by Kyla Stone
Before she could hazard a guess, Tyler Horne swept between them. He had perfectly styled beach-blonde hair, cultivated stubble, and a swagger to match his enormous ego.
“I'd love a turn.” He flashed her a perfect, practiced grin.
Celeste let out a nervous giggle, brushing her hand through her riot of curls. “Oh, hey, Mr. Horne.”
“Please, call me Tyler.”
“I loved your presentation, Tyler,” Celeste cooed. “I'll be first in line to get one of those chip thingies.”
“Great.” Tyler's intense, sky-blue gaze settled on Amelia. “How about you? Will you be first in line?”
She forced a smile. “Of course. The VitaliChip will save lives.”
“And make my investors billions. But you ladies are much too beautiful to be bored silly by business talk.” He slung his arm around her shoulder. “How about that dance?”
Amelia stiffened. She should say yes. Her father would want her to. But she didn't want his hands on her, tightening around her waist, slipping as far down her hips as he dared get away with. She’d heard all about his games, and she didn't want to play. But it didn’t matter what she wanted. Her father wanted her to smile and dance, to play the part.
She thought about Silas, their conversation on the beach. She could just say no. It should be easy. Why was it so hard to simply say the words? Tyler Horne wasn’t her father. He was just another arrogant jerk.
“I'm so sorry, Tyler.” She twisted out from beneath him, squeezed his hand gently, and dropped his arm. “I feel a little unwell. But my friend Celeste is a wonderful dancer. She can even teach you the Foxtrot.”
A flash of irritation crossed his perfect features. He wasn't used to rejection. Before he could respond, Celeste latched onto his arm. “You'll have a blast! It's so easy, once you get the hang of it. Come on!” She thrust her champagne at Amelia, mouthing thank you, and dragged him off to dance.
Amelia had only a moment to herself before her father strode across the room and took her arm. His expression was flat, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Come with me.”
“What’s wrong?”
He squeezed her elbow as he escorted her out into the foyer, away from the party. “I planned to announce the support of Senator López tonight. Did I not ask you to put him in a favorable mood?”
Her mouth went dry. The flute of champagne grew heavy in her hand. The lights reflecting off the crystal chandeliers made her eyes hurt. “I tried. You heard him. He doesn’t—”
“You tried? It was a simple request, Amelia. Did you really try? Like you tried to get into Juilliard?”
Her breath left her lungs.
“I was just chatting with Orson Davenport and his wife. As any father would do, I proudly bragged of my daughter’s accomplishments. His lovely wife, Iris, happens to serve on the Committee of Admissions at the Juilliard Conservatory.”
She went rigid, her arms stilled at her sides.
“Would you like to hazard a guess what she told me?”
“I’m sorry, I was going to—”
His brow furrowed, his steely gaze boring into her. “Do you enjoy making me look like a fool, Amelia?”
Her heart thundered in her ears. She could barely hear herself think. She could barely think at all. “No! Of course not.”
“You’re simply a careless, irresponsible liar, then?”
“I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think.”
“I didn’t know—”
“What is it exactly that you didn’t know? You didn’t receive and open a letter from Juilliard explicitly rejecting you due to your lack of dedication and insufficient skills?”
“Yes. Yes, I did, but it didn’t say that, about my skills,” she stammered, flinching. “It didn’t say anything bad. They invited me to re-audition in the spring. I meant to tell you—”
“You meant to?”
“I just—”
“You didn’t think I would find out?” His lip curled. “You thought you would deceive me, play me for a fool?”
“Dad—”
He towered over her, his nostrils flaring, contempt etched across his face. “And then instead of charming Senator López, you turn him against me? Are you trying to sabotage me?”
She shrank back against the wall, fear making her small and stupid. “I would never—”
His gaze darkened. “You’ve always been such a disappointment to me. You and your brother, both. Spoiled, ungrateful little—”
“Excuse me.” Gabriel Rivera stood in the doorway. “Your head of security, Ed Jericho, is asking for you, sir.”
