She’s turned to one of the men, away from the table where her drink still sits, though her hand stays wrapped around it. My gaze snaps to the one who has been eagerly edging closer to her all night. He watches her raptly, the hand shoved in his pocket moving as if he’s playing with something inside. His eyes only leave her to look at the drink in her hand.
Once. Twice. Three times.
He practically bounces on the balls of his feet as he watches. All while his hand continues to fidget in his pocket.
I’ve spent a lifetime watching out for strange body language like this. I used to think my dad would fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, but that was before I learned what to look for.
Small signals that he was agitated. A smirk that was only a cover for the cruel twinkle in his eye. He never laid a hand on me—he didn’t need to. Fucked me up with his words and head games just fine.
My chin tilts as I assess the man across the bar. Something feels off about his behavior—an anxious edge, a deliberate watchfulness.
Julia stumbles backward, wobbling on her feet, and I swear he anticipates it. Like her clumsiness isn’t a surprise to him at all.
He props her up and sweeps a loose piece of hair from her face to whisper something in her ear before dragging his lips over the slope of her neck. She laughs in response, hitting him with a look that isn’t hard to read.
Then he reaches for her wrist, lifting her hand with the cocktail, urging her to take another drink.
She lifts the drink and takes a sip with a woozy smile, and as she does, one of the other men subtly nudges his chin at his friend.
My stomach drops. Hard, fast, sizzling with nervous heat as I realize what I’m watching play out. You spend enough time on the road, living in hotels and partying in scuzzy bars and you see it all. The best of people. But more often than not, the worst of people.
Julia doesn’t look like she even realizes what’s going on, but the guys she’s with are very aware.
Suddenly, I’m infinitely more sober.
I shake the redhead’s hand off, shoot off my stool, and storm away from my table without a single word. My pace quickens as I weave my way through the pack of writhing bodies toward Julia’s table. By the time I get there, Sleazebag number one is practically holding her upright.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t even stop to think. Swooping in beside her, I wrap my arm around her lower back and grip her hip with my other hand, pulling her into me. Her hands splay against my bare pecs as I reach around and give the guy one hard shove in the middle of his chest.
“What the fuck?” he shouts as he spills his drink and struggles to regain his footing.
The group of people surrounding us goes still, all gawking as the music blares on.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” the guy says, stepping closer as he shakes soda from his arms. He looks like a frat boy Dracula with his dark slicked-back hair, feline features, and eyes nearly black with indignant fury.
“Ruining your plans, you piece of shit,” I reply, tugging Julia closer to me as I step back and away from the group of guys. Her head lolls, neck almost boneless as she struggles to look up at me.
I tip my chin down to inspect her.
“Nooo,” is her first slurred word in my direction. Followed by, “You fucking suck.”
She sounds like she’s got a mouth full of rocks, and her body grows heavier by the second as her forehead crashes against my sternum, losing its battle with gravity.
“I know,” I mutter under my breath, though I doubt she can hear me. I might suck, but not as much as this guy does. And I’d suck a lot more if I didn’t step in to help her.
Turning my attention back toward the wall of dude-bros in front of me, I arch a brow.
Vampire guy steps closer, like he’s going to do something about it. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He moves toward me like I’m the problem and he’s got the solution.
But you don’t spend your entire life being a scrappy, unlikable shit-disturber to not have a plan.
And I do have one.
The minute he draws near enough, my knee shoots up, catching him in the ballsack. All that predatory air leaving his lungs is music to my ears. And as he folds in on himself like a cheap lawn chair my hand dives into his pocket, bringing out a small plastic baggie of pills.
He’s still doubled over when I dump them out in front of him. They scatter across the floor like hail during a summer storm. Small white tablets bouncing across the concrete surface. It’s loud around the pool, but I swear every tick of them landing rings out like a gunshot.
Wide eyes and shocked murmurs spread like wildfire through the crowd as everyone pieces together the woman slumped in my arms with the man surrounded by pills. A couple of girls announce that they’re going to get ship security, and I give them a stern nod as my thanks.
“Let’s get you to the doctor,” I tell Julia, but it’s only when a soft tapping lands on the side of my neck that I glance back down. The pad of Julia’s finger is featherlight against my skin, like she can barely muster the energy.
“No doctor. Just get me out.” She breathes the words faintly, but I hear her loud and clear. And as much as I’d like to stick around to kick the guy in the face while he’s down, Julia is losing consciousness against me—something I know she would never willingly do.
So instead of seeking vengeance, I honor her wishes and scoop her limp body up into my arms, turning away from the confrontation.
Her small purple purse, still slung across her body by a dainty gold chain, taps against my leg with each step as I move across the ship. She’s altogether too damn heavy to give me any sense of relief. Instead, I carry her to my room with an overwhelming sense of terror.
All I know is that she asked me to get her out.
So I do.
OceanofPDF.com
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 5
Julia
Two years ago…
I WAKE WITH A start, my awareness slamming back into me as I shoot up to sitting. It’s almost physical, like getting plugged into an electrical socket and coming back to life in the blink of an eye.
I wipe at my heavy eyelids as I turn my stiff neck to take in my surroundings. It’s bright, full sun. I’m sitting on a bed, surrounded by a room that looks like mine. But isn’t. A red suitcase sits in the corner, with a pair of men’s swim trunks draped over the top.
Swim trunks I do not recognize. I’ve spent a couple of days this week hanging by the pool with a guy named Jesse and his group of friends, but I don’t think I’ve seen any of them wear hot pink trunks.
Alarm courses through me as my heart rate ratchets up and tears spring to my eyes. I came on this cruise with my mom for a fun getaway over Christmas. She’s been single for a long time, and it’s an all-ages cruise so I told her I’d come with her in case all the guys her age sucked. Then we’d turn it into a girls’ week in the Caribbean. Aside from that, my plan was to zone out, read, and catch up on some sleep.
I’ve been working at the local ice cream shop several shifts per week and attending university full-time. But now I’ve finally completed the final semester of my undergrad at Emerald Lake University. My master’s program begins in January, so this was my last chance to rest before the intensity of school kicks back in.
I just wanted to escape the snow, and this seemed like a fun option.
But this is not fun. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here, and I’m freaked out.
Actually, no. I’m beyond freaked out.
I’m twenty-three, and suddenly, all I want is my mom.
