Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
And there’s nothing I’ll let come between me and saving my sister.
Not now. Not ever. And with Nell trapped on that boat with them?
I swear, I’ll ram this speedboat right through the hull if it means saving them.
The yacht’s a big boat, no question.
Its high-powered engine roars as it churns out to sea—charging forward like there’s no one at the helm. But the boat I’ve ‘borrowed’ was made for speed.
I lean into the yoke hard, gripping the wheel tight enough to make my fingers go numb, as if I can urge the boat forward with my entire body.
“We’re closing the gap,” Grant says tightly at my back. He’s been with me every step of the way, not even hesitating a second to vault into the boat after me and kick on the engine. “Get ready.”
The boat skims the waves, ice-cold spray snapping at our faces and the wind cutting with knifelike precision.
“Get ready for what? I didn’t exactly come out here with a plan!” I pant, sucking freezing breaths through my teeth. Closer. Closer. My heart’s about to burst as the yacht looms larger. It’s so close now I can hear the waves slapping against its sides and the angry droning of its engine.
“I’ve got one, Butterfly,” Grant promises, reaching for the wheel. “There’s an emergency ladder they didn’t pull up before taking off. Just noticed it hanging off the side. You’re lighter, so you’ll make the jump better. You let me steer.”
I stare at him, wondering when my life turned into an action movie.
“If I didn’t think you could make it, I damn sure wouldn’t ask. You get on board and slow it down, I’ll be right behind you. Just move fast and don’t let him see you. If he’s armed, you hide.”
This is the Grant I’ve never seen.
Battle-hard. Steely. Certain.
The police officer in action, the protector, the warrior.
Honestly, the love of my life.
That’s never been clearer than right now, cutting through the drama and stupidity.
The man who will stand strong with me through anything and come out the other side bleeding and battered but victorious.
I start to answer—until a scream splits the sky, so loud it rings my eardrums.
I whip my head up and realize we’re almost neck and neck with the yacht, almost on a collision course.
Crap.
“Ophelia, now!” he growls.
Wrenching the wheel, I bring us parallel in a panic, but I can’t take my eyes off the deck overhead.
Nell’s nowhere in sight now.
But Aleksander and Ros are at the front of the ship, wrestling too close to the railing.
Ros yells desperately as she claws at his face—only for him to force her away with a leering, inhuman grin, holding her by the wrists.
Oh, that asshole.
The fact that he’s clearly enjoying this makes me see red.
“Ros!” I cry, only for Grant’s bulk to shove me aside, his hands brushing mine off the wheel.
“Let me. I’ll get you closer. Woman, don’t lose your nerve now,” he demands.
Another twenty seconds pass in breathless, brutal silence before he barks one word.
“Go.”
No time to hesitate.
No energy for the fear clawing up my throat, trying to smother me.
If I want to save my sister and that sweet little girl, I have to act now.
I have to be half as brave as Grant Faircross.
It’s his selfless courage—knowing he’s with me and that he’s had me through this whole awful homecoming—that buoys me.
The speedboat swerves in close to the yacht, slashing forward and then dropping back as Grant adjusts speed.
He angles our boat, tries to keep an even pace until we come up to the rungs of the unretracted ladder on the outer hull.
I take a breath, hold it, and wait.
Closer, closer, inch by inch.
All I need is the magic word.
“Now!” Grant shouts.
I don’t think.
I just gather my body and throw my strength into my legs.
A real-life leap of faith.
For the longest second, the world is empty air under me.
The terror when I realize if I miss, I’ll be smashed between the hulls of both boats like a bug before I hit the water.
Then my grasping hand hits the ladder’s rung.
This loud slap stings my palm and reverberates through my arm, whipping me back from that frozen moment into fast-rushing reality.
Hold on.
Hold on tight.
I grit my teeth and ignore the instinctive panic, latching on hard with my other hand. The stakes are so much higher than doing pull ups back in high school gym class.
My body slams into the yacht’s hull with a hollow boom.
I’m going to have the worst whiplash tomorrow morning, if I make it home alive.
Sucking in hot, rushed breaths, I scramble my feet until I find a lower rung. The water keeps lapping at my soaked heels as I fight for footing.
For a nanosecond, I glance back at Grant.
Flashing hazel eyes lock on mine, burning with certainty and encouragement and a love that almost makes me implode.