Page 131 of Johnny

I fall out.

I literally fall out. But I do still have the rope in my hands and somehow I keep a hold of it as I

slide down towards the ground.

Waiting hands jerk me aside once my feet touch down and then Johnny drops right into the spot I

was standing in one second earlier.

“You’re fine,” he says, unclipping the helmet from my waist and putting it on my head. “Just do

what I say and you’ll be fine.” He buckles the helmet under my chin. And then… we’re running. He’s

got a hold of my upper arm and we’re running through the thick, tropical jungle.

I don’t know where I am or what we’re doing. The only reason I gave Johnny the coordinates to

this place was because they told me too. They knew he was down here looking for an island.

That’s why they left me in that prison. They knew he’d show up there. And luckily for me, he did.

But I’m now one-hundred percent certain that my Way handler would’ve let me die down there if he

didn’t.

But this… assault? This was not part of my plan. My plan was to lead him here and then people

would be waiting for him. After that… I dunno. There was a meeting planned or something. I was not

supposed to be dragged into the jungle with a team of mercenaries and I don’t quite understand how I

went from a luxurious superyacht passenger to a jungle aerial assault soldier in the span of thirty

minutes.

The building comes into view too soon.

I’m relieved there is a building, to be honest. Because I was making that whole story up yesterday

when I described this place.

I glance at Johnny, trying to gauge what he’s thinking right now. So far everything I told him seems

to be checking out. But that’s just pure luck. And you know what they say about luck? Always runs out

eventually.

He doesn’t even look in my direction.

I’m not ready for this. I’m suddenly very, very nervous. My heart is beating so fast, I think I’m

getting dizzy. And I’m so damn hot in this tactical gear, I feel like I’m swimming in sweat.

Fake Johnny and Fake Megan are already at the door. They’ve spray-painted the security cameras

and now the guy is pulling large, square chunks of what looks like clay out of the duffel bag I saw the

woman heaving onto Johnny’s yacht a few hours ago.