Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Unwilling to be separated from him.
Or her.
Them.
I meant what I said.
They are mine.
And I plan to do whatever’s necessary to keep us all alive.
Chapter 19
Salay
“I wanna drive the boat,” Zero playfully proclaims.
“No.”
“I wanna drive the boat.”
“No.”
His chin suddenly lands on my bikini top bearing shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I know how to drive it.”
“Because you practiced on a simulator?”
“A highly recommended simulator!”
“Recommended by who, Little One?” It’s impossible not to let the corner of my lips curl upward toward the lunch time sky. “Your internet friends?”
“One is a real-life harbormaster!” He exclaims in tandem with standing straight up once more.
“Not what they’re officially called.”
“Fine. He’s a real life capitaine de port de Sa Majesté.”
“You butchered that.”
“My French accent was impeccable! Garcia loves it!”
“You sound like Pepe Le Pew dubbed in French.”
“Who’s Pepe Le Pew?”
“Oh…” my head slowly shakes while guiding us to the left, “you definitely can’t drive the boat now.”
Chuckles out of Garcia are instant.
“You’re lucky you’re too cute to just throw overboard.”
“Is that luck or skill?” our third teasingly taunts.
“You don’t have either,” I sassily state at the same time I meet his gaze over my shoulder, “so you might wanna choose sides wisely.”
“Unlike Zero,” he lovingly reaches out for the male’s hand, using it to tug him closer, “I did not wake up this morning and choose violence.”
“I didn’t either!”
“Making our woman feel old?” Impishness remains in his expression. “Eso es elegir la violencia.”
A mirthful eye roll is accompanied by me turning my attention back to the water in front of me.
Ugh.
I hate it when he’s this happy.
This human.
I hate it even more when he’s this flirty.
Fun.
And I hate it the most when he’s this protective.
Possessive.
Which is super new shit for him.
I mean…temporary may be my middle name…but I’ve never pretended I was going to stick around…stick through some shit…for someone…for someones…when I knew damn well longevity was never on the map.
I never gave them nicknames.
Or titles.
Or held them to my chest post sex, sleepily daydreaming to the sound of the rain coming down, about weekends where we’ll fish for mahi-mahi and drink tequila and skinny dip during the sunset.
No.
Some may call me coldhearted or emotionally unavailable or detached; however, they could never and would never be able to accuse me of saying whatever I have to say to keep whoever it is happy in that aspect.
Is that what Garcia’s doing?
I don’t wanna accuse him of that, but what choice do I have?
What else am I supposed to do?
Simply believe that Mr. Gives All The Fucks What The World thinks has finally learned what he feels is all that truly matters?
What he wants?
What is this?
An after school special the Little One was never exposed to courtesy of being so much younger than us?
“We close?” Garcia cautiously inquires, redirecting my focus to where it needs to be.
“Yeah,” leaves me just above the sound of the engine.
“And you’re sure this is what the clues were saying?” Zero nervously investigates. “This is nowhere near where we were first searching.”
“That’s because when we were first searching, we were going off of inaccurate information,” I gingerly remind.
“How do you know it’s accurate now?”
“Because now I know you don’t read sailor.”
“Or pirate,” adds Garcia.
“Or captain.”
“Or really anything nautical.”
“At least not in human code instead of computer.” Slowing us down finally begins. “Adam’s Ale is not a reference to the specific beer you thought it was. The clue wasn’t trying to guide you east towards where the Boston Beer company is located as your program deciphered. Adam’s Ale is an old fashioned term for water. In a deep glass simply meant deep in the ocean.”
“Oh,” grunts our resident hacker.
“Tucked in by the most tattered sail,” I continue as I shift us into a full stop, “was a reference to condition of their sail. Most get that way after long journeys or battles, which aided in giving a distance reference when tracking the theoretical tides from that time.” Turning to face them occurs next. “Slumbers the catch is stating the obvious. Catch means treasure. No one calls treasure on a treasure map or in a riddle treasure because the point is to hide the goodies not just give them away.”
Both men fight the urge to grin.
“Lee Shore-”
“He was a pirate, right? Like Long John Silver?”
“The fast-food chain?” confusedly ponders Garcia.
“From Treasure Island, my guy.”
“Never heard of Pepe Le Pew but Treasure Island just rolls out the save file?” He amusedly challenges.
“I spent a lot of time in the library, remember?”
“You said you read animal books like Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? and Lord of the Lions.”
It’s my turn to interject, “You mean Lord of the Flies?”
“No, he means George Adamson: Lord of the Lions.”
“Who?”
“He was like the OG Steve Irwin but specifically for lions,” Zero effortlessly explains.
It’s my turn to let out an intrigued grunt, “Huh.”