by Sue Wilder
The radio screeched as Tad thumbed through several channels. Then he read the coordinates and clicked off.
“Drop the anchor,” Marsh ordered. Tad used the bridge controls. Faintly, I heard the rattle of chain. “Stay here. Don’t move or leave this bridge, or you’ll regret it.”
“Screw what I regret.” Tad rocked in the captain’s chair with his hands tight on the controls until Marsh left.
My heart clenched. I rolled to the side, then struggled into an upright position, sitting with only one arm braced beside my hip while the other arm hung limp and useless. Dizziness hit. Blood from the deck turned strands of my hair a rusty blonde, and my body felt damp from sweat.
“Tad.”
When I held out my hand, he came, kneeling down. The towel had slipped from my shoulder and he picked it up, looked at the blood.
“Not resenting you, Dacree,” he whispered. “It’s all his shit.”
Carefully, Tad exchanged the stained towel for a fresh one. He used the action to lean close. “Been leaving clues everywhere we go. And dude’s smart. He’ll pick up, know where we are, and this creep isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. Dude put plenty of hidden assets in the boat, and once I get the chance, I’ll get to one or two.”
I clutched his hand. “Marsh is crazy.”
“Totally bat-shit.”
My arm trembled. “Tad—don’t do anything without me.”
“Yeah, right. You gonna call in the dragons, or fight with one arm—’cuz in case you didn’t notice, he shot you.”
“How bad?” It was a randomly pointless question since my left arm was numb now, but I asked anyway.
“He got your shoulder. Bullet’s still inside, but I used the towel to slow the bleeding.”
“My loyal friend and protector.” His smile turned crooked, and I tightened my fingers around his. “Help me.”
“Sure thing.” Tad propped me against the seating, then dug around in the refrigerator. “Drink this.” He held out an opened bottle of water. “Stay hydrated, and no moving around.”
“Nope. No moving.” My throat burned as I swallowed, each mouthful so small I’d need an hour to finish the bottle. But sips were what I could manage after the nausea hit. I told myself it was shock and I’d push through it. Focus on Tad and keep him safe for Missy. She’d be frantic, another loved one lost to the sea, and my heart tumbled with a sudden, fierce determination.
That would not happen.
I was channeling Garrett—God, I missed him. We’d been so angry, and I’d been so stubborn, pushing him away. I hated the way he wouldn’t let me in, kept secrets from me, but maybe he was never mine to have, not after what he’d been through, the wounds he carried deep in his heart. He was fierce and beautiful, and if Luna was right. If I loved him, unconditionally, then I’d put his needs first. I’d break my heart to protect his, and as hard as it was, I would let him go. But I wished, desperately, that we’d had the chance to say goodbye without anger.
Tad was drinking his own water. I felt relief that he was in control again, wouldn’t run off and do something by himself. We were in the middle of the damn ocean, too much to risk. At least my thoughts settled. My mind was clear again. Had to be the water.
I took another sip, listening to Marsh as he moved around the lower deck, and I took a moment, allowed my eyes to close. “I hear noises.”
“He’s messing with the engine room,” Tad said after a moment. “I’m watching some of the monitors go black. The power station’s down there, too, off the master cabin. Open a door and walk in, chop up anything you want with an ax. Must have noticed Ibiza, and done his homework, researched the details on the boat. All that shit’s on the internet.”
I breathed in. “He’s stranding us out here?”
Tad didn’t answer. He fiddled with the radio dial, listening to the bursts of static. He was reaching for the mic when Marsh came up the stairs and fired one shot into the radio array. Then he walked to the monitors and shot each screen before turning the gun toward Tad.
“Oops. All out of bullets, kid. Must be a lucky day.” He swung around toward me. “But not for you. You’re the bitch who gets to lay there and slowly bleed out until this boat rolls. Another tragic accident on the Yaquina reef—and one more set of names on that memorial in town.”
“Why are you doing this?” Vaguely, I wondered why I bothered to ask him again, and he shook his head with mocking pity.
