Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention. It’s me, in the reflection of the living room windows. It’s me, but I’m not a mess. I’m a carefree woman with her hair curling at her shoulders, her blue sundress swinging in the breeze, a laugh on my lips.
This is who I should have been on that ill-fated spring break trip with Robbie.
It’s highly ironic that I’ve become that person now, in the arms of a pirate.
The sliding door opens and Poseidon steps out into the sun. He’s gorgeous. Work shorts and T-shirt and shoes—all of it looks like high fashion on the chiseled lines of his body. His dark hair curls at one side of his forehead in the humidity. “Come with me?”
It sends a thrill of pleasure down my spine to hear it. A week ago it was a flat are you coming followed by silence and more silence and then shouting at the shipyard. But then the shipbuilder gave us a tour, and Poseidon ended up in his new quarters. Nicholas and I waited on deck for thirty minutes, then an hour. Until he nodded toward the stairs and we both went down.
There was nothing in the room, just the steelwork frames that will underpin all the seaworthy furniture. The frame for Poseidon’s bed was there, but not the bed itself.
The lack of a bed didn’t make a difference. Poseidon was asleep in a beach chair, one of the folding ones with a footrest. He was pink-cheeked in the sun. Peaceful.
Come with me is the most beautiful phrase in his mouth.
“Of course,” I tell him. “Come on, Buddy.” Buddy takes the red ball in his mouth and brings it to me, and I stick it in my pocket. The dress has spacious pockets, so it doesn’t look ridiculous. Poseidon puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me out to the Jeep. He opens the back for Buddy to climb in, helps me to my seat, and we go.
He’s frowning by the time we get to the shipyard. “I hope we’re closer to the original timeline,” he says as he swings himself out of the Jeep.
“We’ll get there.”
“We’ll see.” Poseidon’s skeptical about this every time, though the ship is coming together. The interiors went in the day after he took his nap. The engines the day after. All the electrical work is done, and every time we come here, lines of men are loading things on while others hurry all over the ship, working through a massive list of projects. It’s getting done.
Buddy hops out as soon as I open the back door for him. He’s used to our trips by now, and walks at my heels as we go through the shipyard. It’s even busier today. I hope that means good news for Poseidon. More than anything, I want him to have a full night’s sleep. I don’t think that’ll be possible until we’re out at sea again.
I’ve never considered myself much of a water person. Pocket yachts and pools, sure. Being out on the ocean? Not so much. But what matters now is being with Poseidon, and if the sea is home for him, then it’s my home, too. My eyes get misty thinking about it and I blink to clear it away. No crying in the shipyard.
Nicholas waits on the dock by Poseidon’s new ship, but Mark’s nowhere to be seen. Buddy and I circle around to the Escher docks, keeping them in view. Poseidon is relatively calm today. He bows his head over the papers in Nicholas’s hands. No one points at each other. No one shouts. There’s plenty of other shouting going on in the shipyard, but it’s all the working kind. Pick up your end of the crate, asshole, and wrong way, wrong way, wrong way echo off the docks and dust.
A crew of six men moves through and I step off to the side, grabbing Buddy by his new collar to keep him from getting underfoot. We end up turned around, heading another direction, and Buddy makes a quick circle around my ankles. I laugh at him. Reach down to pet him. “We’re not lost,” I coo. “Poseidon’s right over there.”
I point in his direction and follow Buddy’s gaze as his head perks up. Poseidon stands on the dock by his ship, but he’s not looking at the plans Nicholas holds anymore. His head is up. Back straight. Eyes sharp.
I know that look. Goose bumps rise between my shoulder blades. Something’s happening. With the ship? With the sea?
Another crew goes past, blocking my view, and I resist the urge to shove them out of the way. It’s a useless urge, because I feel frozen in place. I’ve wandered too far, and now I don’t know what’s happening.
Poseidon’s looking for me, so I don’t move. I stay where I am. My heart pounds. Even if he sees me, what’s he going to do?
“Nothing’s happening yet,” I say to myself, trying to calm the prickling fear that’s all over me, head to toe.
But then I see him. I don’t know what makes me turn my head, but I see him. The man with the tattoo. The kraken crawls down out of his shirtsleeve, and this time, he’s not just staring at Poseidon.
He’s scanning the docks. Making eye contact with people. I whip my head around but I can’t see them all, can’t spot them—I’m too short, and the men around me are too tall. The tattooed man is on one of the Escher docks. He has a good vantage point and I have nothing. His head swivels back to Poseidon.
His lips move.
One of his hands comes up—not high, just to waist level—and clenches into a fist.
It’s such a small movement. Almost nothing. But it’s a signal.
I scream before I know what I’m going to say. At first it’s only sound, only a bloodcurdling, pointless thing, and then I find my voice. Watch out.
Poseidon’s head snaps toward me. He’s in motion before our eyes lock, wrapping both arms around Nicholas and taking them both sideways. A bullet leaves a spray of dirt where they were standing. Both men are still on their feet, sprinting toward a hatch in the hull. Nicholas gets there first and throws himself in. Poseidon’s next a second later, and the second after that, there’s a rifle in his hands.
Someone else is running toward him and I choke on my own fear. I can’t warn them in time—the man is running too fast. But then he angles his head, and it’s Caspian, Poseidon’s friend. Caspian. He’s got a rifle strapped to his back. I’ve gotten very few details about him from Poseidon. A man he sailed with when he first left his father’s house. Poseidon shoots over his head, covering him until he can get to the hatch and swing inside. He disappears from view and pops up a moment later on the deck of the ship. He’s firing before I can catch my breath.
I might not ever catch my breath.
It’s chaos down here. Men run in every direction in groups of three or four. I thought there were rules. I thought there was a code. People aren’t supposed to shoot each other. They’re not supposed to fight. It’s called Haven Island, for God’s sake, and all the rules are gone. Crushed. Men jump off the Escher docks above me and land too close to Buddy. His barks are lost in the noise. It’s not the friendly kind of shouting anymore. It’s the battle kind, and it’s terrifying.
All my hiking, all the learning to swim in the ocean, was for nothing. I don’t trust myself to run through the men without getting shot, or grabbed. I don’t trust myself to stand here. There are no good choices. It’s not like when the Trident was attacked. Poseidon’s entire crew was between me and the enemy, and now I don’t know which of these men is trying to kill him. And me. All of us.
I force in a breath. If I can’t run, then I can try to gather information. I can try to see what’s happening so that if I survive this—when I survive this—I can tell Poseidon what I saw. Someone pushes me aside. I’ve never wanted to crouch down and cover my head more in my entire life.