Undertow

24. Fractured Heartbeats

24

FRACTURED HEARTBEATS

I glance up at the whine of the heavy steel door.

Light streams into the dark room, and I squint at the silhouette blocking the entrance.

“Get up.” Merrick’s growl is unmistakable.

With my hands anchored behind my back, I use the concrete wall to push myself to my feet. My body burns in agony from yesterday’s trauma, but everything in my heart and soul is already dead.

It’s been hours since the meeting with my parents. Plenty of time for McArthur to deliver his sentence in the form of a theatrical speech that said everything but meant nothing.

I didn’t utter a word, much to his disappointment. I don’t plan to respond now, either.

Merrick grips my arm to shove me forward. I feel the pressure of a gun in my back.

Ben and another man who’d been guarding the door look away as we pass, careful to avoid eye contact with me. They know what’s happening. They know this could be them one day if they screw up badly enough.

My pulse races as Merrick guides me to the service elevator and nudges me inside.

His expression is solemn and unreadable. Mine is focused and resigned. All I can do now is pray he keeps his promise to kill me on land.

“Turn around,” he says when we stop beside a golf cart after exiting the elevator.

I obey, and he releases one of the cuffs to secure my hands in front of me instead.

“Get in.” He waves his gun toward the cart. “You’re driving.”

I brace against a cold burst of fear as I climb into the driver’s seat. Merrick takes the spot behind me, and I don’t have to see or feel the gun to know it’s there.

“Make a right on the service road, then hang a left toward the back of the property.”

I pull out of the space in the parking garage and follow his instructions, still without a word.

A full moon bathes the landscape in an eerie glow as we drive away from the resort. The further we get, the more influence it has over the earthly scene below.

I manage to keep my breathing steady, but I have less control over my trembling hands. My fingers tighten around the wheel, my knuckles sore from the effort of soaking up my terror.

Merrick is silent until we reach the end of the service road and he tells me to turn off the engine.

“Get out,” he says.

I close my eyes, willing myself to breathe.

“Now, Shaw.”

I swallow hard and force my aching legs out of the vehicle. But when he directs us toward the water instead of the tree line, as promised, a rush of panic explodes in my chest.

“Move,” he barks, nudging me forward.

“Merrick, please! You swore! You?—”

“Move!”

He shoves me toward a small boat bobbing preciously a few feet off shore. In the sallow light, I see reflections of a large yacht further out.

Oh god.

No. No!

“Merrick! Please! You swore you would?—”

“Shut the fuck up and walk!” he growls.

An unexpected shove from behind sends me sprawling to the sand. I cough tiny granules from my lungs as more slice into my open wounds. Merrick grips the back of my shirt and yanks me to my feet.

Still spitting sand, I struggle to keep pace as he marches me toward the boat.

The ocean spreads out before me in an infinite abyss, mocking me with its deceptive beauty, and my heart pounds erratic rhythms with each step. I’ve spent the entire day preparing to die, but this wasn’t the death I was promised.

“Merrick.” I fight to keep my voice calm. “Merrick, listen to me.”

I turn and meet his cold eyes in the moonlight.

A muscle moves in his jaw. “Turn around and walk.”

“Merrick—”

“Walk!” He shoves me again, and I stumble several steps back.

My feet land in the wet surf, triggering a rush of panicked tears.

All I wanted was not to die like this. It’s the only thing I asked. I haven’t fought them on a single aspect of my fate. I’d take any other method. Any fucking thing, just not?—

He grips my arm and drags me toward the boat.

I’m choking on salty humid air as he yanks me forward. Waves crash against my legs, coating me with the premonition of death. I’m being buried alive as he forces me into the boat.

“Merrick, please. Please!”

I’m sobbing now. Not since I was seventeen, drowning in a cold lake at the hands of my cruel parents, have I sobbed. But he doesn’t understand. He can’t. No one can.

I stop pleading, but I can’t stop the tears of terror as he unties the boat and starts the engine.

I’m shaking so hard I can’t sit straight, and remain hunched over on the seat. Every ounce of strength I have left is going toward sucking oxygen into my useless lungs. My heart is slamming against my ribs. My mind is a broken reel of memories I never wanted.

And still Merrick drives on.

He says nothing as we approach the yacht. He must intend to use it to take me further out where he can abandon me in my watery grave. Flashbacks from that fateful day eight years ago torment me with each breath. It will be different this time, though. This time I know what it’s like to experience that fate and have already begun suffering from it.

Also like that day, an unexpected figure disrupts the distant stillness.

I squint at the shadow moving on the deck, certain my mind is playing tricks on me. Merrick wouldn’t take anyone with him. Too messy. Too unnecessary for a killer as proficient as he is.

When we reach the yacht, he secures the smaller boat and grips my arm.

“Climb,” he says, pushing me toward the ladder.

I don’t bother pleading anymore. My words are done. My tears too.

I have nothing left as I follow orders and pull myself onto the deck of the yacht. Merrick climbs up behind me and nudges me forward.

I fight to control my breathing.

Each inhale and exhale is a measured act.

Each fractured beat of my heart a fleeting marker toward its last.

Merrick directs me down a steep flight of stairs to a lower deck, probably where he plans to lock me in until the boat reaches my final resting place.

Without the glow of the moon and the vessel’s navigation lights, it’s even darker when we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Merrick urges me forward, and I take a few tentative steps down the hall toward a closed cabin door. Just as we reach it, the door swings open.

