Chapter 4 - THE YACHT MUST DISAPPEAR
Luxury makes people believe machines are invincible.
They aren’t.
A yacht worth eighty million dollars can still become a coffin.
Especially when someone inside it wants the coffin to sink.
Mara pulled me through the lower corridor.
My wet clothes clung to my skin.
Every muscle shook.
“Where are we going?”
“Medical bay.”
“I’m fine.”
“You were underwater.”
“We don’t have time.”
“You’ll be useless if hypothermia puts you unconscious.”
The word unconscious made my stomach turn.
I let her pull me inside.
Dr. Jensen, the yacht’s private physician, stared when he saw me.
“Mrs. Hayes?”
“Sterling,” I snapped.
He blinked.
“What happened?”
“My husband tried to murder me.”
Silence.
Mara locked the door.
“You heard her.”
Jensen’s face drained.
He checked my temperature, wrapped me in heated blankets, and listened while Mara explained.
I watched him carefully.
“Did Flynn ask you for medication?”
Jensen froze.
My pulse rose.
“What medication?”
“The pills he gave me.”
“I prescribed standard meclizine.”
“White?”
“Yes.”
“Two every night?”
“No.”
“How many?”
“One every twenty-four hours if needed.”
Mara and I exchanged a look.
Jensen shook his head.
“I gave him six tablets.”
“How many are left?”
“I don’t know.”
“You handed them to Flynn?”
“He said you were resting.”
Anger flashed in his face.
“Whatever you were given wasn’t from me.”
The evidence kept building.
But evidence meant nothing if we drowned.
The radio crackled.
Alvarez.
“Bridge access blocked. Hayes has two armed men. Engineering reports manual sabotage.”
Mara answered.
“Can we restore propulsion?”
“Port engine only. Maybe.”
“Emergency beacon?”
“Bridge control disconnected.”
I grabbed the radio.
“Alvarez, can we launch the tender manually?”
Pause.
“Yes, but in this sea it’s dangerous.”
“How dangerous?”
“You could flip within minutes.”
“Better than sinking.”
“Agreed.”
Mara shook her head.
“We can’t evacuate forty-three people into one tender.”
“How many lifeboats?”
“Four inflatable rafts.”
“Prepare them.”
The radio crackled again.
A different voice.
Flynn.
“Evelyn?”
Everyone went silent.
Flynn laughed softly through the speaker.
“I know you’re alive.”
My blood ran cold.
“I saw Mara pull you aboard.”
I pressed the transmit button.
“You should’ve checked.”
“I underestimated you.”
“Story of your life.”
He laughed again.
“Come to the bridge.”
“No.”
“Then people die.”
Jensen stared at me.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Nothing yet.”
Behind his voice, I could hear Fiona crying.
Interesting.
His mother was with him.
“Flynn?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s your father?”
Silence.
Then Flynn said, “Come upstairs.”
A scream erupted through the radio.
Fiona.
“FLYNN, DON’T!”
The transmission cut.
Mara whispered, “They’re turning on each other.”
I thought about the argument on the aft deck.
Flynn resenting Aidan.
Aidan insulting Flynn.
Money had united them.
Fear was tearing them apart.
Good.
I stood.
“Give me dry clothes.”
Jensen stared.
“You need medical observation.”
“I need my yacht back.”
Ten minutes later, I was wearing navy crew trousers, thermal layers, and deck shoes.
My wedding dress designer would have fainted.
I had never felt more like myself.
We moved toward the central salon where most crew members had gathered.
Twenty-eight employees.
Chefs.
Engineers.
Stewards.
Deckhands.
People my family had employed for years.
They stared at me.
Some frightened.
Some confused.
All waiting.
I climbed onto the low stage beside the piano.
“My husband tried to kill me tonight.”
Whispers rippled across the room.
I continued.
“Captain Ward was attacked because he discovered sabotage. First Officer Alvarez has been shot. Flynn Hayes and members of his family planned to make my death look like an accident and are now trying to disable this vessel.”
