Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Ryan better have my phone on.
I texted a brief message and sent it off.
Go to 36°15’30.7”N 7°42’18.8”W CF
“Crew?” Adrien called from somewhere.
I swallowed hard and left the pilothouse again, the note waiting for Ryan at the communication board. The clock was ticking. As soon as Ryan saw that message, he and whoever he was with would come here.
I grabbed my bag on the way down to the lower deck.
Deep breaths.
The moment I walked through the door to the deck, Adrien stiffened at the sight of me.
“Sweetheart, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I smacked a kiss to his cheek, then climbed aboard the tender. “I’m coming with you. You can hide me all you want during your sit-down, but then I’m right next to you again. Don’t argue with me.”
He looked at me like I’d grown a second head.
I eyed Bucko instead. “Excuse me. I’m the driver.”
EPILOGUE
Ryan Quinn
“Engine room clear!” I ran back up the stairs and lowered my gun as I crossed paths with Darius.
“Lower floor clear!” he yelled.
We hurried back to the midship section, where Gray and Joel announced the whole yacht was clear. Not a single fucking soul on here.
“I fucking hate yachts,” Gray muttered and aimed for the pool area we’d passed earlier.
That was when we heard Elliott curse from the direction of the wheelhouse.
“Goddammit!”
I took the lead and ran alongside the edge of the starboard side until I reached Elliott.
The man was furious. “I want every little thing we can find on Adrien Mercier,” he gritted out. “Who he knows in DC, where he’s worked, if he knows anyone at Hillcroft—”
“He knows Emerson,” Darius stated. “Willow already ran Mercier through every search.”
What the fuck? I looked at him, shocked. Or maybe I shouldn’t be? It was a small world in our field—but still.
“What does this mean?” Gray asked.
“Who’s Emerson?” Joel wondered.
I rubbed my forehead and faced Elliott.
Yeah, what was he gonna do with this information? And why was he asking?
“Did you find something?” I asked.
He clenched and unclenched his jaw, and he handed me a note.
For every word I read, my eyebrows crawled higher up my forehead.
Aw, for chrissakes, kid.
“I can’t just sit around and wait,” Elliott said irritably. “He could be in danger—”
“I’m calling his old man,” I replied flatly. “Cullen can tan his hide once we’re sure the boy’s safe.”
“What the hell is happening here?” Gray ripped the note from me to read it. “Oh my God. Oh, I can’t fucking wait to meet this Mercier guy.”