by Bella Jewel
“I’m sure.” She nods. “Right, Addi?”
“Idontknohmmm,” Addi mumbles something that is completely incoherent.
Oh, boy.
“Jaylah.”
The sound of Mack’s voice has me stopping in my tracks and whipping around. He’s standing at an open doorway, shirtless, wearing a long pair of pajama pants that cover up his leg. He’s not a fan of showing it.
I must have walked straight past our room.
Whoops.
“Oh,” I say, waving a hand in his direction. “There’s my room.”
“Maaaaack!” Ash waves frantically.
Mack does not look impressed. He strides out, grabbing hold of me and hauling me closer to him like I weigh nothing. “Where have you been?” he asks, ignoring everyone else there.
“Out drinking, and dancing, where have you been, Mack?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re smashed.”
“Indeed, I am.”
“What are you doing with them?”
“Hello to you, too,” Ciara mutters, waving a hand.
“I like them, they’re nice people. You should try talking to them sometime, oh wait, I forgot, you were too busy chatting up some hottie at the bar.”
Mack’s grip tightens, and he glares down at me. I look up at him with defiance. I have never backed down to the man I love so dearly, not ever. I won’t start now.
“We’ll discuss this inside,” he growls. “Now move.”
“I won’t move,” I say, jerking my arm from his grips. “Maybe I don’t want to go inside with you.”
“Jaylah, you’re being childish.”
“Am I, Mack? Am I really? I’m not allowed to be upset to see the man I love laughing and talking to a beautiful woman when he’s barely glanced in my direction in the last few months. Hell, I’ve forgotten what you look like when you smile. She knows, though. Maybe I should go and ask her ...”
“Jaylah,” he warns. “Enough.”
“You’re right,” I say, waving a hand. “It is enough. In fact, I’ve had enough. More than enough. When your own man won’t fuck you, won’t look at you, and won’t talk to you, eventually you get the hell over it. You know what, Mack, I’m over it. Fucking over it!”
I’m yelling by the end, to the point where everyone else in the hall has gone silent. Ash is giving me a look that is concerned, and I know in the morning she’s going to be pissed that I didn’t tell her Mack and I were having problems. The other two girls stand awkwardly, glancing around, no doubt trying to remember where their rooms are.
“Everythin’ okay here?”
We all look over to see Maddox and Santana standing by their door, watching us. I am fairly certain they just heard everything judging by the look on Santana’s face right about now. She looks concerned, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed as she studies us. It’s the exact moment she realizes that we’ve got problems. I know it because her eyes meet mine and they’re soft and worried and a little disappointed.
“Everything is fine,” I whisper, my voice seemingly had about enough. “Can I please stay with you guys tonight?”
Santana looks to Maddox, and he nods. “Yeah, we’ve got a spare bed. You can stay.”
Maddox looks to Mack, whose jaw is so tight it looks like his muscle is going to bust out of his cheek. “We’ll speak in the morning, brother,” Maddox says, and then turns to me. “Let’s go.”
I walk toward them after waving awkwardly to Ciara and Addi who are still both watching us, looking a little lost. Maddox stops at the door when we step inside their room and he says, “Go home, ladies.”
Then, he steps inside and shuts the door.
I feel like I’ve just invaded their vacation personal space in such a big way. I’m uncomfortable, and if I wasn’t so drunk, I’d probably run out and find a chaise lounge to sleep on for a night, but I don’t have it in me to go on a hunt for another place to sleep.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your night and push myself into your little love shack,” I murmur, waving around the room.
“It’s fine,” Santana says. “Honestly, I knew having a room with two double beds would come in handy at some point.”
I laugh softly, and then look to Maddox. “I’m sorry, Maddox.”
“Don’t bother me at all, darlin’.”
God, I love them.
“You want to tell us what’s going on with you and Mack?” Santana asks, grabbing a blanket from the closet and handing it to me.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. Mostly. “He’s been off for month, but it’s gotten worse and worse. He won’t even touch me. He barely talks to me. Tonight, I saw him laughing with another woman and ... I lost it. I know I shouldn’t have made a scene out there, but I’m just ... confused.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Maddox asks, sitting on the end of his bed next to Santana. “Could have had a word to him. Didn’t realize he was goin’ through something.”
“You know what Mack is like,” I say. “He isn’t a big fan of talking. I honestly thought he was stressed, I thought this cruise would be a great idea, but it turns out it’s not a great idea at all. He’s just gotten worse. We have another three days before we reach our first destination, and I’m worried about how it’s going to go being stuck on here with him now.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Maddox tells me. “Tomorrow. For now, let’s get some sleep.”
Santana smiles at me. “I wish you would have told me.”
“I know,” I whisper, “but I didn’t want to bring any drama to this trip. I just wanted to have fun.”
She walks over, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re family. You can always talk to us.”
With that, she climbs into bed and Maddox gives me a shirt to sleep in. I freshen up in the bathroom, get in the shirt, and then climb into bed, flicking out the lights. It’s awkward, I’m sure as much for them as it is for me. We’re all in a very small room together, no doubt all feeling the same way.
I think about Mack.
