Seventy

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Frigid waters engulf me.

The groaning of the ship, the call of the seagulls, and the whistling of the engine fade into the recesses as my ears fill with liquid. I'm suspended here, dangling between a hidden world and the one above as I wait for my chance to move. The man I'd seen before stands at the edge, glaring hostility down at the waters.

He had to have seen me.

I wonder if he's considering coming into the waters after me, and if he is, what is keeping him at bay? If I show signs of life, would he jump out? Would he come after me?

Too many variables.

Assuming there are few news stories about pirates on the seas, I also can't remember a single story about murder above a container ship. This would definitely hit the airwaves when the massive ship remains unresponsive, churning forward. As time stretches, I remain just under the cloak of midnight waters.

He's patient, carefully assessing the lapping waves as they rise and break against the stern. With a snap, he turns his head toward the interior of the boot, and while he's distracted, I take my chance to escape. The current beats with the rowing propellers of the engine, creating a forceful tunnel.

It takes all I have to push forward, driving determinedly through the waters until the machine's hum nearly disappears. As I move further and further away, the man with his strikingly familiar silhouette stands still. I long to break for the surface, but keep the desire at bay as the prickling sensation of needing air escapes me.

Halfway between the land and ship, I risk a glance backward and stop. He has changed locations, moving from the deck to a higher position, the one I'd vacated when I took to the sea. As he climbs out of the metal container I'd broken into, his arms flex and his mouth settles into a hard line.

There's something in his hand, but I can't make out what it is. When I left, I made sure to gather my personal items. Yet, a sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I may have abandoned something far more important. And if I had, what would he do with it?

Was he searching for me? Hoping to catch me where I slept? I would have heard him coming, as sleep left me dissatisfied so far from the men I'd called home.

The ache in my bones has receded, partially, but only because of the adrenaline coursing through my veins. When I make it to the mainland, I'll send an anonymous tip to the Coast Guard and hope they can rescue the crew, if any remain alive. If he found my hiding spot, it's doubtful they will survive unless they jump like I did.

About a kilometer from the coast, I risk poking my head out of the water. Instantly, his gaze finds mine. It zaps through me like an electric current, rooting me to the spot.

His eyes... an electric shade of blue I'd spent months getting lost in. His hair... the sun-bleached blond he'd spent cultivating by spending too much time outside. Broad, muscled shoulders, five o'clock shadow and smirk all spoke to the man who'd left me behind without a word.

But... the zing of chemistry wasn't there.

I don't have to contend with an insurmountable wave of desire and heartbreak when I look at him. There was nothing. The numbness brought on by the chill was dampened by my internal heating system; it kept my body at normal temperature despite the dropping temperature in the ocean.

So, it wasn't from prolonged exposure to the elements. No, this was something else.

In fact, the longer I stare at him, the more his expression makes the blood pumping in my veins slow.

He's slightly wider than Charlie, a bit shorter, and the look in his eyes isn't one of love. It's... dark—demented. This is a man on a mission and I don't want to find out why he's after me.

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