Chapter Thirteen
Alex
The ship is far more lavish onboard than it is from the pier. Without the Somervilles around to claim it, it’s wasting away in the harbor, fully stocked with enough food and booze to last for a three-week cruise. Not that I’ve been sampling the champagne—I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t let my guard down until everything was handled with the Persian.
That was my first mistake with Amos.
I rub idly at the bruises around my neck, shuddering with the memory of that wild look in his eyes. He went from paternal to perverted to perilous in a matter of seconds, giving me no time to recover from any of the states he presented. Had that been his plan all along? It’s hard to say with Amos. He’s an opportunist, just waiting for his moment to strike.
And when he saw me wounded, he took his chance.
I’ll be sure never to appear wounded again.
It’s been three days since I escaped the clutches of my late mother’s ex-fiancé. I apply ice to the bruises on my neck and munch on a cheese sandwich, closing my eyes to focus on mindful chewing. The worst part of the bruises is swallowing, but I manage to eat the sandwich, opening my eyes when I feel like I won’t throw everything I’ve eaten back up.
Low voices echo from the deck. I glance toward the ceiling as the hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. The masculine voices travel toward the stairs and then descend, causing me to freeze in place. I didn’t think anyone would inspect the ship so soon. Have Paulina and Parker returned?
I slip into a nearby closet and shut the door quietly behind me, peering through the slats to watch the door. The voices pass and I let out a slow breath, rubbing my temples to loosen some of my tension. Great—I’m caught in another situation. What am I supposed to do now?
“I know you’re in there.”
I squeak while pressing myself into the wall. A few suits fall from their hangers, piling around my feet.
“It’s the same vanilla shampoo you’ve been using all semester, doll.”
Tomas stands on the other side of the door, his hand perched on the handle. He slowly slides it open and steps back, giving me room to step out of the closet.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Parker asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t like stowaways.”
Tomas shoots him a questioning look. “You didn’t hear about Macedon High, did you?”
“What happened?”
While Tomas relays a quick recap, I huddle into my fluffy cardigan, hoping to hide the bruises on my neck. Parker gives me a curious glance before turning back to Tomas, listening intently.
“Stupid hicks,” Parker spits. “So, no school, huh?”
“Not like I was paying attention,” Tomas says with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter with everything else going on.”
Parker nods. “Guess not.”
“It’s not exactly useful,” I sigh as nonchalantly as possible. “I didn’t realize you were back. Where’s your mother?”
“Not with me.” Parker glances at Tomas and says, “Give me a moment.”
My eyes go wide until Tomas holds up his hands and assures, “I’ll be just outside the door, okay?”
It’s funny how just a week ago, I would have spat in his face. Now, I can’t seem to leave his side without feeling like I’m going to fall apart. I have no idea what Parker is about to do—chew me out or eat me out—but it doesn’t feel like great timing. I almost died three days ago.
When the door shuts, Parker turns quietly to me and nods toward the chairs near the window. Waves lap at the side of the ship, the sound infiltrating the wide windows as I observe the harbor. It’s gorgeous without all the blood and bullets.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I whisper while sitting across from him at the breakfast nook. Evidence of my lunch and the ice pack sits on the table, but Parker doesn’t seem interested in those items. Thankfully. “I know personally what that’s like.”
His eyes darken as he focuses on the table. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m here to listen, Parker.”
“It’s just weird.”