He’ll be angry right now. I know it.
Angry enough to change? To realize he’s making a mistake?
That I don’t know.
And I hate not knowing.
I hate feeling like this.
We’re meant to be here for fun.
Not this.
3
CIARA
WE’RE TWO DAYS IN.
It’s been amazing so far. Two glorious days of sailing the ocean. We have another two days before we reach our first destination. A gorgeous little island where we will get to soak in the sun and the sand. Nothing could feel better than that. I can’t wait to lie on those beaches, listening to the waves crashing, knowing I have absolutely nothing to worry or stress about.
I’m not sure it’s the same for Jaylah.
I have wondered since the other night how she’s doing but haven’t dared to go and see her. Maddox didn’t look impressed when he saw we were all hanging out when everything erupted, and Spike gave me a talking to about not causing drama and staying away from them, reminding me they’re on vacation too and probably don’t want anything to do with us.
Still, I had fun with those girls, and I very much plan on checking in again.
I don’t have to tell him that, of course.
“How do you suppose Jaylah is doing?” Addison asks as we walk through the ship early one morning after another round of drinking and dancing.
It seems to be all we’re doing, and I’m perfectly fine with it, loving every single second. It’s been incredible, laughing and letting go. The guys have been enjoying it, too, though they claim not to have it in them anymore to stay up until the early hours of the morning like we do. That doesn’t stop us, we’re out and about enjoying every moment of this trip.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, turning a corner that goes past a huge kitchen.
You could say we’re closer to the worker’s quarters of the ship, as we wander around exploring every inch
of it. Well, every inch we’re allowed in, that is. This end of the ship is on the lower part, past the clubs and stores, and it’s where all the workers stay. The kitchen is also down here for one of the main restaurants, and it’s always bustling. It seems it never ends, really.
Poor people. They must work around the clock.
“That fight they had was pretty bad. I felt sorry for her. I would be pissed if that was Cade,” she tells me, and then stops, narrowing her eyes. “What is that?”
I stop and my eyes go toward what she’s looking at. A big door that leads into the kitchen, which is now closed, has some sort of red substance coming out from beneath it and leaking onto the carpet. From here, I’d almost say it looks like ... blood.
“Maybe someone spilled something in the kitchen and forgot to clean it up,” I say, glancing around the hall, wondering if there is anyone about we should let know. That’s going to stain the carpet.
“It doesn’t look like a drink or food spill, it looks like ... blood. Do you think it’s blood?” she gasps, looking over to me.
“No, no of course not. It’s probably just sauce. Maybe spaghetti sauce.”
“Should we check?”
“I don’t know, that doesn’t seem like a good idea ...”
“What if someone is hurt in there? It could be hours until the morning kitchen staff start, we can’t just leave them in there.”
Dammit, she’s right.
I walk over and kneel down, getting closer to the red liquid. It certainly does look like blood. That’s not a good thing. I don’t want to know what’s on the other side of the door if that much blood is coming through it. I stand and push on the big double doors that lead into the kitchen. They’re locked. There is no way we’re getting into them.
“They’re locked,” I say, looking at Addi. “We can’t get in.”
She bangs on the doors, yelling out, “Hello, is anyone in there?”
No answer.
I don’t know. Something just feels a whole lot like we shouldn’t be here.
“Maybe we should go,” I say to her.
“Let’s just see if we can find another way in. There has to be another door.”
God.
We walk around the large area, following what we assume is the kitchen. There are a few more doors, but they’re all locked. There is a serving window that is just covered with some glass. Addi pushes and shoves on it for a moment, and somehow, the damn thing slides open. “Well, that’s secure,” she mutters.
“Or you’re incredibly gifted at breaking and entering.”
“These things aren’t overly secure, they would lock everything in the kitchen away anyway so if someone did get in, they’re unlikely to come out with anything.”
“I don’t want to know how you know that,” I mutter watching her climb through the small serving window and into the kitchen. A moment later, a lock flicks and the door to my left opens. It’s only a smaller door that leads out onto a corridor.
I step inside and we use the lights on our phones to light the way, not wanting to get caught in here. We walk toward the back door we found first and shine our lights in that general direction. For a moment, all we can see is empty rows of kitchen counters and cooktops where the chefs work tirelessly to feed all of these people, then, we shine our torch downward and our incredible trip goes from fun to horrible in about two seconds flat.
Lying on the floor is not one, but two dead bodies.
How do I know they’re dead?
Their throats are both slit wide open by knives that are lying right next to them, one man is lying on his back, hand dropped down, knife just fallen out of it. As if he was the one to do this, to the other person and himself. I never believe that someone has it in them to slit their own throat. I mean, the effort that would take ...? I shudder. No, this isn’t that at all. Murder suicide is what it looks like, murder suicide it is not.
I’ve been around the club long enough to know that.
I’ve also been around the club long enough that dead bodies no longer send me into a frenzy the way they used to. Tragic, isn’t it, that you’re no longer scared of something that once would have made all the hair on your body stand on end. Now, it does nothing more than give me a sick feeling that quickly passes as I take in the scene around us.
“They’re dead bodies,” Addi points out, her voice matter of fact. “I knew that was blood.”
