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I force my eyes open one more time. Through a small squint, I see her rage-filled eyes staring wide at me. Dare I think she’s been through the same?
“That bastard won’t ever touch you again, I swear!” the cop says. “Hang in there,ma chérie.”
2
ROBSON HARTLEY
Lake Geneva, Switzerland, present time
The crisp alpine air presses against my cheeks as I make my way to the jetty. Mountain peaks reflect on the glassy surface, undisturbed by the wind which, according to the weather report, blows at a tame seven miles an hour.
Crowds and reporters greet me. I didn’t expect a big turnout, but with headlines like ‘Ex-SEAL billionaire attempts speed record,’ the media does change expectations.
Girls in short skirts and bikinis line the front row around the perimeter my crew has set up. It’s a cold morning, why would they do that to themselves? It looks like the notion of fast boats being ‘babe magnets’ isn’t about to be debunked anytime soon.
“They still want you despite your hideous suit,” my brother says, nodding at my white racing jumpsuit. Four of the girls, standing side by side, expose their boobs—flashingMarry Me Rob Hartleywritten on their bellies.
“What can I say? It’s the inside that counts.” I wink at Clay.
Models, socialites, high-flyers; pursued and pursuing—been there, done that. In the end, they were more trouble than they were worth. The love I got in return was either nonexistent or detrimental. Flattered as I am by the attention, my heart is off limits.
“Your butt looks humungous in it,” Clay teases some more, then gives me a brotherly smack right on the part in question. The suit I’m wearing is armored and rather tight, so moving around in it did require some getting used to.
I gladly pose for a photo with two little boys—to the relief of their mother, who must’ve thought her sons were out of control when they ran to me as if we’d been friends already. I never say no to kids. And for them to show such enthusiasm for boats, I give them an extra-wide grin and a couple of Hartley Marine caps.
Seeing that, inevitably the topless girls beg for a pic too. I decline politely. Those girls, like many I’ve unfortunately known, are like the center of an ambush zone—the ‘X,’ as we called it in our SEAL team. The first thing you did was to get off it.
Dear God. What the hell happened to me? I’m aware that being photographed with semi-naked girls would spell disaster, and I’m not bothered by the fact that they don’t turn me on. But my ambush-zone reaction leaves me wondering.
I grew up thinking love was simple, wonderful, forever—like my parents. Well, maybe simple isn’t the right word. They have their issues, but they don’t play games, and deceit is never part of who they are. Even in a battlefield, love was easier to find—you did everything for the love of your country, and your men. But since I left the Navy, I’d obviously chosen the wrong battle; I was fighting for something that I couldn’t win.
Whatever! Today isn’t the time to reflect how screwed up my love life is—well, it’s never the time, really—but especially now, because my focus should be on the water.
The water. Staring at it, the lake reminds me of something different altogether. I cast one more glance at the spectators, looking for a possibility—that poor girl I pulled out of the water here three years ago. The sense of not knowing her fate keeps her on my mind. Her identity was never revealed, and the police captain in charge at the time swore us to secrecy about her rescue. The girl could be right there watching me now, or she might not have even survived her injuries. But I think she’s alive. If she could swim in frigid water after enduring such brutality, she would be capable of overcoming anything.
My search for the possibility ends when a man who looks like a bad version of Robert Baratheon breaks away from the crowd.
“Many tried, many failed, some even died trying. Two hundred and ninety-eight miles per hour is nothing for kindergarteners to attempt,” the man brags. “You can still back away from this, Rob.”
That dick has guts to show his face here. I thought Fat Kerry was going to spare himself the humiliation and watch the run from the comfort of his London mansion.
“Of course I can,” I reply, stepping toward him. If it wasn’t for his beer belly, we would’ve been nose-to-nose. “But you can’t. Because I won’t.”
For the world, today we put our asses on the line to break a water speed record—but behind this fanfare, the fight is personal. The man holding the record is nothing more than a low-life thief. Kerry Hartley, Dad’s brother, claimed all the glory and scored multi-million dollar sponsorships when he set the record for fastest man on water in Europe…using a concept our father had designed. Since it was done in Dad’s spare time, there was nothing we could use as legal grounds to sue our uncle, so toppling Fat Kerry’s record is the best revenge we can get.
Dad and I have our differences, but theft is theft, and I have to do something about it. Knowing his own brother had betrayed him, Dad was beside himself. He’d dreamed about being king of the water—someday, son, someday, he often told me—and for him, time didn’t heal. He supports me and my brother in our attempt today, but his bitterness has proven too much for the old man to be here, so he’s staying put in California.
Fat Kerry moseys into the crowd, but my eyes follow his every step as if that dick is in my crosshairs.
“Come on, let’s get you ready.” Clay tugs at me, and then helps me with the lifejacket.
My younger brother, Clayton ‘Clay’ Hartley, is my sidekick in every way. We’ve been each other’s protectors since we were kids, and we understand one another almost by instinct, as if we were twins born two years apart.
“You trust this thing?” I stare down at the lifejacket Clay is screwing with. Should anything go wrong, with the speed I’ll be traveling at, I’ll have died of shock before I even hit the water.
“I know, it makes you look less sexy.” He pulls at the waist strap and secures the clip. “Hey, it’s only our uncle. Don’t let him piss you off,” he says, placing his hands on my heaving shoulders.
Never get out on the water angry, I know.
