Undressed At Sea: A Psychological Thriller (Drew Stirling Book 2)

by Jayden Hunter

She clenched her mouth shut as tight as she could, but he struck her in the face and squeezed her throat. He forced two of his fingers into her mouth.

  She bit them.

  He struck her in the face with his other hand.

  “Fucking cunt. Don’t bite. I’ll really hurt you.”

  He shoved a handful of pills into her mouth and followed with the water bottle. She gagged and choked. Then she felt herself swallow, it was all she could do to breathe. Fuck, I’m going to die. She quit her struggle. Her eyes watered. She wasn’t going to cry. No. She reminded herself that she had one last chance. Be an actress.

  “Please, Ryan. Let’s make love one last time. I want to feel something before I go.”

  She went limp and closed her eyes. She could hear his breathing and knew he was thinking. She didn’t move a muscle.

  He moved so that he was no longer pinning her arms. He positioned himself to enter her, from the push-up position, arms extended, and his weight off her body.

  As he slid into her, Drew shifted her body and stuck two fingers down her throat. She vomited into his face.

  He screamed like he was on fire.

  “You cunt! Bitch. Whore. Fuck.”

  He jumped off the bed and ran to the sink. He was shouting and complaining.

  “This is so nasty. I can’t believe you did this to me.”

  Drew bolted faster than a favored thoroughbred out of the gate. She was naked and sore, but her mind was alert. Her body pumped adrenalin. As she left the galley and entered the sunlight, she heard Ryan curse at her. A long string of obscenities.

  She glanced back.

  He was faster than he looked. He was already halfway through the galley and coming for her at top speed.

  She finished her sprint at the stern of the boat and dove into the ocean. As her head popped above the surface of the water, she could still hear him screaming at her.

  Drew swam. Her chances of survival in the open sea were small. But her chances overall had improved. She was no longer being held captive on a madman’s boat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.

  ~ Ralph Ellison

  It’s often claimed that there are no perfect crimes and criminals always make mistakes. Perhaps from God’s perspective, this is true, but on planet earth, most crimes go unpunished. Societies simply lack the resources to track down the clues from every act of violence.

  ~ Special Agent Rick Stevenson

  ...................

  Ryan panicked. He was uncomfortable not being in control. He checked for other boats; none were close. He stood at the stern and yelled obscenities at her.

  That ungrateful bitch. I was going to be gentle. Now she’s forcing me to be an asshole.

  “There are sharks out there, Drew. You’ll never make it. Swim back here and we’ll talk.”

  He couldn’t tell whether she was ignoring him or couldn’t hear him.

  In any case, she was swimming away.

  He would make sure she didn’t get very far. In the control room he turned the boat around and decided he’d run the boat right over the top of her. That would be that. Once he felt he’d gone far enough to pass her, he put both gears into reverse. After revving the engines he cut them, stopping the boat.

  “Fucking cunt.” She deserves no sympathy now he thought, his initial anger triggering rage. By the time he reached the stern he was screaming so loud that his throat hurt. He scanned the water, the bright sunlight hurt his eyes, so he put on sunglasses and searched for any signs of Drew without success.

  Maybe he’d ran her over already?

  Perhaps she’d been knocked unconscious and was floating nearby?

  Nope. He saw her, still swimming away. Fuck.

  “Calm down. She won’t get away. Where’s the stupid bitch think she’s going to go?”

  He watched her stop to look back towards the boat, she was water thirty feet away, treading water. She had attempted to stay under and not be seen, but she could only hold her breath so long. Foolish little girl.

  “Drew, listen to me. Listen. Come back here and I’ll be gentle. I won’t cause you any pain. If you stay out there, you’ll be eaten by sharks. If the sharks don’t find you and eat you alive, you’ll end up dehydrated. Then you’ll die slowly and painfully. You’ll wish you’d listened to me. Come here and I’ll be kind to you. I’ll be gentle. I swear. Come back here.”

