Page 9 of Anchor (First to Fight)
My shoulders heave and I have to suck in hot, humid gulps of air as emotions assail me. Taylor’s hands sift through my hair until I can control myself.
By the time I stand, straight-faced, Emily is stirring awake. I lean a hip on the side of the bed and hold Taylor’s hand in mine. When her eyes open, Emily finds me and smiles.
“Daddy, you’re here!” She climbs across her mother’s legs and launches herself into my arms. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“I’m so glad to see you, too.” If I were standing my knees would have buckled. I close my eyes and press my face into her hair until the emotion causing my arms to tremble diminishes. When I let her go, I say, “What do you say we break out of here and get your mom a milkshake?” To Taylor, I say, “Is chocolate still your favorite?”
They both look at me with identical frowns.
A crease forms between my eyebrows. “What? Don’t tell me you like vanilla now.”
“You can’t mean to say you’re planning to stay here?” Taylor purses her lips in a familiar expression.
“Yeah, Daddy, you have to go save her.”
“Uh, save who?” I narrow my eyes at the pair of them.
Emily scoffs and waves an arm. “That lady.”
I look at Taylor for backup, but she’s giving me a look identical to Emily’s, a mix of frustration and confusion.
“What?” I rub the back of my neck and wonder where the hell all the nurses are.
“The woman who helped Emily, Gabe,” Taylor explains finally. “You can’t just leave her after what she did.”
“Yea, Daddy. You told me you saved people from bad things.”
“There are other policemen and a lot of other trained professionals who will help the people on the ferry,” I explain with measured patience.
“But Mommy said you’re the best.” Emily’s blue eyes shine up at me, and they are filled with a pride and admiration I’m not sure I live up to.
Taylor smiles at me when I glance at her. Then I look at my daughter and say “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to leave you now.”
“Daddy,” Emily says, then presses her lips into a firm line like I’m the child and she’s the adult. “I’m fine. But the lady isn’t.”
“My mom’s with us,” Taylor says and at the mention of her name, her mother comes to stand by her side. We’d gotten along, barely, when Taylor and I were married, but for the first time, she looks at me without disgust. “You should be there,” Taylor is saying. “You know you want to be.”
Emily grins and squeezes my hand. “Go, Daddy.”
I cup her cheek and kiss her forehead. “You’re sure about this?” My eyes meet Taylor’s over our daughter’s head.
“More than anything. She risked her life for Emily. The least you can do is try to save hers.”
Chloe
There are thirteen other people on this boat, heading God-knows-where, including the captain still driving the ferry and the attendants who are huddled in their blue button-up uniforms. The man with the guns strapped to his chest and back like a vest full of bombs—and just as lethal—has said nothing to anyone other than giving the captain vague directions.
From what I can see, we’re going at a low speed, based on the distance between us and the shore. I can still see miniature people at the dock where I’d saved the little girl, except now there are scores of policemen, paramedics, and journalists. Their lights flicker like a funhouse ride and I can hear the occasional whir of a helicopter overhead.
So far, no one has tried to contact us via the onboard radio, and the man hasn’t attempted to open a line of communication.
But what’s worse than his threatening presence is the tension between the hostages.
Beside me, a woman huddles with her two children, her husband hovers nearby, his face angry with a combination of indignation and fear. Every few minutes he mutters something under his breath aboutdoing something about this shitand I want to slap my hand over his mouth—not that I have much room to talk.
Just a short while ago, I myselfdid something about itand wound up as a hostage on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic with a gun pointed at my face. So I’m content to sit in my little corner with my head down and my lips zipped unless I have to do otherwise. The others around me, however, don’t feel the same.
“You might want to sit down,” I whisper through the corner of my mouth.So much for keeping your lips zipped.