Hey, readers :)
Thanks for the fun commentary that brought me here, the schweet votes and coming along this journey with me.
Thanks, Rumpole, for taking the time to eyeball this lengthier chapter.
Acknowledgement to Abroad's song, 'All I Want'. A very underrated band that helped me channel Michael's character so much that some of the lyrics seeped into his dialogue.
This is the last one.
Enjoy x
****
Gavin lightly jumped from the yacht aboard the small speedboat; it wobbled as the engine started.
Wrapped in a navy bed blanket, Carina's eyes slowly closed with exhaustion. She dreamed vividly.
The room was so cold. She sat by a locked window framed with pink roses, gazing out at a sun-soaked garden.
"I want to see the flowers," she murmured.
A heavy hand pressed her shoulder. "No."
"I want to go outside," she whined.
Eduardo's grip tightened. "You are too delicate for the sun,
mi amor
. Look at your hands."
Carina's eyes widened at the backs of her hands; spotted with age. Carlos sat opposite, looking tired, his once jet-black hair now peppered with grey. But his eyes were sharp, watchful on Carina's face, and filled with unspoken sorrow.
"I want to sit in the sun," Carina whispered. "I want to go outside."
A strapping young man strode from nowhere. He was gorgeous, with Eduardo's cruel smile and midnight-blue eyes. Carina frowned as he kissed her withered cheek.
"Morning, Ma," he smiled, tucking a strand of white behind her ear. "Did you sleep well?"
"I want to sit in the sun," Carina repeated. "I want to leave here."
The men collectively laughed; a harsh burst of sound that hurt her ears.
A beautiful girl appeared. Carina watched her twirl for them in a vibrant green dress spiralling to display lovely, long legs and bright red heels.
Unabashed by their audience, Carina's son ran his hand up the girl's skirt. "Stay with my mother," he murmured against her lips, and she obediently nodded.
Distant screams broke the unsettling quiet. The men were gone, Carina was alone with the pretty girl.
"What was that?" she said anxiously.
The girl's hand was firm on her wrist; consoling and controlling. "Do not worry. They are just killing somebody," she sunnily replied.
Carina began to cry, and the girl wiped her face with silk. Blinking tears from her vision, Carina's jaw dropped.
"What is it?" the girl asked curiously.
Carina gaped at a vision that made her heart swell. Gleaming long, dark hair, and a perfectly-shaped pink pout. Vibrant violet eyes, shining with confidence. A lively girl with everything to live for, but no real future.
"W-What is your name?" Carina croaked, panic rising in her chest; a rattling wheeze.
Young Carina airily shrugged. "Whatever they want it to be."
"Your name is Carina!"
The girl shrugged again with a look so vacant Carina wanted to slap her. She seized the girl's shoulders, her roughened fingers digging into young flesh. "You will never get out of this. You will never get out. Your life is nothing with them."
The girl smiled stupidly. "But I am nobody."
Carina tried to shake the girl, but she was too weak. "Your name is Carina!" she sobbed. "Carina!"
Carina.
"Carina."
She shivered awake, furtively staring around until she looked up to find Gavin on the wharf, reaching for her. He was still shirtless, the dawning sun gleamed across his fair skin.
"Come on," he murmured. "We have to go."
Shifting the blanket from her body, Carina wearily draped her arms about Gavin's neck and was lifted from the speedboat. Standing on wobbly-legs, she uneasily stared at the familiar beach.
"Why are we here?" she whispered, as though the surrounds might come to life and envelope her. Two abandoned bikes were on the sand, unmoved since their escape and Michael's pursuit.
"Fuel and the ashes," Gavin said simply. "Can you walk?" he queried, peering at her pale features.
Still nervously taking in her bearings, Carina reluctantly nodded but pressed closer to the inviting warmth of Gavin's skin. Gavin smiled at her silent answer. Yes, she could walk. But no, she didn't want to.
"Alright," he relented, easily scooping her against his chest. "How are you feeling?" he asked, striding down the wharf toward the sand.
Carina sighed against his neck. "Like shit."
"You'd have to have a screw loose to be unaffected after all you've been through," he replied.
"Won't they trace the boat here, from the yacht?" Carina asked.
"That'll be Ethan's problem. We're leaving it here."
"He'll come after us, won't he?" she mumbled, feeling like a newborn not wanting to exit the womb. Adhering to Gavin's chest was so damn comforting.
"Yep. But we have a bangin' head start, so don't worry about him."
"But it can't be that long since..."
To her surprise, a burst of laughter escaped Gavin. "Seriously, don't worry. He has his work cut out for him."
"What do you mean?" Carina asked, confused by his humour. "What's so funny?"
"It's sort of an inside joke."
***
Michael registered the pounding headache before even opening his eyes. Blinking to full consciousness, he became aware of the mop in one hand, and box of tissues precariously balanced atop the other. Sitting up to let the cleaning items fall from his hands, his blurry vision focused on the neat writing glaring at him from a torn sheet of paper.
"Staff are secured. Thanks, Ethan. I owe you one x."
Michael reached for the message, stared at it for a full minute before slowly crushing it into a fierce little ball, his face frozen with anger.
The boat had to be checked, and it was a big job. Michael felt like a hungover partygoer who had woken up abandoned by all friends and left with a nasty choice: a huge mess to clean, or a very expensive bond to pay.
It wasn't unexpected, it just really sucked. Michael planned to leave Gavin in the same predicament. It was the ultimate act of bad etiquette to leave an associate to tidy a crime scene. Gavin normally had impeccable manners and was a very efficient 'cleaner'. But he naturally wanted to teach Michael a lesson and ensure a safe getaway with Carina.
Carina...
Michael swore and glared at the ceiling, silently counting the rooms on the yacht needing critical attention. The bodies to be taken care of. A reckless, spiteful part of him wanted to leave evidence that would blow all of them into the open, but his rational side understood that the less the world knew of him, Carina and Gavin, the easier it would be to track them down.
It wasn't the worst result. Carlos had been dealt with and Carina was alive. Whilst there was no way Michael would admit it aloud, a part of him, a fleeting part of him very, very deep down, was glad Gavin survived Carlos' hospitality.
But the job could take hours. And he'd have to ensure the staff who'd barricaded themselves in the kitchen remained trapped inside while he went to work. It wouldn't do to have civilians wandering about ship like stray sheep. Though Gavin indicated he'd taken care of that problem, and probably only because he didn't want Michael to murder the workers in a sore-loser rage.
Regardless, he'd still have to mask himself just in case...
"Fuck, fuck,
fuck,
you, Gavin!" Michael snarled, staring at his blood-stained shirt that was somehow symbolic of the gruesome job ahead.
Closing his eyes, he called on memories of Carina to calm himself. The one that stood out was unexpected. A time when Eduardo and Carlos left for a business rendezvous, leaving Michael to mind Carina till daybreak.
They sat on a daybed for hours as the sun went down, drinking and laughing and animatedly debating. Suffering mild sunstroke, Carina dozed off before dinner; curled up against him, her arm loosely draped across his stomach.
Michael gently stroked her hair, watched the red sun vanish and felt it was the perfect way to conclude a fun day. More than once he smiled at Carina's sleeping face, his finger traced her flushed cheek and lingered by her pretty mouth, so close to rosy lips that made his heart and cock ache at once.