“Connor Lange. I’m taking everything I can away from him. You’re just the beginning.”
“He’ll stop you. Garrett will stop you.”
“They have no idea where you are and where I’ll be—oh.” He glanced through the window. “Here’s my ride. You’ve already met him. He tried to force your car over a cliff. Unfortunately, he failed, so he’s helping me in another way. But just to be safe…”
Marsh swung the gun toward the side of my head, and pain shattered, bright white, behind my eyes.
◆◆◆
“Dacree, wake up. Open your eyes.”
Tad’s voice, insistent and breaking through the jagged pain that tore through my brain, slicing with each pulse-beat.
“Dacree. I’m your loyal protector. Please. Please open your eyes.”
My eyelids felt weighted, but I forced a tiny crack. Even dim light had me jerking my head sideways.
“Shush,” Tad soothed, his voice unsteady. Cool moisture touched my lips, my face, and I realized he was wiping my skin with a damp cloth. “There you are. Been worried about half an hour now, thought you were sleeping away the day.”
“Don’t sleep in the day,” I mumbled. “Who broke my head?”
“It isn’t broken, but I’ll bet it feels that way. Just lay still for a minute. We’re alone. The creep left on that boat I called, the Fat Lady, but I’ll bet that isn’t the real name. More like a joke. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”
I croaked out a laugh. “It ain’t over. We’re still here.”
“Look, Dacree…” Tad glanced toward the windows. The light was different, duller, as if a storm was clouding up the sky.
“I’ve been checking things out while you were sleeping. First, creep used an ax to cut the anchor chain. So, bad news. We’re drifting free. Worse news is that he screwed up all the controls. No engine, no rudders. No way to control the drift or angle into the swells. That means I need to get you downstairs. To the salon. Maybe even outside.”
“Why?” I struggled to sit up and the world spun.
“Because.” His tone turned neutral. “In case a wave catches us wrong and we roll, I don’t want you trapped inside where you can’t get out. We’re drifting along the Yaquina reef. They… died here. This spot, and waves can rise up even when it’s calm. You don’t see them coming.”
“Okay.” I’d always been terrified that, one day, I’d be trapped underwater and drown.
“It’s gonna hurt, getting you down those stairs,” Tad said, sliding his hands beneath my arms. “But hey. Good news. The stairs are inside and I don’t have to drop you down the outside ladder.”
“You’re too full of good news, Tad. I can’t handle this much joy.”
“More good news,” he said, as I shuffled toward the stairs. “Dude made sure this boat is as stable as they come. And the creep didn’t do enough search-and-destroying. I found the emergency flares. Blankets, a food supply which I got downstairs. There’s a hand-crank VHS radio, so more good news. I can crank to juice up the power. Bad news. When it’s your turn to crank, you have to do it one-handed.”
“You’re making me laugh, and it hurts.” I put one foot in front of the other and worked through the pain. Step after step, until we reached the salon.
“Over there,” I said. Tad lowered me to the couch where Garrett’s shirt still draped, and I clutched it with my working hand, held it close to my face. Breathing in his scent pushed back the fear.
“I’m sorry, Tad. So sorry this mess involved you. Your mom is going to be worried sick—and so, so mad at me f
or not keeping you out of it.”
“Nah, I’ll tell her how you got between me and Marsh. I’ve never seen someone do that outside of the movies.” Tad went into the galley kitchen and pulled more bottled water from the refrigerated drawer. “He would have killed me at the house, but I think he didn’t because of you. Because he knew you’d cooperate to keep me safe, so all around, I’ll tell mom how you saved me like, at least three times counting.” He laughed suddenly. “It’s dude who’s gonna have his skin nailed to the wall when she finds him.”
I took the water he offered and set the bottle aside. Beneath me, I could feel the rising swells of the ocean, ominous and irregular. Pressure thudded in my head. Thoughts spun, scattered. Warmth spread across my shoulder and I glanced down.
The white bandage Tad had fashioned around my shoulder was turning red.
