“Decker,” I called, slightly scared by the intensity he was pouring into his attack, even if it was well deserved. “You're going to crush his trachea.”
He let up just enough to allow Damon to breathe, but he would not abandon his position of power.
“Afraid you might not get a piece too?” Damon wheezed, baiting Decker. It wasn't a wise choice.
“If you so much as breathe in her direction until she gets off of this boat, I'll kill you, do you understand?” he threatened. “It would look like an accident too. Those happen on fishing boats, you know? How easy would it be for you to slip off the stack into the sea while nobody is looking? Or maybe a loose piece of rope finds its way around your ankle just as a pot is launched and it drags you down to the sea floor with it? Those are things that happen all the time in this line of work. You're relatively new around here. They'd chalk it up to rookie error and never think another thing about it.”
Damon's eyes were hard, but there was a crack in that toughness. Decker was getting underneath his armor. He was afraid that he wasn't lying.
“Are you willing to go back to jail again?” Damon asked, looking to me for a reaction. I gave him nothing.
“If it kept a motherfucker like you away from her, yes. I would.” Decker's words were cold as ice, and I knew he wasn't bluffing. The thought both scared and invigorated me. It was a disturbing realization.
“So you're going to rat me out?” Damon pressed, wanting to know exactly where he stood.
“Not a chance,” Decker replied, moving in closer to his face so that their noses were nearly touching. “I want you to live in fear of what I might do to you. I want you looking over your shoulder every time you turn your back on me. I want you to know what it's like to be intimidated. You're going to live in fear of me for the rest of your time here. You know what I've done. You know I'm good for it.”
I didn't know what Decker meant by his last threat, but I could see the weight of those words on Damon's face. He believed everything Decker said, and, for whatever reason, I did too. There was a sincerity in his threats that made me think that Damon might go missing any day, and, perhaps worst of all, a small part of me—a primal instinct that wasn't committed to saving lives—didn't care.
“Now get your slimy ass back on deck and don't let me see you anywhere else until I tell you otherwise,” Decker ordered, shoving Damon toward the stairway to the door. “Remember what I told you. I'll make it look like an accident.”
Damon staggered up the stairway and out the door before Decker had a chance to elaborate. Once he was out of sight, Decker took a long deep breath, his body facing away from me. His head fell back as he sighed, an attempt to disperse the adrenaline that was undoubtedly coursing through him.
“I should explain,” he started, still not turning to face me.
“No. It's okay,” I replied softly, my voice shakier than I expected. Hearing that, he turned to face me, his expression soft and concerned as if he hadn't just threatened another man's life.
“Damon did some time before he came here,” he explained, not knowing I'd been aware of that from the beginning.
“I know. He has a couple of prison tattoos.”
“You noticed those?”
“We used to see them on patients at the hospital downtown. I put two and two together when I saw his.”
“They are a dead giveaway if you know what you're looking for. I knew he'd done time when I first saw him, and it didn't take more than one night out at the bar with the crew to know why. He's a predator, Aesa. Most likely a rapist. I know his kind; they're easy to pick out if you've spent time near enough of them.” He let his words hang in the air, awaiting my reaction. I had none to give him. I had already figured out where he was coming from. He too had done time. Seeing the understanding in my eyes, his expression saddened. “I got out of jail a few years ago. I've been here ever since. I served a four-year sentence for second-degree assault. I learned a thing or two about intimidation in that time.”
I didn't know what to say. His honesty was commendable, if not refreshing, but the content was off-putting, to say the least. It seemed so unlikely for a person who appeared to be so upstanding and loyal to be capable of nearly taking the life of another. There was more to the story, I could feel it, but there was no way to find out. How do you ask someone questions about something of that nature?
A rogue wave blindsided the ship, nearly knocking me off my feet. I shrieked, falling backward against the cabinets, barely catching the handle of the soup pot as it slid toward the edge of the stove. Decker, having steadied himself with the kitchen table, moved toward me to help.
“I'm fine,” I yelled, putting my hand up defensively. I felt ridiculous for screaming as I had. I didn't want him rescuing me to make me feel even more so.
He froze immediately, shooting a look of concern at me before slowly taking a step away from me. He appeared to think he was the cause of my dramatic reaction. He thought I was scared of him.
“I'm sorry,” he started, continuing to retreat, his sad eyes never leaving mine.
“No, it's not you. The wave—it startled me. I didn't mean it like that.”
He paused, but refused to come closer to me, a look of worry taking over his expression.
“What I did just now,” he started, looking more uncomfortable by the second, “to Damon . . . those things I said. I did that to scare him off.” I could only bring myself to nod in acknowledgment. “There's no guarantee it will work.”
“Okay,” I replied, placing the soup pot in the sink.
“I think that we need to tell your father about this.”
“He's got so much on his mind right now with this storm,” I argued, not wanting to drag him into the issue while he faced the worst storm he'd ever battled. “Do you think Damon will come after me again?”
He shrugged.