  She flipped him off.

  “Okay. Fuck you then. I’m just going to leave you to the sharks.”

  He went to the ice hold and picked out the smaller of the tunas he’d caught. He held it up to Drew and then hacked it into pieces with a large knife, cussing under his breath while he was slicing. He held up handfuls of bloody flesh and then threw them out into the water towards her.

  “That’s chum, Drew. Bloody tuna. Sharks will be here any minute. Sharks. Sharks! You bitch. Now, come back to the boat.”

  When he was done hacking, he threw the remaining bones and the fish head into the sea. Fish parts sank, but blood and oil created a slick on the surface of the water.

  He watched Drew and waited.

  She turned away from the boat, flipped him off again, and swam away.

  Ryan went to the flybridge and fired up the engines. He’d teach her a thing or two about being in the open ocean.

  She’ll be scared to death in no time.

  He circled her. Larger and larger circles. She’d realize that she couldn’t escape him. She’d be freaked out enough, and tired enough, to get back on the boat, eventually. It’s not like she had anywhere to go.

  He continued circling and lost track of time. Eventually, he was bored and decided he’d ask her again if she was ready to get into the boat. He started closing his circle. He went around and around in smaller and smaller circles. When he reached the point where she ought to have been, she wasn’t there.

  He cut the engines.

  Ryan walked to the stern and then to the bow.

  He walked down the starboard side and then up the port side.

  He climbed back up to the flybridge and got out his binoculars and searched. She was nowhere to be seen. “Fuck.” He decided to search for another hour. If he couldn’t find her in an hour, then surely he’d be safe to assume she’d drowned. Or maybe sharks had actually come?

  He felt disappointment. If sharks had come for her, he’d missed watching. He should have chummed with the last of the tuna and stayed close by. Next time, he thought.

  ...................

  He got bored after forty-five minutes. She must be gone. No way she could have survived.

  The human body can only take so much. The sea was dangerous. He continued to reassure himself, but nagging doubt always accompanied anything that wasn’t set in concrete and steel. Fuck. He realized she’d conned him. Bitch.

  He had lots of chores to do, so he decided it was time to go to work. It would be nice to be home reasonably early. Jessica would appreciate the fish he’d caught.

  He gathered Drew’s purse, her clothes, and the travel toothbrush she’d used. He threw everything overboard. He stripped the bed. He gathered the towels and the robe she’d worn and threw them overboard, too.

  He used bleach cleanser and wiped down every surface on the boat. Inside and out. He hosed down the decks, washing the last of the fish blood out to sea. He scrubbed the decks. He double and triple checked everything.

  He gathered the magazines she’d read and threw them overboard. He found a paperback sitting on the dresser; he threw that overboard, too. He’d read it. No loss.

  He got nervous, so he threw every book and magazine overboard. Who knew which pages she’d touched?

  He made sure all the glasses in the galley were washed. Even the clean ones. Who knew if she’d touched one of them the last time she was aboard?

  He wondered if she’d told anyone she’d come aboard months ago? Probably not.<
br />
  Most young women that spent time with him weren’t exactly anxious to spread the news. But he wasn’t certain with Drew. She had a bit of an attitude. A fuck-the-world attitude. It was attractive, but it also might mean she had discussed her night out with him the last time she’d come out on the boat. Maybe.

  He had a good excuse if he ever needed to explain her presence onboard; she’d come out for a drink after she had broken up with Kyle. He wouldn’t deny that if asked.

  He was being overly paranoid. Nobody was going to come looking for her DNA or fingerprints. Nobody knew she’d accompanied him on this trip. Nobody. He had been very careful.

  He was finally satisfied that the boat was clean. He had fish on ice, and it was still early enough to be home before dark. It was a good day.

  He went back to the flybridge and scanned with binoculars. No sign of her, not dead, and not swimming. No shark fins, either. He had been hoping. Then he saw a whole bunch of sails.