The mask slid into place, the scorn melting from Declan Black’s face. His expression shifted to polite reserve as he straightened his cufflinks. “Thank you for informing me. Amelia, darling, Tyler Horne is still expecting that dance.” He strode back into the ballroom.
“Are you okay?” Gabriel said.
She was still shaking. “Sorry, um—he’s under a lot of stress. And I messed up—”
“I didn’t eavesdrop on your conversation. Just—you look miserable.”
She blushed and rubbed her charm bracelet fiercely. “It’s been a long day.”
He shot her a questioning look. “Maybe you shouldn’t go back in there.”
“I have to.”
“But do you want to?”
She stared at him, unable to answer.
“What’s the point of all this if you’re miserable?” He gestured at the marble floors, the crystal chandeliers. “I don’t get it.”
She shrugged helplessly. Because how could she even begin to explain it? If only she were smarter, more talented. If only she were beautiful and charming enough, he’d change his mind. Her father would decide she was worthy of his love. But she wasn’t.
A deep, ugly shame filled her. She wanted to run away, disappear, sink straight down into the floor. But what she wanted didn’t matter. Had never mattered.
Gabriel cocked his head and squinted, studying her. Then he grinned, his right cheek dimpling. “Are you hungry? Food always helps me feel better. I’ll take you down to the officer mess. You can see how the rest of us eat. They actually have some great mac and cheese. I mean, if you like that sort of thing.”
Her stomach tightened. “I can’t.”
“Not fancy enough for you?”
“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” She blinked back the wetness burning her eyelids. “I have to go.”
She straightened her shoulders. Her mouth formed a smile. But it was a smile about to shatter, a smile cracking her open from the inside.
She walked back into the ballroom.
14
Gabriel
Gabriel stood on the glass catwalk on Deck Thirteen with Simeon and Simeon's first in command, Alexi Kane, a huge white guy with a crew cut, a thick, bulging neck, and a body built like a bulldozer.
They looked out over the deck of the Imagination Café at the passengers inhaling their decadent breakfasts, their plates piled high with exotic fresh fruits. The women were mostly dressed in flimsy bikinis and floppy sunhats, the men in T-shirts and board shorts, all of them ready for another lazy day of gluttony and opulence.
On the starboard side, the sun was a white ball in the blue sky. Portside, a mass of dark clouds boiled toward them. Gabriel wasn't afraid of heights, but it was still a strangely disconcerting feeling to see the ocean glittering a hundred feet beneath his feet.
He avoided looking down. Instead, he checked the CCTV feeds on his tablet. Everything under control. Everything normal. For now. As the day and hour approached, anxiety and anticipation coiled in his gut like a snake.
“Enjoying your day?” Kane flexed his arms, his biceps the size of footballs. Though they were on the same side, Gabriel had taken an instant dislike to Kane the moment he'd met him two years ago. He was one of those men who oozed violence, who took pleasure in causing pain and made no pretense of hiding it. But Simeon trusted Kane, which meant Gabriel had to endure h
im.
“Kane,” Gabriel said, as cordially as he could manage.
Simeon waved them to silence and brought the satphone to his ear. “What changes?” A long pause. His face darkened. “Yes, I understand. I'll contact the affiliate and arrange the rendezvous point.” By the time he clicked off the phone and turned toward Gabriel and Kane, his expression was a blaze of fury.
“What's wrong?” Gabriel asked.
“After you deal with monkey island and disable communications and the ShipLoc, I have another task for you. Get Declan Black’s girl to a secure location until I contact you.”
“Why? I want to be here, serving the cause.”
“I’ll do it.” Kane sneered. “I'll give that girl more than she can handle.”
“No!” Gabriel felt nothing for the CEO’s daughter—at the most, the barest hint of pity, but nothing else. She was a mark, part of his mission and no more. Still, the thought of someone like Kane touching her set his blood boiling. “Stay away from her.”