“If he's smart, he won't, but I don't trust him where you're concerned. With Robbie still down for the count, there's one less pair of eyes on you. I'm just not sure, Aesa. I don't like it.”
“Well,” I started, weighing the options in my mind. “Let's just get through tonight. It won't matter anyway if we don't survive the storm.” I forced a weak smile, attempting to make light of the circumstances we were in. His tight expression told me that he found no humor in my words. “I'll tell him tomorrow when we're out of harm's way. I promise. Right now, I'm hungry, tired, and, if I'm being totally honest, scared. I just want to finish things up on deck then go to bed. I'll lock myself in my bunk tonight with the dresser pressed in front of the door for good measure if that makes you feel any better about Damon.”
“I'm not worried about him in the immediate future. I think he'll bide his time before he tries anything, if he does at all.”
“Okay, then let me finish up down here. The second we're done eating and preparing the boat, I'll disappear.”
“Fine, but you are not going back up on deck, and I'm staying down here with you,” he insisted, still unwilling to come nearer to me.
“Deal, but if you're going to stay down here, the least you could do is make yourself useful,” I told him, a nervous smile breaking across my face.
“Do you have anything you want to ask me about first?” he prompted, still unmoving other than his involuntary sways with the roll of the boat.
I considered his question before answering.
“Was what happened to you out of your control?” I inquired, purposely leaving my question vague.
“Very much so,” he replied, his voice holding a note of regret.
“And that wasn't the outcome you had wanted?”
“Nothing could have been further from my mind at the time.”
“Self defense?”
“In a way . . . ”
I paused for a moment.
“You want to figure out how to set the table and keep it all from sliding away?” I asked him, indicating the cupboard full of flatware beside me. “But you should probably pu
t that knife away first.”
He picked it up off the floor and made his way to the sink.
“Yes, ma'am.”
After washing it, he came to stand beside me, gently placing the blade back in its rightful home.
“Are you all right? I mean, mentally. Are you feeling okay after that?” he continued to look down at what he was doing while he awaited my response.
“I've dealt with some pretty scary individuals in the ER, but he took the cake for sure,” I told him, mindlessly staring at the pot of soup in the sink before me. “But to answer your question, I'm not sure. I don't know that it's fully set in yet. I will be though. Thank you . . . for what you did.”
He placed his hand on mine, his action begging me to look up at him.
“You're welcome, Aesa. And if you have any questions about what I've told you, you can ask them. I'm not trying to hide my past,” he said in earnest. “I've learned a lot from it. It's made me who I am today, and I'm proud of who I've become.”
“I think you should be,” I replied, the words leaving my mouth before I really contemplated them. I didn't really know him, but at every turn he seemed to be someone completely unlike who he'd claimed to be—a felon. I was an amazing judge of character, having not trusted people for at least a decade. I could read a person without even trying. Damon was bad news, and I knew it the second I laid eyes on him. Decker was anything but and continued to show me why.
I heard a rustle from the hall and turned my head to find Robbie standing only a few feet from us, wearing his prize-winning grin. He looked infinitely better than he had the last time I'd checked on him, a rosy glow now painting his cheeks instead sallowness. His fever had clearly broken.
“Don't you look domestic,” he joked, walking around behind us to put his arms around us both.
“Who?” Decker asked, releasing my hand to open the cabinet of plates. “Her or me?”
“Both of you, actually. Aesa, I never pegged you for the type to look so at home in the kitchen, and yet you do. Will wonders never cease?”
“Just trying to look the part.”
“Super. So, Martha Stewart, when do we eat? I'm starving.”
“Glad to see you're feeling better now. Go sit down. It'll be ready in a minute.”
He did as he was told and tucked himself into the banquette, awaiting his meal. I returned my focus to the preparations at hand, but I could feel Decker's gaze landing heavily on the side of my face. I stole a glance over at him to see him whisper the words “talk later” on his lips. I nodded once in agreement.
After dinner was ready, I fixed two plates and disappeared up to the captain's room before the others came in. I wanted to be as far away from Damon as I could while I sorted out how to approach the subject with my father. Even though I had said I wanted to wait until the storm was over, I didn't know if I could. The whole situation felt too unsettling not to say something, storm or not. However, I wanted to be sure to bring it up as delicately as possible, given the potentially dire circumstances we were likely to be in. Decker was a witness, so it wasn't that my father wouldn't believe me, but the storm bearing down on us had him stressed out already, and I didn't want to increase that any more than necessary. I had recognized the second I laid eyes on him back at my childhood home that his health wasn't as good as it could have been, and I didn't want to contribute to its decline if I could avoid it.
He turned to acknowledge me only briefly when I entered. After I placed his plate of food in front of him, his eyes returned to the sea, a constant crease of worry indenting his brow as he assessed how best to navigate her wrath. He'd sailed for many years and was one of the most accomplished captains in the fleet, but he knew when Mother Nature was about to bring the pain. By the look on his face, she was bringing a baseball bat with her.
