Reveal Me

by Sappharia Mayer

  Chapter Thirty-One

  My bare feet pad back through the blood on the deck, leaving red footprints in my wake. The entire scene is surreal.

  “Ma’am, you should go shower and dress. There’s nothing more you can do you here.”

  I stare at him for a long time. The words refuse to penetrate the fog of my shock. My body shivers.

  “Ms. Devereaux.” A woman’s voice cuts through the night. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed, Ma’am.”

  My head drops and I stare at my bloody feet and look back up.

  With a nod of understanding, she disappears into the hatch and returns with a towel. Dropping to her knee, she taps my foot, and I lift it. The cold, damp fabric brushes roughly against the sole of my foot. When she taps it again, I automatically set it down. A dry towel covers the deck as it pokes into my foot. With a tap on the other foot, the process is repeated.

  When both feet are clean, she places her hands on my shoulder and steers me toward the hatch. My movements are automatic as we move through the yacht. She does not stop in the main berth but continues to the attached head, steering me from behind. Once we step inside, she turns on the water.

  “Take your time, Ma’am. I’ll lay out some clothes for you.” She turns and leaves when I don’t acknowledge her. The door shuts with a soft click.

  I stare in the mirror at my blood-covered clothes until steam fogs the mirror and the image disappears from view. With robotic movements, I peel away the sticky fabric and step into the warm shower.

  Everything is heavy. Water stings the abrasions on my hands. I slowly take stock of my injuries, recounting how I obtained each one. My scalp hurts, my wrists are sore, and my knees throb. My mind wanders to thoughts of Reece. A deep shudder runs through me as tears prick my eyes. Without warning, my stomach convulses, and I drop to my knees.

  The water under me runs red. With each passing second, it begins to fade until it is clear once more. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and demand the world go away, but I’ve been running long enough. Running is what brought me to this point. Running is what spilled the blood I watched pour across the deck. The running stops now.

  I push up from the floor and box my emotions. There will be time for release later. Now it’s time to get back to work. Time to end this insanity. I scrub my body until my skin is raw.

  Everything in me tries to will the fog away, but it refuses to lift. I step out and wrap a towel around my body. When I open the door to the berth, I find it empty. A pair of jeans, T-shirt and underthings lie on the bed. On the floor, a pair of socks sticks out of deck shoes. It reminds me of the times Reece laid out my clothes. Everything around me reminds me of him.

  I dress without thought and stare at the bed. When I close my eyes, I can still smell him surrounding me. Slipping on the deck shoes, I make my way back toward the cockpit.

  The mental fog lingers, giving me no sense of time until I step into the cockpit. Over the bow, the first light of dawn peeks over the horizon. All around me, people move. Scrub brushes scrape across the deck. Water spills across the blood-stained wood. The last of the sick crew is being shuttled off the yacht. I stare at the almost placid sea.

  Behind me, I sense the presence before the person speaks.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” I ask without turning around.

  “Yes, Ma’am. Mr. Kinkaid is on the sat phone. He’s demanding to speak with you.”

  “Tell Mr. Kinkaid I will talk with him soon.”

  “It’s the eighth time he’s called, Ma’am.”

  I sigh deeply and turn.

  “I’m sorry, I never asked your name.” I look up at the man attired completely in black. It is unlike me not to know the surrounding personnel on my team. The thought brings with it the whirlwind memories of the last few days. At the house, our security melded into the background. It wasn’t until we boarded the sailboat that I even noticed them, and even then Reece distracted me.

  I look up at the man. Two thick sleeves of tattoos stick out from under his tight T-shirt. Dark sunglasses and a black operator’s hat shield his gaze from me. His large frame towers over me by nearly five inches; he must be near six foot seven.

  “John, Ma’am.”

  “Please, John, call me Atlas.”

  “I can’t do that, Ms. Devereaux. Mr. Kinkaid would have my hide, and no offence, but he’s scarier.” A tight smile forms in a thin line across his lips.

  “For now.”

  His brows knit in confusion as he hands me the sat phone.

  “Atlas Devereaux.” I speak with authority into the mouthpiece.

  “Atlas, oh thank God! Are you okay?” Kade’s voice rushes through the phone.

  “I am physically fine, Thomas.”

  “Oh.” He pauses as I use his first name. It is a sure sign nothing is right in my world.

  “Things on the ground here are… chaotic and uncertain.”

  “I just got word Reece is being airlifted to Miami.”

  At the mention of his name, my breath catches.

  Kade’s tone turns from friendly to stoic as he reports the facts.

  “According to my sources, the object missed his artery by a quarter of an inch. The application of pressure and a move to the recovery position saved his life.”

  My legs give out in that moment and strong hands help me to the deck.

  “The jet will be on the tarmac for your arrival in four hours. Based on the information from my team, it will take you six hours to get back to port. Everything you need will be on the plane when you dock. Wheels will be up as soon as you are ready. We could get you back faster, but I think it is best to leave you on the yacht. A new crew will be aboard shortly to bring her home.”

