Page 3 of These Rough Waters

“N-no,” The woman says, “I just needed a ride.”

“The ferry is available.”

“It stopped,” She says.

“And you couldn’t have waited?”

She shakes her head. “I can pay you!” She rushes out, keeping her body in front of the child as she drops and opens the bag at her feet. I almost choke on my tongue when wads and wads of cash tumble out of the duffle.

“I don’t want your damn money, woman!”

Where the fuck did she get all that cash?

“I’m taking you back.”

“No!” She pleads, “No please!”

I scan her face, the bruises and small grazes that mark her cheekbone. There was some swelling and old scarring on her face, but it’s the one that cuts through her dark brow on the left side that I notice the most. The clothes she wears are clean, elegant almost and I will admit, even with the wounds on her face, the woman is beautiful.

The child was obviously related, I would guess her daughter but I supposed it could be a sister or niece.

I’d made it my damn mission not to get involved with people. Not since Grace and Leo and leavingthatlife behind, but looking at this woman, at the child clinging to her legs, I can’t seem to follow through with the threat of taking her back.

“Get above,” I grumble, “And stay quiet. I don’t want to hear either of you and when we get to Ravenpeak, I suggest you get the hell off my boat and out of my sight.”

“Thank you,” The woman says quietly.

I grunt a response and leave the two of them, spine stiff, and nerves frayed as I tug on the ballcap, pulling it down harder almost like a shield.

And the journey back to my small little town just became three times more crowded and a hell of a lot more uncomfortable.

Fucking people.

Two

The choppy waters slam against the sides of the boat, swaying us from side to side. I hold onto Harper, arms wrapped tightly around her small frame where we sit on a bench at the back of the boat.

The man remains at the front, I could see his imposing frame from where we were perched, back straight, shoulders tight. I feel guilty of course, for stowing away on his boat, the man was only making a living and here we were making his day a living hell by trying to sneak onto his vessel.

I had no other choice though, without the ferries running to any of the islands till morning, this was the only option. We couldn’t stay on the mainland; this was the only way I could think of to escape. I didn’t even care which island out of the many we were heading back to.

“He seems sad, momma,” Harper says gently, peering at the man curiously, “Is he angry at us?”

I swallow, the sting in my eyes worsened by the harsh sea wind that whips my hair around my face. We had been on the road for three days, hopping from bus to bus and we’d ended up in Portland, and I’d had the idea of stealing away to one of the islands. I didn’t have our passports, no,hehad them and ideally, I didn’t want to use anything that could be used to track us.

They would never think to look here, I was sure of it.

“No baby,” I lie, “He’s not mad.”

He was a terrifying man. Big and almost feral looking, with his mess of dark hair and a ball cap that shadows his face. He has a thick beard that surrounds plump lips set perpetually in a scowl and eyes the color of a storm, a grey so vibrant they almost looked otherworldly in the shadows of his face. A sharp set of cheekbones, with deep hollows beneath and wide, titan-like shoulders, arms almost thicker than my thighs and from where his long-sleeved tee has been rolled up, I can see the dark swirls of ink intricately tattooed onto both arms and hands.

I watch those arms now, hands so big I had no doubt a single one could wrap around my throat effortlessly, the veins popping from his skin that snake around his arm. Muscles flex while he steers and drives the boat closer to an island that had a thick layer of mist obscuring most of it.

I had dragged the three bags up the narrow stairs after he’d ordered us above and they now sit next to us, two suitcases filled with whatever clothes I could stuff inside, and a duffle loaded with cash stolen from the safe back at the mansion in Chicago.

The adrenaline of our escape was still coursing through my body, my heart racing inside my chest which felt like it hadn’t slowed since we left three days ago.

Harper didn’t truly understand what was happening, I’m sure she thought we would be going back, back to that house, to those people where her friends from school still are and the toys and stuffed animals lay scattered across her bedroom.

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