Page 6 of He Had It Coming

Actually, where was Tommy or whatever the boat guy’s name was? He should be here, stopping her. I leaned back. Just a bit then let the front legs of the chair fall, but the carpet muffled the hoped-for banging.

“Careful there. We wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.” She pretended to think about it. To reconsider. “On second thought . . .”

“One yell and you’ll be caught. The entire marina will come running.” Then I’d demand justice. A public embarrassment that would end her childish tirades once and for all, no matter what name she used or what tactics she employed.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“I mean, why do you believe we’re still at the marina?” She got up then. Maneuvered around the chair to my left side. Pulled back the curtain over the side window.

I saw nothing but blue, but that didn’t mean anything. We were on the lower deck after all. Straining, I tried to pick out the same sounds from the dock I’d heard when I’d arrived. The rustle of boats or the lapping of water. All of the noise had disappeared.

Her voice broke through a rolling sensation of dread. “Now you’re getting it.”

All I knew was that her tone sounded almost gleeful. “What?”

She smiled. “It’s your turn to fight for your life.”

Chapter Seven

I had zero experience with whatever crazy shit this was. Sure, I’d dated a few women my father would have described as questionable. The giggly, danger-seeking type that barely made it to the second date before asking about my past and pretending they hadn’t spent hours searching my name online.

None of those temporary women cared about me or the truth. They wanted titillating. Some stray bit they could post online to run up clicks. A kernel they could twist and reconfigure until the facts got buried and their precious true crime streams earned followers.

Nosy, conniving bitches. Every one of them. But I preferred all of them to Sabrina Forde.

I only held off on yelling for the Coast Guard out of curiosity and a sense that if I didn’t deal with this now she would keep coming at me, launching new posts aimed at taking me down. No, I had to ride this out. See where she was going so there wouldn’t be a next time.

I had a million questions about the boat and how she’d lured me here. Her plans. What would possess her to think this was a good idea or that she could ever get away with it. From her self-satisfied smirk, I doubted she’d answer any of them.

“You’ve graduated from anonymous scribbles to crime.” Maybe getting her talking would buy me a few minutes to pull free. She better hope we were back at the marina, near other people, before that happened. She wasn’t the only one filled with fury and ready for a bloodbath.

“You want to talk about committing crimes?” She smiled. Actually smiled. “Happy to hear it. You start confessing and I’ll chime in if you miss anything.”

The temptation to reason with her, to search for the right words to finally make her understand my side of what happened, hit me hard. Before my world blew up I’d been on a path, playing soccer and working my way through a series of boring classes. Getting closer to being out of college and ready to jump into the business world.

Back then Dad had insisted on a law degree before I officially entered the executive office suite. The end goal of running the family business was worth three more years of mind-numbing lectures. I’d started applying despite all the crap about my LSAT scores being too low. A long line of Hayes men had attended Ivy League business and law schools. I wouldn’t have had trouble getting in.

The remainder of the path had been so clear. Commercial real estate giant. A man with his hands in every lucrative deal and his presence in every market that mattered. I’d be the one with money and resources at my disposal. Negotiating deals that ended with the Hayes name on the side of buildings.

Every step made sense until . . . Ruby Forde.

Thanks to her my world exploded. My place on the soccer team? Gone. A “voluntary” leave of absence from NYU that turned into a request not to return. No graduation. No law school. No future. A complete deviation from the set path of directing the company and, possibly, running for political office one day.

But Sabrina—little Ms. Anonymous—didn’t care about what I’d suffered and lost. She was hell-bent on destroying me, popping up when she should be sitting down and shutting up, and this would be the last time.

“Incessant nagging isn’t going to get you the peace you’re looking for. You will get off this boat with the same knowledge and frustration you had when you got on it.” This situation bordered on ludicrous. A scheme clearly mapped out by a person who’d lost it.

Despite the enormity of what she’d done and how huge the repercussions would be, she seemed steady. Her voice remained flat and calm. “Let’s get back to the part about you confessing.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

She shot up and her hand moved behind me. She touched that inflamed area near my ear. Flashes lit up the inside of my head. I clamped my eyes shut to keep from throwing up.

A shout ran up my throat and I let it out. “Stop!”

When I opened my eyes again the world kept spinning. A familiar sensation, one I’d trained myself to overcome hit hard. Every car ride I took as a kid. The early trips on Dad’s boat where I heaved over the side to the sound of his laughter. The motion sickness that would overtake me, drag me under, and end with gagging. I’d taken medicine. Learned breathing and focus tricks to stave it off. Grew up and cheered when the sensation finally faded.