Page 42 of Not This Soon

But no… none of this was adding up. She forced herself to focus, to push past the anger and the frustration. "What kind of deal? What were they supposed to help you with?"

But before Morris could answer, the yacht shuddered violently, the deck tilting beneath their feet. Rachel cursed, grabbing onto the railing for balance. They were running out oftime. If they didn't get off the boat soon, they'd both be dragged down with it.

Rachel's grip on Morris's collar tightened as the yacht lurched beneath them. Water sloshed over the deck, soaking through her boots. "The names, Morris. I need the names of the cartel members involved."

Morris's face twisted in anguish, his breath coming in short gasps. "I can't...they'll kill me. You don't understand what they're capable of."

"I understand plenty." Rachel's voice was cold, unyielding. "And I'll make sure you're protected. But I need those names. Now."

Morris closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Guillermo Vargas. He's the one I dealt with directly. And his lieutenant, a man named Diego Sanchez."

Rachel nodded, committing the names to memory. "Sanchez. You're sure that's his name?"

"Yes." Morris's voice was barely audible over the creaking of the yacht's hull. "I'm sure."

The boat shuddered again, the deck tilting at a steep angle. Rachel stumbled, her hand slipping from Morris's collar. She could feel the yacht starting to listen, the weight of the water pulling it down.

"We need to move." Rachel hauled Morris to his feet, her eyes scanning the chaos around them. The smoke was thicker now, the flames licking at the yacht's superstructure. "If we don't get off this boat now, we're both dead."

Morris's eyes widened in fear, his gaze darting to the water. "But...but how? The lifeboats are gone."

Rachel gritted her teeth, her mind racing. She could see a coast guard boat in the distance, its lights flashing against the darkened sky. It was drawing nearer, heading straight towards them.

She felt a flicker of relief.

Only then did she reach down and depress the transmit button on the radio she’d pushed earlier.

Ethan had been listening to their entire conversation. She knew she could count on him, and he was proving it once again.

The boat lurched towards them over the water, cutting through breakers and angling towards where Morris trembled and sobbed, shaking his head and pleading.

“Who killed your daughter,” she insisted.

“I swear. I swear on everything. Idon’t know.”

She believed him. But she didn’t believe this meant he wasn’t at fault.Somehow,he was involved. The cartel had met with him and his daughter a week before? And then Rebecca ended up dead?

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“I thought you hated your daughter. Were estranged. Why was she at that meeting with you?”

“Dammit! The water is at my knees. Get me off this thing!”

“Answer my question.”

“Because!” he screamed. “She tricked me. She told me she wanted to reconcile. But she was just looking for another scoop! But I swear… IswearI didn’t kill her. They did. They must’ve.”

“The cartel? This lieutenant—Diego Sanchez.”

“He must’ve. He found a recording device on Rebecca. Almost shot us both there.”

“Who was Rebecca working for?”

“Her online magazine. Or whatever client she was still working for.” The bitterness was evident in his voice.

Water now sloshed at Rachel's thighs. A searchlight from the boat illuminated them.

“And why all this? Why blow up the yacht?”

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