Page 164 of Johnny

CHAPTER TWENTY - MEGAN

Johnny Boston holds my hand as he leads me up the stairs to the living area, and keeps a hold of

it as we make our way up to the deck and around to the bow of the yacht. Despite all the crazy shit

that has gone down in the last few days, and despite—maybe not overlooking, but definitely putting

aside to think of later—the fact that Johnny is a cold-blooded killer… I have an unfamiliar sense of

calm inside me.

I might need therapy to understand this calm. Because I have obviously been through some

traumatic events and these experiences have messed up my innate sense of morality, or compassion,

or possibly even my whole fucking identity, starting with my humanity.

Because I am drawn to him. I am drawn to this violent, most likely psychotic man whose only

purpose in life is to extort billions of dollars from rich people every month so they can use it to fund

some global, diabolical plan that will change the world forever.

“One second,” Johnny says, letting go of my hand. “Just sit here.” He points to one of the two sun

loungers built into the top of the yacht’s hull. “And don’t move. Don’t look at anything. Don’t wander

around. Don’t do anything. Just sit. I’ll be right back.”

I nod and smile at him as I ease myself down into the sun lounger. The back has been propped up

and once I’m settled I relax a little and spend the few seconds of silence I have before he comes back

to try and make sense of how I feel.

I could see him and me as partners. Not like, sexual partners. Though that would happen if we stick

together. And not like business partners either, because let’s face it, I have no business anymore. Not

after what he just told me. I’m through with science and I’m pretty sure he’s through with banking.

But like…I stifle an irrational laugh… partners in crime.

Literally.

Except… is it crime? Is it crime when the powers that control us control everything else too?

The world has gone murky. My reality is no longer clear. Hell, nothing about my past, present, or

future makes any sense at all.

Was I involved in something evil? Did I do this? Am I responsible?

Do I come off as grandiose, and possibly narcissistic, by even asking this question? Like… do I

have some inflated sense of self-importance? That I, one twenty-something woman with no college

degree, let alone actual letters at the end of my name, could change the world in such a dramatic and