Simeon shot Kane a warning look. “Absolutely not. That's not what we're here for.”
Kane laughed, a rumble deep in his chest. “We here for romance then? What the hell is this, Simeon?”
“Of course not!” Gabriel swallowed back the words he wanted to say, but only for Simeon's sake. For the sake of the cause. He forced his voice to stay calm. “We're after her father, not her.”
Kane leered at him. “You think just 'cause you got a pretty face, a girl like that's gonna let you in her—”
“Don't be crude,” Simeon snapped.
Kane's mouth pressed into a thin, bloodless line. “Why do we need this little punk again?”
“What's your problem?” Gabriel asked.
“I don't have a problem. You seem to have plenty.”
“Settle yourselves down before you attract attention.” Simeon held up his hand. “Gabriel's role is important to the cause. There's no reason for you to risk harm when we've hired grunts for that purpose, Gabriel. But your fervor and patriotism are noted.”
“Understood, sir.” Gabriel tried to keep the resentment out of his voice. He was as much a fighter as Simeon and Kane. He'd been training for years. He was strong. He was ready.
“And the girl?” Kane's upper lip curled. “I could give her a grand time in the good old captain's quarters. You sure you don't want me to—”
“Can't you ever shut up?” Gabriel clenched his jaw, fighting to contain his anger and disgust. He was surprised at the intensity of his own reaction. He felt mild pity for her, which was a shock in and of itself. Before her, he never imagined he might feel anything but loathing for an elite. But last night, when he saw her cowering before her father, he’d longed to smash the arrogant CEO’s perfect white teeth down his throat.
Simeon put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Our mission has changed. It is now essential we take Black alive. He has critical information—information he may be unwilling to give us.”
The original plan was to take the ship hostage, demand billions in ransom to support the coming war, then take out a few of the most callous and corrupt of the CEOs and politicians—Declan Black first and foremost. It would be the first shot across the bow, a statement the whole world would hear loud and clear: the second American Revolution had begun. “What do you mean? What’s changed?”
“All in good time, my faithful friend. For now, obedience is what I need from you. This is it. This is our time. The world changes tonight.”
“Tonight? I thought it was planned for—”
“The schedule has changed. The Grand Voyager will be heading back to the U.S. by tomorrow, guaranteed.”
“Why?” Kane spat over the railing.
“The flu that's not a flu. The underground's full of chatter. They're calling it the Hydra Virus. It keeps popping up everywhere. The virus is infectious, virulent, and lethal. More people are dying than the media are reporting. By the hundreds of thousands, if you believe some vloggers. My source just confirmed. The announcement will come tonight from the White House. Americans are banned from all domestic and international travel. Every international port will be turning us away by tomorrow, if not sooner.”
Gabriel leaned against the glass railing, taking it in. He’d heard rumors, but he’d been so focused on the mission he’d blocked most of it out. “What about—?”
“Our fellow Patriots are safe. For now. According to rumors, the president himself may be ill. This information has not been released to the public. The average Joe believes he's on another golf vacation.”
Kane whistled.
Gabriel wondered, not for the first time, how Simeon could possibly know so much. There were New Patriots entrenched in the government, even more who were sympathetic to their cause, fellow believers in a new order, a new democracy that would actually serve the people. But he didn't know how many of them there were or how high their power reached. He only knew the members of Simeon's local chapter.
“As for us,” Simeon continued. “We need to act before the captain realizes the severity of the Grand Voyager's situation and changes course. We must reach our rendezvous point off the coast of Puerto Cortés. One other thing. Tropical storm Wyatt is headed directly toward our path. Normally, the captain would skirt the storm. But we must meet our deadlines, including our final extraction point. Everything is too finely calibrated to adjust now.”
“So we're heading straight into a hurricane?” Kane asked.
“It’s only a tropical. We'll be fine. The others are already in position. We’ve neutralized the secret service agents. Everything has gone according to plan, and no one suspects a thing.”
