Page 76 of The Sailor

“You think I’m stupid?” Lucas asked as he stalked back toward the boat with an evil grin on his face. He launched himself back over the side and reached for her.

Marit attempted to dodge his grip. But still feeling the effects of being tased, she was too slow. He grabbed the front of her overalls and flung her away from the controls.

“I disconnected the wires to the radio so you couldn’t call for help if you got the chance—not that I was gonna let you get that chance. And in case you were hoping someone could track us using the black box, I’ve disabled that too.”

Marit stared at Lucas with big eyes. She’d managed to stay on her feet when he’d thrown her away from the radio, but she felt her legs going weak. She had hoped Zach would be able to figure out that it was Lucas who’d taken her, and that he’d know to contact marine patrol to check the GPS that was mandatory for all boats leaving the harbor.

“What’s going on, Lucas?” she asked in what she hoped was a steady tone.

He grinned again, and the look of pure evil on his face sent shivers racing down her spine.

She’d messed up. Big-time. She should have reported his harassment weeks ago. But she never thought Lucas would actually kidnap her. The man was unhinged.

“You should’ve listened to me,” Lucas told her. “And Thorne. You should’ve left Maine altogether. Because of you, I can’t find good lobstermen. My catch has gone to shit. Having you on a boat is bad luck—and I’m done trying to be nice. Trying to get you to come to your senses. So . . . I’m taking care of my fishing problem. Once you’re gone, I’ll be able to find a halfway decent deckhand and my season will recover.”

He was absolutely insane. That was the only thing Marit could think of. She had nothing to do with his skill as a lobsterman or why the people he hired kept quitting. From what she’d heard, he was a horrible boss. Skimped on safety, ignored the rules set forth by the state and other fishing regulatory organizations, and generally behaved like an asshole. Fishing in unsafe weather conditions, and sometimes even hauling other people’s pots to check if the area was a good one or not.

In short, Lucas Pearson should have his license taken away by the state because of how reckless he was and how many rules he broke on a regular basis.

But instead, he was blaming her for his “bad luck”? What a joke.

“Seriously? That’s why you’re doing this?” She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe it. It’s not my fault you break industry rules. It’s not my fault you’re unethical, and you put everyone’s safety at risk on your boat! So what’s the real reason, Lucas?” Marit knew she was taking a risk, knew she should probably keep her mouth shut. But there had to be more to all this, to his months of harassment, than a silly superstition.

The look on his face when his grin turned to a scowl said she was right.

“You turned my dad in.”

Marit blinked. “What?”

“You. Turned. My. Dad. In,” Lucas repeated, enunciating each word, almost spitting them at her. “He made the huge mistake of hiring you. It was years ago, but you betrayed him in the worst fucking way a deckhand ever could. You turned him in to the Fish and Game Commission for a whole slew of ridiculous shit. You even claimed he was keeping breeding females and oversize lobsters.”

“Oh my God . . . your father is Larry Welch?” She’d never made the connection. Why would she? They didn’t share the same last name. She remembered Eliot saying once that Lucas’s dad was shady. But she hadn’t thought for a second that the man she’d worked for once upon a time—and turned in for some of the reasons Lucas cited—and the guy Eliot mentioned were one and the same.

The deep hatred Lucas had for her made sense now. It was still fucked up, but at least it wasn’t just because she was a woman.

“Yes. And he had to pay massive fines because of you, bitch! He bought me the Men At Work before I moved here . . . and he couldn’t believe it when I told him all about the stupid chick who thought she could hack it as a lobsterman in Rockville after already failing so spectacularly in Portland. He didn’t even know you were still working in the industry. But after we made the connection, I made it my goal to fuck with your life as much as you did my dad’s.

“Oh, and you should know, I’ve talked to Thorne about you. A lot. When he found out what you did, he’s the one who encouraged me to pick up where he left off. To avenge my dad, and all lobstermen who’ve been turned in and fined simply for trying to make a living.” Then he scowled. “But he thought my ultimate plan was stupid. That it wouldn’t work. But fuck him! It will work—has worked. Now, get over here,” he growled, pointing to a spot right in front of him.

Instead of doing as ordered, Marit took a small step backward. She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around what was happening. How Lucas was willing to hurt her, to do . . . she wasn’t sure what, simply because his dad had to pay a fine for all the unsafe and illegal shit he was doing. She supposed she should be thankful Thorne wasn’t in on this—whatever this was—otherwise she could be facing two captors right now.

But she was smart enough to know she was in deep shit either way.

Her gaze went from Lucas to the island, then back to him. She had no idea what he was going to do . . . but she certainly wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

And she was secretly relieved that whatever his plan was, he was apparently going to execute it on this island and not in the middle of the ocean. If she could get to land, she had a shot at making it out of this. A small shot, but a shot all the same.

“Get. Over. Here. Now!” Lucas growled, barking each word out menacingly.

“Not a chance,” Marit said—then launched herself over the side of the boat.