Page 15 of Anchor

Shit.

I swipe a hand across my face to clear the rivulets of saltwater. There’s an obtrusion on the side so I grab hold, if only to keep from getting left behind, while I sort out how to shinny up the side.

Then I hear the man take over the mic and my insides turn to ice. Blood rushing in my ears blocks out the beginning of his speech, but I catch the, “…if you attempt to get off this boat. If you attempt to harm me, the collars you’re wearing will decapitate you so fast, your body won’t even know what happened.”

My fingers go limp and I slide back into the water. It rushes up my nose and stings my throat. I claw my way back to the handhold but his words still haunt me.

What would I have done if the woman hadn’t saved Emily?

It doesn’t take me long to figure he’s got them all strapped with an explosive. My vision whites out when I think about Emily in just this situation so I push thoughts of her from my mind.

When’d you turn into such a fuckin’ pussy, Rossi?I hear Tyler say in my ear.

It’s enough to make me focus. Em isn’t here. She’s miles away surrounded by armed guards and I know her mother would fight to death to keep her safe.Hell, she almost had.

Over the sound of the water rushing around me and the hum and vibration from the engine, I hear the distinct sound of fist meeting face and a male cry of surprise. Are they trying to take on an armed man by themselves? It would take balls, even for a trained individual like me.

From the shouts going on above me, I’m able to deduce it’s two of the passengers, one whowantsto take on their captor and another who’s trying to save the dude’s life.

In stressful situations it’s difficult to keep you’re cool. I’m not surprised there’s tension running through them. I just hope one of them doesn’t do something stupid and get a lot of people killed before I can stop them.

But it happens too fast.

One of the men goes flying over the edge of the boat and I recall the kidnapper’s last words. If he wasn’t bluffing, the explosives strapped to the guy’s neck will go off. It’s just a matter of time.

Once he hits the water, I’ve already decided I don’t have the time nor the opportunity to save him. And it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do—to clutch the side of the boat and stay out of his sight.

“Help!” he shouts, his voice garbled by the water.

“Someone throw him a float!” another person yells.

There’s the sound of wet footsteps, then a slap of an object hitting the water. Around the corner, I can hear the man thrashing in the water as he attempts to swim to the safety device.

He may make it before the device around his neck detonates—and it’s the only chance he’ll get.

When there’s a moment of pause and it doesn’t go off, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Which is when it all goes to shit.

The explosion is enough to wrench me away from my hold on the ferry and toss me a couple feet. It rips the pack clean off my shoulders and my fingers grasp at empty water when I attempt to get it back.

Fuck.

I fight my way back to my hand hold again and shake my head to clear it of the ringing report from the explosion. I don’t want to think about what’s floating with me in the surrounding ocean. I’ll think about it, dream about it, live with it, later. That and the fact he was right there. I could have saved him, but chose not to.

His death is on me.

I give myself a moment to refocus on my goal: getting on the ship. Then I open my eyes. Above the ringing, I can hear the horrified screams of the other hostages.

If I was waiting on a distraction, this is it.

Then, I see the rope attached to a float that’s no longer dangling from the end.

Looks like I’ve found my way on the boat after all.

Chloe

There are no more tears. Just a numbing emptiness.

It doesn’t dull my other senses—I can still hear the screams from below, can still feel the breeze on my face, and the shudder of the ferry beneath my hands, and smell the tang of metal and grease over the ocean.