“Guess I shouldn’t have moved around.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Garrett
Missy stood in the kitchen, pretending to make coffee. When I walked in, she turned around and hugged me.
“Hey.” I held her close. “I have to tell you something, but I need you to know first—I will fix this.”
“Just tell me,” she said, with her face pressed tight against my chest. I could feel my shirt dampening from her tears.
“A man. You’ve met him. Marshal Gray.”
“He comes in for coffee.”
“Yes.” I felt the tremor that jerked through her. “His name isn’t Marshal Gray. And he wants to hurt Soleil. He took her. He took Tad. They’re on the Ibiza, and what you need to remember,” I said as I smoothed my fingers rhythmically through her hair, “is that you raised a smart kid. A good kid, and Tad Senior would be proud of the job you’ve done with his son.”
“God—Garrett. I’ve been trying to call Tad, but he won’t pick up—and he knows not to do that. To always pick up. When Max said I had to come…”
Her fragility was my fault, and my jaw clenched. “Missy, listen to me. We’re doing everything we can. Tad knows how to handle the Ibiza in blue water. He’s done it with me, dozens of times, and we didn’t tell you because you’d get mad.”
“Damn right.” Her voice was muffled, but not angry.
I smoothed the hair from her cheek. “I have faith in him to stay calm. We don’t know where they are, but Max called the Coast Guard. Gave them a heads-up. They’ll be monitoring the radio channels for any transmissions.”
“There’s a foundering charter boat, filled with tourists.” Missy pulled back and wiped her face. “I heard it on the radio. The local station is stretched thin. Multiple victims in the water. They called for volunteers.”
“And we have resources.” I made her hold the coffee mug Luna handed over. “I have redundant systems in place. Safety equipment, and Tad knows where things are and how to use them.” I gripped her shoulders. “I made sure of that. No one goes out with me unless they can handle what I handle, and we’ll find them.”
“I know you will.” Her hands steadied as she lifted the mug and sipped.
“What’s happening… this is my fault,” I told her. “Someone threatened Soleil, but I thought we had it tied down, and I asked Tad to stay with her—when I shouldn’t have put him in that position. Shouldn’t have dismissed the risk.”
“All the should haves in the world won’t help, Garrett. And no one saw Marsh as a threat. He seemed so pathetic.”
“Calculated. He’s been here for months, waiting, laying his trap.”
She drew in a ragged breath filled with resolve. “You’ll do this, Garrett. I believe in you. In the man you are, and the man you were—you haven’t changed, no matter what you believe. And,” she added with her shoulders lifting, “you’ll save Tad. Soleil. The way you’ve saved so many others.”
I looked away. “Missy…”
She set aside the mug and cupped my face, drew my head around so she could meet my gaze. “I see how this rips you apart. I know you love Tad like a brother. He loves you, too. But more importantly, you love Soleil—don’t lie. You’re going to find her—do you hear me? You’ll bring her home. And you’ll bring my son home. Safe. Promise me.”
My eyes closed.
“Do that if you want,” she whispered. “Hide from yourself. But I still see you.”
A shudder rocked through me, and Missy wrapped her arms tightly again, comforting me this time. I felt eighteen again. Lost and angry.
“Garrett,” Max said quietly from the doorway. “We have something. Gordy Hayes. He called about a weird radio transmission from the Ibiza. Tad answered the hail, but identified himself as Ibiza Trident. Three on board, all fine. Then—ask Captain Oz to tell his son Tad was sorry he missed the memorial a few weeks ago.”
The message stunned, and I pulled back. Cupped Missy’s face. “I’m going to kiss your kid when I find him. I know where they are.”
Fresh moisture sparkled in Missy’s eyes, but from fear and not elation. “So do I.”
Luna moved in to take care of Missy while I joined Max and Con. We gathered around the large dining table. Riggs held a tablet in his hands; a detailed oceanographic map of the Yaquina reef glowed on the screen, and he zoomed in on the coordinates I could find with my eyes closed. Tides and the approaching storm worked against us, but we had a location, thanks to Tad, which narrowed down the search area, and I pounded my knuckles against the table and looked up.