“They’re dead bodies, on a cruise ship, in the middle of nowhere, in an empty kitchen, and we happened to stumble across them.”
“That’s bad, isn’t it?” Addi mutters.
“It’s not great, considering we broke in here. That alone is going to make us look guilty. Let alone the fact that no one else is around.”
“They probably have cameras,” she points out. “They’ll see who this was.”
After a quick glance around, I see they don’t have cameras. Why would they in a cruise ship kitchen? In a store, or a bar, or out on the public deck, sure, but in a kitchen where only staff are working? No. That’s not necessary really, is it? I wouldn’t think so, anyway. It’s not something I’d bother wasting my money on if I was a cruise ship operator. After all, you’re not expecting someone to get killed in the kitchen, are you?
Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing.
“There are no cameras, not here at least. Probably in the hall, but that’s not going to look good for us considering it’ll have us trying to get in, possibly getting in, and we’re no doubt going to be in the line of fire.”
“Shit. What do we do?”
“If we don’t report it, they’re going to eventually find a camera with us breaking in and get suspicious. If we do report it, we’re going to have to explain why we broke in, and that too will be suspicious. Either way, we’re going to be looked at for this. But we didn’t do anything, and that’s all that matters.”
“Fuck,” Addi murmurs, “I’m calling Cade. He needs to know about this.”
“Yeah,” I say, staring at the dead bodies. “Yeah, he does.”
Addi calls Cade, and I stare at the two people lying on the ground and I wonder what the hell happened to cause this on a cruise ship of all places. You’re going to murder someone, why do it here? Why not do it on land? After all, the police are going to know whoever did it is on this ship, however, narrowing that down could prove to be difficult. Still, it’s going to make us look even worse considering there aren’t a great deal of options to go with.
I step closer, leaning down and squinting my eyes. One of them is a worker, his name is right there on his badge. Isaac Masters. The other has no name and is wearing casual clothing. He’s the one who has the knife closest to him. There seems to be no sign of any struggle, nothing is tipped over and there are no other injuries on their bodies that I can see. Which means they knew each other, they knew their attacker, or this was planned.
Maybe it was a murder suicide?
Maybe they’re forbidden lovers and couldn’t be together?
Maybe they’re both in trouble and had no other option?
I purse my lips and turn away just as Addi walks in.
Now is not the time to make up a whole story.
Now is the time to work out how the hell we’re going to get out of this.
“YOU BROKE INTO THE kitchen and found these two?” Spike asks, his big arms crossed over his chest, staring at me.
“Yes,” I say matter of factly. “We saw some blood on the carpet over on the other side, near the big double doors. We were concerned someone was hurt, so we found a way in. That’s when we stumbled across these two.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Can’t you not fuckin’ break and enter while we’re on vacation?”
“I wasn’t breaking and entering,” I protest, “I was concerned when I saw the red stain. What would you have me do?”
“Use your brain, Ciara, and think that if you did happen to find something like this, it’ll make you a suspect. If you went home, s
omeone else would have found it and it wouldn’t be our fuckin’ problem. We’re a biker club, on a ship, and two people show up dead. Who do you think they’re goin’ to point fingers at when it was not one, but two of our old ladies that found the bodies?”
I purse my lips and swallow, looking down and saying, “Well, when you put it like that ...”
“We got to report it,” Jackson murmurs, stepping in beside us and putting an arm around Addison’s shoulders. “We don’t, and they’re on camera, we’re goin’ to look even worse.”
“What if they’re not on fuckin’ camera and they can walk without anyone knowin’ anything?” Cade points out, crossing his arms, too.
“Unlikely that at some point during their attempts to get in that they didn’t cross a camera, it’s a cruise ship. Halls are lined with fuckin’ cameras. They’ll no doubt have been seen tryin’ to break in, or at the very least hoverin’ around the area. We can’t take the risk, it’ll make them look worse if we don’t speak up,” Jackson says, his voice firm, daring Cade to argue with him further.
“Gotta agree with him,” Spike nods. “Best for us if we’re honest. Tell them exactly what happened.”
“Are there even police on this ship?” Addison asks, frowning.
“There would be a couple of officers, likely nothing capable of handling something like this. We’re two days from port, shit is goin’ to hit the fan if people find out two people got murdered on the ship,” Spike answers her.
“God, this is so bad,” I murmur. “I knew we should have just gone home instead of exploring.”
“You’re damn right about that,” Spike growls at me.
I look away.
“So, who do we call?” Addison asks, giving Spike a look.
“We call security, they can take it from there.”
Jackson goes outside to find security, and we all wait in the kitchen, none of us saying anything. I hope this doesn’t end too badly for us. We didn’t do anything, after all. I know how bad it looks, but surely they can see we’re not capable of holding two grown men down and slitting their throats.
Right?
Ten minutes later, three men enter the room behind Jackson. I have no idea who they are, but they look concerned, really concerned, as they take in the scene. The first man, an older, larger gentleman with white hair and steel grey eyes, looks over to us and says, “My name is Tyrone, I’m head of security here. Does someone want to tell me what the hell happened here?”