Page 50 of Savage Surrender

I keep waiting for something to go wrong. Flashing lights. A fleet of drones. The driver to turn around and say gotcha and return us to our evil captors. Instead, he complains about seasonal traffic, Freddie apologizes like this is somehow his fault, and nobody comes for us.

When he drops us near the ferry terminal, the air that rushes through the open door has enough salt in it that I taste the ocean before I see it. Diesel and fish smells hang around the marina too, but neither can bury the briny, clean air, and I draw another breath just to feel it coat the inside of my lungs.

Families cluster around piles of luggage while a uniformed employee checks names against reservations. Weller takes one look and keeps walking.

“The marina is this way,” Tristan says.

Weller doesn’t break stride. “How do you know?”

“I looked at a map.”

Past the terminal, the boardwalk narrows along a row of slips where fishing boats knock gently against their bumpers. Owen checks behind us while Weller speaks to a gray-haired man coiling rope beside a white center-console boat. The man looks us over, then names a price high enough to insinuate he’s not interested in being our personal ferry unless we make it worth it.

Weller hands over a pile of cash without negotiating.

“Wrecker’s public marina?” the man asks, counting the bills once.

“That’s right.”

“Be about twenty-five minutes if the water behaves. Wind changed last night, and the current’s running hard along the ocean side. Don’t swim out there unless somebody local says it’s clear.” His gaze catches on Freddie’s shirt. “Celebrating something?”

Freddie looks at Weller, but I smile at the captain. “Graduation trip. Our parents made all four of my big brothers come with me to protect my virtue, which is incredibly inconvenient because I had plans to lose it before sunset.”

Weller stares at me, but the salty air must be going to my head because I continue, “Local boy, a moonlit beach, one terrible decision to commemorate higher education. But I got stuck with these assholes.”

“There will be no local boy,” Owen says gruffly. “Unless he wants to get murdered.”

I point at him and frown. “See? The vibes are absolutely oppressive.”

The man laughs, but he nods his head toward Owen as he gestures for us to get on the boat. “I have sisters. I understand.”

Weller’s stare is a burn on my skin as I follow the captain and take my seat.

We idle out past the breakwater. The passenger ferry is already pulling away, its upper deck crowded with people pointing at things in the water. The guys track the boat until the distance widens.

Then the captain opens the throttle.

Wind tears the hat from my head before I can grab it. Tristan catches it against his chest and hands it back without taking his eyes off the boat’s wake. The bow rises over the first swell, drops hard enough to lift my stomach, then levels as we clear the inlet.

Land falls out of sight, and there is water as far as I can see, farther than my brain can make sense of. Sunlight paints the surface gold in thousands of moving pieces, my lips taste like salt, and the air is cool enough to soothe the heat gathering under my skin.

I turn and catch Freddie’s eye. He is settled back and watching me. Not this beautiful view. His dimples appear when he says, “Crisis finally handled.”

“Which one? We have many.”

“The beach crisis.” He looks back at the water. “You said you never got to see the ocean... unless you did, while you were gone?”

The old conversation comes back in pieces, almost painfully. “No... this is my first time.”

A low strip of green appears ahead, then weathered rooftops and the metal decking making up the marina. As we get closer, I can make out people moving between shops, golf carts gliding along narrow lanes, and bicycles leaning against every available railing. Music carries across the water, a guitar and a woman’s voice breaking apart whenever the wind shifts.

Wrecker’s Point.

The name sounds like a warning, but the island is pretty enough to belong on the side of a cookie tin.

13

BIANCA