“Move in with me.”
She jerked her head up. Was he serious? “Don’t you think we’re a little busy at the moment?”
Bryce shrugged. “This is just a minor inconvenience.”
“And the plane crash, what would you call that?”
“Eye-opening.”
“We’ve been through a lot,” she began, not sure who she was trying to reason with.
Didn’t extreme situations make people do crazy things? Did moving in together fall under that heading? Hell, everything they’d been through since the wedding reception could probably be considered extreme.
Patrick’s death, the crash, the infection…
“Darby,” he murmured, waiting until he’d regained her attention, “I don’t want to go another night without you in my bed.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “We could be rushing it.”
He leaned forward, his gaze piercingly determined. “I’ve been waiting ten years. Nothing about that is rushing it.”
Her stomach backflipped, a dizzying mix of hope and happiness slicing through the fear wanting to take hold.
“Say yes,” he pleaded.
“Yes.”
The boat rocked sharply on the heels of her answer, and she cast a glance overhead.
“Are we slowing down?”
She almost hoped not. That meant something was about to happen, and it couldn’t be good.
Someone hollered out above and moving feet stomped across the ceiling. They couldn’t even take advantage of their captors being distracted by whatever they were doing and escape. Trapped on a boat, there was nowhere to go.
She was torn between wanting Dante to find them and hoping he didn’t. She didn’t want any of her family pulled into a dangerous situation—
She couldn’t even finish that thought before she started to laugh.
“What?”
“I’m just like the rest of my family. Always getting into trouble.”
“Not the Calders,” he quipped, his eyes lacking the usual cynicism that had always accompanied comments about her family. “Guess that means you should have a plan?”
“I’m new at this. I’ve only figured out the getting into trouble part.”
Within minutes the Sea Witch bumped up against something. Another boat, or maybe a dock?
More footsteps echoed overhead and then there was movement at the opening near the ladder leading above deck.
Dressed in another expensive suit that dared the worsening surf to put a single wrinkle in it, Mr. Dunham descended into the cabin.
So it was the same Sea Witch after all.
He frowned, seeming confused as to what they were doing there. “You two went missing. Your plane supposedly crashed.”
She met his gaze. “Nothing supposed about it.”
“You sound surprised,” Bryce added, betraying no sign that anything about their current situation intimidated him.
“That you’re alive. That does surprise me.”
“I guess somebody’s not getting their year-end bonus.”
Mr. Dunham cocked his head. “You think I had someone orchestrate your plane crash? Why would I bother when you were leaving?”
Between the missing satellite phone, no functioning beacon on the plane and the appearance of the Sea Witch, it had made sense.
Dunham laughed, then leaned back against the counter, arms crossed like he was in a board meeting. “Your questions were no more than a minor problem. My son’s body had already been disposed of, along with that of his girlfriend. And with the right people compensated, there was nothing for me to worry about.”
She glanced at Bryce. Their plane crash had been an accident, one that had inadvertently delivered them right into Mr. Dunham’s hands. And she highly doubted he’d consider what they witnessed on the beach a minor problem.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Dunham turned away, speaking to the two men who’d brought them onboard. “Get them inside the compound.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
He could hear mice.
At least that’s all Bryce hoped it was. They scurried in the darkness, but thankfully stayed on their side of the cellar that he and Darby had been left in after they’d been escorted off the Sea Witch.
“Could be rats,” Darby said as if reading his mind and wanting to tease him. Her voice was the only indication she was close to him, and it also told him she was trying to hide how scared she was.
Bryce couldn’t even see his own hands, the cellar was sealed so completely.
A little scuffle came from across the dark space.
Not that sealed, apparently.
Above them somewhere was a warehouse of sorts that Patrick’s father used as his base of operations. Inside had been at least ten boats, ranging from expensive-looking speed- and sailboats to a few yachts. All of them were in various stages of being repainted and renamed, all identifiable features erased as though they had never existed.
Like the people on the beach.
“How long do you think he’s going to keep us down here?”
Bryce didn’t say anything.
“Is that a we could end up rotting down here silence, or a we’ll wish we had rotted down here silence? I can’t tell.”
“We’re not rotting anywhere.” He focused on his amulet. “Luminarium.”
A flicker, no more than a blip in the dark, was all he got. Darby was only slightly better. Her attempt had given them light for about two seconds, long enough to blind them more than they already were.
“I don’t think I can feel my hands anymore,” she said quietly.
“Here.” He turned around and leaned up against her back, finding her hands with his. He began massaging her fingers.
She cursed under her breath before long.
“Guess it’s working, huh?”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the cellar door, and Darby’s fingers closed over his.
“Close your eyes,” he advised, before the hallway light poured into the room. It would be easier for their eyes to adjust if they didn’t look directly into the light.
“Get up.” The guy with the Jamaican accent walked into the room.
“Use me to stand,” he said to Darby, not wanting the asshole to yank her up and hurt her arm again.
