STORM
“Aman can spend his life running from the truth. But the ocean has a way of carrying it back to the people brave enough to face it.”
— James Sinclair
The boat belonged to Grandpa.
The words didn’t make sense.
Grandpa had been dead for three years.
The men aboard that fishing boat had fired at us.
They had carried the symbol of the same organization that murdered our father.
And somehow...
They had been sailing beneath James Sinclair’s name.
“That’s impossible,” Calle said.
Lieutenant Akana glanced at the information on his tablet.
“The registration is current.”
“How current?” Ward asked.
“Renewed eight months ago.”
My stomach twisted.
Grandpa has been dead for three years. I believe they bought this boat under my Grandpa’s name. They would never take a chance on putting it in their own name.
Akana scrolled through the record.
“The filing was submitted electronically. Fees were paid through a business account registered to Sinclair Maritime Holdings.”
“That’s our company,” I said.
Calle stepped closer.
“No one in our family renewed that boat.”
“Could an employee have done it?”
“No.”
My answer came immediately.
“Every company vessel is tracked through our central office. Registration renewals require two signatures.”
“Whose signatures?”
“Mine and Calle’s.”
Lieutenant Akana turned the tablet around.
Two digital signatures appeared at the bottom of the document.
Storm Sinclair.
Calle Sinclair.
Calle stared at the screen.
“I didn’t sign that.”
“Neither did I.”
Ben moved closer.
“Can signatures like these be copied?”
Akana nodded.
“Easily, if someone has access to the company’s electronic records.”
“Then someone inside Sinclair Yachts helped them,” Ward said.
The possibility landed like another bullet.
Sinclair Yachts wasn’t simply a company.
It was Grandpa’s life.
Our father’s legacy.
Our family.
We employed people we trusted.
People we had known for years.
Ward looked at me.
“How many employees have access to vessel records?”
“Maybe twelve.”
“That’s twelve too many.”
“They aren’t strangers, Ward.”
His expression didn’t soften.
“That doesn’t make them innocent.”
I wanted to argue.
But someone had used my name.
Someone had used Calle’s.
Someone had renewed a dead man’s boat through our company. Did that person tell someone when we left our dock?
And whoever had done it knew exactly how to make the paperwork appear legitimate.
Lieutenant Akana studied the journal.
“If your grandfather owned that vessel, why wasn’t it included in his estate?”
“It would have been,” Calle said.
“I handled the inventory myself. Every boat, building, and piece of equipment was documented.”
“Could he have hidden it?”
I looked at Grandpa’s initials carved into the metal case.
“He hid plenty of things.”
“But not from us,” Calle said.
I wasn’t as certain.
Not anymore.
Grandpa had taught us everything about the ocean.
But he had never told us the truth about Blackwater.
Or the serpent.
Or the gate beneath the trench.
Maybe he hadn’t hidden those secrets because he didn’t trust us.
Maybe he’d hidden them because he loved us. One of our workers was working for the bad guys. That had to be it. It was the only solution.
Akana’s radio crackled.
“We need you back aboard, Lieutenant.”
“Understood.”
He turned toward Ward.
“My crew will tow the grounded vessel once the tide rises. Until then, it remains a restricted scene.”
“What happens to us?” Frank asked.
Akana looked toward him.
“The Coast Guard will escort Sea Whisper to the repair marina.”
“And after that?”
“You’ll be free to continue your journey.”
Frank smiled.
Rose stared at him.
“We have one engine and several bullet holes.”
“I didn’t say we should leave immediately.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was considering our options.”
“You were wondering whether the free vacation included yacht repairs.”
Frank looked at me.
“Does it?”
I laughed despite the fear pressing against my chest.
“It does.”
“Excellent.”
Lieutenant Akana’s expression softened for half a second.
Then he looked back at Ward.
“I’ll need full statements from everyone once we reach the marina.”
“You’ll have them.”
“And I suggest no one aboard this yacht goes anywhere without an escort.”
