Page 1 of Riptide

Chapter One

A whisper of a dream danced just out of reach. The bright sun teased Seth’s face and he moaned, yearning to steal a few more minutes of sleep. The familiar sound of the ocean comforted him. But as he blinked open his eyes, the gentle sway of the ocean forced his attention to the sea which beckoned from outside his cabin. Why the fuck am I on a boat?

Awakening, his brief moment of pleasure morphed into anxiety as the unfamiliar setting came into view. His hands curled into the soft Egyptian cotton sheets, and he attempted to sit up in the bed. Dizziness spun and his head fell back onto the pillow. “Fuck. How long have I been here?”

Seth held up his hands, inspecting his bruised palms covered with days old abrasions. From the yellowish coloring on his arms, he estimated he’d been unconscious for several days.

His head pounded as he struggled to remember what had happened. He’d gone to Big Sur to help a friend. In a shootout with criminals, he’d fought with someone, lost his grip and fallen over the cliff. During the descent, he’d grasped at several branches to no avail. As his head smashed against the rocks and his body plunged into the churning ocean, darkness had claimed him. Like hints of a nightmare, vague memories of a cabin, a woman, and gunshots in the night played in his head, but he had no memories of being brought onto a boat.

“I’ve got to get the hell out of here.” A fresh surge of determination rushed through him. He blew out a breath and heaved his body upward into a sitting position. “Fucccck.”

Nausea bubbled in his throat and his head spun. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe. Breathe. Seth blinked his eyes open as the dizziness waned, the room coming back into focus. Shit.

Seth had been lucky, he knew. Surviving a three-hundred-foot fall had been nearly impossible, let alone not drowning in the Pacific Ocean. But like a cat with nine lives, he once again had managed to punch death in the nuts, only to live another day.

He was no stranger to dangerous situations. A big wave surfer, he skated on the edge of death daily, reveling in the thrill of another challenge. Yet each decision had been a calculated risk, one he’d chosen to make. The cliff, however, hadn’t been.

He shook off the aching that permeated down to his bones, willing the fog to clear from his brain. As he swung his feet over the sides of the bed, he welcomed the soft carpet underneath his feet. His body weakened, he prepared to stand.

“You got this dude,” he said out loud. Shoving to his feet, he stumbled forward and reached for a wall. Seth steadied his gait and planted his hands on a bureau to assure his balance. He blew out a breath and lifted his head, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Well, shit.” He twisted his head to the right and back to the left. Aside from a scratch on his cheek and a seriously overgrown beard, he looked no worse for wear. “Rad.”

Nude, he turned to inspect his body and a bandage wrapped around his right arm. Seth winced as he gently touched his bicep. “Jesus. What the fuck happened here?”

He closed his eyes briefly and struggled to recall what had happened. Scattered memories flashed in his mind, but Seth couldn’t piece them together into a story. Nightmares of a cabin in the forest, one lined with guns. In the dark, he was lying on a makeshift bed, the sound of gunshots ringing out into the night.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told himself, resigned to his situation. “Deal with the now.”

So many questions spun in his mind. Who had been kind enough to stow him on a luxury yacht and nurse him back to health? How long had they been out to sea? Nothing short of hard answers would sate his curiosity.

Seth scanned his cabin for clues. From the mahogany furniture to the gold-framed colorful painting of a bull that hung over the bed, the ship reeked of money. He smiled as he caught sight of the black silk robe folded neatly on the dresser. As he reached for it and slid it over his battered body, he blew out a breath.

“Let’s go find out who’s running this booze cruise.”

* * *

The steady hum of the motor sounded, its ambient white noise peacefully drifting throughout the hallways of the ship. As Seth walked down the long corridor and took an elevator to the main floor, he estimated the size of the vessel. By the look of the gym he’d passed and how far he’d walked, he’d guessed the boat to be at least three hundred feet.

Within minutes, he found himself inside the main salon. With its cathedral-high ceilings and circular features, the space appeared vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t explain why. While he’d certainly been on his fair share of yachts, this boat rocked a cool vibe that reminded him of a party he’d attended long ago.

Its clean white interior contrasted with masculine black matte furnishings. As he walked by a baby grand, he ran his fingertips over its smooth surface. Who the hell keeps a piano on a boat? A billionaire.

Given enough time, he’d discover who owned the yacht…probably met at one of the many charity events he’d attended over the years. But today, he needed to heal, then investigate the mysterious stranger who had rescued him. Clearly someone wanted him to live, had taken great care to see to his survival, but who?

Blinding sunlight shone through the open sliding glass doors as he approached the stern. The boat randomly swayed, causing Seth to stumble. Though he managed to steady himself by grasping onto the edge of a sofa, nausea rose in his throat. Within seconds, the aroma of food drifted into the cabin, and a roaring hunger replaced his queasiness.

“Jesus.” He blew out a breath. Weakness threaded through his body, his muscles heavy as he forced himself to remain steady on his feet.

Seth took a second to regroup, closed his eyes, and the familiar scent of sea air calmed his soul. Since he was a baby, the ocean had been his savior. A great teacher, she both educated and fascinated him. And in every lesson, he never feared her but instead developed a deep respect for her infinite power.

Voices drifted inside the cabin and his eyes flashed open. Determined to survive whatever faced him beyond the light, he straightened his spine and allowed nature’s adrenaline to surge within him. His body would heal in time, but his mind remained sharp. Whoever had decided to bring him on this pleasure cruise was in for an experience of their own.

Seth stepped through the doorway; blinding streaks of lights speared at him. As his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, he caught sight of a lithe silhouette bent over with her bottom facing him. The feminine figure scooped her arms into the air and stood tall with her hands stretched to the sky. As if in a graceful ballet, she transitioned again, bending over to touch her toes. In one continuous movement, she swept her arms into a circle above her head and then pressed her hands into prayer against her chest.

“Namaste.” Seth crossed the deck and sat on a chaise lounge, never taking his eyes off the stranger.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tremaine,” she responded with confidence, her voice soft but strong.