Page 12 of Captivating Nash

“Stay on the boat,” Nash ordered, his voice gruff. “I’m going to check things out.” He opened the weapons locker and pulled out a shotgun. “Can you handle this?”

“I’d rather have the assault rifle, unless you want it,” she said walking forward and picking it up. He arched his eyebrow. “I took some weapons training a long time ago. Aren’t you going to take a gun?”

“No. If I don’t run into trouble, I won’t need it, and if I do, I’d rather handle the problem quietly.” He hid his smile as her face paled. “I’m going to set the alarm. If it goes off or anyone but me tries to board, shoot first and ask questions later. Then hit the EPIRB, weigh anchor, turn on the motor and get the hell out of here.”

“I’m not leaving without you…” she started.

“If it isn’t me coming on board, I’m either dead or as good as. If I’m not, the best chance I have is for Cerberus’ rescue people to come in. I’m not asking you, Dr. Fowler, I’m giving you an order. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of my discipline if you don’t do exactly what I tell you.”

Deanna hesitated but nodded, her usual stubbornness tempered by the weight of his words. She knew enough to recognize when he was serious, and Nash could tell she sensed something was wrong, too.

He moved swiftly, pulling on his tactical vest and slipping a knife into the sheath at his side before stepping off the deck and into the shallow water near the beach. The moment his boots hit the sand, Nash’s senses sharpened. The island looked untouched, but Nash knew better than to take anything at face value. He crouched low, studying the terrain, the way the leaves and sand had shifted in subtle ways.

Footprints. Small, faint, but definitely there. He ran his fingers over the indents in the sand. Two or three people, judging by the depth and spacing of the prints. Recent, too. Whoever had been here wasn’t far.

His eyes traced the line of the beach until they stopped at a pile of driftwood farther up the shore. At first glance, it looked like debris from a storm, but Nash wasn’t fooled. The edges were too clean, the arrangement too deliberate, as if someone had been using it to camouflage something.

Nash stood, the muscles in his body tightening with the certainty of what he had seen. This wasn’t just an uninhabited island. Someone had been here—and recently.

He made his way back toThe Reverie,his mind running through scenarios, none of them good. The storm had driven them to this island for safety, but it had also left them vulnerable. If someone was watching, they’d know exactly where Nash and Deanna were.

“Deanna, it’s Nash, I’m coming aboard,” he called as he reached the boat, using the app on his watch to deactivate the alarm before pulling himself on board.

Deanna was sitting on the deck when he returned, her eyes flicking to him as he approached. “Did you find anything?”

Nash paused, meeting her gaze. There was no point in hiding the truth from her. She needed to know what they were dealing with. “Someone’s been here. I found tracks on the beach.”

Deanna’s face paled slightly, but she held her ground, her eyes searching his for answers. “Are they still here?”

“I don’t know,” Nash said honestly. “But we need to be ready in case they are.”

He didn’t wait for her response. Moving with purpose, Nash set about reactivatingThe Reverie'salarm system. The boat was more than just a charter vessel—it had been retrofitted with top-of-the-line security measures, including infrared sensors, motion detectors, and alarms that could alert them to any movement within a hundred-foot radius of the boat.

As he worked, the sky darkened, the stars being blacked out by incoming cloud cover fading the light they’d cast into a deep, inky blackness. The storm was beginning to abate, but the uneasy tension in the air hadn’t. He could feel it in the way the shadows crept along the beach, in the stillness of the night. It reminded him of the nights on a mission when everything felt too quiet, too calm—right before hell broke loose.

Deanna watched him from the corner of the deck, her arms wrapped around herself as the wind picked up. “You really think someone’s watching us?”

Nash paused, his fingers hovering over the last security switch. He didn’t want to scare her more than necessary, but he wasn’t about to sugarcoat the situation. “I don’t know. But I’m not taking any chances.”

He flipped the switch, and a soft beep confirmed the system was live. Nash took a deep breath, letting his eyes sweep the dark shoreline once more. If anyone came near them, he’d know about it.

“Go below and get some rest,” he said, turning to Deanna. “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

Deanna frowned, clearly uneasy, but she didn’t argue. She knew better than to challenge him when his instincts were this sharp. “You’re sure?”

Nash nodded, his gaze already shifting to the shadows beyond the boat. “I’ve got it covered.”

She lingered for a moment, as if wanting to say more, but then she turned and headed below deck, leaving Nash alone with the night and his thoughts.

As he settled into his vigil, his eyes scanning the darkness, memories of his SEAL days flooded back, uninvited and unwanted. He could almost hear the voices of his old team, feel the weight of his gear on his shoulders, the tension before an op. It was the same feeling now, the same sense that danger was close—closer than they knew.

Nash’s grip tightened on the railing. He didn’t like the feeling crawling up his spine, didn’t like the way it felt like the past was creeping up on him, mixing with the present. He wasn’t a SEAL anymore, not the same man who had once lived for these moments. He had chosen a different path. A quieter one.

But some things, it seemed, you couldn’t leave behind.

As the night wore on, the clouds began to dissipate, and the moon and stars began to blink into view. Nash remained on edge, his senses sharp, every small noise sending a jolt of awareness through him. He didn’t know who—or what—was out there, but he was damn sure they weren’t alone.

And whoever was watching them, wouldn’t catch him off guard.

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