Chapter Twelve
Ben breaks the surface with a dramatic gasp, and I practically sag to the deck in relief. “Thank god.” I turn to glare at Jackson. “Can we please stop dumping people into the ocean for fuck’s sake?”
He folds his arms and looks away. “Yeah, fine.”
Ben shakes water from his face and looks up. “You’re all out of your damn minds. I should have known it was waste of time being nice to a bunch of low-class resort pests. Look where it got me!”
The three of us exchange a glance. After everything he’s done since we left shore, he still thinks he has the moral high ground?
Why? Because we had the good sense to keep him away from us?
He was in the bathroom for a few hours, twiddling his thumbs, while the rest of us tried to get us out of the mess he created.
What a fucking baby.
“I take it back,” Jackson says. “Dumping him in the ocean is the best thing I’ve done all day. He can drown for all I care.”
I frown. “You don’t mean that.”
His gaze trails to my throat, and I press my hand against the skin there. It’s warm to the touch, and I can feel bruises beginning to form.
“I mean it more than I should,” he finally says.
Splashing draws our attention back to the water. Ben is swimming toward the back of the boat. Jackson narrows his eyes and speed walks to head him off.
Emmy and I follow, nearly tripping over a mess of ropes on the deck.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Same thing I’ve been doing. Keeping you both safe.” He kneels down, flips the ladder up, and locks it in place. Far out of reach to anyone unlucky enough to be in the water.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Put that back down,” Emmy hisses, trying to knock it from his hand, but Jackson positions himself between her and the ladder.
“He’s not coming back on this boat.”
She pales. “What do you expect him to do, swim for shore?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
I cover my face with my hands. Stress courses through my veins. He can’t be serious. Letting Ben slowly drown is no better than what he did to the captain.
I tug at Jackson’s wrist until he looks at me. “We can’t let him die.”
“Toss him a life jacket.” Jackson looks me dead in the eye. “It’s better than what he deserves after the stunt he just pulled.”
I shake my head. “What will we deserve by the end of this? Not much, if we make choices the way he does,” I say, pointing at Ben as he comes around the side of the boat.
Jackson won’t meet my eyes, but his grip on the ladder is white knuckled.
Ben reaches up and grabs for a rung but finds nothing but air. He wipes his face and scowls at us. “Hey, shit stain, quit fucking around, and drop the ladder.”
Right, because insulting the person standing between you and safety is a genius move.
Jackson props his arms against the swim ladder. He looks so casual. “Nah, I don’t think so. We’re significantly safer when you can’t get to us. Enjoy the swim.”
Emmy looks over at me and mouths, What is he doing?
I shrug. I honestly have no idea.
The waves and the wind carry the boat away from him, and he swims to catch up with us. “Okay, very funny. Now put it down.”
Jackson doesn’t move.
“Jack, come on. At least throw him the emergency flotation,” Emmy says. “We can tie the rope to the back of the boat and tow him along so he doesn’t get swept out to sea.”
It’s not a half-bad idea. “I’m also Team Flotation.”
Jackson still makes no move to lower the ladder. I stare at the side of his face, trying to understand how far he plans on taking this. He can’t want him to drown? Right?
Panic creeps into Ben’s expression as he looks around. The expanse of open ocean is unsettling from the deck, but I know firsthand how much worse it is from the water.
A wave crests the top of his head, and he comes back up sputtering. “Please! I was only trying to get out of the bathroom!” He locks eyes with me. “Hannah, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m really sorry. I don’t like small spaces, and I freaked out. I didn’t mean to hurt—”
Something moves in the water, and my heart stops.
Ben freezes mid-sentence and whirls in a circle. “What the hell was that?”
Emmy digs her nails into Jackson’s arm. “Jack?”
Ben slaps the back of the boat. “Please let me up!”
Something glides through the water again, this time from a different direction…
and much closer. It coasts behind him, a darkened oval beneath the surface that quickly disappears into deeper water.
Ben must feel the motion at his back, because the screech that comes from his mouth is almost inhuman.
He kicks for the ladder like he can propel himself into the air by sheer will alone.
When that doesn’t work, he claws at the fiberglass, trying to find purchase that doesn’t exist.
“Please!”
“Jackson. He’s the only one who knows how this boat works,” Emmy says. Fear makes her voice higher. Her words clipped. She tries to force the ladder out of Jackson’s hands, but he’s stronger than she is. “We can’t let him die in there.”
