11. Jack
JACK
I leanagainst the cool marble of the bar, my gaze sweeping over the sea of guests with practiced subtlety.
The ballroom is a riot, a thousand conversations weaving a tapestry of laughter and music that should feel celebratory, but doesn’t. Not to me.
Something’s off.
“Everything okay, Jack?” a waiter asks as he slides another club soda in front of me.
“Fine,” I lie without looking at him, my attention riveted to the throngs of guests.
My fingers tighten around the cold glass, the fizz of the soda mocking the bubbling tension in my gut. It’s been too long since Marlie slipped away with a smile, promising she’d be right back.
A snapshot of her excuse plays on repeat in my head: “I just need a moment to freshen up.” I watch the door she exited through, willing it to swing open and reveal her safe return.
“Jack, you’re not drinking tonight?” Marlie’s cousin, oblivious to my inner turmoil, claps me on the shoulder as he passes with a tipsy grin.
“Designated driver,” I offer, the words feeling like sandpaper in my throat. They buy it, always do. The stoic bodyguard, ever responsible, ever vigilant. But tonight, vigilance isn’t enough. The faces around me blur into irrelevance as I play out scenarios—each more grim than the last.
It’s unlike Marlie to wander off. Bringing Diego to the reception was supposed to be a way for me to keep an eye on him. Now, both Marlie and Diego haven’t been seen in over half an hour. The logical part of my brain, trained for crises, immediately starts cycling through protocols. Yet, there’s a deeper fear, a part of me that’s genuinely afraid.
I push back my chair and stand, the legs scraping softly against the marble floor. “Be right back,” I say, injecting as much nonchalance into my voice as I can muster.
The table nods collectively, absorbed in their own revelry. They don’t notice the tension coiled tight in my shoulders, the way my eyes dart to the exits once more.
I weave through the clusters of guests, my gaze like a radar sweeping for any sign of Rich Hunt. The festive music and clinking glasses are nothing but white noise as I push past waiters balancing trays of champagne. I can’t shake the feeling that time is slipping through my fingers—every second Marlie and Diego are out of sight, the danger escalates.
“Rich,” I call out lowly as soon as I spot him, summoning him with a subtle tilt of my head. He’s speaking to one of Marlie’s relatives, but he catches my eye and immediately excuses himself.
“What’s up?” he asks. Worried lines crease his brow as he meets me in the shadowed alcove away from the prying eyes of the wedding guests.
“Have you seen Diego?” I ask, my voice tight. I can’t afford to let panic seep through, not when we need to be discreet.
“Since the ceremony? No. Why?”
“He supposed to check in half an hour ago. Marlie’s gone too.”
“Shit,” Rich groans. “They could be together, right? Maybe they wandered off, got...” He trails off, the unspoken scenario hanging heavy between us.
“Or maybe they didn’t wander off willingly,” I finish his thought, my jaw clenching.
“So, what’s our play?” Rich asks. “Do we call in the rest of the team?”
“We can’t risk it. If this is a kidnapping, we don’t want to tip them off. Are your comms on?”
Rich’s hand dives into his pocket. “They are now,” he replies, pulling out a black earpiece and fitting it into position with a click.
“Good. Expand the search quietly. We need more eyes, but no alarms—not yet.” My command is sharp, calculated. “I’ll start with the perimeter, move towards the beach. You take the interior, storage rooms, service areas.”
Rich nods once. “Got it.”
“And Rich,” I pause, locking eyes with him. “Make it fast. If they’re in trouble, every minute could count. Stay sharp and loop me in the second you find anything.”
The reception hall blurs into a mere backdrop as I weave through clusters of guests, their laughter and clinking glasses a world away from the urgency gripping my chest.
As I slip out a side door, the cool night air hits me, carrying the salty tang of the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore should be calming, but it’s far from it tonight. It’s just another place she could be, another shadow that might hide threats.
My feet find the rhythm of patrol, my gaze sweeping over the darkened edges of the venue with precision. But it’s not just duty that propels me forward—it’s the memory of Marlie’s smile, the sound of her laugh, the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I pick up the pace, sand giving way beneath my boots as I scan the darkness.
Suddenly, my earpiece crackles again.
“Jack, I think I’ve got something,” Rich says. “There’s a boat prepped to leave. Looks like they’re in a hurry, could be our play.”
Electricity surges through me. “Where?” My hand is already reaching for my gun holstered under my jacket.
“West dock, pier seven. You can’t miss it.”
“Keep eyes on it. Don’t engage.” The commands are rote; the caution, second nature. But beneath it all is a wild beat, the rhythm of possibility that this could lead me to Marlie, to Diego.