Ward glanced at the five SEALs, and Nathan positioned around the deck.
“That won’t be a problem.”
Akana returned to the Coast Guard boat.
I stood staring at the fishing vessel on the reef until it disappeared behind us.
Grandpa’s boat.
Or a boat someone wanted the world to believe belonged to him.
I didn’t know which possibility frightened me more.
The repair marina came into view an hour later.
By then, darkness had begun settling across the water.
The lights along the docks flickered on one by one.
Normally, the sight would have felt welcoming.
Tonight...
Every shadow looked like a man waiting with a rifle.
The Coast Guard secured a private section of the marina.
Two officers remained near the entrance while mechanics inspected Sea Whisper.
The first estimate wasn’t good.
Damaged cooling line.
Cracked housing.
Electrical damage from one of the rounds.
Shattered windshield.
Bullet holes above the waterline.
“We can repair enough to make her operational,” the mechanic told Calle. “But not tonight.”
“How long?”
“Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”
Ward shook his head.
“We’re not staying tied to this dock that long.”
The mechanic glanced at him.
“I can’t make the parts arrive any faster.”
“We’ll find another vessel,” Ben said.
“That won’t solve the problem,” I told him.
Ward turned toward me.
“It gets everyone off a disabled yacht.”
“And puts us aboard a vessel we don’t know.”
“We can secure it.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
I pointed toward the engine compartment.
“Someone knew which car was coming for Frank and Rose. Someone used our company account to renew Grandpa’s boat. Until we know how they’re getting their information, we can’t trust any reservation, rental, or charter arranged through normal channels.”
Nathan nodded slowly.
“She’s right.”
Ward didn’t look pleased.
But he knew I was.
“We stay aboard tonight,” Ben said. “Two-man watches. No one leaves the secured dock.”
“What about food?” Frank asked.
Rose closed her eyes.
“We have enough food to last several days. Willow is making a feast right now. When she’s nervous she creates beautiful dishes.”
“I was asking for everyone,” Frank muttered.
“No, you weren’t.”
Frank smiled.
“No. I wasn’t. I’m an old man set in his ways.”
The mechanics began working beneath portable lights.
Hazel supervised every repair.
Ivy transferred her photographs onto three separate drives.
Calle helped Willow prepare dinner.
Frank sat at the salon table, studying Grandpa’s journal beneath Ben’s watchful eye.
Nathan contacted someone he trusted to investigate the boat registration.
And Ward...
Ward stood alone on the upper deck.
I told myself to leave him alone.
Tonya had ended their engagement only hours ago.
Even if she no longer loved him enough to marry him...
Ward had loved her enough to ask.
He had planned a life with her.
He deserved time to understand that the life he expected was gone.
But when I looked up again...
He was still standing there.
Alone.
I carried two glasses of iced tea to the upper deck.
Ward didn’t turn when I approached.
He knew it was me.
Maybe he recognized my footsteps.
Or maybe Navy SEALs simply knew when someone entered their space.
“I brought refreshments.”
“Thank you.”
I handed him the cup.
Our fingers brushed.
It shouldn’t have felt like anything.
But it did.
For a while, we watched the dark water.
No fishing boats.
No motorcycles.
No gunfire.
Just the quiet marina.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Ward stared into his coffee.
“For what?”
“Tonya.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw the pain.
“You heard the call.”
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“Enough to know she ended the engagement.”
He gave a quiet nod.
I waited for him to speak.
He didn’t.
So I gave him silence.
Grandpa had taught me that silence wasn’t empty.
Sometimes it was the only safe place for grief to land.
Finally, Ward leaned against the railing.
“She said she’d spent the last few weeks planning a wedding she didn’t want.”
“That must have hurt.”
“It did.”
His honesty surprised me.
Maybe because Ward always looked as if nothing could reach him.
Bullets.
Threats.
Danger.
But Tonya had reached him.
“Did you love her?” I asked.
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Ward looked at me.
“Yes.”
The answer cut deeper than it should have.
