Chapter 12
The air hit me first, cold and salt-heavy, and then his hands did.
We were at the rail. Adrian had guided me out with that careful husband voice, one hand at my elbow, one at the small of my back, saying I needed air. Mahal, you need some air. He'd said it the same way he'd said it in the cabin, soft, concerned. The deck lights were off except the stern running light, and the water below was black and moving fast. Somewhere behind us the engine had dropped to a low thrum. We were barely moving. That was the point.
I let my knees stay bent. I kept my weight low, my sneakers—I'd changed out of bare feet when he wasn't looking—planted wide on the nonskid. He wanted me groggy. He wanted me loose. I made my breathing slow and shallow, my head tipped forward like I couldn't hold it up.
"Just breathe, love," he said. His hand slid higher, between my shoulder blades. I could feel his other hand on my hip, fingers spreading. Not holding me. Positioning me.
I didn't look down at the water. I looked at the rail. Stainless steel, damp with spray, two horizontal bars and a cold top rail that came to my mid-stomach. I had wedged the folded foil with the two tablets into the inside pocket of my robe and then safety-pinned that pocket shut from the inside, and taped it. It wasn't going anywhere unless the robe came off.
Adrian leaned in close. I smelled his cologne and the faint mint of his mouthwash. "You're so tired," he whispered. "It's okay."
That was his cue. I felt his weight shift. He exhaled once, hard, and shoved.
He pushed from my back and hip at the same time, trying to lift and tip me in one motion, the way you'd push a heavy cooler overboard. He'd planned on dead weight. On sedation. He got resistance instead.
I dropped my center the instant his palms hit. I bent my knees deeper and threw my left hand forward to the top rail and locked my elbow. My right hand found the lower bar. The push sent my upper body over, my robe flapping, my feet skidding an inch, but my arms held. The top rail slammed into my ribs and knocked the breath out of me. I twisted hard to the right, turning my hip into the rail instead of over it.
His hands slipped on the smooth fabric of my robe. The belt had already come loose. When he tried to shove again, the robe tore at the shoulder seam and he got a handful of white cotton instead of me.
I screamed. Not a word. Just noise, raw and loud, and I clung. My left knee hit the deck and I hooked my ankle around the stanchion base. Half my body was over the water now, the wind pulling at my hair, the sea rushing loud below. I could see nothing but black.
"Adrian!" I shouted, and I made sure it was his name, loud enough to carry.
Behind him I heard the other man— the deckhand he'd paid, the one who was supposed to be his witness that I'd fallen— swear. "Boss, no—"
Adrian grabbed again, this time at my wrist on the rail, trying to peel my fingers off. His face was right above me, teeth bared, not angry, panicked. He hadn't expected a fight. He hadn't expected sound.
"Let go," he hissed, quiet and furious. "Mara, let go, you're going to fall—"
I wouldn't. I dug my nails into the rail and twisted again, bringing my elbow down over his forearm. He grunted and lost his grip for half a second. That half second was enough.
The deck floodlight snapped on.
White light flooded the stern, harsh and immediate. The captain's voice came over the speaker and then live, shouting from the wheelhouse door. "HEY! AWAY FROM THE RAIL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Footsteps pounded. The captain, a man in his fifties named Reyes who'd barely spoken at dinner, was coming fast with a handheld spotlight, and behind him the stewardess.
The accomplice stepped back instantly, hands up, away from me, away from Adrian. "We were— she was sick, she was falling—" he started, but his voice cracked.
Adrian froze with both hands still on my robe. Then, too quickly, he switched to pulling. He hauled at my arms, trying to make it look like rescue. "I've got you! I've got you, Mahal! Hold on!"
Reyes reached us and grabbed my other arm. Together they dragged me back over the rail and onto the deck. I collapsed onto my knees on the wet fiberglass, robe torn open at the shoulder, one breast barely covered, tape pulling at my thigh where the tablets were still pinned inside the pocket. My chest heaved. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Reyes put his body between me and Adrian and didn't let Adrian touch me again. He kept his spotlight on Adrian's face.
"What happened?" Reyes demanded.
Adrian was breathing hard, his hair messed by the wind, his hands empty, still shaped like he'd been pushing. He tried to smile and it failed.
"She's not well," he said. "I gave her medicine for seasickness, she got dizzy, she leaned over— I was trying to keep her from going over."
I looked up at him from the deck. My lip was split where the rail had hit my face. I tasted salt and blood.
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"I didn't take them," I said. My voice was hoarse but clear. "He gave me two white tablets. I didn't swallow them. They're still here."
And for the first time that night, I wasn't pretending to be asleep.