  I nod at the phone, afraid if I speak, I won’t be able to contain the emotions.

  “Everyone on the new crew I know personally. They were in the general area at the time I put out the emergency call and are en route to you. We are still assessing how this happened.”

  “The Art of War.” The words slip past my lips as an explanation.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

  “I was playing the wrong game. Actually, I didn’t even realize it was a game. In some sick way, I seem to be the prize. The only tactics that will work are Sun Tzu. This is all a mind game, with deadly outcomes.”

  “I see.” Kade’s simple answer speaks volumes. “We’ll get this bastard.”

  I bite hard into my lip to prepare for my next question and take a deep breath.

  “Have you heard from Dominick?”

  “We are still trying to locate him, Ma’am.”

  “He’s not…” I can’t complete the question.

  “We don’t know.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The phone tumbles from my hand. Kade’s faint voice calls from the lump of plastic and electronics. Large hands lift it from my lap.

  “We’ve got her, Sir,” John replies.

  My lungs tighten, and I struggle to breathe. On wobbly legs, I move to stand. Each step carries me toward the bow of the boat.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I can hear the staccato replies behind me. Each step makes them fainter. I see the faint red outline of the blood pools and stumble. My knees slam into the deck and I crawl to the center, pull my knees to my chest, and stare out at the sea. Red skies herald the beginning of a treacherous day. Off to the port side, dark, angry clouds reflect my mood as gray lines streak from the sky.

  The hard thud of boots across the deck draws my attention, but I do not turn to acknowledge them. When they approach my position, they pause and do not continue forward.

  The quiet blankets the deck as people disappear, their chores and responsibilities complete. I hear the faint rumble of engines pull away from the boat. Below us, the sea swells angrily and tries to force the large yacht to roll on the white caps, but it stubbornly refuses to move on its moor.

  Sometime later, I hear the appr
oach of a tender. Voices echo through the boat. Soft footsteps move up the deck.

  “Permission to come aboard, Ma’am,” the new voice asks.

  “Looks to me like you’re already aboard,” I reply drily without moving my eyes from the horizon.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I am Captain Wilson. Mr. Kinkaid sent us.”

  I nod without a word.

  “There’s a squall coming up our port side. We need to get underway as soon as possible.”

  “Do what you must.”

  “Everyone on board needs to put on a PFD and clip in.” The words have some faint meaning, and I nod but do not move from my position.

  “I’ll take care of it, Captain,” John says from my other side.

  “Very good.”

  I hear his footsteps retreat back toward the cockpit.

  “Standby to weight anchor." The captain calls out the order.

  Quick footsteps move up the deck and a young man appears in front of me. He reaches down into the locker and pulls up a handheld control. His hand moves in the air.

  “Ready to weigh anchor.” He follows up the signal.

  The engines of the yacht rumble to life and vibrate the deck.

  “Weigh anchor.” The captain’s voice carries on the edge of the wind.

  “Weighing anchor!”

  The loud sound of a large chain breaks through my unpleasant silence. Each link rattles and bounces as it draws into the locker. The crewman’s hand never stops moving as the anchor is ripped from the sea. With a final bang, the anchor bounces to a stop.

  “Ma’am, you need to put on your personal flotation device and don’t even try to argue.” His tone is friendly but stern. I can just imagine the discussion he had with Kade.

  He hands me a slim U-shaped floatation device.

  “If you go overboard, this device will automatically inflate. Should it fail to inflate, there is a red T-handle for inflation and a hose here should you need to fill it yourself. Make sure you place your legs through the leg straps and clip in to the jackline,” he says and points to a long blue webbing running down either side of the deck.

  I nod but do not move. My fingers trace across the stitching.

  “Let me try this again, Ma’am. Either you get off your ass and move or I will strap you in myself.”

  I turn my head indignantly and a small smile pulls at the edge of my mouth as I imagine the threats and outrage Kade is putting everyone through right now.

  He offers his hand to help me stand, and I accept it.

  I step into the harness, pull it over my head, and buckle it across my chest. John pulls hard on the floatation device and nods in approval as he hands me the tether, which I’ve already attached to the jackline.

  The first spatters of rain pepper the deck as I clip the line to the harness.

  “Ready the mainsail!”

  “Mainsail ready!”

  “Raise the mainsail!”

  The large sail climbs the mast, luffing angrily in the wind.

  “Prepare to come about!” the captain calls over the winds.

  “Ready!” a chorus of voices answer.

  “Coming about!”

  The large yacht turns through the wind and winches spin loudly as the sails move across the deck until the main fills and no longer slaps against the mast. In response, the boat heels to her side and we pick up speed with the force of the squall rising around us.

  “Let’s get you into a covered area, unless you enjoy being drenched,” John says wryly.

  I nod and make my way across the deck and down the side back toward the cockpit.

  The passage back to port is a blur as the squall reflects my mood and batters the boat. It dissipates just outside our mooring point and the crew scrambles to bring us to anchor. For most of the trip, I huddle in a corner of the cockpit. John’s large frame is always hovering nearby.

