“So he could kill a person?”
“So he could kill the entire crew.” Another shout from outside. Poseidon, calling my name. Nicholas takes my arm and moves us both toward the door, but then he stops and looks me in the eye. “If he gets to be too much—”
“He’s not too much.” I’m louder than I meant to be, and it’s not because I don’t believe what I said. It’s because I believe it so deeply that even thinking otherwise brings tears to my eyes. Even the suggestion that I might leave him because he is angry, because he is lost—no. I’m offended down to my bones. I love Poseidon down to my bones. Deeper than that. I’m so pissed my chin quivers. Buddy pushes himself between me and Nicholas, his little body tense. “I love him, you asshole. He’s not ever going to be too much.”
“I didn’t mean—” Nicholas is in over his head, and he looks tired. And scared. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to suggest anything emotionally. I just meant—”
“Ashley.” Poseidon’s close, looking for me, and I can hear the worry in his voice. I can hear how he hates this.
Nicholas moves again. Toward Poseidon, never away unless he’s ordered. “I meant that if you can’t keep him on land, you call me. Or call his brothers. Call whoever’s closest.”
I understand then—what he means. Nicholas has the same fear that I do. It doesn’t comfort me to know it. It makes it seem more real. More imminent. There are only a few people who would be strong enough to keep Poseidon out of the sea. There are only a few who could even try. One of them is Nicholas. The other two aren’t on this island, and I can’t ask them here behind Poseidon’s back—I can’t.
It’ll have to be Nicholas, if it comes to that. He’ll have to be enough.
But it won’t come to that. I won’t let it get that far. We step out of the warehouse and into the sun. There’s Poseidon, face dark with worry. Sheer relief breaks through at the sight of me.
“I’ll call you. I promise,” I tell Nicholas, and then I run for Poseidon.
9
Poseidon
Someone’s going to die soon.
They got the ship into the water this morning. There’s more to be done. Always more to be done. Half the interior isn’t finished. It’s barely seaworthy. But it’s in the water, bobbing there next to a dock sturdy enough to hold construction equipment. I had people welding through the night to get to this point.
We’ve lost another week. A week where I said less and less to Ashley because I can feel my self-control starting to snap. It’s been fraying for a while now, but I still can’t sleep. Every hour that passes makes it worse. It curdles the frustration I feel into battery acid and pumps it through my veins. It tortures my muscles with knots and cramps from not being in the sea or on the sea. My body isn’t used to standing like this. To being like this. The night Ashley had her dream, I told her it was killing me.
I told her the truth.
Mark looks me square in the face. “I’m loading the cargo this afternoon.”
“I don’t fucking believe it.” I’m an asshole, the worst version of myself, and I can’t stop. He’s not invested enough in this project and all he does is come to me with lies. “When’s a realistic estimate? I need to know when I can start bringing my crew back.”
I need to get off this island. I need to get us all off this island and back onto open seas.
“I’m loading the cargo this afternoon. The electrical team will work around it. Then it’s cosmetic fixes on the interior. The hull is finished. The bridge is finished. She could sail if she had to. And the sails themselves—”
“This ship doesn’t have sails.”
“She does,” he counters, and I can’t believe this guy has the balls to tell me about the Trident. My own fucking ship. The ship I’ve spent years of my life on. The ship I’d do anything for. “It has a full mast with optional rigging and the canvas has already been stowed. If the engines are damaged or you lose power, you’ll be able to raise the sails.”
I turn my back on him without another word, and I feel Nicholas step in behind me. I hate this. I hate it. I’m losing my goddamn mind. The Trident doesn’t have sails, and...
And this is not the Trident. I lost her when I saved Ashley. I destroyed her to save Ashley. Fear beats where my heart used to be. Reality is slipping away from me under an onslaught of grief and anger and it’s all tangled up in what her father said. That my mother is still alive. Right now, and me with my vision dimming. I hear it again. I’ve known she was dead for so long. Since the farmhouse. But if she was alive and didn’t come for me—
I can’t let myself complete the thought.
Faces I recognize move by me in a group, and one of the men reaches out to touch my arm. For a terrifying moment I don’t recognize any of them, but then their faces snap back into place in my mind. They’re part of my crew. I’ve been calling them back a few at a time.
I hear myself talking to them. Ordering them to find Nicholas and see him for their assignments. I keep my disgust out of my voice, but it takes effort. More effort than I should be spending on this. They look comfortable on land. Too comfortable. I bristle at the sight of it. Men who are at home on the shore make for shitty sailors and you can’t depend on them when it counts.
A sundress flashes in the corner of my eye. “Poseidon—”
“Don’t get in my way. I have a meeting.” Ashley’s hurt shows in her face, and I can’t live with it. I do have a meeting. I’m on my way to meet with someone in the warehouse. I can’t remember his name, and I don’t care what it is. Nicholas will know. “Come here.”
I put my hand on the small of her back and steer her the hell away from the center of the shipyard and around to the back of the warehouse. It’s a blank expanse of metal siding and I push Ashley up against it, one hand around her neck.
She resists me a little, one hand coming up to meet mine. “Poseidon, people could see.”
“I don’t care.” I grab for the hem of her sundress and push my hand underneath. Ashley spreads her legs for me without hesitation, but her nervousness shows in her eyes. I should tell her I’m sorry. “You’re going to come for me now.”
I tip her head up another inch with my thumb under her chin, and her breath comes faster. “We’re too close.” The whine of a drill gets louder. Men’s voices bounce off the trees behind us. Those sounds ricochet between tropical forest and the flat side of the warehouse, creating the illusion that we’re surrounded. That we’re being witnessed. “Poseidon, they could hear—”
“You’ll have to keep your pretty lips shut if you want to keep it secret, princess.”
At secret her eyes slide off mine and I tighten my hand on her throat. Ashley’s free to be embarrassed. In fact, I welcome the deeper red painting her cheeks and the glisten of tears in her eyes. It focuses something in me that’s losing its grip. She’s like true north on a compass. I keep swinging back to her again and again.
Underneath the sundress I find the waistband of her panties and slide my fingers past it, finding the slick flesh I know will be waiting. It is. She’s wet, parting her thighs to give me more access, and I wait for the flood of emotion that should come with touching her. Insistent want, the way the ocean wants every available space it can find, the way it wants to lap up the sand. Insistent need, even. The relief that comes with seeing her face flush and her lips part. The sense of power that comes with feeling her pussy grab at my fingers as she comes.