task you’ve prepared yourself for. Am I getting warm?”
“What’re you after?”
“I want to know if you love your son.”
“He’s my flesh and blood. Of course I do.”
“But you barely know him. And he doesn’t seem to have much affection for you.”
“Is there a point?”
Cameron studied his nails for a moment, then used the small file to reshape an edge. When he was done, he puffed the dust toward Thorn. “To be perfectly frank, I’m looking for leverage. To see if safeguarding your son’s well-being might keep you in line.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s only two ways this can go, Thorn. You join our merry band or the ugly alternative.” Cameron smiled again. It was hard work that seemed to strain the bands of muscles in his neck and jaw and produced something more like a grimace. “I’m told you’re wild and unpredictable, and you have a sordid history of flouting the rule of law, that you live by some badass personal code, the rest of the world be damned. And you enjoy a scuffle and can hold your own against men bigger and more well trained. An eye-gouging brawler.”
Cameron leaned forward into Thorn’s line of vision, one eyebrow cocked. “And when you committed to a cause, you saw it to the end, no matter the risks. If you believed in something, you were dogged, ruthless, stubborn to a fault. You’re passive by nature, but when the bugles sound, you can, if you choose, become a man of action. Is this accurate?”
“So this is a job interview?”
Cameron stared into Thorn’s eyes for a long moment, then huffed an exasperated sigh and rose and reset the cot he’d been sitting on, aligning it in its proper place beside the others. This hulk was not to be trifled with, and Thorn had been doing just that.
“All right, get up. I’ve heard enough. I’m done with you.”
Thorn pushed himself upright. The whirl in his gut had slowed, though his mind was foggy and his knees still soft. But the threat of Cameron Prince was reviving him fast.
“Outside,” Prince said.
Thorn pushed through the tent flap and stood for a moment while his eyes corrected to the harsh midday sunlight.
Prince prodded him midback, a solid thump. Onward. Not fucking around anymore.
As they walked, Thorn cut his eyes to the sides, searching for an avenue of escape. But the dense mangroves and wild shrubs looked impenetrable. He could probably outrun Prince, but where was there to go? Get to the beach, dive in, make it a race. But that wouldn’t last long. Thorn was a strong swimmer, but it was over a mile to the nearest land—no way he could outdistance a kayak.
There was the crowbar he’d buried in the sand. Close to the end of the trail. Lunge, scoop it up, swing for Prince’s skull. A slim hope. Something. All he had really. Sand in the eyes, that old ploy. Take out his knees, punt him in the nuts. Run back and locate Flynn and get the hell out of here.
When they reached the edge of the beach, Thorn noted the ruffled patch of marl where the length of steel was buried and primed himself for the lunge, waiting for a moment when Prince was off-balance. In his side vision he kept watch on Prince as they took the last few paces to the water’s edge, past the pry bar, two long steps away.
“Turn around and face me.”
Thorn did as told. Drawing a breath, staying loose-limbed, for that might be his only physical advantage with this cast-iron freak. Though he was beginning to believe his chances of surviving any hand-to-hand encounter with the giant were close to nil.
“Personally, I find you fatuous and inane. I don’t like you, Thorn. But what’s more important, I don’t trust you. I’ve met your type before. You’re an incorrigible maverick who’d make a highly undependable team member.”
“I’m crushed.”
“Okay, I know how I’m going to vote.” Prince spoke past Thorn to someone in the distance. “He’s all yours.”
Prince turned his massive back on Thorn and strode
“What’re you after?”
“I want to know if you love your son.”
“He’s my flesh and blood. Of course I do.”
“But you barely know him. And he doesn’t seem to have much affection for you.”
“Is there a point?”
Cameron studied his nails for a moment, then used the small file to reshape an edge. When he was done, he puffed the dust toward Thorn. “To be perfectly frank, I’m looking for leverage. To see if safeguarding your son’s well-being might keep you in line.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s only two ways this can go, Thorn. You join our merry band or the ugly alternative.” Cameron smiled again. It was hard work that seemed to strain the bands of muscles in his neck and jaw and produced something more like a grimace. “I’m told you’re wild and unpredictable, and you have a sordid history of flouting the rule of law, that you live by some badass personal code, the rest of the world be damned. And you enjoy a scuffle and can hold your own against men bigger and more well trained. An eye-gouging brawler.”
Cameron leaned forward into Thorn’s line of vision, one eyebrow cocked. “And when you committed to a cause, you saw it to the end, no matter the risks. If you believed in something, you were dogged, ruthless, stubborn to a fault. You’re passive by nature, but when the bugles sound, you can, if you choose, become a man of action. Is this accurate?”
“So this is a job interview?”
Cameron stared into Thorn’s eyes for a long moment, then huffed an exasperated sigh and rose and reset the cot he’d been sitting on, aligning it in its proper place beside the others. This hulk was not to be trifled with, and Thorn had been doing just that.
“All right, get up. I’ve heard enough. I’m done with you.”
Thorn pushed himself upright. The whirl in his gut had slowed, though his mind was foggy and his knees still soft. But the threat of Cameron Prince was reviving him fast.
“Outside,” Prince said.
Thorn pushed through the tent flap and stood for a moment while his eyes corrected to the harsh midday sunlight.
Prince prodded him midback, a solid thump. Onward. Not fucking around anymore.
As they walked, Thorn cut his eyes to the sides, searching for an avenue of escape. But the dense mangroves and wild shrubs looked impenetrable. He could probably outrun Prince, but where was there to go? Get to the beach, dive in, make it a race. But that wouldn’t last long. Thorn was a strong swimmer, but it was over a mile to the nearest land—no way he could outdistance a kayak.
There was the crowbar he’d buried in the sand. Close to the end of the trail. Lunge, scoop it up, swing for Prince’s skull. A slim hope. Something. All he had really. Sand in the eyes, that old ploy. Take out his knees, punt him in the nuts. Run back and locate Flynn and get the hell out of here.
When they reached the edge of the beach, Thorn noted the ruffled patch of marl where the length of steel was buried and primed himself for the lunge, waiting for a moment when Prince was off-balance. In his side vision he kept watch on Prince as they took the last few paces to the water’s edge, past the pry bar, two long steps away.
“Turn around and face me.”
Thorn did as told. Drawing a breath, staying loose-limbed, for that might be his only physical advantage with this cast-iron freak. Though he was beginning to believe his chances of surviving any hand-to-hand encounter with the giant were close to nil.
“Personally, I find you fatuous and inane. I don’t like you, Thorn. But what’s more important, I don’t trust you. I’ve met your type before. You’re an incorrigible maverick who’d make a highly undependable team member.”
“I’m crushed.”
“Okay, I know how I’m going to vote.” Prince spoke past Thorn to someone in the distance. “He’s all yours.”
Prince turned his massive back on Thorn and strode
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