Then, I spy the boat’s radio. I pick it up, clicking the mic.Dead.I throw the mic. The cord stretches out until the mic hits the glass windshield, and bounces back at me, smacking me in the chest before dropping to the helm.
Sitting there, I realize I’m stranded. I either sit here and freeze to death or swim to shore. Given the temperature o’ the water, that could also lead to me freezing to death. I stuff my phone back in my pocket, and grab the life vest from the storage compartment. Then a lightbulb flashes in my head, and I dig around, hoping to find a wetsuit or a flashlight.
The first two compartments are devoid o’ anything useful, and I nearly say fuck it, but I open the last compartment, and there is, just what I hoped. My cold water gear. Simon was an eejit, but he was my eejit and he loved to swim in the cold, open water. I dinnae like it, but he dinnae give a fuck and did it, anyway. We finally compromised. He swam, and I or one o’ the staff followed along behind him in the boat. Sometimes, he would swim out and back, but other times, he’d hop in the boat and cuddle up against me while I got us back home. He tried several times to get me to swim with him, going so far as to buy me the equipment. I stowed it in the boat years ago, but it went unused.
Until now.
I peel myself out of my wet clothes. Sitting down on the back of the boat, I ease myself into the water, wetsuit in hand. Pulling myself back out, I slide the suit on as I shiver in the night air. Ihead back to the compartment and fish out the swim booties, gloves, and cap. I pull them on and stuff my phone inside the suit, zipping it up. I fasten the life vest around me. It’ll help me stay afloat and conserve energy. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I head back to the swim deck on the boat.
I sit down, going through the process I learned from Simon about cold water swims.
“Ye’re laughing yer arse off. I can hear ye loud and clear, min kara, as if ye were right here with me.”
I roll my eyes, and I slip into the water.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TAVISH
I stareup at a sleek white luxury yacht as the minions get us tied to it. I don’t know how Samuel got his grubby hands on the ship, but this thing is designed to keep you out on the water for however long you want to be offshore.
With no options, I climb out of the boat onto the yacht, looking around at what I can see of the vessel. Other than Samuel, his minions, and me, I don’t see anyone else on board. There has to be someone else on board.
I’m nudged in the back and I turn, glaring at the person behind me. Samuel glowers back at me. His dress shirt hangs open where he’s doctored his chest. He’s covered in blood, and so am I. For something that bled as much as it did, he looks like he’s only been scratched. It’s deep, but not deep enough to have made the mess it did.
“Get up the stairs, Tavish. Don’t make me any angrier than I already am.”
Leveling my gaze at him, I stand silently, waiting, and when his eyes dart away for a second, mine slide closed in silent victory. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I turn away from him before it blooms. No need to piss him off further. The staring contest is enough to fan the flames for the moment.
I climb the stairs from the back of the ship to the next deck. Samuel nudges me again, and I walk toward the glass sliding doors, but before I get to the doorway, he pushes me past the stairs and the glass doors that lead up to the next deck.
“We need to get changed,” he says.
Nodding, I swallow and follow where he guides me. My eyes dance over the luxurious surroundings, as if they don’t exist. My palms have broken out in a sweat and my stomach roils with anxiety and anticipation of what’s to come.
Getting changed could mean several things. There’ve been a few times it meant I’m to be the pretty thing on his arm that draws attention either to him or from him so he can conduct business. Those were the best nights of my life before Draven came into it because it meant Samuel would be on his best behavior. They were even better than the nights when he left me alone, because those nights were always spent rattling apart with anticipation of when he would come for me and what he was planning while he was away from me.
This isn’t going to be as tame as either of those options.
This was going to hurt. A lot. He’s had months to plan what he would do when he got his hands on me again.
“How did you know I survived the explosion?” I ask.
He yanks me to a stop, and the glare he turns on me could melt metal. His teeth click, and his jaw pops as he grinds his teeth together. Grabbing my face in his hand, his fingers and thumb press on my jaw and cheeks, creating pressure points on the bones and rubbing the tender flesh inside my mouth against my teeth. It reopens the cuts he gave me earlier, and yet again, the taste of warm, wet copper hits my tongue, gagging me. The smell floods my sinuses, overpowering the smell of fish and salty sea air.
“I’ve had enough of your shit. If you aren’t careful, I’ll strip you naked, flay you to ribbons with my cat-o’-nine-tails,and then I’ll tie you to the towline and toss your stupid ass overboard,” he threatens.
My eyes lock onto his and I bite my tongue until I’ve bitten a hole in it, and even more blood fills my mouth. I don’t care. I won’t cower in front of him ever again.
“Answer me, boy.”
I nod, my eyes locked on his. His right nostril flares, as it always does when he’s angry and trying to rein it in.
“Good.”
He squeezes my face even more, pulling me closer to him, our noses close to touching.
“You are to be seen, and not heard, from this point forward. You will not speak. You will not make a sound. No matter what happens, you will be utterly silent.”
