Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“I’m going to miss this,” Campbell sighs. “If we don’t make it out of here, I hope we can still be together …wherever we go next.”
Holding her tight, I kiss the top of her head. “Me too.”
The rocking motion of the yacht is oddly soothing.
I realize, now, that we’re probably drifting at sea.
Oliver likely ensured we were no longer anchored before he left—making it that much harder for any search and rescue efforts to locate us.
By the time nightfall comes, there’s an eerie peacefulness washing over me. If I die tonight, at least I’ll die with the woman I love by my side. It’s better I focus on that and not the fact that Oliver must have laced our food and drinks with something to knock us out. There’s no way each of us could have slept through all the shit he was doing to sabotage our chances of survival. It must have taken him hours.
“Campbell,” I whisper, in case she’s asleep.
“Yeah?” She sucks in a frigid breath through her chattering teeth. It’s colder out here than Oliver initially led us to believe, though I’m willing to bet that was intentional too. I hold her closer, tighter, but I’m not giving off much warmth myself.
“I just want you to know,” I say, swallowing the dry lump in my throat. “We would’ve had a great life together.”
“I know.”
“I was going to take you to Bali as a surprise,” I tell her. “My travel agent was putting together a honeymoon for us. I was going to ask you to marry me there.”
“We’re already married.”
“Right, but you deserve a real proposal,” I say. “And a real wedding that actually means something. Maybe on a mountain in the clouds, just the two of us.”
“I’d have loved that.” Her voice is wistful as she splays her hand across my heart.
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“It’s the thought that counts, you know.” She snickers as she feeds me the same line I fed her the night she burned dinner. “You know what I’m thinking about right now?”
“What?”
“That if I wasn’t so tired and sticky and sweaty and thirsty and hungry, I’d be jumping your bones.”
I manage to laugh, no small feat all things considered.
“Does that thought count?” she asks.
Pressing my lips against her forehead, I say, “In this case, yes. Yes, it does.”
38
Campbell
I must be dreaming, because there’s a guy in head-to-toe navy blue standing at our feet.
“Ma’am, ma’am, are you okay?” The uniformed man crouches down, gently shaking my leg. This has to be real. I felt the warmth of his hand. Sitting forward, I rub my eyes, which are dryer than sandpaper, and squint until he comes into focus. “I’m Officer Ramirez with the United States Coast Guard.”
A woman in the same uniform climbs the stairs to the helm, a bag with some medical symbol strapped over her shoulder.
“Slade,” I nudge him, but he’s still out. “Slade, wake up. We’ve been found.”
My stomach knots when he doesn’t open his eyes, and for a second, I fear the worst. Yesterday Slade and I deduced that Oliver must have drugged us. At first, we assumed it was just so he could grab all the gear off the boat and leave without us waking up, but if …
I can’t finish the thought.
I can’t stomach it either.
I’m going to be sick.
“Please, you have to do something,” I scream at the guardsmen, despite them already working on him. In my irrational state, it doesn’t feel like they’re doing enough. “Slade, please!”
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to remain calm,” the man tells me.
I’m gripping his arm, willing him to wake, holding onto him with every ounce of tattered, desperate strength that remains.
“He has a pulse,” the female officer says to her partner. “Sir, sir. Can you hear me?”
“We haven’t had anything to eat or drink in days,” I tell them, though I’m not sure how many days. Two? Maybe three? My brain is foggy and my tongue is rough against the roof of my mouth, making it challenging to speak.
Officer Ramirez retrieves a bottle of water from the medical kit, uncaps it, and hands it to me, but I’m too focused on Slade.
“Slade, wake up … you have to wake up …” I shake his shoulder as hard as I can. After a few seconds that feel like decades, his eyelids flutter open. Throwing my arms around him, I bury my head against his chest, grateful he’s still alive.
Everything happens in a vacuum after this. The next thing I know, they’re transferring us to a long white ship with the words US COAST GUARD and a thick red stripe on the side. We sit together in a daze while a commanding officer asks us questions and another officer relays information into a radio. It’s as calm as it is chaotic, as surreal as it is tangible.