The Arrangement Anthology 2(133)

“I told you to do it first thing, not to wait and talk to her. You jeopardized the whole operation, and risked Pete finding out. You’re a sorry excuse for a—”

My eyes flutter open involuntarily and Marty talks over him, “Shut it, dipshit. She’s awake and as soon as that headache passes, she’s going to bolt. Stop wasting time and start talking.” Marty is watching me with a softened expression on his face, which confuses the crap out of me. Hell, this whole scene confuses the crap out of me.

I blink and try to push up. Sean rushes to my side and puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. As his fingers clutch my shoulders, his voice softens a little. “It’s too soon. Wait or you’ll be sick.”

“You’re here.” I smile at him. He’s safe. “You’re all right.” Marty didn’t hurt him. In fact, he seems better than the last time I saw him. He was hurt, recovering from a bullet wound. Leaning over me like that should make him hurt. Sean should be groaning from pain, but he’s not.

Something is off. Even sedated, I can feel it. I sense it, but I still can’t figure out what’s going on. Add in what I just heard and my eyes widen. Sean Ferro, the initials.

My heart twists. “Marty had your handkerchief, didn’t he?”

The two letters come back into focus in my mind, the ramifications quickly follow, snapping into place. If the handkerchief was Sean’s, then based on what I just heard, Sean and Marty are… I shiver. “Oh, my God, Sean! You told Marty to drug me, didn’t you? I heard you say it—he was supposed to drug me. Marty tried to talk me into following him first.”

Sean’s emotional mask juts up and snaps firmly in place. He shows no remorse, no affection. It’s like he hasn’t changed at all and there’s a man I don’t know standing in front of me. “I did what I had to do. It was for your own good. If you were found with Marty—able to get away, but not trying—it would look wrong. They’d think you were helping him.”

Outraged, I yell, “Helping him do what, exactly? Shoot you? Kidnap you? Bury you in a freakin’ sand dune?” I scream the last part and wish I hadn’t. My head throbs so badly, it feels like there’s a steel bar vibrating in my brain. I grab my head and shut my eyes.

Clutching my temples, I growl, “Where are we?”

Sean sits by my side as Marty paces behind me. We’re in an old house and I can hear the water lapping against the shore, which means we are very close to the ocean. The house is dark, save the glow of a dim light they’ve put in the fireplace.

“Oak Island. This house is owned by, well it’s, uh—” Sean looks up at Marty. Still lying on my back, I look up at him expectantly.

“I own it.” Marty moves across the dark room and sits across from me on an old velvet chair that’s seen better days. He rests his elbows on his knees, leans forward, and clasps his hands together. His mop of hair falls over his eyes, hiding the cut I gave him earlier. He glares at the tattered Persian rug on the floor and growls, “Just say it Sean, or I will.”

But Sean doesn’t speak and neither does Marty. For a moment, the only sound I can hear is the roar of the ocean. Rain begins to bounce eerily off the dark windowpanes.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel it—things aren’t right. Something is off. Annoyed with both of them, I snap, “What’s going on? Contrary to popular belief, it doesn’t seem like you’re being held hostage, Sean.”

Sean slips off the couch and kneels in front of me, taking both of my hands. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.” His dark hair is a tousled mess, like he’s been riding his motorcycle without his helmet. There’s a cut on his cheek, and three-day-old scruff on his face. Dark circles line his eyes, as if he hasn’t slept since he last shaved.

“To you, maybe.” Head still swimming, I’m too woozy to yell. As the room wobbles, I remember Sean is the one who did this to me. Maybe it wasn’t his hand, but it was his idea. That means Sean and Marty are in this together, although I can’t see how. “This makes no sense! Why is Marty here? He tried to kill you and now you’re just hanging out together in a beach house?” I’m yelling again and trying to sit up.

“Lie down, Avery, or I’ll tie you down instead.” Sean has a wicked gleam in his eyes. I’m sure he’s not kidding and I’m also sure he’d like the opportunity.

“Sean,” Marty taps his watch, “time. The hour is almost up.”

Sean rises and grabs his hair, tugging it in frustration. He runs his palms down the back of his neck and makes an aggravated sound in the back of his throat. Finally, he turns to look at me. “It was fake. The whole thing.”