Page 60 of Johnny

We dock at the Port Lucaya Marina and Megan is silent as we make our way into the marketplace.

I’ve been here before, lots of times, actually. But it’s changed over the years. Before the last hurricane

devastated the area it had a much bigger feel and the marketplace was always bustling and busy.

Now it’s calm, almost empty. Most of the shops are still open but there’s plenty of residual

hurricane damage that was never repaired just about everywhere you look.

“Here,” I say, handing her a wad of American dollars. She’s still wearing the t-shirt I gave her last

night but I let her cut a pair of my jeans into shorts so she didn’t have to go out in public in boxers.

“Go buy some clothes. And grab some groceries for the—”

“Groceries?” She cuts me off. “You think I’m carting groceries back to the boat for you? Think

again, buddy. I’m not hauling groceries.” She snatches the money from my hand.

“Fine. We can get groceries together later. I’m not abandoning you. I just have to—”

“Abandoning me?” She scoffs. “I’m not even with you. I don’t feel abandoned.”

I just blink at her. “OK.”

“I’ll meet you back at the yacht whenever you’re done. I don’t need a babysitter.”

I just nod. Because I’m confused. She’s angry about something. And up until this moment I hadn’t

even noticed. “Got it,” I say. “I’ll probably be a couple hours—”

“Take your time.” And then she turns her back and walks off.

“Fucking women,” I mutter under my breath. But I don’t have room in my brain to think about

Megan Machette right now. Obviously she’s not helpless, and if I was counting on her as an ally, she’s

just made it very clear that I’m on my own.

Fine with me.

I walk through the marketplace and come out the other side just north of the Grand Lucaya Resort.

I’m meeting my friend here to have a chat and even though before that call this morning we haven’t

talked since he left town almost two years ago, I probably still consider him my closest friend.

Logan is the only one who really knew about me outside the Way. Hell, he knows far more about

me and my business than my brothers do. Far more than he should, for that matter. And if the Way ever

knew how much I’ve confided in him over the years they’d be hunting his ass down real quick.

So I appreciate the fact that he not only took my call but also agreed to help me out.

I’m skirting around an overzealous concierge in the hotel lobby who is giving me the stink eye

because I look out of place when I hear someone call, “Johnny,” and find a friendly face walking