Page 25 of The Captain
“I slept with her last night,” I said, voice low, steady. “But I can keep it professional.”
Marcus threw his head back and laughed, a loud, gut-deep sound that echoed over the water. He pointed at me, still chuckling.
“Goddamn, Marines are so cliché. You roll into town, bang the hot doctor, and think you can just salute and move on? Classic.”
I wanted to snap back, but his laugh was too infectious, and I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. “Fuck you,” I said, but there was no heat in it, and I ended up chuckling, too, shaking my head. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Never is,” he said, slapping my shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. Everything’s gonna be great. The family’s gonna welcome you with open arms.”
There it was again—that word,family, heavy with something I couldn’t pin down. It wasn’t just comrades, not just the brotherhood I’d known in the Corps. There was a hint of something more.
My gut churned. Caleb had been here, Marcus had said, and my brother hadn’t told me a damn thing. Was this some elaborate prank?
No way.
These guys were too sharp, too calculated. But the questions piled higher, and I made a mental note to call Caleb the second I had a chance. I needed to know what the fuck was going on.
TheEclipsepowered on, the coast sliding by—Folly Beach, Morris Island, the low humps of dunes and marsh grass. Marcus pointed out a pod of dolphins arcing through the water, their fins slicing the surface like knives.
“Dr. Allard’s people would lose their minds over that,” he said, grinning. “Me? I just think they’re cool.”
I nodded, my eyes on the water, but my mind was elsewhere.
Camille.
The Navy.
Dominion Hall.
Caleb.
The pieces didn’t fit, not yet. I needed to start asking real questions, to gauge what I was being dragged into.
I turned to Marcus, keeping my voice even but direct. “How much are you and your brothers worth?”
He went serious, his grin fading, and crooked a finger, motioning me closer. I leaned in, and he whispered, “Billions and billions, my boy.” Then he cackled, a wild, whooping sound, and vaulted back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You should see your face, man. Priceless.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or fucking with me, and that uncertainty was worse than either truth.
Billions? The idea was absurd. I wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of money if it fell in my lap. Pay off my mom’s house, maybe. Buy my brothers a round of beers that didn’t taste like piss. Beyond that? It was just noise.
But the way Marcus said it, the way his laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes, made me wonder if the fiction was scarier than the truth. Or maybe the other way around.
“Relax,” he said, reading my silence. “Money’s just a tool. Means we don’t have to beg for what we need. You’ll see.”
I didn’t answer, just gulped the last of my coffee, the bitterness grounding me.
The yacht banked slightly, the horizon tilting, and Marcus disappeared belowdecks without a word. I leaned on the railing, cataloging more details: a crew member coiling a line with the precision of a bomb tech; a faint scar on the teak where something heavy had been dropped and quickly repaired; the way theEclipse’s engines purred, too smooth for a boat this size, like they were hiding horsepower no one needed to know about.
My head was clearer now, the hangover fading, but the questions kept stacking—Dominion Hall, the Navy, Camille, Caleb. I was a Marine Raider, trained to find the threat,neutralize it, move on. But this felt like a mission with no briefing, no rules of engagement.
Marcus reappeared, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He tossed it to me, and I caught it, the weight heavier than I expected.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Tent for the beach,” he said, grinning. “Some other shit for Dr. Allard and her team. You know, to make nice.” He winked, the gesture so over-the-top I almost laughed again. “You’re welcome.”
I set the duffel at my feet, the canvas rough under my palm. “You’re delivering me to her door?”