“Dad, I was hoping I could—”
“Aesa, I'm sorry,” he said abruptly, cutting me off. “I have a lot on my mind right now. This hurricane . . . ” He let his words trail off without completion, but I knew what he was getting at. If it stayed the course, it would be the worst the Alaskan crabbers had seen in decades.
“I'll go,” I whispered, retrieving my plate from the small table beside me.
“No—please stay. I just can't talk right now.”
“Okay, Dad. I'll stay.”
Though I didn't know why, he apparently found comfort in my presence, so I did as he asked, sitting silently beside him, his mute copilot, as he did what he could to evade the worst of the storm. It was going to be a long night for us, especially him. Lives depended on his course of action.
Mine would prove to be no exception.
As he picked at his food, his eyes rarely deviating from the sea before him, I realized that his determination knew no bounds. He was as headstrong as I was, and in that moment it was a highly desirable trait. He would lead us to safety if it was the last thing he ever did. That thought brought a smile to my face as I watched him.
When I heard the boys downstairs preparing to head back out, I got up to leave and join them.
“Be careful, Aesa,” my father said, daring to steal a backward glance at me. My smile widened slightly.
“Of course,” I replied. “And don't worry, Dad. You'll keep us safe. I know it.”
With that, I sped my way down the stairs and into the locker room to suit up and join the others who had already made their way on deck. On my way, I realized that I had meant those words I told my father. He would see us through the storm. Of that I had no doubt.
10
Only a short while after we finished on deck, the storm blew in with reckless abandon. The crew had retired to their bunks, hoping to sleep through the brunt of what Mother Nature had in store for us, but their efforts were in vain. There would be no sleeping. Instead, there would be chaos.
I awoke in my bed to a horrible reality. The blaring sound of the engine alarm jarred me from my sleep. I was met with a pitch-black room and an inescapable sense of doom. It was then that I realized that my bunk was on an angle, nearly forcing me to roll out of it. The boat was listing heavily to the port side. With dead engines and hurricane-level winds accompanying the storm, I knew we were sitting ducks. Before I could even react, a wave slammed into the starboard side, knocking us perilously close to a ninety-degree angle.
The force of the wave ejected me from my bed, throwing me into the door. My back and head immediately throbbed from the impact, but I had no time to dwell on those injuries. I had bigger issues to address. With the pitch of the boat, I was nearly standing on the door. The room was closet-sized, so there was nowhere to maneuver to get out of the way of the door in order to make my escape. Every time I attempted something, I crashed back to the door that threatened to incarcerate me, sending me to a watery grave.
Not knowing what else to do, I screamed, praying that someone would hear me over the eardrum-shattering noise of the engine alarm. My father would be down below, attempting to bring the boat back to life. Robbie, his most skilled engineer, would be with him. The others would be doing all they could to lessen the weight on deck, making every attempt to help the boat right itself before it was too late—too late for us all.
Panic set in upon me, despite my every effort to stifle it. As I pounded and cried for help, thinking all hope was lost, I suddenly heard a faint voice calling for me between the whooping sounds the alarm continually made. With every ounce of energy I had left, I stomped on the door and screamed for help, telling whoever it was where I could be found. Seconds later, he was at my door.
“Aesa? Aesa, we have to get on deck. Now,” Decker yelled through the door.
“I can't get out! I'm trapped,” I shouted back, feeling my throat tighten as I admitted those words aloud.
“Can you get away from the door?”
“I think so. Give me a second,” I replied, scaling the dresser along the wall to stand on top of its side, which had nearly become its top edge. It was my only means to get out of the way, though preca
rious. “Okay! I'm clear.”
He kicked in the door like it was nothing, lying against the hallway wall for leverage. When I saw the concern in his eyes, I knew things were as bad as I'd feared.
“Climb down,” he ordered reaching for me from a precarious stance in the hall. I did as he bade, nearly falling on top of him as I fought to get my footing acclimated to our tilted surroundings. “We have to get you into a survival suit, Aesa,” he said, grabbing my hand to help me navigate the treacherous galley. We fumbled our way to the gear-changing area just shy of the deck.
“Where's my father?” I asked as he threw the bright red neoprene suit at me before grabbing one for himself. I struggled into it, wishing I had had more clothing on than my long underwear and a thermal henley.
“The engine room.”
“And the others?”
“Andy and Damon are on the stack, cutting the ties. We're too top heavy. We're dropping pots.”
“Will it be enough?” I asked in earnest. When his piercing brown eyes met mine, I could see that it wouldn't.
“Get your suit on. Now,” he barked, zipping his up to nearly cover his face while I was still fighting to get my arms into mine. I was half sitting, half leaning against the wall behind me, my feet propped up on a bench, which made it nearly impossible to accomplish the task.
Everything about our predicament was unsettling, not the least of which was the fact that my father and Robbie were in the worst place possible. If the boat started to take on water, the engine room would be the first to flood, not allowing them any chance of escape. The thought stopped me cold.
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