Page 29 of Forged in Secrets

The dark water stretched between the boat and the shore, muffling the sound of the loud dance music. Still, the persistent thump of the bass continued to sound in Craig’s ears as he leaned against the railing of the yacht.

He wished he’d thought to bring earplugs on board. The only time the college students were relatively quiet was in the early morning, but he’d never been one for sleeping when the sun was out.

Not that he would have been able to sleep even without the noise.

Craig drew his phone out from the back pocket of his khakis for the tenth time that hour. Even though there had been no new beeps or vibrations, he couldn’t shake the tensing anxiety spreading across his chest as he waited for the call or the message telling him that his life was over.

He sighed, turning to set the sleek device on a smalltable that held a bottle of scotch and a half-empty tumbler that had done little to settle his nerves.

He should have stayed in Austin. He could have kept his alibi clean. He had men he could trust who could have handled the situation, but now it was too late.

At least here he could pretend he was in control.

He reached over and took hold of the scotch, careful not to send his phone tumbling onto the deck in the dim light. Fortunately, the moon was bright tonight. He could even see a few faint stars.

He threw back the remainder of the drink, cringing as it burned its way down his throat. More money, right down the drain.

Craig chuckled to himself at the thought. The remaining dollars and cents in his accounts were little more to him now than numbers on a screen. But he had to watch over them more than ever. He owed himself and what was left of his family that much after what he’d done.

He looked down at his simple gold wedding band, swallowing the tears that stung his throat almost as much as the liquor.

He didn’t wish he could ask his wife for advice. He knew she’d tell him to call this whole thing off and to turn himself in. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

At last, the alcohol seemed to be doing its job.

His head felt thick now. It was a feeling he usually despised, but at the moment, it took the sharp edges off the questions and worries playing on repeat in his mind.

What if Katie already told someone what she’d figured out before his men grabbed her?

He rubbed his fingers through his hair, wondering how many fresh grays had sprung up in the last couple of days.

He couldn’t keep her like this forever. Sooner or later, there would have to be a step two. Eventually, he’d have to let her go–or he’d have to get rid of her.

He took hold of the scotch bottle, not bothering with the tumbler in his other hand, and drank.

He’d heard quite enough of that suggestion. He wasn’t a killer.

But as the latest bout of booze-induced fog sloshed around in his skull, he thought of the message that had come up on his phone that morning, and of the man who had sent it.

He leaned over the railing, suddenly woozy, and watched as the black water churned against the sleek white side of the boat.

He laughed again. He’d rather take his chances with the sharks hidden in that water than face the one who would soon be hunting him on land.

Craig wasn’t a killer.

But a man whose family was in danger could do desperate things.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

GRACE

“Just give me two minutes!” Grace called out from her place in front of the bathroom mirror.

She heard Ben grumbling outside the door about how he’d already been waiting for fifteen, but she ignored him, adding a final coat of waterproof mascara to her lashes.

She’d never been overly anxious about her looks, but realizing she was about to interview a bunch of college students on the beach in the harsh light of day had thrown her confidence off.

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