20. Katherine
KATHERINE
“Katherine?” Tyler gasps my name, hands reaching out to steady me.
I immediately backpedal into the stateroom, arms coming up to put some distance between us. My heart rate accelerates, and my blood pressure rises as my flight instincts kick in.
To my utter shock, he takes a step back, his expression morphing to one of confusion and concern. Like I’m the one who kidnapped him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound confident. The truth is, my knees have the consistency of soggy cereal.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Accusation oozes from every word.
I narrow my gaze, trying desperately to determine if this is a game. “I don’t even know where here is.”
He glances past me, pausing a beat. “So you’re not here with your mother?”
My jaw drops, like it hits the floor, and I snap my lips closed. “My mother?”
Oh my god.
He’s right. She’s the only person we have in common.
Oh. My. God.
If he’s here against his will… Is he telling the truth? We were never together long enough for me to get a solid read on him. Players are slimy like that.
“I just woke up tied to a pipe in the engine room,” I inform him, letting my fury lace through my words. I resent being mentioned in the same sentence as her, never mind being involved in whatever the hell is going on here.
I stalk away from him and look out the small round window. Nothing but ocean. Great.
“Well, I was on my way to my car, and then I woke up face down on that bed.” He jerks a thumb at the offending mattress.
I stretch my neck from side to side. “What time is it?”
He lifts his wrist and frowns. “They took my watch.” He pats his pockets. “And my phone.”
“Same.”
Could my mother really be behind this?
I mean, who else could it be?
My mind races through names and faces. With the Montgomery last name, you’re bound to have enemies. And since my grandfather took the helm, that list has grown even bigger, I’m sure. I’ve been in plenty of meetings that have frosted over thanks to something he did.
And sure, I’m not privy to all the company secrets, but I know plenty. If Tyler weren’t here, I’d say maybe someone was fishing for insider details. Or even straight-up cash.
Which makes me wonder if Tyler’s lying. What if he’s in on this? Trying to play on my sympathies, get close?
The yacht rocks gently, and I press a hand to my stomach. I’ve never been seasick before, but this is not pleasant. And my head hurts like someone’s been using it as a snare drum.
“What do you remember?” he asks.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I never trust you again.”
He nods his head, looking regal. “That’s fair.” He moves toward the sofa in the sitting room. There’s a dark smudge on the side of his slacks, which is out of place for him. He’s always polished and put together.
He settles into the corner, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in his lap. Shon and I used to joke about him attending finishing school.
My knees beg me to have a seat, but I’m afraid to become too stationary. What if I need to run?
Okay, let’s not panic. Look for a way out. Some way to call for help. Yeah, that’s good.
Fighting the anxiety that has me vibrating like a leaf in a storm, I move to the bathroom. The space is just as luxurious as the rest of the boat. Polished marble, brushed brass accents, and plenty of glass and mirrors with soft lighting that makes the room sparkle.
No phone. No window I could squeeze out of. That must be why they put us here. No doubt the windows in the bedroom and sitting room don’t open. Which means these aren’t even the primary suites. This is a really big yacht. Expensive as it gets.
The closet is bare. A search of the bedroom once again turns up empty. Why couldn’t someone have dropped a cell phone by accident?
I guess there’s no service out here anyway, which means we have to get to the bridge.
“I think it’s also fair to say that I hope I never see your mother again,” Tyler says conversationally.
“You and me both,” I mutter as I stalk to the door and open it. My kidnapper stands in the middle of the hall as if he expected my appearance.
“Stay in your room.”
“Or what?” When did I get so brave?
His bored but alert expression doesn’t even flicker at my bravado. “Or you can go back down to the engine room to wait.”
Obviously, the stateroom is miles more comfortable, but I don’t trust Tyler as far as I can throw him.
“What are we waiting for?” I ask, glancing past him. Could I make a run for it?
I size him up. He’s got that whole ‘I train before breakfast’ thing going for him, but I’m a woman pumping with adrenaline.
He cuts a glance down the hallway, then back at me. My jaw clenches at his silence.
“Right. Above your pay grade.”
I shut the door, sealing myself inside with my ex.
There’s a faint buzzing sound, and I move back to the window. Is that an anchor? It looks like we’ve stopped moving.
“Helicopter?” Tyler asks.
The sound gets louder, and I lean against the window, practically pressing my nose against the cool glass. Still nothing but water. Little waves and an endless blue-green.
A shadow swipes across the window, and I duck.
What are the chances that’s the cavalry?
The door behind us slides open. “Let’s go.”
Okay, not the cavalry. Fudgecakes.
I’ll give Tyler credit. He’s pissed at my mother and wants nothing to do with her—who can blame him? But he exits the room first, pauses to let me out, then keeps himself between me and the kidnapper. Only, another one meets us at the end of the hall.
He’s bigger, with dark hair, a deep frown, and a spiraling wire trailing out of one ear. These guys are seriously kitted up and the spitting image of ‘stereotypical kidnapper.’
“Through here,” he says, nodding his head.
We follow along like docile little cows. My eyes scan our surroundings for a phone, a heavy paperweight, anything that could help.
In the spacious salon, the man stops, turns, and pegs us with a hard stare. “Stay here.”
He moves across the room with the grace of someone very comfortable with their body, like Alex. Only, this guy is on the wrong team.
Which makes me wonder what it’d take to get him on our team. I glance back at Tyler, then at the guy who was stationed outside the stateroom. He’s moved back to the door we just came through, blocking the exit.
What are we waiting for?
Or rather, who?
The suspense just might kill me.
With kidnapper number two flanking the accordion-style doors at the back of the boat, there’s no escape unless we go through them, and I don’t think Tyler has it in him. I’m not sure he’s ever fought for anything in his whole pampered life. His hands are too soft.
Unlike my guys.
Which is funny, considering Gabe is a geek. But he’s spent so long coding, his fingers have built up slight calluses. Alex’s are rough too, but so gentle. And King’s have their own calluses built up from long hours climbing things and using them to stay in weird positions.
I glance back at Tyler, who’s stoic as a statue. He looks like the textbook definition of praying for the floor to open up and swallow him.
Turning my attention forward again, I notice the man at the door tap his earpiece. My heart threatens to beat right out of my chest.
After what seems like an eternal wait—because why wouldn’t my kidnapper make me wait—shadows play across the back deck as someone comes down the exterior staircase.
I hold my breath, mind paging through the possibilities: a business rival, an enemy of my grandfather, maybe a long-lost cousin who was cut out of the will?
Lack of oxygen makes me woozy, and I start imagining a grim-faced mafia don.
But then, all the air leaves my lungs as a familiar figure steps into view.