Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“So quick,” I mumble, dumping my board onto the sand and squeezing the excess water out of my long hair. My eyes find his and I pause when I notice him watching my hand movement. “What?”
“Here…” He hands me a gold envelope, and I stare down at it blankly.
“What’s this for?” I ask, ripping the edge. I look up at him briefly. “I mean, why is everyone obsessed with this game?”
“People are obsessed with this game?” he asks, a brow arched. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, the people I know,” I counter, pulling out the card that’s inside. When he doesn’t answer me, I look back up at him again, noticing he has taken a few steps back.
“They clearly haven’t been chosen before.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He points to the envelope. “This one is easy. I’m guessing you know how to skipper a boat. Punch the coordinates into the GPS and follow the map.”
I read over the coordinates a few times before glaring back at him. “I know where this is. Why would I go there?”
His mouth falls open slightly, but not enough to be obvious that I caught him off guard. I’ve been around these waters all my life, of course I know where this is.
He chuckles, brushing past me and falling onto a spot on the sand. “Go. I’ll wait here for you to return the package.”
I take the steps toward the boat, not wanting to give him any other satisfaction, much less questions asking why I can’t remember what the hell happened to me that night.
“Shiloh?”
I stop walking when he calls my name, but I don’t turn around. Silence stretches between us before I feel the warmth of a blanket over my shoulders.
“You have sixty minutes.”
I clutch the front of the blanket and pick up my pace to the boat. It takes around fifteen minutes to get to Hades Landing in the daylight, much less at night and in the condition that the weather is in right now. It has to be blowing around eighteen knots, and as much as I love big swells, I’m not particularly fond of them in a speedboat with a shallow hull.
Climbing up onto portside, I scan the area as best I can. LED lights light up the inside, and when I’ve made it to the wheel, I bring the blanket down over my shoulders. My fingers touch a hood and I sigh, pushing my arms through the sleeves. I’m too cold to not wear his hoodie.
Waves slam against the hull of the boat. I’m not as comfortable as a skipper than I am as a surfer, but I still know how to navigate a GPS system, and I know these waters. Tossing the hoodie over my head, I turn the wheel to the left when the lights on the GPS light up, signaling the path I’m to take. The starboard and portside lights flash on either side, and the LED blue light beams beneath the hull, showing the ocean below. Thank fucking God I am behind the break, because crossing the bar in Hades Hollow isn’t an easy task even for the most seasoned skippers.
I sink my chin farther into the warmth of the hoodie, when the scent of clean linen with the subtle hint of expensive bourbon envelops me. God. Of course, the fucking thing smells of him.
The lights flicker over the little computer, and I pull the throttle down to slow the boat when I see a blinking pink light in the distance. Darkness wraps around me, and now without the loud tempo of the engine burning aggressively to chop through the rollers, I notice how quiet it really is. The distinct sound of water crashing against the base of the hull fills that silence every now and then, but other than that, it’s just me idling in the middle of a very temperamental ocean.
I look from left to right, unsure of where I’m supposed to pull up. It must be the pink light flashing. There’s no other place. For years, people have spoken about this island, about the same as people who won’t speak about this island. The tales that hover from this island bleed onto the shores of Hades Hollow. It all started from here. Well…I guess that depends on what story you choose to believe. I’m not sure which I do yet.
My phone vibrates in the hoodie pocket, and I fish it out, swiping it unlocked when I see a new message from the same number.
Follow the light.
I shove it back into my pocket and pick up the throttle slightly. I move forward, and the closer I get to the light, the bigger it gets. There’s a small jetty that stretches out into the water, and a man standing at the end with his back turned to me. I turn sharply into the portside, cutting the engine when he knots a rope around the side cleats.