Page 185 of Merciless Daddy

The villa drew closer. I saw a second, smaller house beyond the palms. Guards moved there, distant enough to be respectful. No guns showed at the dock. No one followed us toward the villa.

Sal watched my face.

“This is another relocation,” I said. “You dressed it up as a vacation.”

“Of course, honey. It is both.”

I turned toward him.

“The house in Wisconsin may have been watched,” he said. “I will not move you from prison to prison and call it protection.”

The boat touched the dock. Sal stepped out first, then held out his hand. I took it.

Inside the villa, every door stood open to sea air. White curtains moved in the breeze. There were flowers on the table, bare feet waiting by the entrance, books on shelves, a bowl of limes in the kitchen.

Sal put a ring of keys in my palm.

“Choose any room,” he said. “Change anything you dislike. Swim whenever you want.”

I looked at him.

“Provided you tell me before entering the water,” he added.

“Because?”

“So I know where you are. Not because I am keeping you inside.”

The keys were warm from his hand.

For the first time, a safe house did not feel like a place where I waited for the next attack.

It felt like somewhere I might wake up tomorrow and want breakfast.

Breakfast arrived beneath bougainvillea. This place was so ridiculously beautiful it was almost offensive.

The terrace overlooked a cove. Purple flowers spilled over the stone wall. The sea flashed below us. Sal sat across from me in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking far too calm for a man who had smuggled me across an ocean without explaining himself.

“There is fruit,” he said.

“I can see that.”

“Eat some.”

“You brought me to a tropical island to bully me with papaya.”

“I brought you to a tropical island because you are pale and angry.”

“Right. It’s my brand.“.”

His mouth curved. I ate the papaya. It was, annoyingly, delicious.

After breakfast, he led me down a narrow path toward the cove. The beach was private. Soft white sand. Water so clear I could see shadows of small fish moving over the bottom.

I stood at the edge and watched the horizon. One boat far out. A white line of wake. No others.

“It doesn’t feel fair that this is all for us.”

“Why, Little One?”