I lowered my eyes.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t any of my business.”
“I cared about her. I respected her. I thought we could build a good life together.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
His voice grew quieter.
“It isn’t.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“What are you saying?”
Ward stared toward the harbor.
“I’m saying Tonya was brave enough to admit something I hadn’t.”
He didn’t explain.
I didn’t ask him to.
He had been engaged that morning.
Whatever feelings existed between us didn’t change that.
He needed time.
And I needed to protect my heart from believing the end of his engagement had anything to do with me.
His phone vibrated.
Ward pulled it from his pocket.
He glanced at the screen.
Then frowned.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A credit from Sinclair Yachts.”
My face remained perfectly innocent.
Or at least...
I hoped it did.
“How strange.”
Ward looked at the amount again.
“Every expense charged to my card has been refunded.”
“That sounds fortunate.”
“It sounds like you.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Storm.”
“Yes?”
“Did you refund my money?”
“I refund a lot of people’s money.”
“I didn’t ask about a lot of people.”
Ben called from the lower deck.
“Ward.”
Ward looked over the railing.
“What?”
“Check your credit card.”
Peirs appeared beside him, holding his phone.
“So should you.”
One of the other SEALs stepped out of the salon.
“Mine too.”
Then another.
And another.
Within seconds, all five SEALs were looking at their phones.
I took one slow step toward the stairs.
Ward caught my wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“To help with dinner.”
“You refunded everyone.”
“I reimbursed legitimate expenses.”
“We didn’t ask you to.”
“I didn’t ask you to save our lives.”
His expression hardened.
“That isn’t something you pay us for.”
“And protecting our guests isn’t something you should have to finance.”
“We can afford our own expenses.”
“So can I.”
Ben climbed the stairs.
There was laughter in his eyes.
He was trying not to show it.
“You know she’s right.”
Ward looked at him.
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m not giving mine back.”
Scott called from below.
“Neither am I.”
“Traitors,” Ward muttered.
I gently pulled my wrist from his hand.
“The refunds have already been processed.”
“I’ll reverse them.”
“You can try.”
Ward stared at me.
I smiled sweetly.
Then walked downstairs before he could answer.
Rose had heard everything.
She stood near the salon door with her arms crossed.
“He’ll get over it.”
“I know.”
Frank looked up from the journal.
“Free vacations improve a man’s disposition.”
Rose sighed.
“No one asked you.”
“I’m speaking from experience.”
The laughter faded when Frank turned another page.
His smile disappeared.
“Storm.”
Something in his voice brought everyone closer.
He pointed toward an entry near the back of Grandpa’s journal.
The date was from three years ago.
Two days before Grandpa died.
His handwriting was weak but unmistakable.
They found the old passage.
The gate is no longer sealed.
If they reach what James and I hid beneath Blackwater, none of the girls will ever be safe.
Thomas knows the second way in.
He swore he would never return.
But if I am dead...
He must.
My mouth went dry.
“James and I?” Calle whispered.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Willow said. “Grandpa was James.”
Nathan took the journal from Frank.
He examined the page beneath the light.
“There are two shades of ink.”
Ward came down the stairs.
“What does that mean?”
Nathan pointed to the first two lines.
“These were written by someone else.”
I looked at the signature in the bottom corner.
A single letter.
E.
Hazel leaned closer.
“Eleanor?”
Our mother.
The woman waiting for us back home.
The woman we thought knew nothing about Grandpa’s secrets.
I reached for my phone.
“We need to call Mom.”
“No,” Ward said.
I looked at him.
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t know who’s listening.”
“Then we call Thomas.”
Ward’s expression hardened.
“We don’t call anyone until we know the boat is secure.”
As if the ocean had heard him...
Every light in the marina went out.
The repair tools stopped.
The docks vanished into darkness.
For one second, there was nothing.
No lights.
No voices.
No movement.
Then a red laser appeared through the salon window.
It traveled slowly across the wall.
Across Grandpa’s journal.
And stopped in the center of my chest.