Chapter 16
Rose pushes past me, frantic mumbling dampened by her tightly sealed lips.
Quickly, I wrap my arms around her waist, hauling her against me before Brad kills her sister just for fun.
Her murmurs morph into suppressed screams broken by sobs as Chelsea kneels between Brad’s spread legs like a dog made to heel.
Her breaths are still shallow, though now her eyes are clear—observant.
Taking in the scene unfolding before her.
She’d be stupid to try anything, being in the most disadvantageous position out of all of us.
Bucking wildly against me, Rose tries to break free. It’s harder than anticipated to keep her restrained. “What the fuck?” I direct at Brad. He smiles sinisterly, closing his eyes and breathing in the chaos he orchestrated.
“Don’t think I don’t know you’re sweet on that one,” he snaps, pointing the knife threateningly at my girl.
Shit.
I was so careful. Schooling my features the way I practiced in the mirror.
I’ve always had an expressive face, the inability to hide my feelings clearly painted on for the world to see.
After some clients delighted in my misery, I taught myself to mask it, tossing the emotions into the cavernous well inside my chest. Things got worse before they got better, but eventually the abusers left me alone.
Searching somewhere else for the wailing tears they loved to pull from their victims.
“You think I’m sweet on her because I didn’t turn down her begging to suck my dick? Give your head a shake, man.” I rip the top off that gaping hole inside me, pouring everything threatening this moment into it. “You would’ve done the same in my position.”
“You’re probably right,” Brad concedes, stepping toward me. Rose stills in my embrace, picking up on the ill-intention leaking from him as he moves closer. “But, just in case, give her to me.”
I’ve got to hand it to Rosie, she remains still. Fighting the urge to curl into me, and the safety my arms offer. But I can’t risk the hesitation. Unwinding my grasp, I shove my girl toward the heartless asshole now mere inches away.
Chelsea doesn’t so much as risk breathing too loud as Brad grabs a hold of her sister’s throat, raising the knife that’s still gripped in his other hand to it.
He lays his weight into Rose, forcing her to her knees.
The serrated edge scrapes against her jaw, leaving a path of freshly removed epidermis.
My heart flips in its cage, terrified Brad will slit her throat by accident.
His carelessness has gotten us into more shit than I can count over the years.
Do I speak up? Mention how pressed for time we already are? I know he’s forcing me to witness this, trying to teach me a fucked up lesson.
“You know—“ Brad starts, “you’re not the first one.”
Confusion flickers in Rose’s eyes as mine widen in shocked anger. How dare he! I thought we were friends!
Brad raises his head, locking into my death-stare.
“I suggest you go finish cleaning up.” What he leaves unsaid is the threat of spilling the rest of the story.
I get it, he has nothing to hide, nothing to lose, and everything to gain.
Whereas I could lose it all, everything I’ve worked for, and Rose.
Nodding, I turn, moving across the room to the door connecting our rooms.
It’s spotless, as expected, all evidence bagged up and ready for disposal, like every time before this. I double check the door of his room is locked, then pick up the bag, and move back into my room.
Brad’s squatted in front of Rose, dragging the pointed knife tip across her exposed chest, leaving red raised scratches in its wake. It’s a taunt, a way to wield control over me, while also getting high off the tears accumulating in Rosie’s eyes.
I move my ass, snatching up the other bag of evidence, and exiting the balcony doors.
While outside, I try to reel myself back in.
Filling the duffle bags with sand to weigh them down, I attempt to find a way to approach this fucking situation.
I was actually hoping I could break up with Cynthia, and never have to tell Rose she was the other woman.
But Brad has me dangling by the nuts. One unappreciated snap of my tongue, and he will divulge all my secrets just to watch me crumble.
Anchored a few hundred yards off shore, I drop the weighted bags from the balcony.
The splash is loud, but in the early morning hours, I doubt it's heard by anyone. If it is, they are either too inebriated to pay it much mind, or half-asleep and think they’re probably dreaming.
By the time anyone raises the alarm about Rose and Chelsea, if her family even decides to do that, the ship will be mostly empty, the vacationers all having gone off to explore the island.
It won’t dock until high tide, still a few hours away yet, and the girls will be far away by then.
Looking back into the room through the open balcony door, I give Brad a nod.
He’s secured his knapsack to his back, and managed to get the over-the-head lifejackets secured around both women.
Quickly, I change my clothes. The outfit matching Brad’s almost perfectly, tight black tank and black swim shorts.
Grabbing my backpack and the inflatable raft from the desk as he passes it, he pushes the two trembling girls toward me.
“You first,” he chortles.
It’s never me first. He’s switching up the routine to deliberately unnerve me, and it’s fucking working. Brad slams the items into my chest, jutting his chin. What are you waiting for, his eyes seem to say. Knowing I don’t want to leave my girl alone with him for even a second.
Mustering up the energy to keep every single flicker of displeasure off my face, I slide the backpack on and carefully climb over the railing.
Jumping out and away from the ship with all my strength, I plunge down.
Feet first spearing into the water with my arms crossed tightly over the raft held to my chest. I make less sound than the duffle bags did moments ago, and I kick with all my might until I breach the surface.
The second I wipe the salt water from my eyes, I pull the ripcord, tossing the rapidly inflating package away from me.
This is only the third time we’ve had to acquire the target from a ship, and I’m not confident enough in our method to attempt it in complete darkness.
Which is part of the reason we are cutting it so close to pick up time.
The slowly rising sun is aiding our malicious actions.
However, it’s a race against the light spreading out across the horizon.
Slowly, I tread water, waiting for the others to join me in the balmy ocean waters. Brad wasn’t lying when he said the waters were choppy, but on this side of the cruise ship, the wind is dampened by the massive vessel. Once we are out of its shelter, the raft will be more difficult to navigate.
I watch, heart leaping into my throat, as Brad scoops Chelsea up and tosses her over the side.
Leaving him alone with my Rosie. I hate myself for not fighting back against him, trying to preserve what little fucking hope I have of keeping Rose for myself.
However, if I let her sister drown, there’ll be no coming back from that.
Chelsea’s head pops up above the surface, thanks to the lifejacket, eyes wide and searching.
She’s breathing too fast, borderline panicked, sucking too much water in through her nose while she bobs untethered in the lapping waves.
I quickly swim over to her. “Calm down before you choke, I’ve got you.
” Her eyes narrow to slits, rage festering in the deep trenches of her blue irises.
Grabbing a hold of the life vest’s handle, I pull her alongside me toward the boat.
After hefting her inside, I turn back toward the balcony.
The light in the room is off, Brad and Rose nowhere to be seen.