Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
Strong hands gripped Kenzie’s arms and hauled her over the gunwale of a boat so black she’d barely seen it. She landed on the deck, shivering despite the warm Caribbean night.
“Welcome back, Captain.”
She looked up at the muffled words. The Haitian man, one of the men who’d helped rescue her from the Blue Fantasy, stood over her, his smile bright in the darkness.
“Thank you.”
He handed her a towel. She wrapped it around herself as he reached toward the water again, then hauled Jaz aboard.
“Thanks, Auggie.” Dripping with seawater, Jaz crawled toward her. “You okay?”
“Thank God you’re here.”
“I promised, didn’t I?” He kissed her, a light peck on the lips. “Never doubt me.”
She laughed, the sound surprising her.
He smiled and settled beside her, looking pleased with himself.
The Haitian—Auggie—pulled Duck aboard. He greeted the men, nodded to her, grabbed a towel and tossed one to Jaz.
“Thanks,” Jaz said.
Kenzie scanned the faces. Where was her father? “Is that everyone?”
“On this boat, yeah.”
So there was another.
They’d escaped. Somehow, impossibly, they’d gotten off that yacht alive.
The man at the helm—oh, it was Martinez, the one who thought she’d betrayed them. Maybe he’d forgiven her. Or maybe he’d come to help his friend despite her.
Either way, he gunned the engine, and the boat surged forward.
Kenzie gripped the rail, watching as they swung wide around the Le Pari.
She watched the yacht, wondering what was going on in the helm.
Was Henry still in control, or had the crew mutinied, spurred on by her father’s threats and the gunshots and the engine’s being disabled.
She suspected they had mutinied, considering how few guards had tried to stop them escaping.
It didn’t matter. The vessel was dead in the water, useless as a floating log. She turned her gaze forward.
Another boat materialized in the darkness. Unlike the one she rode on, its running lights were bright. It wasn’t hiding or playing at stealth. This boat had been the distraction. Look over here while we attack from the back.
Kenzie squinted, trying to make out the figures aboard. The silhouettes were just shadows, but they drew closer every second.
Then she saw him.
Her father stood behind the driver, hands braced on the console, his body rigid as he watched their approach. Even in the darkness, even from this distance, she recognized the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself.
The boats came alongside each other. Lines were tossed and secured, the boats bumping gently in the swells. The engine was cut, and the men were talking to each other, though she made no effort to hear past the buzzing in her ears.
Dad stepped from his boat onto theirs, crossed the deck, and pulled Kenzie into his arms.
She melted against him.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask if she was okay. He just held her, his arms solid and safe around her trembling body, one hand cradling the back of her head like he used to when she was small.
She pressed her face against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt, and held onto the man who’d been her steady, consistent support.
Behind them, the men were talking—Martinez and Auggie, Duck and someone else from her father’s boat. Their words were too quiet to make out, but she wasn’t listening anyway. The world had narrowed to this moment, this embrace, this man who’d always had her back, even when she’d pushed him away.
Finally, Dad pulled back and looked at her. “You’re okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Thank God.” He guided her to a bench, then crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you, sweetheart.”
“None of this was your fault.”
“It was, though.” Gavin Wright didn’t cry. But his voice broke, and the moisture in his eyes shimmered in the moonlight.
Kenzie couldn’t find words to argue, too overwhelmed by…all of it.
He squeezed her hands, then stood and turned to face the men. He shook Martinez’s hand, then Auggie’s and Duck’s. Dad didn’t say anything. Apparently, he didn’t need to.
Jaz seemed prepared for his own handshake, but Dad pulled him into an embrace, slapping his back hard enough that she heard it through the tinnitus. “Thank you.” His voice was rough. He held Jaz at arm’s length, looking him in the eye. “Thank you.”
Kenzie gazed at these men through her tears—strangers who’d risked their lives to save hers. Martinez, who didn’t even like her. Auggie, with his ready smile and kindness. Duck, a man she’d never met who had the second weirdest nickname she’d ever heard.
And Jaz, who was holding Dad’s eye contact, shoulders back, even if he seemed uncomfortable.
“I misjudged you,” Dad said. “You are a true hero.”
“I’m not. I’m just…” He glanced at Kenzie. “Kind of hoping to date your daughter.”
“Well.” Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll see.”
“Dad!”
He looked at her over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. “That’s up to her. She never does what I tell her to do, anyway.”
That wasn’t true. Wasn’t entirely true.
She hadn’t followed Dad’s advice since she was fifteen. Maybe it was time to start.
Kenzie looked from face to face, trying to memorize this moment. Trying to find a way to tell them what it meant. But her throat was too tight, her emotions too raw. So she just smiled at them through her tears.
Duck had hopped to the other boat and was talking to the driver, who looked in her direction.
“Splat?”
Even in the darkness, she could see his smile. “Surprised?”
“You were shot. I thought you were dead.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. She probably shouldn’t have said that.
“Nah. I learned my lesson.” He patted his chest. “If your cousin needs a favor, I wear a vest.”
Her laugh was half sob. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Sorry I let you down.”
“Sorry I got you shot.”
He tipped his head side to side. “Let’s call it even.”
Dad settled beside her again, wrapping his arm around her back and tugging her close. Jaz sat on her other side, taking her hand in his. His palm was warm and solid, his grip gentle but sure.
“Here they come.” Duck pointed toward the horizon, where a light had appeared in the distance, growing brighter.
“Is that the Coast Guard?” she asked.
“Should be.” Dad squeezed her against his side. “We called them, but they were too far away to help. What happened to the yacht, anyway? I figured it’d be on its way south long before they got here.”
“Your daughter happened.” Jaz explained what she’d done. “Refused to let them get away.”
“That’s my girl.” Dad said it proudly, then leaned close. “Next time, just escape. Don’t play the hero.”
“There’s not going to be a ‘next time.’”
“Even better.”
They watched the Coast Guard cutter close the distance to the Le Pari. Henry…Marcus Aldridge would face justice, as would Magras, assuming they hadn’t killed him.
The engines rumbled to life beneath them, and Splat headed north toward St. Martin—or St. Barts. She didn’t know, didn’t particularly care.
She was safe. She was loved. She was going home.
The tears came again, tears of relief and joy and something deeper—the bone-deep knowledge that she hadn’t faced anything alone. That no matter how much she’d believed she could find safety in solitude, her true safety came from the people who loved her—and the God who’d been with her every step.