Gabriel took a breath. He hadn’t told Simeon about Micah finding the drugs. It didn’t matter, anyway. The drugs were only a cover. Micah had no idea what was happening, and he’d never turn Gabriel in. The mission was safe.
Simeon turned to Gabriel. “And the CEO’s bodyguard?”
“Jericho is always with Black except for the dinners at the captain’s table. Black doesn’t seem to want him around for those. Jericho works out at the gym or spends time with the son, Silas.”
“Excellent. Now I need you on monkey island, doing what you do best.”
Gabriel straightened his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
Simeon held his fist over his heart. Gabriel and Kane followed suit. “For the honor of true patriots and the love of country.”
“For the honor of true patriots and the love of country,” Gabriel and the others repeated. A thrill drummed through his veins at the words. He strode the length of the glass catwalk, checking and rechecking the surveillance feeds. He'd copied several loops of undisturbed video last night. They were ready to be hacked into the feeds.
In only a few hours, everything would change.
15
Willow
On the eighth afternoon of the cruise, Willow’s mom joined them at one of a few dozen outdoor tables at the Imagination Café. The tables were filled with hungry passengers freshly returned from their shore excursions. Everyone smelled like sunscreen, sea salt, and sweat.
Willow and her family spent the morning at a local beach in Grand Cayman and explored the shops crammed with cheap island ware and trinkets made in China. It hadn’t been as fun as she thought. Port security handed out those paper surgical face masks to everyone disembarking. “Just a precaution,” they’d said with big white smiles. Apparently, lots of people were sick in Grand Cayman, too. It was unsettling.
“Can we order dessert first?” Benjie asked, a goofy grin on his face. He had a pack of playing cards arrayed around him on the table, intent on practicing his latest magic trick, something about making a card disappear right from his hand.
He had a whole host of his tricks memorized, each with its own name, from A Fool's Bet and Three Card Match to Magic Pockets and Math Sandwich. He could do the usual disappearing coin ruse, but he loved his cards best. Their father had played competitive poker, back before he took off for who knows wher
e. “And breakfast for lunch!”
“Only if we eat broccoli last,” her mom said.
“No deal.” Zia wrinkled her nose and straightened the strap of the flowy aqua top with the photo-luminescent flowers, the one Willow and Rihanna had lifted from a designer shop downtown before they’d installed those new empath sensors. The sensors detected heightened emotion signifiers like elevated heart rate and perspiration levels, which brought the surveillance drones zooming over and the cop-bots after that. Only Willow was stupid enough to get caught on a cruise ship lacking drones and sensors. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to stop thinking about it. She was lucky as hell she wasn’t locked up in some floating boat prison by now.
Zia swiped the menu embedded in the table and entered their orders. “After lunch, let’s do karaoke again!”
Willow rolled her eyes. It seemed like everyone in her family loved karaoke. Every family gathering, Lola Cherry and all the titas and her thirty cousins sang their hearts out. Zia was the most talented. She could dance, too. Willow had the coordination of an elephant on roller skates.
“After that, let’s do the climbing cave!” Benjie flipped his wrist and the Ace of Spades in his hand disappeared. “Lo Lo climbs this time.”
“Not in a hundred million years.” Willow’s stomach was bloated and achy. She had a food hangover from stuffing her face every chance she got. “How about we lay out on the lounge chairs in the solarium and take a nap?”
“That's so lame!” Benjie covered his mouth and coughed, deep and sputtering. Even though she was used to it, such a rough sound coming from a little boy was still disconcerting.
“You okay?” Her mom put her hand to his forehead. “You want your inhaler? Does your stomach hurt?”
He wiped his mouth. “I’m okay, Mom. Can you come with us?”
Her mom frowned. “I’m so sorry. I just have this towel sorting issue after lunch, and then we can do karaoke and the climbing cave, okay?”
Their waiter brought them virgin margaritas and chilled platters of lemon tart, milk chocolate cremeux, yogurt panna-cotta, and artisanal chocolate truffles with sides of fresh fruit.