I flinch in surprise, but don’t have a chance to respond before Merrick shoves me inside and closes the door behind us.

A light goes on, blinding me for a second. Once my eyes adjust, I see we’re in a luxurious stateroom. Seated on the bed is the figure who must have been on the deck watching for us.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My pounding heart and spinning head have no idea what to do with this situation.

Julia’s lips tip up in a soft smile as she slides off the bed and moves toward me.

“Jonah,” she whispers, slipping her arms around me.

She buries her head in my neck, and I hate that I can’t hold her.

“I-I don’t understand.” I glance back at Merrick.

His hard expression has been replaced by stern concentration.

Julia steps back. “Can you get those off?” she says to Merrick.

Merrick nods and motions for my hands. I hold them out and wait as he removes the cuffs.

“What’s going on? Is this a last goodbye or something?” I return my focus to Julia.

She takes my hands and pulls me to the bed. “We’re leaving, Jonah.”

“What?”

“Merrick contacted me. He told me everything, including the fact that Mama H went behind my back and gave the reins to Adrian. She lost faith in my leadership and didn’t trust I’d ‘do the right thing’ after what happened with you.”

They exchange a long look.

“I had a hunch,” Merrick continues on her behalf. His gaze lands on me. “Adrian and Tyler may be incompetent idiots, but some of what they said during the exchange must have been true. Plus, there’s no way you would have fallen for Julia if her feelings for you weren’t genuine too. I thought there might be a way to salvage something from this travesty, so I reached out to Adrian and Mama H. Offered them five percent more in exchange for Julia. I told them she’d be a good weapon and bargaining chip against you.”

“They accepted,” Julia spits out. “Sold me out like I was nothing.”

Anger spears through me. “I’m sorry. That’s…” I shake my head and swing my confused gaze back to Merrick. “But we can’t leave. When McArthur finds out you didn’t follow his orders?—”

“He won’t find out.” Merrick releases a heavy sigh. “I know everything, Jonah. About your relationship with the RLC. Why you were sent to the McArthurs three years ago. I’ve always known.” He quiets, and my heart rate soars when the pieces snap in place.

“You’re with the RLC too,” I whisper. “You work for my parents!”

Merrick nods. “They sent me in years ago. When they first learned McArthur had his sights set on a relationship. They needed to know what they were dealing with. Whether this would be a partnership or a takeover. When they found you and forced you back into the life, I was tasked with orchestrating your path and role in the McArthur organization.”

Still in disbelief, I stare at him for a long time. I have so many questions, but none seem important enough to interrupt the catastrophic truth already echoing around us.

He pulls in a heavy breath, his demeanor instantly changing. “But after New Orleans… Everything changed. I warned your parents about what McArthur was planning to do to you. Instead of intervening, they ordered me to stand down and let it happen. So I did.”

His jaw clenches. “When I found you that following morning… saw what they did. Fuck, Jonah. That was so messed up. You were their son, and they let McArthur treat you worse than an animal because it fit their agenda. It was clear from the first day we had you on your knees in that storage room, you didn’t belong in this world. I chose it, but you never had a choice…”

He shakes his head. “I wanted to do this sooner, but the timing wasn’t right. There was nothing I could do. But thanks to you and everything you pulled off with the Undertow operation, it’s time.”

“It’s time?”

“For a regime change.”

I stare at him, unmoving. His features settle back into a hard line. “I’m not telling you more for both our sakes, but just know that when the time comes for you to dock on the mainland, you will be free to do whatever you want. Be whoever you want to be. Roman Shaw is dead, but so is Jonah Dylan.”

A hand slips into mine, and I glance down to see Julia’s firm hold.

“We can start over, Jonah. Both of us. We can be free.”

Free.

The word skates through my head like a foreign parasite. How long have I fantasized about that word? Chased a daydream that would only torture me over and over.

And here it is again. Dangling beside that equally tantalizing lie—hope.

“I’ve made arrangements for Razor to join you until all of this blows over, but I’ll need a few weeks to get things under control before it will be safe for you to resurface,” Merrick says. “You’ll have to stay on this boat during that time. Sail around, do whatever, but the three of you need to remain out of the way.”

Merrick’s words drag me back like a punch in the gut. Of course there’s a catch. My fist tightens around Julia’s. My chest rising and falling in increasingly shallow breaths. Asking me to spend weeks on the water is almost worse than the threat of being drowned in it.

“I know what they did to you,” Merrick says quietly. “I know why you’re afraid of water. But Razor once told me you’re one of the strongest people he’d ever met. I’ve seen it over these last few years. Your parents are wrong about you, Jonah. You’re not weak. You’re a fucking warrior, and you deserve the chance to be yourself.”

I look down. “I don’t know who that is,” I say quietly. “My entire life I’ve either been hiding or playing a role.”

Julia squeezes my hand. “Then we’ll find him.”

Merrick clears his throat and straightens. “So what do you think? Can you overcome your greatest fear and tame that ocean, Jonah? After everything you’ve survived, can you handle one more trial?”

I entwine my fingers with Julia’s and draw her hand to my lips. Merrick’s question streams through my head, colliding with each revelation, each horrific memory and burning scar.

As if on cue, the boat rocks from a wave, sending us staggering to keep our balance.

But it quickly rights itself.

And I’m still standing.

I’m still breathing.

My blood is still pumping through my veins, waiting to write my story.