Page 4 of He Had It Coming

He flirted with her at a party near campus and asked her out. She said no. She found him pushy with an out-of-scale ego. Pampered. A blowhard. Not half as attractive as he thought he was. Mediocre in every way.

On a random Friday night eight years ago, weeks after that fateful initial meeting, they ended up at the same bar.

Only one of them survived.

The wrong one.

—Anonymous

Chapter Five

Bright blue, cloud-free skies welcomed me to the Point Loma Marina the next morning. Ten minutes late, sure, but my potentially spending two million plus on a floating toy should buy some goodwill. A reserved parking spot would have been a nice gesture, too, but at least the gawking crowd hadn’t descended on the waterfront area yet.

Traffic had been a bitch. Getting to this part of San Diego, maneuvering through rush hour and military traffic took nerves of steel. Something I possessed after years of torment.

A light wind blew off the water as I punched in the key code Willa gave me for the dock’s lockbox. I glanced up and spied the cameras. Solid security. A good place to keep the boat.

A yacht, actually. If the photos were accurate, fifty-three feet of shiny perfection and considered an excellent entry-level option in the luxury market. Half the size of the one Dad babied until the “accident” that knocked him back. Small enough to keep the Hayes family’s crew of accountants from launching into lectures about outrageous spending once I clued them in about the purchase.

I saw the boat as a step to a brighter future. Manifest it . . . or whatever the bullshit buzzword phrase was these days.

I headed for slip 504 near the end. Away from the bulk of the noise and the leftover drunken partiers who filled the waterways on sunny days. And in San Diego, sunny days happened all the time.

Being mid-September and the region’s hottest month, the temperatures had ticked up while the rest of the country cooled down. Colleges were back in session and regular workloads had resumed. That left me not alone but not trampled as I headed for my waterfront destination.

My footsteps tapped along the concrete dock until I found her. Seeing her full glory made some of the stress over the Anonymous bullshit drain away. The Sirena 48. A beauty with the salon and galley on the main deck, in the open air yet private thanks to tinted windows. An upper deck for prime views. Three bedrooms and the head below.

The insipid name plastered across the stern was the one negative. Baby Doll. A ridiculous choice. That would be the first thing I changed. I’d pay someone to scrape it off right now if I wasn’t in a hurry.

I couldn’t remember the boat owner’s name. Bobby. Tommy. Something like that. The name was in the message from Willa with the confirming details. I’d call him whatever he wanted so long as the paperwork and condition of the boat checked out.

Now, I just had to find him for the tour. “Hello?”

No response. The only sound came from the clanking in the slips as the tide from a departing boat’s wake sent the other vessels bobbing in the water.

I stepped onto the boat’s swim platform and jogged three steps up to the main deck. Damn, this thing was pretty. Pristine floors. Crisp light-gray cushions. The parties would be wild.

I tried again. “Hello? Anyone here?”

A crashing sound below deck grabbed my attention. This guy should be able to hear me but fine. I’d go hunting. “Hey. We had an appointment?”

I walked through the galley, taking in the sleek design and high-end appliances. I could see a hint of the bedroom below on the opposite side and walked down the stairs, already sick of this game. I was the one with the big checkbook. This guy should be running around kissing my ass not vice versa.

“It’s Jerek Hayes.” I headed for the main cabin and down a few more steps, hesitating in the doorway where the oak floor met the plush carpet.

Where the hell was the owner?

Everything seemed to be in order. A bed with the comforter pulled taut. No annoying knickknacks or personal items. That all checked out. Everything in its place except a random chair sitting at the foot of the mattress, facing me.

“Hello?” I barely got the greeting out before pain screamed through the back of my head.

My vision blinked and a searing heat flooded through me.

A second sharp whack and my knees buckled. I fought for air as I fell. My fingers slapped against the edge of the chair as I struggled to regain my balance. The seat crashed to the side, sending my face slamming into the floor.

A throbbing ache ricocheted through me. Strange sounds echoed around me. A series of thuds. Footsteps maybe?

A kick against my thigh sent a new wave of pain ping-ponging around my brain.