When she was on her feet, Bryce started the painstaking process of getting up on his own. He was pretty sure his leg couldn’t hurt any more than it already was.
His eyes had barely adjusted by the time they were pushed through a set of double doors and into the warehouse.
The sounds of tools working as mechanics fiddled with the boats echoed in the massive space. Instead of leading them to an office somewhere away from the noise, they were brought to a spot in the middle of the warehouse.
Mr. Dunham stood with his back to them, glancing from some kind of design to the man leaning over the stern of a yacht that had to be more than fifty feet long.
Spotting them, he turned around. “Sorry for the delay. I had a meeting with a buyer. Business first, you understand.”
Of course they did, Bryce thought. No matter how much he scanned the room, hunting for anything that could help them, he kept coming up empty.
“Do you want to hear something amusing, Ms. Calder?” Mr. Dunham gestured to the man leaning against the hull of the yacht.
Bryce didn’t recognize him.
“Xavier believes that he saw your necklace glow the night he chased you through the woods.” As if the conversation alone spooked him, Xavier slid a cigarette from the package stuffed in his pocket and walked away.
“So you hire people with a history of drug use? Impressive HR people you’re using,” Darby mused.
The cold smile on Mr. Dunham’s face was anything but entertained.
“So what happened with Patrick?” Bryce asked, wanting the man’s attention off Darby’s amulet entirely.
Tapping the folder he’d been looking over when they’d been escorted in, Mr. Dunham glanced over t
he paperwork inside. Nodding, he handed it off to one of the men waiting nearby.
“My son didn’t like it when I killed his girlfriend. It seems I underestimated his attachment to her.”
Darby frowned. “The Sea Witch wasn’t an engagement present, was it?”
“Tiffany,” Mr. Dunham continued, “had the misfortune to see my son onboard that boat. He’d wanted to show her how important he was, the things he could provide for her.”
“Except the couple who had owned the Sea Witch, the ones you set adrift on that life raft, ended up washing up on the beach of your own resort,” Darby explained, piecing everything together.
“The irony of it doesn’t escape me.” He smirked. “Much like your plane crashing almost in my backyard, wouldn’t you agree?” Picking up another folder, he waved at the guy with the Jamaican accent.
“Take them outside. And make sure you dispose of the bodies properly. I don’t want them found with bullet holes in them when they supposedly died in a plane crash.”
“Move.”
The Jamaican wasn’t big on words with many syllables, was he? After a few steps, he fell back behind them, checking his gun. Probably to scare them.
They skirted around half a dozen drums that Bryce guessed contained gasoline or oil, and were not all that far from the welding tools being used nearby. He waited for Darby to meet his gaze, then nodded to them.
“Not strong enough,” she mouthed.
“Together,” he mouthed back.
She moved closer to him, but they kept the same pace until they were almost to the open bay doors leading outside. He could already see the water when he spun around grabbing Darby’s hands.
Staring at the stacked barrels the Jamaican had just passed, he let the words leave his mouth at the same time as Darby.
He didn’t wait to see if anything happened, but shoved Darby through the bay doors. “Run!” They made it only a few steps before the drums exploded behind him, and the blast knocked them off their feet.
Son of a bitch.
It took a second for him to catch his breath, and he rolled to his side. “Darby?”
“I’m okay.” She carefully sat up. “Just can’t get enough air.” She took a deep breath, then another.
A few feet away Xavier staggered, his forgotten cigarette hanging from his mouth like someone had glued it to his lip. Slack-jawed, he turned from the burning shell of the warehouse to where Bryce and Darby sat at the edge of the beach.
Bryce could tell by the warmth spreading across his chest that his amulet was still glowing, and the guy was staring right at it.
For once in his life he couldn’t make himself care.
The guy stammered something in a language Bryce didn’t know, made the sign of the cross over his chest, and took off running.
When no one else came running out of the warehouse, Darby lay back on the sand. “I think you scared him.”
* * *
“Is that them?”
Darby wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the explosion when she squinted against the late-morning sun, trying to pick out what could be the sound of a motor over the turbulent ocean swells slamming into the rocks not too far away.
It couldn’t be a boat from the warehouse of sorts around the next point that Mr. Dunham had been using to run his pirating operation. She was pretty sure there wasn’t anything left of it. Anyone who’d survived had either gotten off the island by a smaller personal boat, or they’d gone into hiding somewhere.
Either way, no one had come near them where they’d taken refuge on a rock shelf surrounded by chunks of smooth stone warmed by the sun. After hours in the dark and the chill that had set in after the adrenaline left her system, she’d welcomed the heat.
A shape separated from the horizon, but she still didn’t move. Wouldn’t until she was sure who it was. Maybe it was their family, and maybe it was someone else who worked for Mr. Dunham delivering the newest acquisition.
Wouldn’t they get a surprise.
Bryce moved against her side. “Hmmmm?”
Since his fever, she’d found it hard to sleep, always wanting to make sure it didn’t come back. She was pretty sure it was because of the fever that he’d fallen asleep, even if it hadn’t been for long.
