Working for me isn’t like working at Staples or fucking Burger King. You don’t just walk in and tellThe Ivorythat you’re quitting.
Alabaster Pen quits you, you don’t quit it.
Seriously, the only times guards have left this island was when I needed to repurpose them to other positions. Andno, that’s not code for killing them.Not always…
Even so, it’s alwaysmycall. But that gorgeous, burly pain in my ass just stormed out of here to go pack his things, and I’m honestly baffled by his audacity right now. More than that, though, I’m confused as towhyhe’d want to leave the second Dascha arrived…
Unless it’s deeper than what the eye can see.
Kellan Kemper is battling some demons. It’d be pretty hard not to notice it, especially with his whole marital situation.
The guy does sort of need a vacation…
What was that resort in Mexico Alexander was rambling about? Something Ojos?
He had a brochure for it the last time I saw him in Vegas. He was talking about how he wished Dascha would quit the robberies before something went terribly wrong—talk about irony—mentioning this resort in Tulum where he knew his son could lay low. He even had the brochure for it sent to the house after he left, in hopes that Dascha would see it and choose to go there.
That man is persistent as hell for someone who skipped out on his son at fifteen. He’s been badgering me for years to have my connections in the Brooklyn PD lose any evidence that could convict his son. He even gave me that damn brochure, like there’s anything I could fucking do with it. Pretty sure I left it in the break room somewhere.
Look, I’m all for keeping my Vegas deal copacetic, but I’m not sure how I feel about beingUncle Ivory. I’ve got enough on my plate with this prison, the Board, and these goddamn guards, all of whom are vexing me more and more each day.
Watching the camera feed on my laptop screen, I follow Kemper’s movements inside the prison hebetterbe leaving immediately. It appears he’s saying goodbye to Officer Jameson, and I unmute the microphone to listen.
“Can you make sure he’s okay? Please?”
Joy’s face radiates confusion. “Do you… know him?”
“Not really… No.” Kemper covers his face with his hands. He looks distressed, and it seems clear he’s unsure of this decision, which can only mean he’s talking about Dash. “I just… I need your help, Joy. Please, just do me this favor. Make sure he has whatever he needs. I’ll send money for it. For anything. Get him the best stuff and I’ll pay for it.Please, Joy…”
“Kel, that’s… Okay. Yes. I’ll do it. Whatever you need.”
Slumping back in my chair, I roll my eyes to the heavens.
Dios, what is happening right now?
“No Velle.” I hear Kemper murmur, and stiffen.
“Of course.” She nods.
Wow… I wonder what else young Joy Jameson has been hiding from her partner in crime.
I know there’s a lot Jonathan hasn’t told her.
So maybe they’re not as close as everyone thinks they are…
I shouldn’t still be so pleased by this, but I am, and it’s rather annoying.
Just as I’m preparing to call Kent and instruct him to escort Kellan Kemper’s deserting ass off this island before I change my mind and chain his ass up somewhere for defying me, my phone rings.
It’s the call I’ve been expecting since I got word from Russo that Dascha would be on his way shortly.
“Zdravstvuyte?” I answer, grinning.
“I just heard,” the grumbly, joyless tone slinks through the phone, and I roll my eyes again.
“Heard what?” I sigh for show. “Andzdravstvuyteto you too, Alexander.”
“Cut the shit, Blanco,” he growls. “Dascha… He is there, yes?”
