Meanwhile, Stefano continues to smirk like it’s his job. Like he literally has no other function in life but to telegraph his superiority to those around him.
I’m on the verge of asking him what exactly he’s so pleased about, figuring it can’t hurt at this point. We’re heading out into the open ocean, leaving his winning hand behind us at the resort, and the engine’s too loud for Beatrice to overhear and wonder what the hell’s going on.
But before I can speak, the white door leading up to the helm opens, and a familiar brunette steps out onto the deck.
I recognize my boss immediately, of course, though I’ve never seen Blaire in casual clothes. She’s a devotee of the power suit, a woman who came of age in the 1980s and adheres to a shoulder-pad-mandatory dress code.
But today, she’s in dark jeans and a black tank top that reveals her sculpted arms. Blaire’s in her late forties but still in her prime. She’s powerful, poised, and forthright, a boss who leads with a firm hand but keeps the lines of communication open.
She’s exactly the kind of person you want on your side in a crisis, and I should be relieved to see her.
But I’m not.
My instincts say this is bad news even before she pulls the gun from the holster under her left arm and aims it at Zan.
“I tried to replace you on this mission,” Blaire calls out over the sound of the engine. “Just remember that. I didn’t want it to be this way.”
Zan’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t waste time with chitchat. She’s already in motion, diving over the boat’s railing as Blaire pulls the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alexandra
The ocean churns around me, cold and shocking on my skin.
I check the impulse to pop back to the surface and grab some air—I didn’t have a chance for a proper lungful before I dove, and I’m already breathless.
Instead, I turn away from the light and go deeper, pulling with both arms, kicking hard as my lungs begin to ache.
I have to get clear of the boat’s spinning propeller.
Not to mention the woman with the gun…
Jesus.
Blaire is here. With a gun. That she pointed at me.
That I’m pretty sure she fired, though I hit the water so close to the booming sound, I can’t be sure.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I’ve never particularly cared for Blaire—she’s an Athena type, always siding with the patriarchy and abandoning her sisters-in-arms—but I respected her. She not only succeeded in a male-dominated field but rose to the top of it. That’s worthy of regard, even if her disinterest in helping other women advance is frustrating at times and enraging at others.
But now she’s…
What?
Gone rogue? Switched sides? Decided working for Stefano is a better path than finishing out her thirty years at Union Ten and retiring with a fat pension?
He must have something on her, I decide. Something awful that he’s using as leverage.
But what? Blaire has always seemed so squeaky clean. I honestly can’t imagine what kind of skeletons she might have lurking in her closet. She washes her suits instead of sending them to the dry cleaners? Her Friday night steaks are feedlot instead of grass-fed?
My thoughts race, but my lungs are screaming now, so desperate for air that logical thought is impossible.
Still, I force myself to stay low in the water for another beat…two, three. I wait until my chest feels like a dying star and the pressure behind my eyes is unbearable, then I kick for the surface.
I tip my head back, leading with my chin so I break the water mouth first, sucking in air and coughing it out even as my ears strain for the sound of gunshots or the impact of projectiles on the water.
But all I hear are the muted shouts of people on the dock behind me. When I dare to bring my entire head above the waves, I see the boat barreling toward the horizon.
Shit. I have to hurry. I have to get my own boat and go after Nick.
Nick.
My heart punches at my ribs.
If Blaire’s hurt him…
Killed him…
Then I’ll kill her. I won’t take her into custody. I won’t pursue the proper legal channels. I’ll take her out with my bare hands if I have to. That’s what she deserves for turning on her own people, especially someone as loyal and trustworthy as Nick.
He deserves so much better from her than this.
So much better from life.
It can’t be over for him already. I don’t want to imagine a world without Nickolas Von Bergen in it. Without his smile and his laugh and his clever eyes glittering into mine. In just a couple of weeks, he’s gone from a person I can’t stand to a person I don’t want to live without.
I really care about him, I realize, as I drag myself up onto the dock beside the empty boat slip.