Dollars (Dollar 2)

I kept staring at the door, hoping Elder would come like he had this morning, but I had no more visitors.

By eight p.m., the water world was no longer below us but all around us. Torrential rain hammered, splashes of fresh liquid mingling with salt in a washing machine churn.

I stayed where I was on the couch, cross-legged and riding the waves, clutching my origami boat in one hand and my bronze genie lamp in the other.

My positivity turned pessimistic, and my muscles were already tired from fighting to stay upright. My healing body was not equipped for a rodeo this soon.

Elder never visited, but he did call around nine p.m.

I’d never received a phone call in my suite, and it took me a moment to figure out where the ringing came from.

Picking up the receiver, I tensed and melted in equal measure as his heady voice licked into my ear. “Sorry, I never came back. It’s been a rough day navigating. The storm is too wide. There is no way we can sail around it. Tonight will be bad.”

I opened my mouth to reply, two years of silence deleted by a mere phone call. The memory of what to do when holding such a device begged me to speak.

But I swallowed it back.

Not because of the stupid bet, but because I liked whatever was growing between us, but was still wary enough not to trust it.

“I know you won’t reply, so this will just be a one-sided conversation. I won’t be around tonight. I’m staying on the bridge. Don’t go wandering around. Have a shower now if you want before it gets too choppy then get into bed and don’t leave. By Jolfer’s estimate, the worst of the squall will hit in a few hours. If you get sick, there are bags in the bedside table. I’ll come for you in the morning once we’re through.”

I could barely stand already, let alone have a shower.

Loneliness settled heavier than before. I never normally wanted company, but tonight…I did. I wanted someone to cling to and murmur that the weather wouldn’t kill us, even if it sounded like it had every intention of dining on our corpses.

A slight pause once again urged me to fill the silent void.

“Goodnight, Pimlico. I had fun today. I—” He stopped.

My heart shoved aside the howling storm, focusing intently on the phone. I expected him to hang up. I almost wanted him to hang up.

But he sucked in a breath and finished. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

The dial tone hit hard and harsh in my ear.

The raging wind gathered pressure. The angry rocking of the yacht did its best to delete the repeating words in my ear.

I look forward to seeing you again.

I look forward not to sex or pain or making me do whatever he deemed acceptable.

I look forward to seeing you…

So simple a pastime but so rare and priceless.

Elder could make me rob a thousand banks and commit a million crimes to pay him back for rebuilding me. But he’d made that an impossible task as he kept increasing my value day by day.

I was right.

Elder Prest was the most dangerous man I’d ever known.

Not because he could kill me whenever he chose, but because he had the power to steal so much more than just my life.

He could steal my heart.

THE STORM GATHERED in shape and snarl the longer I stood on the bridge.

“Guess we’ll be able to put the automatic levelling system to good use tonight, huh?” Jolfer grinned. His face held respect for the sea and the slight insanity of a pirate.

“Let’s hope it treats us well.” I clutched a handrail as a particularly large crest sent us racing forward. “What ferocity will it climb to?”

Jolfer shrugged. “Harder than the last one.”

“That doesn’t ease my mind.” The last storm had torn apart rigging and knocked over the bulk of the furniture not screwed down. The damn spa tub on the deck had been emptied of its chlorinated hot water and replaced with salty brine multiple times over that night.

“My recommendation is to climb into a chair and ride it out.”

Until I’d seen the radar with its hissing black mess and our little red dot bleeping its way into the nucleus, I’d had plans on doing exactly that. Saddling in to ride Mother Nature. I’d pulled myself out of the gutter enough not to want to end my life the way I did when I was younger, but I couldn’t stop the small tendril of excitement to see how bad things would get.

I tried to keep my thoughts on my boat and what would soon hit, but they kept trailing to Pimlico. Had she ever been at sea before? Had she ever ridden a storm where the ground became a bronco and the walls creaked and groaned as if desperate to let the sea enter?