He peels his sister’s fingers off his arm and pushes her back a few feet before turning to Ben. His face is deadly calm. “We’re not letting you get away with murder, so you have a decision to make: Would you rather be arrested or eaten by whatever’s in there with you?”
All I can see are the whites of Ben’s terrified eyes.
He doesn’t even look like himself anymore—down in the water, afraid for his life, he looks years younger.
Helpless. I don’t know how I feel about Jackson using a real threat in the water to force Ben to comply.
It feels a little bit like psychological warfare.
“Arrested!” Ben shrieks. “I’ll turn myself in. Whatever you want. No more escape attempts. No more fires. Just let me back on the fucking boat!”
Jackson unhooks the ladder but doesn’t let it drop. “And you’ll help us get back to shore?”
Whatever’s in the water makes another pass. This time it comes out from beneath the boat and grazes Ben’s leg. “Yes!” he screams. “I’ll help you! I’ll help you!”
“And how do we know you won’t turn on us the second we let our guard down?”
“Tie me to the fucking mast if that makes you feel better! Just let me up!”
Jackson drops the ladder. Ben is halfway up it before I can blink. He flops onto the deck, chest heaving. His face has lost nearly all its color, leaving it a bloodless shade of pale unique to terror. And corpses.
Emmy folds herself onto the deck by his side. I expect her to hug him or something else that’ll piss me off, but she surprises me by keeping her distance. “You’re okay, Ben.”
He doesn’t react; he simply stares unblinking at the gray sky, trying to catch his breath.
Emmy glares up at her brother. “What the hell is the matter with you? He could have died.”
“Unlikely.” Jackson lazily leans against the back railing. An amused smirk spreads across his face. The sight of it turns my stomach.
I’m missing something. I must be. There’s no way he’s entertained by the thought of Ben’s demise, right? That’s not the Jackson I know.
“If you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, I’m going to kick you in the nuts so hard, they’ll turn inside out,” Emmy says.
Jackson only smiles wider as Ben struggles to sit up.
Something moves out of the corner of my eye, and I look down at the ocean. This time three figures move under the water. A few seconds later, they crest a wave and dive back under, and all the muscles in my body relax.
“I’m no marine biologist, but I’m pretty sure even rich sociopathic assholes are safe from dolphins,” Jackson says dryly.
Ben and Emmy turn in sync, first looking at Jackson, then the water.
“Dolphins?” Emmy says.
Ben winces. “Not a shark?”
Jackson folds his arms. “Nope.”
Sure enough, several more leap from the ocean. A whole pod of them seem to have found the boat. Maybe even the same ones from yesterday.
“Did you know it was dolphins the whole time?” I ask.
The look he sends me is half surprise and half hurt. “Of course. Do you think I’d leave him in there if I wasn’t sure it was safe? Jesus, Hannah.”
Shame heats my cheeks. I did think that. Only for a second, but I did. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t—”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He scowls and nudges Ben’s knee with his foot. “Get up. You can catch your breath from the mast. Having your unpredictable ass loose on the boat is raising my blood pressure.”
Surprisingly, Ben climbs to his feet and walks straight for the broken mast without protest. I guess I’d make the same choice if the alternative was floating in the open water. Again, I expect Emmy to hover close to Ben’s side, but she hangs back and lets Jackson nudge him across the boat.
Jackson finds a loose section of rope and follows it as he goes, clearly puzzling out what it’s attached to. “Hannah, where’s the knife?”
He won’t meet my eyes.
“Um…somewhere below. I’ll grab it.”
I wait for a nod or a sign he heard me, but he keeps inspecting ropes until I duck into the cabin.
Inside, I’m immediately hit with the stench of damp wood, smoke, and something that smells like rotten seaweed.
It’s disgusting. I hold my breath and wade through the water as fast as I can while still being careful not to cut my bare feet on anything sitting on the bottom.
Long black smoke streaks stain the ceiling by the bathroom.
I sink my hands into the disgusting cabin water just outside the door and drag my fingers along the cabin floor.
It takes a few minutes, but I find it. The second I have it in my hand I’m back on my feet, shaking the disgusting water off my hands, and hurry back to the fresh air.
We need to get that water out. It’s dirty and probably contaminated with oil, gas, and boat chemicals.
No way that’s healthy to breathe, and if we’re about to get hit with another storm, we won’t be able to stay above deck for long.
I look toward the darkest part of the sky.
The sun has moved up over our heads, but the clouds are getting so dark I can barely see it. The wind is picking up again too.