One crewman lifted his hand.
“What about the armed security?”
“They work for Flynn.”
I looked around.
“You do not owe me heroism. You owe yourselves survival. We have one functioning engine, damaged communications, and a storm that’s getting worse.”
The chief engineer stood.
“We can stabilize her if we regain bridge control.”
“How many people do we need?”
“Three.”
“How many entrances?”
“Two.”
Mara corrected him.
“Three.”
He frowned.
“Service crawlway behind avionics.”
The engineer stared.
“That opens beneath navigation.”
Mara nodded.
I smiled for the first time all night.
Flynn knew the yacht’s luxury spaces.
I knew its childhood hiding places.
When I was nineteen, my cousin and I had crawled through half the maintenance passages aboard the Aurora because my father had banned us from a party on the upper deck.
Some rebellious decisions aged beautifully.
“We use the crawlway.”
Captain Ward regained consciousness at 12:18 a.m.
He couldn’t stand, but he could speak.
His first words were, “Hayes.”
I knelt beside him.
“Did Flynn hit you?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“One of his security men.”
“What did you see?”
“Disabling radio.”
He swallowed painfully.
“Aidan ordered it.”
Mara recorded every word.
Then Ward grabbed my hand.
“Your father warned me.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Before departure.”
“Warned you about what?”
“Flynn.”
My heart stopped.
Ward struggled to continue.
“Mr. Sterling asked me to watch him.”
“Why?”
“He found irregularities.”
“What irregularities?”
“Your power of attorney.”
The room tilted.
“What about it?”
“Your father said the witness signature belonged to a man who died six months before you supposedly signed.”
I stood slowly.
Dad knew.
Not everything.
But enough to be suspicious.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He planned to after honeymoon.”
“Why let us leave?”
“He didn’t believe you were in immediate danger.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Nobody had.
Not even me.
Ward squeezed my hand.
“He also placed a tracking device aboard.”
“Where?”
“Independent.”
Hope slammed into my chest.
“Does Flynn know?”
“No.”
“Can someone find us?”
Ward nodded.
“Your father can.”
I nearly cried.
But then another thought hit me.
“My parents leave for the mountains next week.”
Ward looked confused.
Flynn had said men were waiting.
Brake failure.
We had to warn them.
“Can the tracker transmit messages?”
“No.”
“Then my father knows where we are but not what’s happening.”
“Correct.”
Not enough.
We needed communication.
Alvarez entered the salon, arm bandaged, face gray.
“We can reach the crawlway.”
He laid out a plan.
Four crew members would create a disturbance near the port corridor.
Mara and I would enter the maintenance passage.
Alvarez would follow if physically able.
I objected.
“You were shot.”
“So were my chances of getting a Christmas bonus.”
I stared at him.
He shrugged.
“My wife says humor is healthy.”
Twenty minutes later, the diversion began.
Someone triggered the kitchen fire alarm.
A deckhand shouted that smoke was coming from the port galley.
One armed guard left the bridge.
The second stayed.
Mara and I crawled into darkness.
The passage was barely two feet high.
Metal pressed against my shoulders.
The yacht rolled beneath us.
Every few feet, I stopped to listen.
Finally we reached the avionics compartment.
Through a grated panel, I could see the bridge.
Flynn stood near the helm.
Fiona sat in a chair crying.
One security man watched the main door.
And on the floor, tied with his hands behind his back, was Aidan.
I almost laughed.
Flynn had imprisoned his own father.
“You ungrateful little bastard,” Aidan hissed.
Flynn turned.
“Keep talking.”
“You would have nothing without me.”
“I have Evelyn.”
“You failed to kill Evelyn.”
“Temporary problem.”
Fiona sobbed.
“Please, both of you stop.”
Aidan ignored her.
“You don’t know the account protocols.”
“I know enough.”
“Without my codes, you get twenty million at best.”
Flynn crouched beside him.
“Then give me the codes.”
“No.”
Flynn smiled.
