Page 26 of Rescuing Mia

I keep my head down, trying to blend in like I’m just another tourist eager for an adventure.

But as I make my way toward my cabin, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I fight the urge to look over my shoulder.

It’s just paranoia, I tell myself. A side effect of the constant fear and stress of the last few days.

Still, I quicken my pace, my hand tightening on my backpack. I won’t truly feel safe until we’re out at sea and the coast of Manila has disappeared over the horizon.

When I find it, my cabin is small, but more than adequate. If this is a suite, I can’t imagine what a regular cabin looks like. Inside I find a comfortable bed, a small writing desk, a tiny lavatory, and a porthole that looks out over the endless blue of the ocean. Rightnow, it looks back at the port and at the gangway where passengers continue to board.

I scan them with more than a little interest. Most of the passengers are American, with their boisterous conversations and harsh laughter. Very few locals board as guests.

So far.

So good.

The moment they pull back the gangway, I drop my backpack on the bed and fall back on the mattress, bouncing lightly. I take a moment to catch my breath and close my eyes. I try to still the racing of my heart but abandon that as my mind pokes all kinds of holes into my grand plan.

I have a private cabin.

I have a destination.

In three weeks, I’ll be in Sydney, which is exactly where I need to be.

My eyes close for barely a second, my lids bouncing with fatigue. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I wake to gentle rocking.

We’re underway.

I jump to my feet and look out the small porthole to confirm what my body already knows. We’re no longer attached to land.

A knock at the door startles me, and I jump.

My hand instinctively flies to my chest, landing right over the beating of my heart. I look through the tiny hole in the door, but it’s just a kind-faced man in a crisp, white uniform.

“Yes?” I call out from behind the door, nervous about opening it in case he’s not what he appears.

“I’m Paulo, and I am your steward for this trip. Is there anything I can get you?”

Feeling foolish and not wanting to act weird, I open the door and pretend like today is any other day and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“Thank you, Paulo, but I’m good.”

“I did not see luggage loaded for you. If you tell me what it looks like, we will do our best to locate it.”

“That’s no problem. I travel very light.” The last thing I want is for the crew to hunt for luggage that doesn’t exist.

“Very well, miss. Dinner will be served in the main dining room at six o’clock. We have only one seating tonight. It’s casual. Come as you are.” He gives me a basic rundown of the ship, its schedule, and where I might find pleasant places to hang out and enjoy the trip.

His voice has something magical about it. It’s warm and welcoming, and I almost feel as if I am a legitimate passenger on this cruise ship instead of a fugitive from Chinese officials and Red Phoenix Pharmaceuticals.

“That sounds wonderful.” My voice sounds small and distant to my ears, but the tremor that was there before is magically gone. I’m actually beginning to relax. “Um, excuse me, but how many passengers are on board?”

“It’s a full cruise. We have thirty-four passengers on board with seventeen crew.”

“Thirty-four,” I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s—cozy.”

I knew it was a smaller vessel but didn’t realize how much smaller. It’s going to be impossible to get lost in a crowd of thirty, but what am I supposed to do? Hide out in my cabin for the duration?

Paulo chuckles, but a hint of understanding rests in his eyes. “It is, indeed, but that’s part of the charm. By the end of the trip, everyone feels like family.”

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