Page 122 of Johnny

“To Logan’s yacht.”

“We can’t take that thing to the island.”

“Don’t worry, it’s handled. Now come on.” He wiggles his fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture. “We

need to get off this boat.”

“Johnny—”

“Megan,” he says sharply. And suddenly there’s a hard, dark look in his eyes. The same look that

woman who looks suspiciously like me had when she passed by. “Get in the fucking boat. We do not

have time for this.”

“We actually have lots of time because we don’t have to be at the island until noon.”

“Trust me,” he says. And when he says it, he softens a little. “I know what I’m doing. I promise. So

please.” He pauses, imploring me. “Just get in.”

I hesitate. But what else can I do? We’re in the ocean, in the middle of a plan to infiltrate a Way

laboratory, and no one here is on my side.

Not even Johnny.

I take his hand and Johnny holds me steady as I step onto the swim platform, and keeps hold of it.

He doesn’t allow me the luxury of a moment to hesitate, just pulls me on to the tender boat with him.

Then he steps aside and waves a hand at the two front seats. “Go sit,” he encourages.

Again, with no other choice, I do as I’m told and take a seat in the passenger chair.

Johnny slides into the captain’s chair, shifts the boat into forward, and then gives it some throttle.

It’s clear this little tender boat has pick-up because I’m slammed back into my seat as we take off towards the waiting superyacht.

This would be a very good time to have a very serious conversation about what’s coming, except

for the fact that this is just a small, open speedboat meant to be docked inside the actual parental

yacht, and the wind is so loud there’s no possible way we’d be able to hear each other, even if Johnny

was interested in said conversation, and I’m getting the feeling he’s not.

Not to mention my hair, even though it started this ride securely fastened into a ponytail, is now

being whipped around my face.

I make desperate attempts to tame it into submission, but the effort is futile. So by the time Johnny

slows down and aims the bow of the tender boat at the waiting recovery net protruding from the stern

of the superyacht, I’m too flustered to start a conversation that has no hope of progression and now I

realize I was too distracted to carefully study the yacht as we approached.