels.

“Alice, these are amazing,” I gushed.

“For safety. Needed, no?” she asked Tate.

“Maybe.” His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed. “Thank you for letting Jasmine and Luna stay with you today while I take care of some business.”

“Of course. My home is yours. This, you know, dear child.”

Tate hesitated then stepped up to me and brushed his lips against mine. I immediately glanced at Jasmine. She watched us, but I couldn’t discern her opinion.

“Walk out with me?” Tate asked, so I did.

As soon as the heavy wooden door closed behind us, Tate pulled me against his body, his muscles tense and tight. The wrinkles around the corners of his eyes highlighted his worry.

“Stay here until I come back for you?”

“Do you really think we’re safe here? If you’re right, Tate, and those men aim to kidnap us or hurt us, we could put Alice in danger.” I’d weighed the risks this morning, but Jasmine’s proximity prevented me from fully venting my concerns.

“You’re safer here than anywhere. There’s nothing to indicate whoever took those photos is on the island. The angle of all the shots makes it look like they were taken from a telescopic lens, possibly from a boat. Chances are, I’m responding exactly how they want me to respond. Freaking out enough to do whatever they ask. It’s an old negotiating trick we used to use. Chances are, whoever sent those photos, they don’t intend to actually harm you or Jasmine. And you’ll spend an entertaining day at a crazy old lady’s home.”

“Where are you going?”

“The business center.”

“Why there?” He had an entire office set up at his home now. Even Jasmine had a student desk and laptop.

“Faster internet. Anonymity.” He kissed the top of my forehead. “Luna.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I love you. Stay safe.”

He opened the door and pushed me back inside, as if locking me in a vault. His first time saying I love you. And my stomach dropped to the ground because it rang like a last rites statement.

Chapter 32

Tate

On ships, we relied on radar. Radar told us not only what was below us, but what was near. We tracked the currents and both cold- and warm-blooded objects. Ships also tracked weather systems through sophisticated satellites. Without adequate data, one could find themselves in a deadly situation fast.

I built a plan without a radar system in place. After tucking Luna and Jasmine away, I stopped back by the cottage to get my cell. Forgetting that thing had become a force of habit, but I needed it for the contact list.

The front door banged into the wall after I flung it open. The loud noise shattered the quiet, and the door reverberated. “Fuck.” A black mark and slight indentation into the wall marred my freshly minted paint job.

Movement out the window flitted through my peripheral vision. A man wearing a long, dark wool dress coat traversed the dunes. Islanders crossed the wooden boardwalk all the time, but this man didn’t fit in with the beach scene.

Leaving the front door open, I crossed the downstairs floor and peered out the back for a better view. He was an older man, with thin, dark hair and a noticeable pouch. As he came closer, I grew more certain. I stepped out onto the porch. Breeze blew through the cottage and slammed the back door behind me.

An eerie smile spread across Zane’s pock-scarred face. His heavy black work boots pounded on the wood planks, the volume of the beat increasing with each step. I stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance to the porch.

“Tate, my man. Long time, no see.” He held out his hand, and I looked down on it, two wooden steps higher and a world more ethical than the conman below me.

“What do you want, Zane?”

He turned his hand to display his palm and stuck his lower lip out.

“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?”

“No games. What the fuck do you want?”

“Since you’re asking…” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans and ground the heel of a boot into the plank. “Why don’t you invite me up, and we can have a chat about it?”

“You’re not coming inside.”

He turned his head, looking up and down the beach. Cottages surrounded us. We were alone outside, but someone could conceivably be looking out any number of windows.

“You know, I don’t think that’s the way you should treat a friend. Especially a friend who you owe.”

“I owe you jack shit.”

“Now, that’s not true.” He wagged his finger in the air. “And I happen to know you’ve already taken your fuck toy and that nigger and tried to hide ’em away.”

I peered over the dunes. The same cargo ship from last night docked offshore.

“That ship’s yours.”

He licked his lips and grinned. “Let’s go inside.”

I sat down on the top stair and glared up at him, my hands balled into fists. “Nope. Tell me what you want. Out here.”

His trench coat had long slits for pockets, and he thrust his right hand into the pocket as his nostrils flared. His beady, angled eyes reminded me of a shark, circling, debating the best attack point. He pivoted, casting glances at windows once more, then lifted his hand partially out of the deep pocket, enough to show me the butt of a pistol.

“Inside. Now.”

I debated my options. If he killed me, he’d get nothing, so flashing a gun was nothing more than an empty threat. I didn’t know what he wanted. All I wanted was to