  Holy fuck an armada.

  Dozens of sailboats were heading his direction. It was time to leave. He went back to the wheelhouse, fired up the engines, and set a course back to the harbor.

  He was closer to shore than he’d imagined. No matter. He set the autopilot and grabbed a Miller. He sat in the captain’s chair and observed. As long as he didn’t see any other boats in front of him, he’d leave the autopilot on. It gave him time to think about the weekend.

  That Drew. He wished he could have kept her around another day. So feisty and so damn sexy. Fantasies of being with her would keep him satiated for months. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to get himself another beer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  In Brody's dreams deep water was populated by slimy, savage things that rose from below and shredded his flesh, by demons that cackled and moaned.

  ~ Peter Benchley

  I have a gentleman’s agreement with sharks. I stay out of the ocean. They stay out of bars.

  ~ Detective Jerry Turner

  ...................

  Drew watched Ryan hold up a fish.

  She was curious only for the briefest of moments. What the hell is he doing with a tuna? Then she heard shouting. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she did hear the word shark.

  He was chumming.

  Her heart rate jumped. She had images from Jaws flash through her mind. She’d modeled once with a French woman who had talked about a movie that was called The Teeth of the Sea in France. It turned out to be the French title of Jaws. It was funny then, but the idea of being ripped open by razor-sharp teeth and bleeding to death was too much to dwell on. She knew it was best to put thoughts of being attacked out of her mind, besides she’d rather take her chances with a swimming shark rather than going back to a walking one.

  She recalled what Kyle had told her when they’d talked about sharks on one of their romantic adventures.

  “This far south there aren’t many sharks to worry about. Not from a human’s perspective. We do get whites down here occasionally, but they usually stay farther north, where the seal population is large. The pelagic sharks you’ll run into out here, they’ll leave you alone for the most part unless you’re injured or bleeding. Blue sharks are like curious dogs, if you show any signs of aggression towards them, they’ll back away,” Ryan had said. “I still wouldn’t want to be swimming this far out. The currents can be strong, like an unseen river. You’re much more likely to die of dehydration and exhaustion than shark attack if you’re lost out here. Don’t fall overboard.”

  Drew gave Ryan her middle finger. She turned and swam away from the boat.

  There was a light wind. Mild choppiness in the water created little waves. It was barely noticeable from a boater’s perspective but annoying to a swimmer.

  She kept moving. There was nothing else to do but swim. The alternative was to go back to him. She’d rather die alone in the sea.

  She had flashbacks. Being nearly drowned. A political henchman. That fight seemed like a lifetime away, but thinking about drowning now struck her as ironic.

  She’d survived then by fighting back, but nobody was standing next to her at the moment to lash out against. It was just her and the open sea. Miles of it. After five minutes she paused and tread water. She looked for the boat. Ryan was circling her. So be it, she thought. I’m not giving in to him. She put her head back down and swam. Freestyle. As if she was in a long-distance race. Stroke, stroke, breath. It was six minutes later that he nearly ran her over.

  She watched as the boat made another circle. As it came back for a second pass at her, and she dove and swam as deep as she could.

  He passed over her and continued into a third circle.

  He continued driving around her several more times.

  On his fifth pass, however, she realized that he’d misjudged her position. Perhaps he’d not realized the effects of the currents? Maybe the chop had confused him?

  He’d simply thought she was someplace else.

  Whatever the cause, he circled to her left. He was searching in concentric circles, but she was outside the diameter of his search. He wouldn’t find her where he was searching, so she quit watching the boat and swam.

  Drew lost track of time.

  She thought of her future. She recalled her friends and her family. All the things she loved.

  She joked with herself that once she got back, she’d eat Mexican food for a week straight.

  If I get back.

  No, she told herself, don’t think about if, think about when. Be positive. Stay hopeful.

  There wasn’t a good reason to lose hope. Panic and hopelessness would be deadly if she allowed them into her mind.

