Page 38 of Not This Soon

With a deep breath, Rachel wrenched the door open, stepping inside the helm. The captain spun around, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the hell-"

"Turn the boat around," Rachel demanded, her voice low and steady. "Now."

The captain hesitated, his brow furrowing. "I don't take orders from-"

"There's possibly a bomb on board," Rachel cut him off, her words sharp and urgent. "We need to get everyone off this yacht before it's too late."

The captain's face paled, his hands trembling on the wheel. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "A bomb? How do you know?"

Rachel stepped closer, her gaze boring into the captain's. "I'm a Texas Ranger. And I have reason to believe that the people on this yacht are in danger. Now, turn this boat around before it's too late."

The captain's eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a skeptical frown. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the helm's control panel. "A Ranger? I'm going to need to see some identification before I do anything."

Rachel's jaw clenched, her patience wearing thin. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out her badge. The metal glinted under the helm's lights as she held it up, her eyes never leaving the captain's face. "Satisfied?"

The captain's gaze flicked from the badge to Rachel's face, his expression still wary. He took a deep breath, his fingers tapping against his arm. "Alright, Ranger. But if this turns out to be some kind of joke-"

"It's not." Rachel's voice was flat, brooking no argument. She tucked her badge back into her pocket, her hand resting on the butt of her gun. "Now, turn this boat around. Every second we waste puts lives at risk."

The captain hesitated a moment longer, his eyes searching Rachel's face. Finally, he nodded, turning back to the helm. His hands gripped the wheel, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he began to turn the yacht.

Rachel let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She stepped back, her eyes scanning the helm's instruments. The yacht's engines thrummed beneath her feet, the vibrations traveling up her legs.

But before the boat could complete its turn, the helm's door burst open. Rachel spun around, her hand flying to her gun. A man stood in the doorway, his white suit gleaming under the lights. Robert Morris.

Morris's eyes widened as they landed on Rachel, his mouth falling open. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice rising with each word.

Rachel's fingers tightened on her gun, her heart pounding in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, the world exploded into chaos.

The yacht shuddered beneath her feet, a thunderous roar filling the air. A powerful force threw her off balance, sending her sprawling to the floor. The lights flickered and died, plunging the helm into darkness.

Rachel gritted her teeth against the pain shooting through her body. She pushed herself up, her hands grabbing onto the helm's console for support.

"Everyone outside!" she yelled over the sound of alarms blaring and people screaming.

As if on cue, the emergency lights flickered on, casting an eerie red glow over everything.

Morris stumbled forward, his face pale with shock and fear. "What happened? What was that?" he stammered, his eyes wide.

"It was a bomb," Rachel said bluntly, her gaze fixed on Morris as she scrambled to her feet. "Just like I warned."

But there was no time for recriminations now. She had to get everyone off this boat before it sank, or before a secondary explosion turned them all to a crisp.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her side, Rachel barreled out of the helm and onto the deck. Panic had erupted amongst the guests; people were running in every direction, their voices shrill with terror.

"Get to the lifeboats!" Rachel shouted at them, pointing towards where they were stored on each side of the ship. "Move!"

She glanced back at the helm just in time to see Morris emerge, his face ghostly white in the red light of emergency lamps. She moved swiftly towards him, grabbing his arm.

Smoke filled the air, acrid and thick. Alarms blared, their shrill wails piercing Rachel's ears. She blinked, her eyes watering as she tried to orient herself. The yacht listed to one side, the angle growing steeper with each passing second.

Rachel's mind raced, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The bomb had gone off. She pushed herself upright, her gaze locking with Morris's. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

She hesitated, cursed, and then hastened back to the wall just inside the helm. The scent of ash was heavy on the breeze. Rachel pressed the intercom button, her voice commanding as she spoke. "This is Texas Ranger Rachel Blackwood. There has been an explosion on the yacht. Everyone, proceed to the nearest lifeboat station immediately. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

She released the button, her heart pounding as she turned to face Morris. He stood frozen, his white suit now smudged with soot. Rachel grabbed his arm, her grip firm. "We need to get off this boat now."

Morris resisted, his eyes narrowing. "What did you do, Ranger?" His voice was low, accusatory.

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