“Mom?”
Fiona’s crying stopped.
Aidan looked at his wife.
Something passed between them.
Fear.
Flynn had finally shown them that family loyalty existed only while convenient.
I lifted Mara’s recorder toward the grate.
Flynn continued.
“You helped me drug my wife.”
Fiona whispered, “Flynn—”
“You helped me plan her death.”
“Stop talking!”
“You paid Cole and Brennan to disable the yacht.”
The guard glanced nervously toward him.
Flynn pointed.
“That’s Cole.”
Perfect.
Every name.
Every confession.
Mara’s eyes widened.
Then Aidan said something unexpected.
“You’re forgetting Cecilia.”
Flynn went still.
My heart did too.
Cecilia.
The mistress.
I had never heard her name.
Aidan laughed.
“You think she loves you?”
Flynn’s voice dropped.
“Shut up.”
“She called me yesterday.”
Fiona looked up.
“What?”
Aidan smiled viciously.
“She wants half.”
Flynn kicked the chair beside him.
“She gets what I decide!”
“She has copies of everything.”
The bridge went silent.
Copies.
My breathing changed.
Mara looked at me.
Aidan continued.
“Bank transfers. Medication purchases. Forged signatures. She recorded you, Flynn.”
Flynn’s face became white.
His mistress had insurance.
Somewhere on land was enough evidence to destroy all of them.
And Flynn suddenly had a new objective.
Not escape.
Not money.
Silence everyone who could testify.
He turned to the guard.
“Kill the engines completely.”
The guard hesitated.
“There are forty people aboard.”
Flynn stared at him.
“So?”
Even the criminal looked shocked.
Flynn stepped closer.
“You were paid.”
“Not for mass murder.”
Flynn reached behind his back.
He had a gun.
The guard raised both hands.
“Okay.”
Flynn pointed toward the door.
“Go.”
The guard left.
We had seconds.
Mara whispered, “Now?”
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“The helm.”
Flynn moved toward Fiona.
For one moment his back faced the maintenance panel.
I pushed.
The grate opened.
I crawled onto the bridge.
Flynn turned.
His eyes widened.
I grabbed the emergency engine control.
Mara lunged toward the communications console.
Aidan shouted.
Fiona screamed.
Flynn raised the gun.
I looked straight at him.
“Shoot me and you lose everything.”
He stopped.
“Why?”
“Because I changed my estate plan before the wedding.”
He blinked.
I was lying.
But he didn’t know that.
“If I die under suspicious circumstances,” I said, “you inherit nothing.”
His gun lowered slightly.
“You’re lying.”
“Try me.”
Mara reached the distress controls.
Flynn noticed.
“No!”
He fired.
The bullet hit the console.
Sparks exploded.
Mara dropped.
I screamed her name.
Flynn lunged toward me.
Then Aidan, still tied to the chair, threw his entire body sideways.
He crashed into Flynn’s knees.
Flynn fell.
The gun slid across the bridge.
I dove.
My fingers touched it first.
I rolled over.
Raised it.
For the first time that night, Flynn looked afraid of me.
“Don’t move.”
He stared down the barrel.
“Evie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Mara groaned behind me.
Alive.
Thank God.
Alvarez burst through the door with two crewmen.
They restrained Flynn.
Fiona surrendered.
Aidan lay laughing on the floor.
“You stupid boy,” he told his son.
Flynn looked at me.
“You think you won?”
I pressed the emergency beacon.
Nothing.
The console was dead.
Flynn smiled.
“You still can’t call anyone.”
Then an enormous impact shook the Aurora.
Everyone crashed sideways.
The chief engineer’s voice screamed through the radio.
“WE’VE HIT SOMETHING!”
Alvarez stumbled toward navigation.
His face changed.
“What?”
I followed.
The storm had pushed us farther than anyone realized.
Dead ahead, barely visible through rain, jagged black shapes rose from the ocean.
May you like
Reef.
And the Aurora was drifting directly toward it.
