Crash-landed On An Island With Nine Beauties novel Chapter 112

"Las Vegas, I'm back."

Damien breathed in the smell of water nourished with the hint of the urban world.

"Am I really back to Vegas? Really?"

It was too good to be true. It felt like his body had been projected into a sort of simulation. He closed his eyes, sniffed then opened them again.

"It's real. I'm back in Vegas. The home which felt like a fugitive place. A home where I was ridiculed and made to feel like a stranger... a trash!"

"But it's different now. Things are different."

The tone of his voice went deep, his voice breathy.

"Dear Las Vegas, this isn't the Damien you used to know. Not the garbage that could be tossed to a trash can."

"I'm a diamond in the dirt and I ain't being found. An underground king, yet to be crowned."

"I'm no longer the weak and fragile slave. I'm no longer the poor and wretched youth."

"I'm the king of an island!!! A dread to the Cannibals!!! One who snapped the head of a giant polar bear in the blink of an eye, dislocating the limbs of an adult lion!"

"I'm the host of a powerful system with nine queens!"

He shook his head slowly,

"No, poor Vegas. You ain't ready for me... you can't handle this smoke... you'll choke on it, gasp for breath and beg for your life... I'll ride you until you can't stand on your feet. It's now my turn!"

He put his head down. His head which had been thrown to the sky all along.

"You'll have to pay me if you'll have your yacht stored at this Dock."

A manly voice came from his front. He looked. There was a middle aged man.

"Of course. How much do you charge for seven days."

He wasn't sure whether or not he would be staying that long. After all, it was a short visit.

"$2800. Four hundred for one day."

Damien nodded and turned to go get the bags.

"I'd say that you get the cops ready or call Steven's boys. This poor looking lad can't pay a dime. Who knows, he probably stole it."

Damien was shocked at that sudden remark. He turned at once to see the person who had just attacked him for no reason.

There was a young man walking to catch up with the middle aged man who had attended to him in the first place.

"Do you know me?"

Damien's eyes squinted, looking at the young man. The man chuckled wryly.

"This sucker. Do I need to know you in person to tell that you are poorer than a church rat? Imagine what you are wearing. Isn't this a tunic robe? Is that how poor and wretched your family is?"

The young man turned to the middle aged.

"I say we call the cops. I'm sure that he stole the yacht. He's going into the city to find a buyer. He's not coming back, he would send someone else to retrieve it... someone like Solomon's boys."

"Is that true?"

The middle aged man asked. Damien didn't know what to say. The young man walked to him and slapped him gently on the cheek.

"You better be legit."

Damien turned away from him and opened the third bag. He had discovered while driving to Vegas that the third bag contained money. So much money bundled in ten thousand denominations. In hundred dollars unit. A lot of bundles.

When he discovered that much money, he had arrived at the conclusion that the Rainbow boys had come with that much money to cater for their own needs and his queens'.

Plus it was a good thing for him. Before leaving the island, he had been worried about how to get money and how he would exchange the gold... sell it and make money. But now, he could spend this wisely till he finds a buyer or buyers.

He counted out three thousand dollars and zippered the bag. He turned back.

"Who am I paying?"

He asked indifferently, coldly looking from the young man to the middle aged.

"Me."

The middle aged called and Damien made to move. But the young man stood in his way. He glared at the fellow and he stepped out of the way.

"Here."

He handed out the cash.

"You'll give me two hundred bucks when I return to get back my yacht."

He paused for a while. He pointed at the other two bags.

"Keep those safely in the yacht. I'll be back soon enough. I might not use up to seven days. Which means don't spend more than expected."

He walked to grab the bag containing money. He nodded at the middle aged man then walked out of the dock.

"That rude punk! Imagine him speaking so cool... Dumb fool. Imagine how dressed he is... can someone please tell that fucker that this is fucking 2022 and not the medieval period. Even the mediaeval perioders won't dress that ---"

"Perioders..."

The middle aged man scorned, then walked to the yacht to do the needed.

As Damien walked on, the voice in his head got louder. The voice which kept telling him that he would die soon enough. A voice which gave life to the threat of the strange man.