“Then you know he doesn’t do nice things. I just don’t feel good about this. I feel like he’s doing something awful, and I want to go home.”
He doesn’t move, but a muscle in his jaw jumps. “What gives you that idea?”
I shrug. “It’s just a feeling, but it’s enough to make me unable to sleep.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Look,” he finally speaks, “you and your friends are safe, that’s what we’re here for.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping closer to the desk. “Sorry, I know I’m being strange, but I honestly can’t sleep.”
“You’re overthinkin’ it. I’ll go check things out, if it makes you feel better. Make sure there is nothin’ weird goin’ on.”
“Really?” I whisper, not entirely an act, but a genuine response.
“Yeah, give me twenty minutes, I’ll go and see what’s happening out there.”
“You could bring back some whiskey, if you wanted...”
He gives me a look. “You’re dreamin’, lady. You’re not drinking after your last effort. Just sit tight, I won’t be long.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, hands pressed together.
He gives me one last look over, then leaves. I give it a minute, maybe two, before I slide off the bed. I carefully shuffle through his things, looking through his backpack, in his drawers, but I don’t find anything.
Heart racing, I kneel down and look under the bed, where I see a briefcase. I yank it out and flip it open. There it is, a black gun, small but deadly. I reach down, lifting it into my hand. It’s heavier than I thought, and I carefully tuck it in my pants, praying it won’t go off.
I take some bullets, stuffing them in, too, and then I slide the case back under the bed. I carefully rush around the room, making sure everything is tidy and looks the way he left it, then I sit on the edge of the bed again, just as Ace returns.
“Nothin’ I could see, everything appears normal. I’ll keep an eye out.”
I tuck my hands in my lap so he doesn’t see them shaking with adrenaline. “I’m sure I’m just overreacting, I probably need sleep.”
“You want me to walk you back?”
I shake my head and stand. “No, it’s okay. Thanks... for opening the door.”
His eyes lock onto mine and something electric shoots through me.
“Anytime,” he murmurs.
God damn.
I need to get out of here. I rush out the door. He stands in the hallway, watching until I round the corner. I hold my breath and speed-walk all the way to my cabin, resisting the urge to clutch my waistband. I slam the door the second I’m inside, then look down at my trembling hands. I am ignoring my pounding heart, because it isn’t beating over the fact that I just stole a gun, oh no, it’s beating because of the man I just stole it from.
After another shaky breath, I lift the gun and stare at it. I imagine firing it and want to gag—could I even do it? I replay all the movies in my head. Don’t you have to cock it first, or flick off the safety? I turn it in my palm, feeling the edges and the hard, cold certainty that I have absolutely no clue how to use the thing I’m now responsible for.
I hide it under my mattress, between the fitted sheet and the memory foam. I text the girls, telling them I got it. Then, I take a deep breath and flop backwards. I lie on the bed, listening to the quiet thrumming of a million-dollar yacht gliding through the dark water, and wonder if I am even going to be able to pull this off. I’m not aggressive by nature, which means if confronted, I may very well break.
I guess I’m left with only two choices: get the hell off this boat, or face whatever is on the other side.
I know which one I choose.
“IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK,” Tatiana breathes, staring through the glass at the captain.
Both Aggie and I look to her, confused.
We have been planning this all day, the perfect moment. Now we’re here, ready to carry that plan out, and Tatiana has decided that we can no longer do it. The question is, why?
“What are you talking about?” Aggie whisper-hisses, curling her fingers around Tati’s arm and pulling her around the corner.