“Copy that,” Rich replies, and I’m moving.
Two minutes later, the dock materializes before me. The lighthouse, although non-functional now, stands like a solitary sentry on its own little island just off the coast of Barton Beach. The docks beneath it gleam with an unnatural newness that doesn’t sit right. Too new, I realize.
I squint down towards the water’s edge and spot two shadowy figures moving around. As I’m watching them, Rich comes up next to me.
“Hang on... is that...” Rich starts to whisper, but I finish his sentence for him.
“George Shaw and his wife, Patricia,” I confirm quietly. Recognition dawns in Rich’s eyes.
“The landlord?” he asks.
I nod grimly. “It all makes sense now,” I explain to him. “The leak wasn’t from Diego’s security team. It was that fucking clown.”
Rich looks at me in disbelief as he processes this revelation. “You think George has been working for Victor this whole time?”
“Definitely,” I reply. “He probably got suspicious when I moved back here with Marlie.” A memory flashes through my mind: Patricia grilling Marlie with a million pointed questions when we first met her. Now it all adds up.
Rich gives a low whistle of surprise. “So what’s the plan?”
“I’m going in.” My gaze locks onto George and Patricia who are busy loading items into a sleek boat bobbing gently by the dockside under the moonlight’s glow. “Cover for me.”
We slink down towards the dock, our footsteps swallowed by the night until we’re right behind George and Patricia.
Stepping up silently behind George, I press my gun firmly into his back. Then leaning in close enough to feel his sudden tension ripple through him, I growl into his ear. “Where is my wife?”
George sneers as he turns around slowly. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Jack Barton. Figured you would show up.”
The man before me is a far cry from the befuddled elder I initially encountered. Gone is the harmless guise, replaced by the icy precision of a narcotics peddler.
“Hey, let me go!” Patricia’s voice pierces the air. I turn my head to the source of the commotion.
“Easy there,” Rich interjects, his hands firmly gripping Patricia’s shoulders to hold her back. I can’t help but notice the careful restraint in his grip. Despite everything, despite her connection to a lowlife like George, I know Rich would never harm a woman. But Patricia’s interference isn’t something we can afford right now, not when we’re this close to getting Marlie out of this mess.
“Me and Patricia had a good thing going with Victor,” George continues, his voice carrying a bitter edge. “And then that fucking snitch Diego had to go run his mouth to the DEA. And then you saunter into, pretending to be married to that hot little whor?—..”
His words are abruptly cut off as my gun connects with the side of his head in a swift, brutal arc. The impact sends him lurching forward, blood spraying from his nose in an uncontrolled spatter. With one hand gripping his lapel and hauling him upright, I level my gun directly at his face with the other.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, George.” I feel the weight of my gun in my hand as I cock it. “Where is my wife?”
From somewhere behind him, Patricia’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Please don’t kill him!” she cries out desperately. “George, just tell him where they are.”
“Where are they?” I demand, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Below deck,” George says, sputtering again as he dabs at his nose.
I don’t hesitate. I bound across the dock and swing open the hatch to below deck, descending into the belly of the boat with a purpose that eclipses fear.
“Marlie? Diego?” My voice echoes off the walls. Then, there it is—a muffled reply.
“Here! We’re here!”
I find them tied up, but alive, their eyes wide with fear and relief. With swift movements, I untie their bonds, helping them to their feet. Marlie stumbles into my arms, her body warm and trembling.
“Jack,” she whispers, and the sound of my name on her lips is sweeter than any melody.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, guiding them back towards the fresh air, towards freedom.
As we emerge onto the dock, Marlie clings to me, her breaths coming in short gasps. I wrap my arm around her protectively, leading her away from the darkness of the boat and the shadows it cast.
“Jack…” she starts, her voice shaky, and I turn to face her, the chaos of the night receding as I look into her eyes.
“Marlie, I—“ Words fail me, because how do you tell someone that they’re your every thought, your every dream?
“Jack, I—“ She stops too, her eyes glistening.
“Marlie, I love you.” It’s the truth, raw and unguarded. “I have loved you since the day I pretended to be your husband, since every shared glance and touch told me you might feel something too.”
Tears spill over her cheeks as she nods, reaching up to cradle my face in her hands. “I love you too, Jack. I was so scared I’d never get to tell you.”
In that moment, as we stand on the dock, the threat of danger now just an echo, I realize that this woman in my arms has become my everything. And whatever comes next, we’ll face it together—bound by a love that’s as fierce as it is unexpected, as enduring as it is true.