Then sadness set in as she recalled being dumped two weeks ago and having to undo all the wedding plans. She’d worked so hard to ensure every last detail was perfect, only to find out the groom was the imperfect piece. The scent of her burning dress assaulted her nostrils as strongly as it had done earlier in the day. She was such an idiot for falling for Jonathan, and knowing what she knew now, she was even more embarrassed for having been taken for a fool.
She dug her fingernails out of the dashboard and placed her hand over her aching heart, convinced the pain would never go away. But the pain went away, and it quickly transitioned to anger.
Anger. White hot anger. That’s what she’d felt when she tossed the bag.
“Stop. Here. Here’s where I tossed the bag!” she exclaimed as her eyes flew open.
Cap cut the throttle. The boat surged forward, then back, and when it stilled, she looked at the shoreline. That was of no use, but if she went on feeling, this was the spot.
Now all that remained was to find the bag before anyone got killed.
Emma swallowed hard. Would any of them live long enough to care?
Chapter Five
Cap idled the boat and cut a glance toward the Colombian man standing on the opposite side of Emma.
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Cap asked him.
He knew full well he needed to move the boat in a grid pattern and search for the bag. The best he could hope for was that the bag floated because if it sank, the odds of picking it up with his sonar equipment at this depth would be near impossible.
The guy swung his gaze wide before it landed back on him.
“We need to find the damn bag. It’s a waterproof bag, so it should be floating.”
Cap shrugged and slowly shook his head. “We can try, but with the east wind picking up, these rollers could have pushed it anywhere. Exactly how big is this bag? And, what color?”
Thinking back, he recalled seeing Emma carrying what looked like a duffel bag that couldn’t have been more than two feet long and a foot or so wide. But questions bought time.
“It’s black. About this size,” the annoyed man snapped, spreading his hands.
Cap scanned the horizon, taking note of a few other charter boats. He racked his brain for a way to communicate his distress to them without getting caught.
“I’ll start a grid pattern and move slowly to make sure we don’t miss it.”
They were in water about eighty feet deep.
He pointed at the fish finder. “At this depth, we may not pick it up if it sank.”
“Well, you’d better, or you’re going to be minus some passengers here pretty quick.”
Wholeheartedly, Cap believed the threat, and judging from the way Emma’s body quivered, she did, too.
The Colombian in charge moved toward the ladder leading from the wheelhouse to the deck.
Cap hoped he’d leave the wheelhouse and go onto the deck. That would give him an opportunity to radio for help. More importantly, it would get him away from Emma. The way the poor woman shook and nervously rubbed her hands together, she’d probably pass out if her nerves rattled any more.
“We’re going to start a grid pattern to locate the bag. All eyes on the water, or else,” the guy yelled down to those on the deck.
The ladies surrounding Preston stood. Preston’s eyes fluttered open, then closed again. The kid needed medical attention. The right side of his face had darkened some. He was going to have one hell of a bruise. Cap hoped that was all he’d have, but with his non-responsiveness, Cap feared the worst for Preston.
The Colombian shifted his gaze to his buddy on the cigarette boat, which was located about fifteen feet from his starboard side. “Stay glued to us and keep your eyes peeled.”
After barking orders, the guy straightened his spine and then returned to his spot next to Emma.
Her body went rigid.
“Once we find this bag, we’ll be out of here, and you can all go about your business.”
