Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“We could try and get one of the security guards’ weapons, they have them clear as day,” Aggie points out. “They are probably our only chance.”
“We could steal a knife from the kitchen,” Tati throws in, weakly.
“We will be too easily overpowered with a knife,” I shake my head, offering her a careful but warm smile. “I think Aggie is right, we need to try and get the security guards’ weapons.”
“But how?” Tati questions, crossing her legs beneath her on the bed.
“Well, they’re certainly not going to just hand them over,” I mutter, more to myself than to them.
“So don’t ask. Steal it.” Aggie flips her hair over her shoulder like we’re playing a game of truth or dare.
I hate how fast my mind starts to strategise.
If I could get into his room while he showers or sleeps, maybe I could find wherever he keeps it.
“Okay,” I say. “But if we do this, we need a plan. Where we’re going, what we say to the captain... Once we show the gun, it’s all or nothing.”
Tati nods, but her face is paler than it usually is.
“Let’s do this,” Aggie says, her voice and demeanour strong, but I can see the fear in her eyes.
We talk fast, coming up with a plan. I’ll slip out after midnight, when the boat is dark and half the staff are in their cabins or, hell, drunk on the spoils of whatever payday they’re getting for selling us off. I will go to Ace’s room and ask to talk to him. Once he lets me in, I will find a weapon somehow.
Aggie will keep watch from above near the emergency stairs, texting me if anyone comes. Tati will feign a medical emergency and get the guards’ attention on the main deck if we need a distraction.
It feels insane, half-baked and desperate, but we have nothing else.
For the rest of the night, I pace my room until I hear the engines drop down for the night, letting the yacht glide through the water at a slow but steady speed. Adrenaline soaks my skin. I change into black leggings and a big jumper. I can’t text anyone, so I wait until 12:30 as planned, before leaving.
I slip my feet into soft-soled sneakers and crack my door. Corridor empty. Carpet muffles everything. With each step down the staircase, my pulse gets harder, louder, as though my body is convinced I’ll slam directly into disaster.
Ace’s room is at the end of the first floor. The door, heavy mahogany, is closed, but I can see a faint slash of light underneath. My hand shakes so hard I have to pause and gather myself before reaching out and knocking.
It takes a minute, and then the door swings open. Ace fills the frame wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats, hair damp and messy, a tattoo curling up over one collarbone and disappearing across his chest. He is built the way men in movies are built, the kind you notice even when you are terrified and carrying a secret and have absolutely no business noticing anything at all.
He is fucking spectacular.
“Hey,” I say, voice breathier than I want. “Sorry to bother you, but can I talk to you for a second?”
He steps aside, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, but he lets me in. “Yeah, but if you’re looking for tequila, the answer is no.”
I laugh, weakly.
I step in and stare around the room. It isn’t as nice as ours, but it is comfortable. I’m sure Ace has seen worse; this is probably a vacation for him, too. He closes the door behind me, then leans against it, arms folded, watching.
“What’s going on?” he asks, voice quiet but not gentle.
I can’t do small talk, not now. I take a breath and let my anxiety do the talking. “I have a bad feeling,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes. “You know my dad, right?”
Ace raises a brow. “He hired me, didn’t he?”
Right.
“Then you know he doesn’t do nice things. I just don’t feel good about this. I feel like he’s doing something awful, and I want to go home.”
He doesn’t move, but a muscle in his jaw jumps. “What gives you that idea?”
I shrug. “It’s just a feeling, but it’s enough to make me unable to sleep.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Look,” he finally speaks, “you and your friends are safe, that’s what we’re here for.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping closer to the desk. “Sorry, I know I’m being strange, but I honestly can’t sleep.”
“You’re overthinkin’ it. I’ll go check things out, if it makes you feel better. Make sure there is nothin’ weird goin’ on.”
“Really?” I whisper, not entirely an act, but a genuine response.
“Yeah, give me twenty minutes, I’ll go and see what’s happening out there.”
“You could bring back some whiskey, if you wanted...”