Page 28 of Risky Fight

I find a cabin at the front of the boat where the dust and rot is not disgusting, and shake out the crusty bedding so I can at least hide comfortably. Lying on the small crew bed facing the small porthole, I watch the jetty for any signs of a search party coming after me.

Any sleep I have will be with one eye open. My fingers are wrapped around the flick knife I stole out of his desk in case I have any uninvited visitors on board in the night. I can’t be too careful. This is not the suburbs or even the back-alleys of the city, this is where all sorts of bad guys hide in the night.

Watching the night security guard walking past with his torch I hold my breath and stay still, not moving to rock the boat. But he doesn’t even look at this rust bucket, just the fancy new boat beside it. No one cares about a useless boat that can’t sail, but a shiny new yacht with all the gadgets? They check those, because if anything happens the wealthy owners will be pissed.

He walks past every hour through the night, like clockwork and not once does he shine a light where I am hidden. This might be a perfect spot to stay, but I will have to see what daylight brings. As tired as I am, I struggle to fall asleep. Instead, I am in a hyper-vigilant state watching and listening to everything.

It’s almost dawn, I can hear the birdlife starting to make a noise, and the cranes at the shipping yard have started up. The security guard comes down the jetty again, no torch in hand as the sun starts to turn the sky pretty and pink with a morning glow. The incoming tide moves and rocks the boat and I stretch out my stiff body.

Muffle voices catch my attention, and I move so I can see out, but they can’t see in — it’s the watchman and two guys in suits. They don’t look local with their dark glasses, designer clothing and shiny shoes. They do not work on the dock, they are getting louder and one of them shoves the man in uniform. He holds his hands up in the air and the two men shove past him, hopping onto a boat, they are looking or something — or someone. Are they looking for me?

Shit.

Did Roark send them? They do not look like his men, but I can’t be sure. Swallowing the fear that threatens to choke me, I look around for a place to hide. A better place, where I can defend myself or escape if I have to. This cabin is a deathtrap. If they come in, I can’t get out.

Think quick Lou.

I take a breath, then scurry to where I saw a small crew room, it had service steps to the deck. I can run and jump overboard into the sewer soup that is the dock water if I have to. I can swim pretty fast. Straining to listen, I stay hidden in a corner where I can see both doors. I wait. My heart is beating so fast it makes me dizzy and my palm is sweating around the handle of the knife I am holding. This is stupid — what am I doing? I could get killed, it is like when I ran from him last night.

I don’t think things all the way through and then I land up in trouble, or kidnapped and engaged. Which doesn’t sound so bad when I hear the distinct sound of gunshots outside. Instinctively I cover my mouth with a hand so any noise I accidentally let slip is muffled. They’re not here for me, thank God, but if they think I saw whatever they are here for I will end up being fish food under this boat.

They cannot know I am here.

Another shot, then silence. I hold my breath. Listening. Waiting.

“Get the diamonds,” I hear what one of them says, heavy footfalls on the jetty, they stop close to me. Too close. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before anyone notices.” Oh, sweet Lord, thank you, they’re leaving. “Someone will miss Vito and come looking for him, we don’t need to be anywhere near when they do.”

Vito. That is Roark’s friend, the one he got my ring from. They just shot him. My hand is shaking. I know those were dirty diamonds. That he was into something bad, I smelled the criminal in his aftershave. If he is on that boat and still alive I could help him, but if I do, I will be found. I’ll be taken back to marry Roark, and all of this will have been for nothing.

But I can’t just let a man die, not even a shady one. Especially not knowing he is protected by Roark’s family. The angel on my shoulder says I have to be good this once. When it has stayed silent outside for long enough, I sneak up to the deck, the watchman is floating face down in the water, a blood stain on the back of his shirt.

The guy was just doing his job, he stood no chance. Ducking below the railing I scan the whole place to see if there is any sign of life. But other than some gulls and the hum of machinery from the shipping terminal, there’s no one. I quickly jump from the bow of the boat to the boat beside me. I know it’s Vito’s boat because it’s got “Diamond’s Are Forever’ painted in gold on the side.

I land with a thud, and quickly lower myself down and hide out of sight, crawling to the door leading below. Careful not to touch anything I start down the steps, and into the luxurious interior of his yacht.

They have tossed the place looking for his precious stones, and I step over the broken glass and scattered belongings. Vito is lying on the floor next to the wet bar, blood pooling around his body. He has been shot in the chest, and I grab a scatter cushion and put pressure on his wound while I search for a pulse or sign of life.

He’s alive — barely. I have to get him help, I feel around in his pockets and pull out his phone. Using his limp hand to unlock it, I do the one thing I do not want to do. I find Roark’s contact and call him, putting the phone on speaker beside the almost dead body.

“Vito,” he answers, “now is not a good time.”

“Roark, it’s me. I’m on his boat, he’s been shot. Help.” Silence. He wasn’t expecting my voice. “Please, he is going to die. And they might come back,” I say, realizing how much danger I have put myself in again.

“There is a gun in the bottom drawer behind his bar,” Roark says, “get it, then stay where you are. If any anyone other than me comes onto the boat, shoot them.” He sounds angry, and I know there is going to be a fallout over this. Running away, being here at night — he will be mad as all hell. “Shoot them, do you understand, Lou?”

“Yes,” I stammer out, suddenly tearful and afraid. “Stay on the phone, please,” I ask him, not wanting to be alone with a dying criminal.

“I am right here, Lou,” he says, “I am coming for you.” It’s not a threat nor is it uttered in anger, it’s concerned and caring. “Why did you run?” he sighs, “why?”

“Because I am afraid of what I feel when I am with you, I am afraid I will forget how you hurt me and get hurt all over again. I ran because I love you too much, and I ran because I can’t trust you.” I am crying as the words come tumbling out unfiltered. He scares me, because he has the power to destroy me. More than any other person.

“You don’t have to run from me, Lou,” he says, and I can’t listen because there is a man dying in front of me. As much as I know this is Roark’s family’s life, their world, I have never seen it, touched it, or felt so close to danger. I stay quiet on the phone, just knowing he is there, and coming for me. I hear his car engine screaming as he speeds, and the sound of his indicators. Voices, and people barking orders and instructions. But I can’t say anything, I am afraid if I open my mouth to speak, I will cry.

Chapter18 - Roark

When I heard her voice, I saw red. When she begged me for help, the fog of anger cleared. I can’t blame her for running from me. I have done all of this completely wrong. I was selfish, and most of all I was blind to how she felt. My leaving her hurt and watching me succeed all these years while she was here, suck in a hellish limbo, must have rubbed salt in the wound.

I may be jealous of the accountant, even angry that another man touched her — but I came home with a son. And even in the face of that hurt she cared enough to be kind to him, to help him when he was hurting. Instead of being grateful for Lou, I pushed her to give me what I wanted without caring what she needed.

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