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Jasmine shrugged. "I don't like any of it. I like pictures of beautiful landscapes or ordinary people doing fun things, like children on swings or people sitting in cafés."
Margo could understand that. In an ugly world where so many suffered, it was important to surround oneself with depictions of peace and tranquility, of happiness.
Margo sighed.
The drugs must really be wearing off if she was once again seeing the glass half empty, but if she wanted to avoid another needle jab, she needed to retain the appearance of still being heavily drugged.
They passed through a lounge area, where floor-to-ceiling windows offered breathtaking views of the sea. Just like in the previous rooms, the furniture was sleek and modern, with clean lines and a monochromatic palette, interrupted only by occasional vibrant throw pillows.
Further exploration brought them to the dining area. A long glass dining table stood at the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs upholstered in white leather. The floor was dark wood, and the simplicity of the design was elegant.
"Look at this." She pointed to a stunning glass staircase that led to the upper deck. The steps were made of clear Plexiglas and seemed to float in the air.
"I'm afraid to step on them," Jasmine said. "What if they break?"
Margo laughed. "They look like a piece of futuristic art, but they serve a function. I'm sure they will not break."
"You go first." Jasmine waved a hand.
"No problem, but I want you right behind me. I don't want us to get separated."
"Okay." Jasmine eyed the staircase as if it were the maw of a leviathan.
When they got to the deck, the expanse of the yacht was revealed in its full glory. The deck was an open, airy space with pieces of contemporary furniture arranged in comfortable groupings. Some of them were under a roof, shaded from the strong sun beaming down on the deck; others were exposed, the sun casting a sparkle across the glass surfaces of the side tables and deck railings.
Beyond the railing, the ocean stretched to the horizon, its surface rippling and shimmering.
Laughing and stumbling to perpetuate the impression of being drugged, Margo looked around the deck and counted six men. They were armed with machine guns that were casually slung over their shoulders, but there was nothing casual about their demeanor.
They looked dangerous and alert, but they seemed to be paying little attention to her and Jasmine.
Evidently, their captors were more concerned with threats from the outside than with them escaping.
Margo's eyes fixed on the vast ocean stretching out before them. They were sailing south from Cabo San Lucas, and in the distance, the shore was visible as a sliver of land. It could have been an illusion, or perhaps the drugs made her see things that weren't there, but seeing the shore gave her hope.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light that danced on the water's surface. A gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the sea, and as it brushed against her skin, it offered a fleeting sense of freedom.
"We could grab a life vest and swim for it," Margo said, only half jesting, her eyes gauging the distance to the shore. "We can just float, and the tide will bring us in."
Jasmine looked out at the expanse of water between them and freedom. "Are you sure the tide will bring us to the shore?" she whispered.
Their quiet plotting was abruptly shattered by a laugh. Alberto approached with a sneer, the sun casting sharp shadows across his face. "You think you can swim ashore?" he mocked in a derisive tone. "It's much farther than you think. And even if you made it, the men would pick you up before you could shout 'help'." He turned his scornful gaze to Jasmine. "So dumb," he spat.
Anger surged like a wildfire inside Margo, burning away the last vestiges of the artificial good mood the drugs had induced. She wanted to slap the jerk and wipe the smirk off his face, but her brain wasn't addled enough to think that it was a good idea.
Her fists clenched at her sides, she forced herself to take a deep breath and put a stupid smile on her face. "It was my idea. So, I guess I'm dumb, too."
"You said it." Alberto ambled away.
"Don't mind him," Margo whispered. "He's an asshole."
"I know." Jasmine leaned her forearms on the railing and looked at the waves created by the yacht's passage.
Margo leaned on the railing next to her friend and returned her gaze to the line of land that symbolized the life they were being torn away from. With a sigh, she lifted her face to the gentle caress of the sea breeze. It felt as if nature itself was trying to soothe her anger and make this terrible day somehow better.
Well, on the positive side, she got to see how the crooked rich lived, and if she ever got free, she would have one hell of a story to tell Mia and Frankie.
To be frank, it was partially her fault. If she hadn't tried to help Jasmine, she wouldn't be in this mess, but she wasn't the type who could walk away when there was something she could do.