“I nodded off?” He sounded annoyed with himself.
“Just for a few minutes.” She pointed to the growing shape headed toward them. “It could be them.”
Straightening, Bryce held up a hand to shield his eyes. “Maybe.” He didn’t want to get too hopeful either.
The wait for what looked to be an oversized fishing vessel was agonizing.
“Would anyone pirate a ship like that?” The question had barely left her mouth when a smaller boat was launched from the vessel. On instinct, she pressed tighter to Bryce. She remembered all too well how things went down the last time that happened.
“It might be—”
“Dante.” She jumped to her feet. “It’s Dante.” She could just barely make out the familiar silhouette, waiting only another few seconds to be sure. “It’s him.” She bent to help Bryce up, taking some of his weight as they moved away from the rocks and toward the sandy shoreline.
The boat reached the edge of the shore before they did, and Dante launched himself from the boat, tearing up the beach to reach her. Right on his heels was…Thomas Lancaster?
Bryce looked as stunned as she was. Standing on his own, he released his grip on her hand only when Dante swept her up in a fierce hug. The familiar sense of safety and home washed over her, and tears blurred her eyes.
Her twin noticed the way she held her arm. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.” She looked past Dante’s shoulder to where Thomas pulled his son into just as tight an embrace.
“We thought we lost you,” he said, his hoarse voice carrying on the breeze.
Bryce clapped him on the back. “We hung in there.” He slipped away from his father, returning to Darby’s side to lace their fingers, making it clear to everyone that they were together.
Dante didn’t look impressed, but she was too tired and relieved to care. In a daze she followed everyone back to the smaller boat, alternately answering the questions that were thrown at her and Bryce.
Once they were on board and everyone’s curiosity was momentarily appeased, Bryce led her to a wide, padded bench along the side of the vessel, out of the way of the crew that stared as much as everyone else.
“You need to get your leg checked.”
“After.” He sat down, coaxing her to stretch out and rest her head on his good leg. “It’s your time to rest,” he murmured, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “I’ve got you.”
She curled herself toward him, finding his hand with her own. She wanted to talk to her family more, to reassure them she was okay, but somewhere between Dante storming the beach and climbing onboard the fishing boat, she’d lost the last of her strength. “Maybe for just a few minutes.” She met Bryce’s gaze, reading his eyes easily before she gave herself over to sleep.
I’ve got you.
* * *
Darby didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but from the way Bryce tensed, she guessed it was her brother’s shadow that fell across her face, but she didn’t open her eyes. It was easier if she just pretended she was still asleep.
The rocking motion of the boat, combined with the way Bryce ran his hands through her hair, had guaranteed she would fall asleep the moment she’d laid down on the bench and put her head in his lap.
“Don’t.” The lethally quiet warning came from Bryce.
Dante didn’t move. Didn’t say a word in response.
Although the impulse to break up the fight before it started stirred inside her, she didn’t move. Not yet.
“You’re not good enough for her.”
“That’s not your call.”
“You had your shot,” Dante challenged, his voice no louder than Bryce’s but still more menacing somehow. “You fucked i
t up.”
Bryce’s hand tensed at the back of her hair, a subtle tightening that told her he knew she was awake, and that he wanted her to let him handle this. She was too exhausted, physically and mentally, to even think about having a problem with that.
“And now I’m making up for it.”
“A little late for that,” Dante argued, his tone telling everyone within eavesdropping distance that it was actually a lot late for that.
Bryce resumed running his fingers along her temple, easing the urge to get between the two men who had nearly as much to work out as she and Bryce. “I know about the baby.”
“You knew years ago…” Dante trailed off, as though Bryce was shaking his head in disagreement.
“She told me when the plane was going down, actually. It was a toss-up between which was the biggest shock, the crash or that little detail you failed to mention when you came to beat me to a pulp after she lost the baby.”
Darby must have tensed because his hand was at the back of her head again.
Was that what Bryce had been talking about when they’d been aboard the Sea Witch, when he’d said he knew how Dante felt?
“You deserved every punch.”
“And so did you.” He drew in a sharp breath like he was fighting for control. “You should have said something.”
“I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
Both men fell silent for a long moment.
Dante was the first to speak again. “Nothing has changed. You realize that, don’t you? She’s still a Calder.”
“I know exactly who she is.”
Darby held her breath, waiting for Dante to take issue with that comment. Hell, with all of Bryce’s comments.
Footsteps faded away, a ray of sunshine warming her face in place of Dante’s shadow.
“He’s gone,” Bryce said quietly a few seconds later. He smoothed her hair across her temple. “We’ll be fine,” he assured her when she didn’t say anything.
She cracked open one eye, peering up at him. “Optimism is not one of your strengths.”
“I’m a work in progress.”
She poked him in the chest, doing her best to let go of the fear that her family, Dante in particular, would never accept Bryce as part of her life. “Aren’t we all.”
Must Be Magic (Spellbound Book 4) Page 20