Page 130 of Undertow

Her glowing expression is my reward as she reaches up and toys with the ends of my hair.

Tangible. She’s so fucking tangible.

I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers.

We stay like that for a long time. Breathing the moment into our lungs. Transforming fantasy into reality.

After a long, saturated silence, she sighs and gives my hair a gentle tug before letting go. “Make me breakfast?” she asks. “It’s the least you can do.”

Her eyes dance with humor.

I smile and shake my head at the reminder of our first night together. It’s incredible how different this moment feels, even though so many of the details are the same.

“Only if you remind me how evenly I should slice the potatoes.”

“Jonah, get in here!”

I place the knife in the sink and wipe my hands on a towel as I move toward the lounge area of the yacht. Julia is on the couch watching television, so I hover behind her to see what got her attention. A breaking news report graphic is flashing bright and bold across the giant screen.

“Shakeup in the Keys”

The headline screams beneath a chaotic mass of lights and activity, broadcast from an evolving helicopter view.

“Is that Undertow?” I ask, squinting at the screen.

“A massacre last night,” she says in a stunned voice. “Ten deaths so far. They’re saying it was a cartel dispute involving four different organizations.”

“Let me guess, the RLC, Hartfords, McArthurs, and La Quinta Muerte?”

“Good guess,” she mumbles.

“Have they announced the casualties yet?”

Julia peeks back, her teeth sinking into her lip. “Four Hartfords, three RLC, and three McArthurs so far. They’re still identifying the bodies.”

“Adrian and Mama H?”

She nods.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugs and turns back to the screen, but this can’t be easy for her. One betrayal doesn’t erase years of conditioned blood ties. I get it. Watching the photos of my parents populate the screen with details of their deaths is causing an ache in my stomach, even though it shouldn’t. They tortured and tormented me my entire life. I should be fucking glad they’re dead, and maybe I am. One emotion doesn’t cancel out another.

But then it’s my face on the screen… and Julia’s.

“We’re dead too?” I ask.

Julia’s lips tip up in the slightest smile. “Merrick came through. He said we’d be free to start over.”

“Yeah,” I say on an exhale. “Guess he meant that literally.”

“I wonder who those bodies actually belong to?”

I think I know one of them… Patrick would be thrilled to know he assisted me, even in death.

“What’s all the hub-bub?” an older voice says.

I turn to see Gramps sauntering toward us with a towel wrapped around his waist. He must be finished with his morning swim.

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