“He’s still looking,” Matteo says. “That salvage invoice? That means my father has taken out a… a hit on him,” he says, as if the word doesn’t seem to fit. But his demeanor has changed, his posture sagging.
A piece I had wondered about earlier finally clicks into place. I stare at Matteo, my hand balling into a fist on the desktop.
“And what about you?” I ask him. “Did your father ask you to find Ellis for him?” Noa immediately turns to Matteo accusingly. “Is that why you came down to the beach the other day with that whole surfing bullshit?”
Matteo backs up, holding his hands in front of him. “I had no idea why he wanted Ellis,” Matteo says, looking pleadingly at Noa. “I swear, my father asked me to go to the Shack and askthe girl”—he points at Noa—“if she’s seen her brother. He told me it would help us find Felix. But I swear, I wouldn’t have done anything if I found him.”
“Except tell your father,” I point out, and he winces.
“I guess I would have,” he admits. “And then… I would have hated myself if anything had happened. I didn’t know. I swear.”
But he already feels guilty—it’s painted all over his face. Matteo turns and walks to the window. The idea of almost facilitating a murder is probably weighing on him, as it should. It’s a heavy burden to realize your own father would have involved you in a murder.
Sort of how my father has made me complicit in his cover-up. Only difference is I’m not going to keep quiet. I’m not going to be a part of the Mancini evil empire—even if I end up dead in the marsh next to the Starline Hotel.
The computer pings then, alerting me that the USB has finished downloading all the files. I pull out the stick and shut down the computer.
“We’ll get a better look at these files at home,” I tell them, holding it up. “For now, we need to get out of this resort. I don’t want to get caught at—”
“Is that smoke?” Matteo asks, distracted, taking a step toward the window. We all look that way and notice white smoke spiraling up from the beach. My heart nearly explodes in my chest, and Noa dashes forward to put her hand on the glass. “I think…” Matteo says, eyes wide. “I think it’s coming from the—”
“Surf Shack,” Noa gasps out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
—NOA
I’m not sure how longit takes me to get outside—leaving the office and racing down the stairs was a blur, my mind spinning as I typed out desperate texts to my dad and Tech. I didn’t ask Jamie if we got the information that we needed from the computer or if Matteo was sure we weren’t seen. I don’t even know where they are.
Instead, I’m running. Because none of that matters anymore. The rain has stopped. I race through the wet sand—my shoes lost somewhere back near the resort. I push through the gathering crowd of people in pretty dresses and fancy suits.
I run right up to the Shack, the heat of the flames on my face. The business is completely engulfed, although the fire doesn’t seem to have reached the main part of my house yet. When I look down the dock, I see thatThe Tarponis gone, and I’m relieved that my father is both safe and not here to witness our lives burn to ash.
I quickly grab a bucket from the dock and scoop up a heavy load of water. I run back and throw it on the fire, which lets out a withering hiss.
I feel utterly helpless. Tears run down my face as I rush to get another bucketful of water.
“No, no,” I say, over and over. My whole life is inside that house. My every memory of my mother. My home.
“Honey,” my mother called with a laugh from the kitchen. “Tell your father I’m the better surfer.”
“Do you like these colors?” she asked, holding up the Surf Shack sign, blue paint in her hair.
“Can you get me just a little more water, sweetheart?” she whispered, sick in bed while holding me in her arms.
This is the house my mother built. This is our home.
I run, my feet hot from the flames heating up the sand, and grab another bucket of water, spilling part of it on my dress as I drag it back toward the house and toss it on the flames.
At first no one is helping, and then suddenly Jamie appears, grabbing the empty bucket from my hands to scoop up water at a faster pace. Matteo is right behind him, tugging a length of garden hose around the building. The two of them are spraying and dousing the flames, black smoke billowing out and choking us. But we don’t stop. I grab another bucket and continue to fight.
Then I notice a woman next to me in a pale pink dress. She literally fills her empty champagne flute with ocean water and throws it toward the fire. When I look sideways at her, tears blurring my vision, she smiles sadly and gets more to keep up the work. Sirens sound in the distance, and the crowd has become restless.
Several men rush past me on the dock to pull fire extinguishers from their boats, more fishing pails, and another hose. Shawn and Jordan arrive, and Shawn screams her rage at the fire, hoisting an entire dish tray of water at the flames.
I’m choking on black smoke and tears. As I look around, I notice the valet starting a water line, passing a bucket to Jordan, who then passes it to the bartender, and so on. It’s almost like slow motion, that way all of us are fighting together. Fighting to save the Surf Shack. For a moment, there is no Collective. There are no Chasers.
I see the light of an approaching boat and assume it’s the coast guard. But as it gets closer, I realize it’sThe Tarpon.My poor father, he’s going to…
