The picture changed to footage of several men in suits leaving a courthouse. A mob of reporters screamed questions at the men while mirrored-sunglass-wearing security rushed them into large black cars.
“In related news, the Project Heartbreaker hearings have continued. The president has vowed that the perpetrators will be found and that no secrets will be kept from the American public. The House Minority Leader has insisted on the appointment of an independent commission to—”
Jill picked up the remote and killed the TV. “That stuff will rot your brain.”
She was wearing a simple white dress and had flowers in her hair. Through the window behind her, I could see the pristine beach stretching into the distance, bright green trees rising behind. Brilliant blue waves were washing onto the sand.
“I was hoping to hear something about what happened to Valentine,” I explained. “After he got arrested, he just disappeared into the system. Even Reaper can’t find any information about where they sent him.”
“You don’t even know it was him. They did rule Gordon’s death a suicide.”
“Suicide?” I snorted. “Five bucks says the kid killed him.”
“Maybe.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Come on. We’re on a tropical island in the middle of nowhere, and you want to watch the news? That’s just wrong.” She dragged me up the stairs and onto the deck. Our yacht rocked gently against the wooden pier. I wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the sun beat down on the mass of scars that was my back.
It had been one of Big Eddie’s boats, but it was mine now. In the confusion immediately following his death, we had gone to work embezzling as much of his fortune as was possible. Eddie’s computer had been packed with valuable information. He wasn’t worried about password security, because only a fool would steal from Big Eddie. But he was dead now, and you’d never find a bigger pair of fools than me and Reaper. With the contacts I had made in all of my years of doing Eddie’s dirty work, and with Reaper’s mad skills, we had been able to make an absurd amount of his wealth disappear into a maze of foreign banks before news of his demise spread and his accounts had been locked down.
Basically, we were now obscenely wealthy. In fact, this little island had been Eddie’s also. Most of it, anyway. It did have a little town on it. The rest was mine now. Apparently the Montalbans hadn’t even used the place in years. Reaper had found it in his frenzied searching of Montalban shell-corporation properties. Jill and I had been holed up here together for the last few weeks. With such a huge burden lifted from my shoulders, they had been some of the happiest days of my life.
And what we did together during that time was none of your business.
My family was safe, and as far as all of them except Bob knew, I was still just the flaky world traveler. Reaper had taken his share of the loot and gone his own way. He’d kept in touch and kept asking if I wanted to go back to work. I always turned him down. Valentine’s final words still haunted me.
“Want to head into town?” Jill gestured inland. Her arm was darkly tanned. “We haven’t gone dancing for a while.”
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said. “Something serious.”
She stopped smiling, folded her arms, and leaned on the railing. “I’m listening.”
“With all of the information about Dead Six public, and with Gordon dead, you aren’t in danger anymore.”
“I know,” she said slowly.
“You don’t need to stay hidden. You can be yourself again.”
Jill turned away, scanning across the beach as the wind whipped her dark hair around her shoulders. We’d spent a lot of time together recently. Being in hiding tends to do that to people. I was older than her, wearied and scarred by the world. She was a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her. I was a criminal, wanted by the law in a dozen countries and wanted dead by hundreds of evil men. We both knew that though my life was calm and happy now, there was no guarantee that my past wouldncatch up with us eventually. And for men like me, sometimes the past comes back to haunt you, while other times it comes back to cut your head off.
She’d be better off without me. She’d be safe, no longer a target. “Jill, what I’m saying is, you can go home.”
Jill continued to watch the surf and the wheeling seagulls. It wasn’t like she needed to stick around for the money. She’d helped us loot Eddie’s fortune and had gotten an equal share. The only reason she had to stay now was me.
“You know what, Lorenzo? I think I am home.” In one smooth move, she pulled her dress over her head, tossed it on the deck, and dove into the perfect blue water.
I grinned stupidly and followed.
My first official act as the island’s new owner had been to change the name from Montalban Island to St. Carl.
It had a nice ring to it.
Home.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Larry Correia
Larry Correia is the New York Times bestselling author of the Monster Hunter series and the Grimnoir Chronicles for Baen Books. He graduated with a degree in accounting from Utah State University and went to work for a Fortune 500 company as a financial analyst. Eventually, Larry ended up in the gun business, where he was a machinegun dealer, firearms instructor, and freelance writer for various gun magazines. Most recently he has worked in military contracting. Larry lives in the mountains of Utah with his very patient wife and children.
Mike Kupari
An explosive ordnance disposal technician in the US Air Force, Mike Kupari also served six years in the Army National Guard. He grew up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and enlisted at the age of seventeen. He has worked as a security contractor with several firms, did a tour in Southwest Asia with a private military company, and is an NRA certified firearms instructor. Mike currently resides in Utah with his iguana.