  A marina tender approaches the boat and bumps against the diving platform. My legs cramp as I stretch and trip over the edge of the gunwale. Strong hands catch me and prevent me from tipping forward into the sea.

  “I’ve got you, Ma’am,” John says as he sets me right on my feet, then hands me into the tender.

  Once everyone is settled, the large inflatable turns toward the pier. Saltwater sprays across us as we rapidly skip across the water.

  I give in to the darkness threatening to consume me and let it take my mind. Everything around me becomes a blur. John’s short, quick orders compel my body to move, but they do not fully register.

  At the end of the dock, he helps me into the back of a small van and steps forward to the driver's seat. He pulls away from the marina. The yacht soon fades in the distance as we drive to the airport.

  The van moves back to the tarmac and stops at the bottom of the same private jet which started this insane adventure. I stare up at it. So many things have changed since I walked down those stairs and yet so much feels the same—I am still adrift. John opens my door and moves aside as I step out. He tosses the keys to a man walking up to the van and grabs two bags from the back.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I hesitate and stare up at the yawning opening of the plane.

  “In you go.” John’s low voice reverberates behind me.

  I climb the stairs with laden legs.

  Captain Reid stands just inside the cabin. I nod wordlessly as I pass and go toward the large seats. Behind me I hear John speak to him in a low voice, but I don’t bother to listen. I sit and buckle the seatbelt across my lap as John stows the bags in the bin at the front, then takes a seat across from me.

  The attendant runs through the safety procedures and I force a smile in her direction. When everyone is seated, the plane’s engines spool up, and we surge forward as we move toward the runway.

  I tighten my grip on the seat as the plane accelerates and lifts, smoothing into the air. My stomach drops and I let out a breath.

  “Good afternoon, we are currently climbing to a cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet at an airspeed of six hundred miles per hour. The weather looks like we may be in for a few bumps for the first little bit, but it should be clear skies heading into Leesburg. Total flight three hours, forty-eight minutes. If you require anything, please don't hesitate to request it from your attendant.”

  When we reach our cruising altitude, a signal dings through the cabin and I hear the attendant unbuckle from her seat.

  “May I offer a beverage?” she asks, and her voice is far too chipper for my mood.

  I shake my head.

  “She’ll have a gin and tonic, doubled,” John replies, and my head snaps toward him. “I’ll have a glass of ice water, please.”

  He gives her a full-watt smile and I watch her melt as she turns back into the cabin.

  “How dare you?” I hiss.

  “How dare I what, Ma’am? Create a situation to take the edge off the trauma you’ve suffered? Give you a bit of liquid courage in the face of everything you are about to lift? How dare I step in and force you to march on when you are too weary to lift another foot?”

  I glare at him.

  “Kade told me you were head-strong, stubborn and after a crisis you close up.”

  “He knows me well.”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I fire back.

  “That’s a given, but will your world still be standing when you finally get to that point?”

  I glare at him, but he just smiles back at me.

  The attendant sets our drinks in front of us, looking from one to the other, then retreats quickly to the back of the cabin.

  I am the first to look away. My gaze drifts toward the soft-looking clouds outside and the bright sunlight bathing the plane.

  John stands up and I turn my attention to him. He grabs a duffel from the overhead compartment. It differs from either of the bags he carried onboard, and he sets it down beside me.

  “Kade thought this might help.”

  I unzip the top of the b
ag and the spike of a five-inch heel peeks out.

  “Smart man,” I comment quietly.

  John nods in agreement.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Kade! What have you done to my club?” I roar, my five-inch heels clicking across the marble foyer.

  “Alexandra?” The surprise in his voice tells me my return is unexpected. “We weren’t expecting you back for a few more days.”

  Samantha’s head jerks my way and an elbow pokes Kade in his ribs.

  “How are…” My glare stops his question. In my domain I will not show any weakness. There is no running this time. This is my home and I will defend it. Before Reece I was lost, and now, even alone, I know my place in the world. It is my job to lift it and I will protect everything I have left in it.

  I straighten my shoulders and look at the small group.

  “I take my PR consultant, Atlas Devereaux with me to scout for another location out of country, of which you were well aware, and you let this place go to hell in a hand basket in a matter of a couple months.” I shake my head in mock disapproval. Around me, the club is spotless. The membership is light, but it gives me hope that some things will return to normal.

  I pray they will follow my lead.

  The entire club watches the display.

  Eyes bore into us from every direction as silence engulfs the room.

  Kade and Samantha school their faces as I announce the reason for my disappearance, and I let out a grateful exhale.

  “Well, if you were better at staying in touch, we might be able to run this place to your impossible standards,” he challenges me.

  “Watch your tone,” I warn.

  “My tone?” he says indignantly.

  “Yes. Or did you forget my position in the short time I was gone?”

  The air is thick with tension. This moment defines how hard the world will land on my shoulders. In front of me Kade plays his part with ease as he steps into my space. At the last second his eyes fall to the floor with a slight nod of his head.