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towards me.

“I got this, Perry,” Logan says, placing a gentle hand on Perry’s white blazer denoting him as staff

at the resort. “He’s my guest.”

“Good, all fine,” Perry responds with a smile. “Have a nice stay!”

“Thanks,” Logan says. We both watch Perry walk off to harass some other dude who looks like he

doesn’t belong here, and then turn to face each other.

“Dude,” I say, bringing him in for a bro hug. “Long time, man. Feels like forever. How’s things?”

“Things are good,” he says. He’s tanned, and smiling, and the sun has lightened his hair

considerably since I saw him last. “Come on. I have a table for us. And here,” he says, handing me

two wristbands. This is an all-inclusive resort so the wristbands act like cash. “I got you a room.”

“You didn’t have to do that. We’re staying on the yacht.”

“This is better. Trust me. They have a shit ton of security in this place and I already own most of

them. The marina is a whole other set of thugs to deal with if we’re gonna keep you safe.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “They don’t even know I’m gone.”

Logan, who has already turned away to head towards the beach, stops mid step to look at me. “You don’t really believe that, right?”

I shrug.

“Don’t underestimate them, Johnny. Trust me. It took me five fucking years to earn my way out and

every step of the way my boss was on my ass with suspicion.”

“That’s because you were planning shit,” I say. “I wasn’t planning anything until last week.”

He shakes his head at me. “That was part of my point, dumbass. I planned my exit. Very carefully.

And it still took me five years to make it happen. You just started this last week, brother. You’re

dealing with some global assholes of epic proportions. You control a huge chunk of their money.

Believe me, an impromptu trip to the Bahamas isn’t sitting right with them.”

“It was a planned trip to Miami, thank you very much. Just regular business. They don’t know what

I’m doing right now. They don’t even know I’ve been keeping my father’s yacht in a private marina in

West Palm Beach all these years. They think I sold it after his death.”

“Still,” he says, frowning. “You’re probably past the point of no return. You helped me so I’m

gonna help you. Just stay here at the hotel.”

“Fine, fine,” I say, waving off his worry.

He’s right. About all of it. I’m a hundred percent sure that the Way knows I’m doing something off