Page 3 of Weston’s Treasure

“When we go up, you stick to my back, and this time when I tell you something you listen without question.”

Silver’s nose scrunched and her brows pulled together in irritation but she didn’t argue which was a damn miracle. The girl could bicker about anything.

Weston pulled his rifle back to the ready and gestured for her to follow. They hit the stairs leading back to the upper deck when gunshots rang out. Silver moved so fast plastering herself against his back, Weston nearly stumbled forward. He needed to tell her she couldn’t keep her arms around his stomach in case he had to move quickly and fire his weapon, but he didn’t. He liked the feel of her clinging to him. Seeking his body for protection.

They took the steps together, her behind him, still holding on, though loosely due to the incline. He stopped them at the top and maneuvered Silver so her back was to the wall as they sidestepped down the hall toward the aft deck.

Jameson came around the corner, meeting them in the salon, and gave him a nod. “We’re clear.”

Even though his friend had assured Weston there were no more drug smugglers still breathing, he didn’t move away from Silver—very aware of her body still pressed against his.

“We’re out,” Nix declared as he joined them in the salon. “Holden’s ready.”

The group made their way to the aft deck. Chasin went over the railing and down the ladder. With one foot on the gunwale and the other still on the ladder, Chasin waited to help Silver.

“You’re next,” Weston said.

She didn’t hesitate to climb over the side. Weston immediately felt it, the loss of her body next to his, her looking to him to keep her safe. The moment they’d shared was gone and back was the capable and stubborn Silver.

And now was not the time to ponder why that left him feeling uneasy.

2

The time had come.

The bird was cooked, it was plated, and now I was going to have to eat it.

Weston hadn’t said a word during the quick boat ride back to the dock. He’d been quiet in the car as Nixon drove us to Kent County. The others had formally introduced themselves though I’d briefly met Nixon and Jameson the day I stormed into Gemini Group’s office and pitched my fit. But other than assessing I was not injured—though my ego and pride had taken one hell of a hit—I was surprisingly fine.

The topic of why I was on board the Dora B was remarkably avoided. That was, until we reached an old farmhouse tucked away down a long dirt lane and surrounded by wilting corn. Though I didn’t grow up in the country, I’d lived in the area long enough to know the corn would soon be harvested. I vaguely wondered what the bare landscape would look like with clear views of the woods in the distance.

Weston slid out of the SUV, reached in for my hand, and helped me out. But the minute my feet hit the dirt his face turned to granite.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?” he roared.

I jerked in surprise before I squared my shoulders and prepared to go head-to-head with the jerk.

“I had every right to board that ship. Delaware rules state anything over ninety-feet flying a foreign flag requires a pilot until they reach the Maryland line. So not only did I have the right, it’s my job.”

“You knew the Dora B was on radar. You were under orders not to approach and certainly not to be the pilot to guide it down the canal. You were told to stand down.”

“I don’t take orders from anyone, Weston. I had a job to do and I did it.”

“And that’s the fucking problem. The sole reason I recommended you being pulled from this operation. You don’t listen. You don’t know when to stand the fuck down and watch. You’re all gung-ho to rush in and I told you that was dangerous. I told you that was going to get someone hurt. I told you to stay the fuck away from the Dora B and let us do our fucking job. Now it’s fucked and you did that.”

There it was—the ‘I told you so’. The crow I’d have to eat because he was right. He did tell me, and I did fuck everything up. But he was also wrong.

“You’re right,” I spat the words out even though they tasted like shit and there’d be more where those came from. But first I was setting the record straight. “You did tell me all of that. But I didn’t rush anything. I boarded because it is my job. I was told to pilot the ship and I couldn’t say no. When I went aboard I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t look around, I didn’t check their charts, I did nothing but steer the ship.”

“You couldn’t say no?” Weston asked incredulously.

“No.”

“Never crossed your mind to find an excuse?”

“Excuse? Like what?”

“I don’t know, maybe you had diarrhea. Maybe you started that time of the month and needed the bathroom. Maybe lying and saying you ate something bad and needed to throw up.”