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Chase wrapped me in the robe and scooped me up off the floor, I buried my face in his neck. My heart raced as I muffled a terrified whisper, "What's going on? Am I being kidnapped again!"
"No! We're being rescued...."
Squinting my eyes open, I could just make out Bruce and the security team rushing ahead of us, fervently encouraging Chase to run faster. Then, suddenly, I felt the dock shake as Chase stumbled, and a bluish-yellow glow burst over his shoulder, then a blast of heat smacked my face. "Jesus Christ. Someone just blew up my yacht," Chase shouted breathlessly.
"Oh, no... put me down! I can run. I'm slowing you down!" I yelled, determined not to be the reason for us not quickly escaping.
"Megs. I got you!" Chase replied as he picked up his pace. He sprinted along the boardwalk and onto the sand, using his body to shield me from the blast's aftermath. Up ahead, I noticed the boat that had followed us had a searchlight scanning the beach. Bruce waved at Chase to hurry as he waded into the surf.
I was opening my mouth to scream when Chase clapped his palm over me and whispered in my ear, "Hush, Megs!"
Shaking my head wildly, I yelled against his palm. "I can't swim!"
"Trust me... just hang on."
A few minutes later, I clutched the rails as Chase hoisted me up onto the diving platform of the Old Yeller. As I shivered in my soaked robe, Bruce offered me a t-shirt and a pair of men's shorts. That's when I noticed Chase was dressed similarly. I couldn't move, and my voice was choked off in fear. Finally, with a crooked smile, Chase urged me to take his hand, guiding me down below to the cabin where I could change my clothes.
As the radio crackled in the background, I heard one of the men who had rescued us reporting the incident to someone who urged him to get us back to the mainland as quickly as possible. Chase ducked down and looked out of the boat's porthole. His voice hitched when he muttered, "The Tit for Tat is completely gone!"
I felt a jolt of horror. "That could have been us," I croaked as I gripped my chest, unable to breathe.
Chase's voice was grim. "Yes.... Oh, God, Meagan, you're pale!" Chase caught me just as I was about to collapse. "Bruce, get down here. Meagan is having a panic attack!”
Thankfully, Bruce was also a trained medic, and he quickly started an IV, and within a few minutes, the attack eased. Chase stroked my hair as I laid my head in his lap and listened to Bruce explain what had happened. "We were doing our 10 o'clock sonar scan of the outside of your yacht, just as we always do, and noticed something had been attached to the hull.... and it hadn't been there when we checked at six. We've been running the sonar scan every four hours."
"Did you see anyone around it while we were docked?" Chase asked.
"Now that I think of it, we did notice some bubbles and even noted it in the log, but we also noted a couple of dolphins swimming nearby and concluded they were the cause. In hindsight, I suspect it was a diver attaching..."
I gasped, "Why is someone purposely trying to kill me and now you, Chase!"
Chase stood and punched his fist into his palm. "This is my fault. I should have known..."
"No, it's not. Stratford. You upped your security footprint after you got the video warning you that 'loose lips sink ships," Bruce told Chase.
Quickly, Chase glanced at me and ran his hands down his face. I sat up and asked, "What video? What does 'loose lips sink ships' mean?"
Chapter Nine
Chase
I woke up bright and early on Monday morning, content to hear that Meagan had a peaceful night's sleep after being left in the care of Guy and Ariel. Other than her slight anxiety upon my departure, knowing she felt safe with them was reassuring.
As I steered my Escalade into the gated Rosedale Tech parking lot, a sense of unease shrouded me in its ominous embrace. I was due to inform my partners about the latest assassination attempt on one of our Rosedale colleagues — ME — and a second failed murder endeavor against Meagan. Yet, despite the dire news, I was still determined to take on the day with fervor and confidence, if nothing more than to put on a fucking brave face for the staff and, naturally, those who had previously come under attack by an ever-persistent fucking psychopath.
Studying myself in the rearview mirror, I attempted to rein in my passive-aggressive attitude. Before I proceeded to my office, I quickly combed through my hair and adjusted my tie. To my surprise, the door was already unlocked – Courtney sat with a scrunched-up nose staring at her laptop deep at work.
"Oh, my goodness. Good morning Mr. Stratford... I wasn't expecting you this early.” Courtney's eyes were red and her face was devoid of makeup, which was a first. I smiled at her with a heavy heart. “Oh, wow, Courtney, you’re early this morning,” I said as I turned to head inside my office and sat in my chair. I had asked my assistant to examine the grant application and try her hand at starting the narrative — no doubt the reason for her early arrival.
Remembering Courtney liked her coffee with two creamers, I fixed one for both of us and offered her a cup. She looked up and bit her lip, first thanking me before she admitted, "Mr. Stratford, I don't think I'm supposed to know about this, but I heard what happened to your new boat this weekend, and I'm so sorry.... but so glad you and Mr. Jackson's sister are safe. But I'm scared. And so are some of the others."
My breath hitched, and my stomach churned. I wanted to grab Courtney and send her off on a ship, on a plane, or on a train to somewhere — anywhere safe. Yet, I had no idea where that might be. All I could do, though, was pat her shoulder and try to reassure her that she was safe inside the building. I muttered unconvinced, "You know, you can always visit the staff counselors we hired to help manage stress. And don't forget, you can take extra paid days off if you need to. You can always —"
"Mr. Stratford. I'm okay right now. Honestly..." She gathered her hair into a ponytail and wrapped one of those colorful bands around it. "What I'm scared most about is this grant! I'm sorry, but I don't think I can be much help. I don't even understand what some of this stuff is written here." Courtney gestured toward her screen.
"Me either, Courtney. That's one of the items on the agenda for today's meeting with my partners. We're going to have to hire a professional grant writer, and I assure you that's not going to be me.... and by proxy, not you either,” I chuckled.
Courtney let out a long sigh. "Thank goodness. That's a huge weight off my shoulders."
