“And you’re still breathing because of that,” I mutter, closing the last drawer.
I straighten, and the space presses in around me. Salt. Teak polish. The faint ghost of expensive cologne soaked into the upholstery like a life that doesn’t worry about how much anything costs. A life so soft that even the dust smells rich.
Last summer, this was just a cleaning job.
Tonight, it’s rent. Groceries. Insurance. A sliver of safety I can almost feel between my fingers.
And a solid paydayifwe don’t overstay our window.
I check my watch. The second hand sweeps in perfect sync with our brother’s on the tender outside, like he’s holding his breath with us. “Come on. Two minutes before Beckett panics and pulls away without us.”
Lola rolls her eyes. “Please. Our little brother would never leave without us.”
“He will if the harbor patrol shows.”
She opens her mouth to argue—and then a faint creak rises from the companionway. We both freeze.
The air thickens, going syrupy in my ears. My fingers curl around the bills still in my hand, pulse kicking hard enough I feel it behind my eyes.
Footsteps. Slow and deliberate. A low voice follows, then another.
Oh fuck.
Lola’s eyes go wide. “I thought you said the owner left,” she hisses, barely audible.
“He did.” I force my hand to move, shove the cash into my vest, and zip it shut. My mind snaps into clean lines—lies, exits, timing—like it always does when fear gets too close. “Maybe he came back. Let’s go.”
“Shit.” She reaches for one last velvet pouch, fingers stretching.
I catch her wrist and stop her before she can touch it. “No,” I whisper, sharper than I mean to be. My grip tightens. “We have enough.”
She looks at me like she might fight me for it. Her jaw flexes. “But?—”
“Lola.” My voice sharpens, a blade pressed flat between my teeth. “It’s not worth it.”
This job was supposed to be easy. Soft entry, softer exit. A score that didn’t leave bruises—on bodies or nerves.
I grab her wrist and tug her toward the forward cabin door—the one that opens onto the narrow side deck near the bow. Behind us, the voices climb another step closer, and adrenaline slices up my spine, cold and bright, like a warning shot fired inside my veins.
We slip through the door and ease it shut with a click that sounds deafening in my ears. We flatten ourselves againstthe exterior bulkhead—a smooth stretch of fiberglass with no windows to betray us.
The night air hits sticky and warm, sliding down my back like sweat under a fever. It feels more humid than before. Or maybe that’s just my pulse hammering under my skin.
I pull in a slow breath, forcing my thoughts into clean, tight lines. Escape route. Noise levels. Timing.Beckett.
I risk a glance over the railing. Beckett’s borrowed tender bobs on the far side of the pier, its bow light cutting a thin line across the dark water. We’re too high to jump clean. Even if we could make it without being seen, the cash would soak through in seconds. Bound stacks turn to pulp fast—we learned that the hard way. Swimming under the pier would mean pilings, rebar, fishing lines, and luck we don’t have time to pray for.
No, we need the pier. And we need to get to it fast.
Lola leans in, breath hitting my cheek. “Okay, but what if we?—”
I clap a hand over her lips. “Shh.”
Inside the cabin, slow, heavy footsteps echo—unhurried, like whoever’s walking doesn’t expect trouble.
A low rumble of voices follows.
My heart kicks hard and fast. I’d never say this out loud, not even to my sister, but something electric unfurls under my ribs, buoyant and reckless. It’s been a long time since anything made me feel this alive. Like I’m a footstep away from floating straight off the deck and into the ether.
