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“Good luck, Thorne. Call if you need any more assistance.”
“Appreciate it.”
As soon as the call with Hunter disconnects, I try Tobias again. Still no bloody answer. Why the fuck aren’t they answering? I want to smash something, but I have to focus.
“Try Bellamy again.”
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter 24
Bellamy
It’sagorgeousdayout on the yacht, and Tobias has convinced me to relax on the deck while he slips inside to make us drinks. I even left my phone in the bedroom.
The gentle lapping of the water on the sides of the yacht creates a soothing sound, and a gentle breeze blows over my face. I love the scent of the salty ocean air and the sounds of seagulls crying in the distance. Is this what my honeymoon with Tobias will be like? Pure relaxation? I furrow my brow. Will there even be a honeymoon? Will Owen join us? I’m relaxed enough to push the racing thoughts aside before they get out of control. It’s been forever since I’ve taken a break like this.
The motor of a passing boat has me opening my eyes, but I’m too relaxed to bother sitting up to see what’s out there.
When the boat stops, I’m tempted to peek over the railing and see who it is, but the sun is holding me on my lounger like the perfect weighted blanket, and I still can’t bring myself to move.
There’s a clanging noise on the side of our boat that makes me jump, and I muster the energy to turn my head in the direction of the sound. A hook is caught on the railing. Is that a grappling hook? What the fuck?
My heart leaps into my throat. Is someone here that shouldn’t be, or is it Owen? Why would Owen do something like that? He wouldn’t. We spoke an hour ago, and he said he was coming back tonight. Which means we potentially have unwanted guests. How did they find us?
I sit up on my lounge chair just in time to catch someone climbing the side of the boat.
Fear grips my stomach as my instinct screams that they’re here for me, and I take off in a sprint, trying to get to Tobias below deck.
“Tobias!” I cry out as the man who was climbing over the side lands on the deck behind me, but I know Tobias is all the way downstairs and probably can’t hear me. I scream again as thick hands grab me by the waist. My third scream is cut short as a calloused palm clamps over my mouth. I thrash against my captor’s grip with all my might, desperation in every move I make. He lets out a grunt as I kick him in the shins, but his hold is unrelenting as he tosses me over his shoulder and climbs back down the same way he came up with me in tow.
Peering at the water, my life flashes before my eyes as I contemplate jumping. Struggling to break away from his grip, I find success and tumble into the cold depths below.
As I paddle with everything I’ve got, trying to reach the stairs, I pray Tobias has noticed the commotion.
The roar of the motorboat grows louder, and I momentarily panic, sucking in a mouthful of water. Fuck. I’m not going to make it.
My arms burn as I swim harder, trying to ignore my burning lungs. I can’t let them get me again. If they do, I or someone I love is going to die. Water splashes the back of my head as someone jumps into the water behind me. My arms move furiously, but I don’t make it, and someone pushes my head under water.
Muffled voices shout above me as I struggle to rise to the surface again. When I realize I can’t get away, I hold my breath and go still.
That gets my assailant to let me up, and brawny arms pull me into the boat. I’m coughing and spluttering as a man yells. The voice isn’t one I recognize.
“What the hell were you thinking? I don’t want you to fucking kill her.”
His arms leave me, and I slump onto the seat he’s put me on.
I bolt upright when the man doing all the yelling pulls out a gun. But he doesn’t point it at me. Instead, he pulls the trigger and shoots the man who held me under the water. Shoots him right in the fucking head. His blood splatters my skin and I scream as my kidnapper shoves his lifeless body over the side and into a watery grave. Then I’m heaving, as bile rises in my throat, I empty my stomach onto the floor of the small speedboat.
When I’m no longer doubled over, puking my guts out, the man drops to one knee in front of me and cups my cheek. I recoil from his touch. He doesn’t seem fazed by my reaction or the fact that he’s kneeling in my vomit.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” He pulls his black ski mask off, and I gasp.
Lorenzo fucking Trentini.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice still hoarse from the water I ingested, and the way I lost my lunch.
“Destiny. We’re meant to be.” He sounds so matter of fact, and I don’t have the slightest idea what he means.
