Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(106)

I want to lash out at him, tell him it’s too late for that, but I hold it in.

It’s a miracle he’s even alive right now. I squeeze his hand, holding back the tears.

“I’m sorry, sis. Not just for putting you through this King Heron shit. I’m sorry as hell for...for everything. I didn’t treat you right.”

I’m almost hyperventilating when I meet my brother’s eyes.

His sincerity nearly breaks me on the spot.

I can’t see the monster who stole my conch shell or the vicious boy who always selfishly put himself above everyone else. Not now.

There’s just this battered man, desperate to make amends before the bitter end.

I squeeze his hand harder, nodding as the tears fall.

If we survive, I’ll need more than a heartfelt apology to get over the pain he’s inflicted. But for now, if this is all we get?

“It’s okay, Ray. I know...I know you tried.” My voice cracks, my mind drifting to someone else who’s out there, trying to save our lives.

God, this can’t be happening.

If Flint survives and I don’t, by some miracle, he’ll wind up blaming himself. Just like that woman in Bali. I can’t let that happen.

I release Ray’s hand and squeeze my own together. My finger skims the ring. The gorgeous black pearl is still there. My mind goes to silly pirate movies.

The films where there’s no higher ideal than freedom, and captains love their ships like family. Those ships set them free. So does their treasure, gold and jewels and exquisite pearls just like this one.

Bringing the ring closer, I stare at it harder.

That’s what Flint did for me. Gave me freedom when I didn’t know who I was. He gave me hope, wisdom, and so much love.

My throat burns. I can’t hold it in anymore.

Love.

I do love him. No question. More than I ever imagined possible.

I love Bryce, too.

And I want to keep loving them forever.

The ring goes blurry through my tears, but I can still see how it sparkles and shines.

The black pearl. Freedom. So pure and wild no one can ever take it away.

That’s what I need to become.

Free.

I swipe away the tears and grab Ray’s hand, whispering so the goon standing by the door can’t hear. “You have to get up. We need to hide.”

Ray shakes his head. “There’s nowhere to hide on this ship.” He nods at the door. “He has men watching our every move.”

Crud, he’s right. Free doesn’t mean hiding and cowering, anyway.

It means listening to your inner muse when it whispers, improvise.

Scanning the room, I look for something, anything. A reflection on the floor catches my eye.

The broken table.

Its top is shattered into several good-sized glassy pieces sitting in a pile of tiny beads. I stretch my foot under the table and slowly drag a few of the bigger chunks closer to the sofa, then plant my feet over the top of them.

They’ll do just fine.





20





Tough Stuff (Flint)





The huge, imposing yacht barely has any lights.

Neither do we, but I know it’s him.

Joel Cornaro.

I can feel the oily dread in the air, the same sticky weight that was there in Bali. I lift the night vision binoculars to my face and adjust the focus. Cash follows my lead.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Cash drops the binoculars and picks up another pair. The kind he uses for watching night birds because he swears he sees more with those than military grade scopes.

I adjust the focus on my pair again, trying to make out what’s happening at the side of the yacht. It looks like they’re attaching something to the rail on the lower deck.

“It’s almost like...a door? Laid flat?” Cash snorts, whipping his head from side to side. “Is he making some kind of plank? Is this guy that big of a fucking egomaniac?”

“He’s a monster,” I growl, moving my binoculars so I can scan the side of the walkway. People come into view, and I sharpen the focus. “It’s Ray. Cornaro’s right behind him. Poking him in the back with something...a gun. A goddamned golden gun.”

“Nice knowing some things never change,” he bites off.

Snarling, I toss down my binoculars. “Nate, we have to slow them down. Hit that yacht hard enough to punch a hole in the hull.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Nate shouts, an otter of a man with tall, lean muscles. Laughing, he adds, “That’s the beauty of having this rig. They’re gonna think it’s their own guys until we’re right up their ass.”

“Pour on the coals!” Davis shouts.

“This won’t be easy. We’ll need to bail out at high speed,” I tell Davis, Cash, Wallis, and Frank, all good men who’d been in Bali with me. “The water’s hard and rough. Keep your wits.”

“The ladders are on the back of the boat at ten o’clock and eight o’clock. The skiff is hanging at three o’clock on the starboard side,” Cash says, while everyone gets into position. “So far, I’ve counted five people, not including the two hostages. Seven total. Probably more lurking around somewhere.” He then lists off the location of the five known targets, plus Ray and Valerie.