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The rider instructs them to take their handguns—very slowly—and toss them into the river.
Delia considers snatching her sidearm and firing at the men. If she’s lucky, she could squeeze off a few shots before they let loose a barrage of bullets. But she has no cover, and the range is in their favor, not hers.
Going for her gun would be suicide.
And, worse, she’d get David and Seth killed.
Moving slowly, she takes her gun and tosses it into the water with aplop. Her partners follow her lead and do the same.
“Now your cell phones and radios,” the guy says.
They do it.
“Okay, Mr. Y,” says the motorcyclist, giving his partner a nod.
The other motorcyclist—Mr. Y, presumably—scrambles down the scree slope, keeping his gun pointed at the men. Within a minute, the three security guards’ hands are zip-tied behind them.
“All secure, Mr. X,” the robber calls up to his partner on the road.
Delia gets the impression Mr. X is in charge.
The diver emerges from the water with two duffel bags loaded with what Delia can only assume is money. Mr. Y hauls one bag, heavier still with the weight of the water dripping off of it, back up the slope. The diver, whom the others refer to as Mr. Z, removes the flippers and tosses them into the water, then does the same with the oxygen tank, which makes a large splash before sinking. Mr. Z runs up the slope with the second duffel bag.
The three mount their cycles, with Mr. Z riding behind Mr. Y. It’s a lot for one bike to hold—two riders and a bag of money and a gun—but the driver zips away skillfully. Before leaving, Mr. X, also with a bag of money slung over his shoulder, turns to Delia and her partners.
“I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of this,” he says matter-of-factly.
Then he revs the engine and the bike bursts away like a shot from a gun. Delia is struck dumb by how fast everything happened. In a daze, with the whine of the motorcycles fading, she turns with her hands still restrained behind her back and looks out at the river. The little fishing boat, abandoned and unmoored, drifts toward the other side of the bank. Closer to her, hundred-dollar bills have begun floating to the surface. As she watches the money she was hired to protect drift away with the current, she has two thoughts.
She regrets ever thinking this job was boring.
And she feels lucky to be alive.
PART 1
CHAPTER 1
WILLOW AND I are sitting in the back of a pickup truck overlooking a pretty pond lined with cattails. The night air is filled with the chorus of bullfrogs serenading us. The sky is packed with more stars than either of us have ever seen.
“Rory,” Willow says, sliding her hand into mine, “does life get any better than this?”
“I don’t see how it can,” I say, and we lean in to kiss each other.
Our tongues dance. We hold each other tight, like we’re afraid of what might happen if we let go. Willow untucks my T-shirt and strips it off of me. Then she sits back and slowly begins to unbutton her blouse, her face alight with a coy grin. She knows she’s driving me wild. I want nothing more than to be with her, skin to skin, our bodies melting together.
She crawls on top of me, putting her lips close to my ear as her golden hair falls around my face.
“Tell me you love me,” she says in the slightly raspy voice I fell in love with the first time I heard it. “Tell me you’ll be mine forever.”
I open my mouth to declare my love to her. I want to tell her she’s the only woman in the world for me. That I’ll love her, and only her, for the rest of my life.
But I hesitate.
Sensing my reluctance, she props herself on her arms and stares down at me, her expression hurt and confused.
“You still love me, don’t you?” she says.
Of course I do.
