“Yeah,” I say, jaw tight. “I know the guy.”
Bruce narrows his eyes. “I did a little drive-by of Dahlia’s condo. Saw your car parked there overnight. Wasn’t hard to track you down after that.”
My pulse hammers, but I keep my voice level. “So what is this? You planning to lecture me at sunrise?”
He stands. The boat shifts slightly under his weight.
“Here’s how it’s gonna go,” he says. “You’re finished with my daughter. Done. Leave her alone. You disappear from her life and my granddaughter’s life, or I’ll destroy you.”
My jaw locks. He steps closer.
“I’ll smear your name across this town, this state, and California too,” he growls. “Your business? Gone. And that’s just the start.”
I move, intending to head for the wheel to turn us back toward shore and get this psychopath off my boat, but Bruce blocks me.
“No one saw me get on this boat,” he says softly. “And there’s no record of any ‘Mr. Ferris’ at the resort. So if something were to happen to you out here…”
My spine goes icy.
“No one would ever know.”
We stare at each other in the dim morning light. The water echoes against the hull, and the world around us feels too quiet.
“But you’d know,” I say, my voice low. “And do you really want to live with the fact that you’d be devastating two of the people you’re supposed to love if something happened to me?”
“I do love them,” he snaps. “I’d give my life for them.”
“Then don’t threaten mine,” I say. I step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his head way back to look me in the eye. “I’m a nice, levelheaded guy. I don’t have a beef with anyone. But I love your daughter and your granddaughter. And if you hurt them, if you lay so much as a finger on what they care about, you won’t want to see the side that comes out of me.”
Bruce sneers, his breath sharp. “You think I’m going to be scared of you?”
I smirk. “No. But I’m not going to be scared of you either.”
Before he can react, I duck past him, grab the wheel, and spin it hard. The boat jerks violently, and Bruce stumbles so badly he has to grab the railing to keep upright.
He curses—loudly—but I don’t look back at him. I steer us toward land at full speed, wind whipping across my face, heart pounding, adrenaline burning through every nerve.
When we hit the dock, I slam the engine into neutral and reach under the console, pulling out my portable foghorn.
I hold it up.
“Get off my boat,” I say, voice flat. “And get off this property.”
He glares at me, fury carved into every line on his face. “This isn’t over,” he hisses.
“No,” I say. “It’s fucking not.”
Bruce jumps onto the dock, muttering one last threat under his breath before stalking off into the shadows.
My hands grip the railing, knuckles white.
The sun finally breaks over the horizon, bright and golden and too calm for what just happened.
I take a breath. And another.
“Jesus,” I whisper to myself.
But underneath the fear, the adrenaline, the shaking rage—I know exactly what this was.