  Just swim she repeatedly told herself. And she did. Drew swam and swam and swam.

  ...................

  Hours passed, but it felt like days.

  Drew’s tongue was swollen, and she had to fight the urge to drink from the sea. The small amount of water that managed to get into her mouth tasted sweet and cool. She had to remind herself that drinking from the ocean would kill her. Occasionally she stopped and floated on her back. The skies above her were clear. The sun warmed her face, but the rest of her body was numb from the cold and the exertion.

  She saw seabirds. She wondered what they thought about her, a strange creature, swimming all alone. Perhaps they thought she was hunting for fish and they were waiting for an easy meal? Thankfully, she never saw a shark, but she knew they were there, it was a big ocean.

  She didn’t let her mind dwell on the thought of sharks. When she couldn’t help herself, the image that came to her mind was of Captain Quint sliding down the deck of his sinking boat. The shark from Jaws bit him in half, and he vomited blood before he died. Drew wondered if she’d feel any pain? She was already numb from head to toe.

  Her hand landed on something solid. She screamed out in primal fear.

  But then, in her isolation, she accepted her death. She’d had a good life. When nothing painful or gory happened, she opened her eyes. It was only flotsam. She used it to rest. By putting her head on her arms, she could float with little effort.

  Drew napped.

  Something, or someone, called her name.

  “Drew.”

  It was a clear voice, but indescribable. It wasn’t Ryan. It wasn’t Kyle. It wasn’t her father. God? No. Who was calling her? She heard her name again. “Drew.” It was soft and pleasant. Maybe it was God? Or a god? Or someone had come to rescue her?

  She looked up. She opened her eyes. Blurry. Sore. She looked around.

  Nothing was there. Nobody was there. She was alone.

  She was dreaming. Or hallucinating.

  Drew knew she was dying, and she was at peace.

  ...................

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes, Drew?”

  “What happens when you die?”

  “You go to Heaven.”

  “Where is that?”

  “It’s a wonderful place. It’s
a happy place, nobody is sad there. Your grandma and grandpa are there. And your puppy, too.”

  “Boo is in Heaven?”

  “Yes. He’s happy, but he misses you, too. I’m sure.”

  “How do you know, Mommy?”

  “Because. Everyone knows, silly. Why are you thinking about dying? You’re just a little girl.”

  “I don’t know. Are you sure Heaven is real?”

  Drew realized she was alone when her mother didn’t answer her.

  “Mommy?”

  She called out in the fear every child knows. Night terror. Bad dreams. Demons. Witches. Aloneness. That was the worst. Aloneness. Utter and complete abandonment.

  There was no answer from her mother or anyone else.

  Drew panicked and tried to run, but she couldn’t move. Her body was frozen, and her mind was in total darkness.

  She saw a figure.

  “Do you know where my mother is?” she asked.

  “This way, Drew,” the figure said.

  “Who are you?”

  “The spirit sent to get you,” it said.

  “Are you taking me to Heaven?”

  The spirit laughed. It sounded like an old dying woman. Cackling and laughing in mocking disgust, the figure turned its head towards Drew. Its face came into focus. It was him. The man from the forest.

  “You didn’t think I wouldn’t come back for you, did you?”

  ...................

  When Drew woke, she had no idea how long she’d been asleep. She looked around, eyes blurry and swollen. The scenery hadn’t changed. The sun was in a new position. She tried to calculate the time, but her mind couldn’t conceive of numbers. She only knew they existed.

  She was very thirsty. Her tongue was swollen, and she could barely open her mouth. It didn’t matter; there was nobody to speak to.

  She briefly wondered if she was going to be surprised after she died. She didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell or anybody’s theory about an afterlife. She suspected that there might be a parallel universe. Maybe strange physics existed that would leave her shocked and happily wrong about death, but in her final analysis, she knew that the end was the end. Organic chemistry was a solid science. The brain died, and with it, whatever it was that people liked to call the soul died as well.