Dollars

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?

If she had, this would be terrifying. And if she hadn’t, this would be utterly horrifying.

I can’t leave her on her own.

Glancing at the radar, I said, “I’m going to grab something.” Someone. “I’ll be back in ten.” My eyes lingered on the captain’s chair, and the matching bucket seats soldered firmly onto large steel posts. The shoulder and waist straps would keep us from flopping around when the waves struck, but a quick release mechanism meant we could unbuckle and swim if we capsized.

Not that I think we’ll capsize…but you never know.

Yet another reason why I had to get Pim and bring her to safety.

“I wouldn’t leave if I were you.” Jolfer squinted at the egg-sized droplets obscuring the windows. “Especially to cross the deck.”

Admittedly, that was a design flaw. I’d had the boat builders place the bridge towering over the polished deck. They’d insisted there should be some way of internal access from the main floors, but I’d refused an additional lift as I didn’t want to interrupt the space downstairs with yet another ascender.

On nice days, even on rainy days, the quick stroll over the exposed wood was a welcome refresher. Today, I would be drenched.

“I won’t be long.” Pushing off from the control panel where the hand-holds glinted silver amongst the array of glowing buttons and dials, my legs spread for balance as I made my way to the exit.

Blessed with not suffering seasickness, even I didn’t like the uncertainty of when the next swell would hit and how big the yacht would roll.

Clutching the doorframe, I battled the hissing elements as I wrenched it open and traded dry for wet. Instantly, the low howl of the storm behind thick plated glass took off its gag and screamed.

The noise of wind and rain and thunder hammered me as I shot forward, slipping and sliding across the deck.

My clothes became saturated—a heavy hindrance, robbing me of coordination. By the time I made it to the glassed-in foyer where the lift was, I panted and gasped, my hip throbbing from sliding sideways and falling over.

Not trusting the elevator mechanism in this crazy bucking world, I threw myself down the stairs. Each couple of steps, the boat yawed and yawned, throwing me into a wall then forward then back.

My shoulders ached as I stepped onto Pimlico’s level, bruises deep inside from the violence of the squall.

Rather than walk and do my best to balance, I jogged down the corridor, moving with the boat, hitting the walls with a grimace. I wouldn’t drag this out any longer than needed.

We need to get back to the bridge.

Reaching Pimlico’s door, I didn’t knock.