~ Island Boy ~

by

Linda M. Orlando

Prologue

"It’s too bad you had to get involved," the voice boomed.

He was shoved over the side of the boat so that his head dangled only inches from the frigid ocean water. His entire body trembled with fear. "But I won’t tell anybody, I swear."

"We can’t take that chance. You might tell Mike, and we can’t have that. We don’t need him making trouble for us."

"I won’t," he said, his voice quivering. "Besides, Mike is too busy with wedding plans, getting the house ready for his new family."

"We just can’t risk it. We’ve got too much to lose."

"But I’ve got pictures. If anything happens to me, Mike is bound to find them. He’ll get you anyway."

"Where are they?" the familiar voice boomed.

"If I tell you, you’ll kill me."

"If you don’t tell me, I’m going to kill you."

The huge fist struck the side of his head, once, then twice. "Tell me where they are!"

"No!"

Again and again the gloved-fist struck him. "Where are they?"

"No!"

"He’s lying," one of the other men said. "He doesn’t have any pictures."

"Finish him off!" another man commanded.

Then he felt himself falling, tumbling backward. The icy waves splashed over him. He struggled to keep his head above water, but the wooden oar slammed into him pushing him under. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were filling with water and his arms and legs were so cold he couldn’t move.

Then the darkness came.

One

The deep green water was rough, spray slapping him in the face, as Dannie sat silently in the stern of the boat. His sandy hair fell forward into his face, nearly covering his normally-sparkling blue eyes. He looked back at the mainland, as the life he was used to got further away with each passing second. Then he stared straight ahead at the island that was about to become his new home. He still couldn’t believe his mother had done this to him. He wished she had never gone home for her high school reunion. She had married her high school sweetheart and impulsively moved her family from their life in New York to this secluded island in Maine.

Their life had been good in New York. He had friends. His younger brother, Stevie, and his sister, Kelli, did, too. Now they all had to start over—living with Mike—in his house.

Dannie didn’t speak as the wooden boat met the land and Steve scrambled out and ran up over the rocky shore. "Is this our new house?" Kelli called, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she headed toward the shingled two-story building.

"Go on in," Mike called to her. "Make yourself at home."

Dannie watched his mother slip her arm around Mike. They kissed just like he wasn’t there. Why couldn’t they do that behind closed doors? Dannie thought.

Mike’s hand gently caressed her cheek, then his fingers lovingly tucked a spray of brown hair behind her ear. "I’m so glad you’re here," Mike said softly to his new wife.

"So am I," Dannie’s mother said. Then she looked toward Dannie.

"Okay, Dannie, give Mike a hand with the suitcases," his mother said, taking a bag of groceries and heading toward the house.

"You grab those two and I’ll get these," Mike said.

Dannie ignored him, just sat there in the boat. "So this is it?" he grumbled.

Mike stopped and turned toward Dannie. Dannie could feel Mike’s eyes on him. But Mike didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at him. Dannie waited, daring his new stepfather to confront him. He had a lot he wanted to say and secretly hoped Mike would start something so he would have reason to explode with what he was really thinking.