Five men walked toward the beach. He watched them, wondering who they were. They didn’t look like locals. They were white, fit and had the hard look of professionals. There was a housekeeper who called him “mister,” but otherwise nobody had come to the place in the time he’d been there. A cold frisson of warning tingled at the back of his neck.
“Shane Pryce?” one of the men said.
Maybe. “Who are you?”
“Dane sent us.”
“Who’s Dane?”
“Your brother. It’s time you come home.”
——