Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
They are rich too. They come from rich families, so a lot of these stories are about all the things rich kids do at the beach. Boating, and surfing, and diving.
I have done all of these things too. Even surfing. We found a surfboard on one of the beaches along our supply ship route in those in-between years, before we settled in the jungle, when we did nothing but travel the sea.
And it feels kind of good to know that my past life is not so different than the ones these guys lived. In some ways, at least.
But eventually Nandy and Rico excuse themselves to go dance, and so I end up alone with Joe at the table. He smiles at me—nervously, I think. “So. Nandy didn’t tell me much about you.”
Nandy doesn’t know much about me, but I don’t say that.
“Where did you grow up?”
I lie when I have to, but I don’t like it. And anyway, Nandy has asked me this before, so I have an answer. I’m just not sure that this guy deserves an answer. This is why I don’t want to date. He’s a stranger and hasn’t earned this information about me. But in social situations it’s polite to make small talk. So against my better judgment, I answer. “Brazil.”
“Really?” His surprise is genuine and… I don’t know. Intriguing. My answer to him, and his reaction to me. “What part?”
“Mmm. A few places. Mostly São Paulo and Rio.”
“Wow.” He leans back in his chair. “That’s cool. What’s it like down there? Just like Miami Beach, but people speaking Portuguese?”
Not even close. “Yep. That’s pretty much how it is.”
“Mm. So you’re… Brazilian?”
He’s asking because I am as blonde and blue-eyed as they come. “No. Russian, actually.”
I think.
“Russian. OK. That’s…”
“Unfortunate?”
He laughs. Loud. “No. It’s just unusual. You’re… unusual. I like it.” Then he smiles before taking a sip of his drink.
He’s just about to ask more questions when his attention is diverted to something over my right shoulder. He makes a face of annoyance. “Can I help you, bro?”
And when I turn, Eason Dead Eyes is standing right behind me. He smiles at me, then directs an unfriendly gaze at Joe. “No, thank you. I was just gonna ask Irina here if she would like to dance.”
Joe looks at me. “You know this guy?”
I look back at Eason. Then nod. “I do.”
Eason ignores Joe, aiming his eyes right at me. Then he offers me his hand. “Come dance with me.”
“Uh, look—” That’s as far as Joe gets. I don’t know what happens, because I’m not looking at Eason, I’m looking at Joe now, but Eason must be making a face of ‘don’t fuck with me, bro,’ because Joe says, “Fine. Dance.”
I turn and look at Eason now, making a face of confusion. “I don’t dance.”
“I don’t either. I’m just trying to get you to take a walk with me.”
“OK, this is getting weird.” Joe stands up. Rico appears beside him.
Nandy appears beside me. “What’s going on?”
Joe answers for me. “This guy, he wants Irina to take a walk with him.”
Nandy looks him up and down. Everything about Eason Dead Eyes says, I’m Eason fucking Dead Eyes and you do not want to mess with me. The funny thing is, I don’t think he’s projecting this deliberately at all. I don’t think he can help it. “She’s not going anywhere with you.” Then Nandy turns to me. “Do you know this guy?”
I press my lips together and nod. “I’ll be right back.”
“Irina!”
“Nandy.” I put a hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”
She leans down, whispering in my ear. “He looks dangerous. That tattoo on his neck. I’ve seen it tagged on walls, Irina. It’s—”
“You must not know Irina very well.”
Nandy turns to scowl at Eason. “What? She’s my best friend, asshole.”
“Then you would know that there is no way she would let me hurt her. And you would know that you have nothing to worry about if she goes outside and has a chat with me. Because Irina is a storm waiting to happen.”
“OK.” I get up, making my stool scrape on the tile floor. I look at Nandy. “I’ll be right back.”
Then I push past Eason and head for the front door.
And oddly enough, the moment I get outside, I feel relief.
CHAPTER 8
“You have no situational awareness at all, do ya?”
Irina scowls at me. “What?”
“You’re like a fucking child. I’ve been running behind ya all week. Twenty-one miles each day. And by the way, you’re slow. You should be able to run that in two and a half hours, even if ya are a girl.”
She takes a step back, stunned, I think, that I am talking to her like this. Seven years. That’s how long it’s been since someone talked to her like this.
She sets her jaw. “What do you want?”