Page 3 of Viper

Craig’s face turned serious. “Accidents happen all the time in the water. Unfortunately, not enough people respect the ocean.”

“Well, they’re ruling it a homicide now. So I don’t think this was an accident.”

He shrugged. “Apparently the body was waterlogged. Not sure how they’d determine foul play.”

His crass comment made her stomach bunch with unease. She turned her head to gaze over the water again. Craig was good-looking and, so far, had been fun to hang out with. She’d met him at a bar the other night and had finally accepted his offer of a date that went beyond a casual lunch on the beach with Chantal and him. This was the first time the two of them were alone.

He could be charming, but she sensed a ruthlessness beneath his skin. An investment banker by day, he sure didn’t seem to fit that role, proving to be more daring than she’d expected. The more time she spent with Craig, though, the more nervous she felt when his mood shifted, even when the change was subtle. Instinct told her not to take this date any further.

She stretched her arms high over her head. “The sun kicked my butt today. I’m beat. I think I should go. Can you take me back to shore, please?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I have plans for you tonight.”

“Craig,” she snapped, then quickly replaced her tone with something more placating. “I’m just tired. Chantal wants to get an early start tomorrow. She’s got this new spot that⁠—”

“Then you shouldn’t have gotten on my boat,” he said with a sneer, the warm, acrid scent of red wine seeping through his lips. He brushed his fingers over her cheek.

Her gut bottomed out and her head swam. She instantly regretted having even a drop of alcohol—regretted coming here.

He got to his feet then caught her wrist, pulling her with him. “Come here.” He urged her to stand at the stern.

Apprehension rippled over her. She needed to play this right. If he suspected she was scared and wanted to escape, things could turn bad quickly.

He coaxed her to stand in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her back to his front. “I’d hate for you to go home so early, Paige. Like I said, I have plans for us.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice from dipping with anxiety.

“Mm-hmm. You just reminded me of that bull shark you mentioned you were looking for. It makes me fucking hard to think of you swimming with one.” The statement came out with challenge and malice.

She bristled, the hair on the back of her neck shooting to attention. Fear coated her tongue with its gritty texture. “That’s alarming,” she joked, striving to lighten the mood.

He laughed derisively.

Turning to face him, she stared up at his tall form. Sleek muscle blocked her exit, but she wouldn’t let him see her unease. If she could keep him from knowing she was terrified, she might be able to get help.

“Well, I guess I have a couple more hours,” she said, with a sensual grin. “Mind if I use the restroom quickly?”

His gaze darkened, but he stepped back to let her pass. “Be fast,” he called.

Her laughter trilled behind her as she bounded lightly up the steps of the outdoor lounge area and through the glass slider. Panic wove its way through every fiber of her being.

Maybe she was being paranoid. Overreacting.

No. Something wasn’t right. Even if Craig wasn’t a bad person, he hadn’t wanted to let her go home. That didn’t sit well with her.

After swooping her purse off the white leather couch, she skirted around the kitchen table and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid before her shaking legs gave out, she unzipped her purse and pulled out her phone. Her hands trembled as she brought the screen to life.

Indecision split her in two. Her senses screamed she was in danger, but what if she was wrong? What if she called the police out here for nothing? What if he merely wanted to get laid and it had come off wrong?

She swallowed and brought up her brother’s icon. Atlas might be a thousand miles from her, but if she needed help, he’d find a way. Atlas had men far and wide, and he’d call in any favors necessary.

The roar of her pulse almost drowned out the line ringing in her ear.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked smoothly.

Relief washed over her. “Atlas, I think I’m in danger,” she whispered. “I-I’m on a yacht off the coast of Siesta Key with a guy named Craig Brawn. He-he⁠—”