Page 99 of Fixed Asset

I glanced at Calista. She was nodding and holding her hand out to Jack.

“Here, take my seat,” I offered, so she could sit next to Jack.

As soon as I pushed to a stand, a wave of nausea hit, and I swayed.

“Jesus,” Mason mumbled. “We need to get her off this boat.”

I barely fought back repeating Calista’s earlier retort—no shit, Captain Sherlock. Instead I opted to flip him the bird.

“I’m fine.”

I wasn’t.

I was ready to jump overboard and take my chances swimming with the turtles.

Mason took pity on me and grabbed my arm to steady me. “Here, sit by me.”

Calista moved from the port side to sit next to Jack. Mason guided me starboard. For the record, “guided” was an understatement. He practically dragged me to his side.

Once I was seated, Mason leaned close and whispered, “The trick is to focus on something stationary in the distance.”

The only trick that was going to work was getting off the rocking boat.

I didn’t say that. I stared at the lights coming from the village and breathed deep while I listened to Calista tell Jack about what she saw and what turns she remembered before she’d arrived at Carlos’s cousin’s house. At least, we assumed it was the cousin’s place, though it could’ve been anyone’s. But the bottom line of it was, it was a house we wanted to avoid.

“Water infill,” Jack announced. “The house is on the north end of town.”

I practically groaned my relief.

Mason chuckled from beside me. “One day you’ll get your sea legs, Kitty Cat.”

When I’d moved to Virginia, the people there had told me my Texan blood would thicken and I’d get used to the cold. That hadn’t happened, so I wasn’t holding out for sea legs.

“Doubtful,” I muttered as I watched the rocky shoreline for the alcove, counting down the seconds before I got to get off this puke bucket.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, Pete was pulling back on the throttle.

Nope. Scratch that, now that the boat was no longer in motion, it was bobbing side to side.

“Everyone ready?” Pete asked.

Hell. To. The. Yes.

“Whoa there, Kitty.” Mason grabbed my shoulder before I could bolt. “Pete goes first. Then you and Jack. Calista and I take up the rear.”

I wasn’t so seasick I didn’t smirk at his comment.

With a shake of his head, Mason cut off my retort. “Don’t.”

I didn’t have time to evaluate Mason’s stern tone before Pete was shuffling forward. Jack and Calista were on their feet, with Jack swinging his dry pack over his shoulder. When Jack had his gear adjusted the way he wanted, he took a step closer to me and offered his hand. Once I was tucked to Jack’s side, Mason got himself ready.

Next thing I knew, Pete was in the water. He dove under and a few seconds later popped back up.

“Maybe ten feet deep,” Pete called back.

“Sit on the edge and push off. Not straight down,” Jack instructed.

I followed his unnecessary orders without comment. Mostly because I was eager to get off the boat but also partly because if he hadn’t told me to push off, I might’ve just dropped straight down.