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I imagined Doyle was cursing up a storm. I shared his sentiment.
I was about to turn around to wave a quick thanks to the men from the boat when I spotted someone else starting to climb the rail. Avery went over, helping him up, and I realized it was Liam. He scaled quickly, landing on his feet with a thud, grunting as he did.
A cool breeze swept his red hair into a mess before he took a few steps away from the rail and Avery, brushing his hands over his jeans and blue sweater. “I didn’t rip anything, did I?” he said, his voice a little husky.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you go back?”
“It’s okay,” Corey said. “They’re here to help.” He reached out to Liam with an open hand. “Welcome aboard.”
Liam took his hand and shook vigorously. “We’re always there when you need us,” he said, smiling, something he hadn’t done until now. When he did, he seemed charming.
Avery assisted another man who climbed over the rail. He wore black pants and a dark sweater with a dark collared shirt underneath. His hair was black, graying at his temples. His face was familiar, but he turned away to talk to Avery before I could figure it out.
Once everyone was safely on the ship, Liam gave a short whistle, and the little boat’s motor started up again, pulling away. It bobbed on the water and sped off into the dark.
Avery spoke, seemingly to no one, but I assumed it was to Doyle. “All right, everyone’s on board. Get word to the captain. Time to get us back on course.”
Corey had an arm around my waist, and it drifted up to my back. His palm was a source of strength, and I found comfort from knowing he was at my side. I imagined I was a nightmare to look at and probably smelled, too. He looked over his shoulder down the hallway, then turned back, studying me, particularly my face.
I felt more eyes on me. I peered over Corey’s shoulder at the other guy that had come with Liam. He was clean-shaven and his looks reminded me of old black-and-white movie actors: handsome and refined. I suddenly remembered where I’d met him. He’d loaned me his car when Brandon was kidnapped, and then he’d given me his business card. I recalled his name was Henry.
“We need to get to Doyle,” I said to Corey, turning away from the man and returning my focus to the present. I tried to remember exactly where Doyle was hiding and what might be a good route to get there without being spotted. “We need to find out if he saw anything.”
“We asked him…” Corey said and then pressed his lips together, giving me a look.
There were dark circles under his eyes, strain on his face.
I cocked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
Corey’s stern look started to fade. He looked over his shoulder at Henry and Liam and then back to me. “We need to find someplace to talk quietly. I need to catch them up on what’s going on. They haven’t been debriefed.”
I didn’t know them, so I was reluctant to reveal what we’d been doing and what was going on, especially if they were from the Academy. Perhaps because I was tired, I agreed with Corey instead of questioning him.
Where Were You
Avery made sure the door closed properly behind us. Once he was done, he took the lead, guiding us down the deserted, narrow hallways of the ship. A few times he stopped and had us wait before moving on. He’d slightly tilt his head, as if listening. Doyle must have been talking to him, guiding him through areas with as few people as possible.
The ship moved under us, but otherwise, it seemed so quiet, a little eerie. We stuck to the stairs; at this low a level—where only the crew and never guests would be—they were metal. We took them slowly so the clanging sounds of our footsteps didn’t echo too far. Once we went up a couple of decks, the steps became carpeted, which made it easier to climb in silence.
I could only guess as to the time. We’d left the motel at around three. It might have been five, still early.
As we moved, Corey was on one side of me. Blake was on the other. The corridor was so tight, we were squeezed in.
A hand rested on my lower back, I assumed Corey’s, and didn’t think anything of it until a second hand touched me between my shoulder blades.
I placed my palms against my stomach, tightening my elbows into my sides. In a way, I was trying to allow them to see what they were doing. I stole glances at Blake, who was focused ahead of us. Corey was the same.
Neither looked at me until Blake’s hand slid down, and I felt their arms collide.
Instantly, their heads turned toward me, their eyes darting down to their arms, and then up to each other.
I could almost hear the explosion between them. Corey gripped me by the waist, slightly pulling me toward him, his eyes firing at Blake.
Blake smirked coyly, tugging me by the shoulder in his direction.
In midstep, I lost my balance, leaning into Corey to correct myself before I could fall.
Corey caught me, holding me steady. Blake released my shoulder; he looked unhappy, but he must have realized they were trying to pull me in two.
Corey had gotten almost friendly with Blake before last night, but right now, he shot bullets with his eyes, aiming them right at Blake’s face.
We had to keep moving, but as we continued, I reached to give a sympathetic squeeze of Blake’s hand as if to say, “Don’t blame him. He was just worried about me.”
Corey wasn’t a concern to him, anyway. Brandon had told me a while ago that Corey was gay, even if Corey never admitted it to anyone. I’d mentioned this to Blake before, though it either hadn’t sunk in or he’d forgotten. Corey was, however, the best friend I’d ever had and I’d always adore him.
Corey’s reaction caused a pit in my stomach, making me nervous as to how the others might react learning about Blake.
When Blake squeezed my hand back, it was a solid, tight squeeze, with the pads of his fingers pressing into the back of my hand. When I moved to release him so he could walk easier, he continued to hold on. His face was determined and roguish.
I tried not to show how excited I was about that. Maybe it was silly, but I reveled in Blake’s determination to stay connected.
Once I had a moment to discuss relationship issues with the others, he might be the only one standing by my side.
I’d promised myself last night, after almost dying, that I’d be completely honest with my feelings. I’d tell them all I cared. I’d sort of told them last night, but deep down, I knew it hadn’t been enough.
They all needed to know why I couldn’t choose. I couldn’t hold this secret anymore.
I felt too deeply about them to choose between. Blake meant much more to me than I ever imagined he would, and I felt similar about Axel, Marc, Brandon and Raven.
As much as I worried they might hate me enough to have thrown me and Blake overboard, I was hoping that wasn’t the case, and I still had a chance to be honest with them.
Eventually, we came to a familiar storage room door. The corridor was quiet, dim. I sucked in fresh air while I could, although the scent of cigarettes had already escaped Doyle’s lair into the hallway.
Avery entered first, and I waited, getting an over-the-shoulder view of the room as the stink of smoke poured out. The storeroom had been rearranged; shelves had been shoved against the wall to make room for a portable table. One of the shelves had been cleared to make room for a couple of laptops, a stack of hard drives, and a cell phone I’d stolen yesterday.
There were computers underneath the table, glowing with dull green lights to indicate they were on, a gentle hum coming from the fans inside. A cot had been set up nearby, with a pillow and blanket, and on top was a food tray containing a dirty plate and cartons of cigarettes.
The three monitors were currently the only significant light sources. Doyle slumped in his desk chair, eyes closed, head on the one arm draped over the table. His mop of brown hair had been mostly pushed over to one side of his pale face. A cigarette was nestled between keys on the keybo
