Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Karma.
That’s what this was.
Payback for some transgression Saylor had committed in a previous life.
One evil enough to account for the never-ending assault Fate had unleashed on her life.
First, with the epic failure of a date with Zain, and now, it had invaded her professional life.
What she’d hoped would be an early ending to a day-long charter.
Except where she’d spotted what might be a derelict vessel on the horizon.
Or at the very least, a ship in desperate need of assistance.
The Coast Guard side of her had jumped into action.
Dropped off her clients, checked her gas and emergency supplies, then raced off.
The fact Atticus Parker had been waiting on the dock hadn’t helped lower her anxiety.
Knowing he’d insist on tagging along. Sure, the man had been a colonel.
Had run maneuvers with Special Forces, including the men he’d hired on as part of his search and rescue organization, Raven’s Watch.
But there was something about having him scrutinize her every move that prickled the hairs on her neck.
Or maybe, it was the leftover adrenaline from nearly kissing Zain. Where she’d hoped the evening would end. Having it all fall apart… She couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of cosmic sign. That, maybe, he just wasn’t that into her.
Atticus grumbled beside her, his gaze locked on the horizon. “I haven’t seen anyone on deck since we headed out.”
Saylor sighed. “Maybe they’re all below trying to fix whatever’s wrong.”
“Even the captain? Because I’d expect him to be on the damn bridge, answering my calls.”
Saylor nodded. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Atticus. I agree with you.”
Atticus chuckled. “You’re so much like your father, it’s actually scary.”
“Funny, he says the same thing about Mackenzie.” She slowed as she neared the ship. “Looks like it’s been retrofitted as a salvage vessel. I guess there’s a chance they’ve already been rescued.”
“Not by the Coast Guard. You heard my exchange with them.”
“Maybe their cargo wasn’t up to acceptable standards, and they bugged out instead of facing possible prosecution.”
Atticus looked at the ship, then back to her. “You think someone’s running drugs in that?”
“You’d be surprised the kind of vessels dealers use.
I once found a few kilos of cocaine in a paddle boat.
” She held up her hand. “Don’t ask. All I’m saying is that we can’t make assumptions.
Which means doing a few circles, searching for any hint that this could be a setup before we even think about venturing onboard. ”
Atticus gawked at her. “You’re actually thinking about safety? I’m impressed.”
“I’m all for a no-holds-barred approach when we know lives are on the line, but this…” She shivered as a few memories clawed at her consciousness. A hint of the mission she couldn’t remember. How this looked like a smaller version of the Vigilant . “This gives me the creeps.”
Atticus sobered. “If we don’t think there’re people at risk, we’ll wait for the cavalry. Deal?”
She simply snorted, circling her boat a bit closer before pulling up on the stern. A pair of ladders hung off her port side, each wave spraying water across the ends. She scanned the hull, looking for any suggestion of trouble, only to stop cold.
A handprint.
Bloody.
Smeared up and over the deck as if someone had been trying to climb over the edge but had been dragged backwards.
Atticus cursed. “I assume by the way your mouth’s hanging open, you see the blood, too.”
“Hard to miss.” She worked the throttles, getting impossibly closer without crashing. “It looks fresh.”
“That could be from the waves.”
“We both know that if the spray was responsible, the entire side of the hull would be wet with some dripping off the deck.” Saylor shook her head. “That’s likely not even an hour old.”
“We’ll wait for backup?—”
“Like hell, we will. If this is the result of pirates, they’re gone.
If this is something else… What if there’re still people alive?
Who can’t wait the hour it’ll take for a cutter to get here?
Or even the forty-five for a chopper? I swore an oath to serve and protect.
To endeavor to do more. I can’t let that slide because the odds might not be in my favor. ”
“ Our favor. Because if you think I’m going to let you go up there, alone…”
“Someone needs to stay with the boat.”
Atticus waved off the statement. “We’re miles from shore. I think we’ll notice if someone tries to sneak up on us and steal your boat.” He leaned over the side. “Get it in close. I’ll go up, first. If no one tries to kill me, you can hop over and join me.”
“I’ll go first.”
“You’d make an old man jump to that ladder?”
“Of course, not. So, it’s a good thing I don’t know any.”
