The man lifted a hand, all polite gestures and false ease. “Didn’t mean to intrude. Thought the boat was still for sale.” His gaze drifted from Blake to Vivian and back again, taking in details he shouldn’t care about. “Was supposed to check her out for a client.”
Blake’s instincts scraped raw. The man’s stance was too balanced, too alert for a broker. And then Blake saw it—the ink just above the cuff. A tide around a Laurel.
His heart pounded one solid beat, then steadied. “You’re a little late to the showing,” he said evenly. “We closed last week.”
“Must’ve missed that.” The man smiled, but it was all surface—no warmth behind it. “Beautiful vessel, though. Shame, really. She’s not exactly known for being… safe. You might want to reconsider taking her on. I mean, there’s a lot of dangers in boat renovations. Don’t want anything to happen to that sweet wife of yours.”
The jab slid under Blake’s skin. His jaw flexed. He shifted subtly so Vivian was behind his shoulder. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back off—just angled her chin, watching the stranger with that cool, assessing gaze that used to make suspects confess without her saying one word.
“What do you mean, not safe?” she asked, voice sounding shaky, vulnerable, which Blake knew was all an act.
The man’s attention lingered on her, too long, too casual. Blake felt his fingers twitch toward the Sig at his hip.
“And how did you know she was my wife?”
The man tilted his hat lower as if keeping the sleet from his eyes. “I confess. I did know you bought the boat, but I was hoping to make an offer to take her off your hands. There was a mistake with the sale of this boat. I have an insistent client who didn’t like that it sold out from under him.”
The way the man enunciated ‘insistent’ made the message clear. “I don’t know. We just boarded; can you give us sometime to think about it? I’ll admit, the pictures we received didn’t do this justice. Yes, she’s got potential, and all the woodwork is beautiful, but my wife isn’t a fan yet.”
“She’s wise; you should listen to her,” the man murmured. “Some people who bought her before didn’t walk away from the experience.” He tilted his head, eyes cutting back to Blake. “Wouldn’t want to see history repeat itself.”
Viv gave a gasp that was Academy Award-winning. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“I only know that the last man who owned this boat died. Some sort of carbon monoxide poisoning. Lots of dangerous things like black mold, rust, and even things you can’t see that can take you in the night.”
Blake forced a dry laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Appreciate the warning. We’ll make sure to be careful. And I’ll let you know if we want to sell. Do you want to leave your number?”
“I’ll be around. The man took one more step down, the deck creaking beneath him. Up close, Blake caught the smell of salt and machine oil.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” Blake asked, voice low.
The man’s mouth curved. “Just remember, some risks don’t give you a choice.” His tone softened, almost kind. “Just… watch your lines and currents. They’ll drag you places you don’t mean to go.”
He turned, boots thudding away.
Blake stood there, heartbeat pulsing against his ribs. Vivian exhaled behind him, slow and controlled.
“Consider us warned,” she said.
“Yep,” Blake muttered, scanning the hatch like he could still see the man’s outline through the mist. “He was here to remind us we’re not alone out here.”
She moved closer. “Laurel Tide. At least we know our intel’s right. Wouldn’t be so quick to try to scare us off if we weren’t in the heart of everything. But how did we get the boat if they didn’t want it sold?”
He nodded once, tight. “I’d like to know that, too. Now they decide if they’ll let us stay or if we’ll meet with an accident. Hoping Dan blabs about us working to get out of here. It should buy us some time.”
“So you think we’re in the clear for tonight?”
He almost smiled. “I’m choosing not to die in a bed that smells like mildew.” He glanced at the window. The fog pressed close, listening. “We rotate watches. Two hours on, two off. We don’t touch the conduit again until first light. And we secure all hatches.”
“Agreed.”
“And we don’t transmit,” Blake said, knowing she’d fight him on this.
Her eyebrow kicked up. “You think it’ll blow us?”
“I think the safest conversation is the one you don’t have.” He moved to the tiny galley, killing the lantern so only the low blue from the fogged windows remained.
“You first watch?” she asked.
