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

I huffed loudly, spit at his feet, just to show the pissant I wasn’t scared, and let the screen door slam behind me.

He followed me inside. Scanned the place, taking stock of the interior like a thief. Translation workbooks and Learn to Read books sat in a neat stack on the kitchen table, along with pens. Jasmine’s flip-flops rested near the back door. Several throw blankets lined the sofa. A framed photo of Jasmine and my brother’s family in front of a lit Christmas tree decorated the side table.

The photo grounded me and reminded me of my purpose.

“What do you want?”

“I need your help.”

“So you sent threatening photos?”

“Wanted to grease the wheels. You know how it works.”

“I told you, I don’t work for you anymore. Plus, I’ve got a family now.”

“Thought you might say that.” He scratched his jaw and pivoted on his boot. “Are the rumors true? Did you torch Rising Tide?”

“No.”

“Don’t believe you. Transfer ten million to my account, and we’ll call it even.”

“Ten million? Are you out of your mind?” I’d expected he was after money, but…

“You blew up a fucking ship. Native Shipping figured out who did it. They’re coming after me now since you were my employee. You can work it off or pay it off.”

The god damn fucker. Same logic he used on the indentured slaves they kept on ships. Yeah, the ship might have cost ten million, but I knew his game. He pegged numbers high enough that he’d think I had to work and find ways to keep me in his employ. Maybe not as long as the men sleeping with rats, but he’d find something. To a guy like Zane, I was only a means to an end, and that end was money in his pocket. I glared at him, hating I’d ever gotten wrapped up with this guy or that world. The dark underbelly of the manmade lawless ocean.

He traced a finger over my television and lifted it, examining the pad of his finger as if checking for dust. “Why’d you do it?”

“What?” I barely heard the question, he said it so low, under his breath.

“Why’d you blow the ship up? You delivered it. Did your job. What the fuck happened? Did you decide you had to go all martial law? Did something happen on that ship?”

“Native Shipping has slaves on those ships. Rising Tide wasn’t a cargo ship. And you know it.”

He shook his head, slow and sure.

“Unless you’re counting humans as cargo, it wasn’t cargo.”

“You didn’t think it was a wee bit suspicious that you quit right after the ship you returned mysteriously blew up out in the harbor?” I’d known it was suspicious. That was why I’d dumped my cell before returning to the States. That captain had men in chains. Someone had to do something. The Haitian officials were corrupt. Options were limited.

I rubbed my forehead. There was no point in debating anything with a guy like Zane. He saw himself as a good guy. An arbiter on the seas. Sometimes, the term repo man probably did fit. The times he reclaimed ships for banks when the shipping companies fell behind on payments. Other times, he was in deep on bilking schemes. Corrupt local officials fined boats in port and effectively captured them. Sometimes he instigated the charges. Other times he escaped with the ship and took it out to the twelve-mile line, out of the jurisdiction of local authorities.

“Ten million, and you leave me alone, for good?” I asked. Going back to work for him wasn’t going to happen. The whites of the eyes of the men on those boats visited all too often.

He stepped back, studied me. He ground his teeth as if he had a small wad of chewing tobacco tucked into the side of a cheek. His expression shifted, and I could tell the moment he decided his first number hadn’t been high enough.

“You’ll transfer the funds to the account I give you?”

“Yep.”

“Today?”

“I’ll get my laptop. Do it now.”

“There’s no way to get you to come back out and work with us?”

“No.”

“Do it.” He pulled out his cell and opened it to a screen with account information to a bank in the Seychelles.

I flipped open my laptop and debated my next move.

I stood to find my phone.

Zane pulled the gun out of his pocket and held it casually by his side, pointed at the ground, watching me. The shark circling prey.

“I need to call someone. I don’t have that kind of money sitting around.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

The way he said it gave him away. Somehow, he had access to all my accounts. Gabe had been right. He’d been monitoring me.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

Zane’s thumb rubbed up and down on the butt of the gun.

“Gabriel, I need you to transfer ten million for me. I don’t have it in my accounts. Is there any chance I can borrow the funds from you, then pay you back?”

For Gabe, ten million was the equivalent of loaning Taco Bell money back when we were in high school. Still, I hated the idea of borrowing money. My brother had set up a payment plan to pay me back for my shares of our family company, so no matter what happened, I’d eventually pay Gabe back. Plus, I had some gigs in play working as a consultant.

A door closed on Gabe’s end. “Is someone with you right now?”

“Yes.” Zane glared at me, tracking my every move, but he’d relaxed enough to return his gun to his coat pocket. I backed up and leaned against the far wall, hoping I was far enough away he couldn’t hear Gabe.

“Are you in danger?”

“To some extent. Can you help me out? I’ll pay you back.”

“You know if you do this, chances are this won’t be the end of it.”

“Yep.” Gabe wasn’t saying anything I didn’t know. Guys like this were sharks. Blood in the water, and there was a good chance they’d come back if they got