“Saylor…”
“Fine. You want to go have a look? Then, grab the ladder, tie us off and we’ll go together.” Saylor crossed her arms when he balked, allowing her boat to drift away. “It’s either that, or I jump overboard, swim to the ladder and leave you here.”
Atticus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine.”
Saylor babied the throttle, timing each incremental movement with the waves until Atticus could simply reach out and wrap his fingers around one of the rungs. He tied off the line, holding the boat steady as she checked her supplies, then made her way over.
She waved Atticus ahead. Not because she wanted him to go first, but she knew the man too well, and he’d bitch for the next year if she didn’t allow him at least one concession.
He smiled his thanks, then heaved himself onto the first rung, holding firm for a few moments before deftly climbing the metal rungs.
Old man, her ass. He’d practically run up the ladder.
Saylor climbed over the edge, then started up, her Beretta at the ready.
Atticus waited until she’d caught up before scanning the deck then jumping over the lip.
She followed suit, sweeping the area as they stood side-by-side at the stern.
The hull groaned as the ship rocked against the waves, each impact listing the vessel a bit more.
What would eventually capsize it if they couldn’t get it moving.
Atticus nodded at her weapon. “You got a spare?”
“Are you seriously telling me you jumped on my boat without a weapon, knowing we were coming out here?”
“Unlike you and Foster’s crew, I don’t drive around armed for bear.”
“Which was your first mistake.”
“You’ve definitely been hanging around Zain too much.” He arched a brow. “Or maybe, not quite enough.”
“We’re not discussing anything to do with Zain or me while we’re in the middle of a situation.” She snagged her spare out of her ankle holster, then handed it to Atticus. “Don’t shoot me in the ass with that, by mistake.”
“Just because I didn’t bring my own doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly forgotten how they work. I was running maneuvers while you were still in diapers.”
“And yet, you had to ask for my spare.”
Atticus grinned. “Like I said before. Scary. I suggest we clear this level, then head to the bridge. We can reassess once we see if anyone’s piloting this thing.”
“Agreed.”
Saylor scanned the area, one more time — confirmed there weren’t any visible threats on the deck or in the water — then started walking.
She veered left as Atticus stayed right, slowly searching every possible hiding spot for any crew.
They got partway up the deck, angling back together near the base of a massive crane, when the ship tilted up as a large swell rolled through, dropping it off the other side.
She braced herself against the crane as Atticus grabbed a line strung across the width of the ship, both of them riding out the wave, when the line snapped.
It whipped back, nearly taking Atticus with it, before a rusted drum dropped onto the deck and bounced toward them.
She dove at the man, tackling him to the deck as the damn barrel landed beside them, then bounded past, clattering against the side before sliding toward the stern and finally stopping at the far end.
Pain sparked through her shoulder, the rough landing definitely leaving a mark. She eased off Atticus, quickly scanning the deck when he cursed. She snapped her gaze back to him, giving him a quick once-over only to stop cold at his ankle.
“Damn.” She checked the area, again, then shifted over, assessing his leg without moving it. “Did that drum land on it?”
Atticus cussed, again, when she gently eased his cuff farther up his calf. “More of a glancing blow, but…”
“Sorry, Atticus, but that might be broken.” She offered him her hand, helping him to his feet. “Lean on me, and we’ll get you back to the stern.”
The man muttered under his breath the entire way, cussing when she finally eased him down, his back pressed against the side. “This is ridiculous. Just, splint the damn thing, and I’ll be good to go.”
“The only place you’re going is the hospital.” She glanced up the ship. “Wait here a moment.”
Saylor ventured back to where the barrel had been secured and checked the lashing. Her stomach clenched at the clean edges cut halfway through the line, the obvious answer sending a shiver down her spine.
“Well?” Atticus nodded at the barrel off to his left. “I assume you checked the line because you had a theory?”
“Yeah, that we’re not welcome on this ship, and I’m right. The line was compromised. It was bound to snap the moment anyone grabbed it.”
“That’s it, then. We’ll shimmy back down the ladder and?—”
“Wait.” Saylor focused on the main section. “Did you hear that?”
Atticus shook his head. “The future sound of soul- crushing regret? Yeah, it’s singing like a damn siren on this thing.”
“I swear I heard voices. Distant, probably below deck.”
“Then, they can wait for the Coast Guard to help them. This ship has obviously been pillaged, and whoever did that left a few surprises behind. No way, you’re going off on your own.”