“I have a beacon on the Ibiza. We have to hope Tad gets to it.”
“What kind of beacon?” Luna asked as she and Missy came to join us.
“An emergency radio beacon. Works with the satellite systems. If Tad can deploy it, the signal will pinpoint their exact GPS location. The only downside is the satellite coverage. The fly-over happens once every hour. If we miss the window, it’s another hour before the alert gets picked up and Search and Rescue gets notified. An hour before we get notified.”
“There’s Marsh—he could be a downside.” Missy’s voice turned stone cold. “Son-of-a-bitch needs his face punched in.”
“He’ll get it,” I told her. And more than his face. My fingers clenched into a fist with the promise.
“We need assets ready,” Max said. “Coast Guard said they’re maxed out with an ongoing situation. They called for assistance from a station up north. Might take an hour for the chopper. Longer for the rescue boat.”
“We’re not waiting that long.” Con already had his phone out. “If the satellite passes over now and gets a signal, we have to be ready to go.”
“What are you doing?” Luna asked, stroking her hand against Con’s back.
“Calling in a favor.”
The favor came from Caleb Manning and Millennium. The construction empire had local assets, including a helicopter capable of handling the rescue operation. A commercial wench system would handle the heavy weight of men, repelling down, then pulled back up, harnessed to survivors. The pilot was skilled and willing to fly over deep water if necessary.
It would be necessary.
My skin turned clammy. My hands shook, and I left the planning to Max and Con while I stepped outside and started walking toward the Maxwell house. Didn’t stop until I was inside. The stench of body odor and spoiled food fueled my anger. I thought of the man sitting in squalor, watching trouble through a crack in the blinds. How he was always, always outside when she was coming or going. Watering his plants. Waving benignly. Pretending to be drunk and disoriented in the dark.
Vividly, I recalled the night I’d been with trouble, and something hit the windows, scattered the driftwood, tipped the pot of geraniums. Petals scattered with the dirt. Trouble said she’d seen a cat earlier, and I’d dismissed it, too worried about her ex and his crazy lover.
When the threat lived next door. He stood in front of me and I hadn’t stopped him.
Disgust turned to hot bile. I gripped the arms of a chair and sent it flying. Splintered wood joined the refuse on the floor. With a roundhouse swing, I swept papers from the de
sk, scattering them in all directions, then threw the desk aside. Swearing, I used every vicious word Oz taught me, wishing he was still alive and there to talk me down. Tell me I could beat this, that I was strong enough.
My fist hit the wall, leaving smears of blood. The pain didn’t register. I was too numb, and with a guttural inhale, I turned and leaned back for support, sliding to the floor like a weak man, a broken man as reality hit.
I would lose trouble to the sea because I was a damn coward.
How could I save her if I couldn’t force myself to move? To beat back the fear, the sweat that drenched my skin, the jolts in my chest or the terror twisting in my gut? The decisions I tried to make, and then froze, seized by doubt. When I’d always lived life by my own terms, my rules. I’d never been afraid, accepted losses when they came. And I’d never figured out why the last time was different.
In my head, I heard my own damn voice, asking forgiveness from men too dead to give it. Shuddering, I sucked in a breath that felt like failure.
“Are you okay?” Luna asked quietly.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. “It’s been a hard day. Just give me a minute.”
She sat down beside me, and I raked unsteady fingers through my hair. “I don’t have time for therapy, Luna.”
“Neither do I.” She didn’t take offense, and I understood why Con found such solace with her. No judgment, only acceptance. “We both want to help Sunny, but you can’t if you stay focused on the past.”
“I’m taking Marsh down and nothing is off the table.”
“Except flying.” She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms as she watched me. “What’s running through your mind right now?”
“I left her when she was angry.”
“And you blame yourself for everything that happened afterward.” I nodded. “Nice try, but that’s toxic thinking.”
“I will handle it.”
“You can’t hit the pause button on life, Garrett. Events happen whether we’re ready for them, or not.”
“I’ll get myself ready.”
