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My mind was still too busy, so as I gathered up all the dirty clothes from our room and flipped on the radio that was built into the intercom system throughout the boat. It took some scanning, but I eventually landed on a station playing a mix of upbeat Spanish songs. I couldn’t understand a word of it as my Spanish knowledge pretty much consisted of the words needed to order a margarita or ask where the restroom was located. That was all that remained from the three years I’d been forced into taking Spanish back in high school. I’d always been too busy with gymnastics and my schooling fell into second, third, or even fourth place on my life of priorities.
I cranked the music up before carrying the load of clothes to the bathroom to start washing things in the sink. I hummed along and lost myself in the beat of the music, happy for a reprieve from the voices and questions for once. After the first load of clothes were washed and hanging to drip-dry over the edge of the shower, I went back to the bedroom. Right as I stepped inside, a news broadcast played over the music, this time in Spanish, and then followed in an English translation.
“Reports are coming from Cabo that a faulty fuel line resulted in an explosion of a boat docked in a local marina. From what we’ve gathered, the boat was destroyed and a total of three lives lost. Two others remain in critical condition in the hospital this morning.”
I shivered. Three men had died? We were docked so close to the boat that had gone up in smoke. We could have just as easily been names on the list of the deceased.
“—we have been given permission to release the names of those that lost their lives in this tragic event. Robert Weatherby, Louis James, and Jensen Heath.”
Everything screeched to a stop. All I could hear was the thundering pulse of my heart as it soared up into my throat. Jensen Heath. No…it couldn’t be.
I shook my head and the rest of my body followed suit until I collapsed into the doorway of the bedroom, my legs unable to hold me up. The news report concluded and then the happy, light hearted music returned. The contrast was stark—and jarring.
When I got my legs back under me, I pushed off the doorway and hurried up the stairs. Chase and Jackson were sitting side by side in the captain and co-captain chairs, laughing together as though there wasn’t a care in the world.
I stared at the back of Chase’s head and a wave of panic and nausea rolled over me. He killed those men on the boat. I had no doubt about it. They were Henry’s men and Chase knew it. And he’d left Jackson and me alone on the boat to make sure they couldn’t follow us to our next stop.
The news report was calling the explosion a tragic accident, the result of an improper fuel line. But that wasn’t true. Was it?
“Chase?” I said, my tone sharp enough to pierce through and deflate their laughter.
Chase turned in his seat and the smile dropped off his face at the sight of my expression. “What’s wrong, Melissa?”
“I need to speak with you.” My eyes darted to Jackson and then back to Chase. “Alone, please.”
Chase looked at Jackson and clapped a large hand to his shoulder. “You gonna be okay here for a minute?”
Jackson nodded.
Chase stood. “Good man. I’ll be right back.”
Jackson turned his attention back to the front window, watching the endless ocean as we cruised over the glassy surface at a slow pace. Or, at least slow in comparison to the frantic pace Chase had kept the boat at all night to get us away from Cabo as quickly, and as far, as possible.
Chase followed me out of the bridge and to the opposite end of the top deck. “What’s wrong?”
“Where were you last night? Where did you go?”
Chase grimaced. “I thought we discussed this already.”
“No. You discussed it, but only to tell me to drop it. However, I just heard the news report. Three men are dead, Chase. Dead. And there are two others in critical condition. Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with that.”
Chase stared at me, and I could practically see his wheels turning, looking for a white lie or sidestep that would get him out of my sights.
“One of the dead men was Henry’s, I knew him.” I added, sticking out my lower lip in a defiant pout.
I wasn’t letting this go.
“Shit,” Chase exhaled. He brought a hand around to rub the back of his neck.
“Tell me what happened.”
“All right, all right.” He glanced around to Jackson presumably checking that he was all right, dropped his hand and held it up, palm out, between us. “Yes, it was me. I went out for a walk and ended up at the dock. I noticed the boat was parked close to ours and thought it was kind of odd, since there were so many other spots available in the marina. Anyway, I went to check the yacht, and make sure everything was as it should be. On my way there, I heard voices from the new boat, and one of them mentioned you and Jackson.”
