Chapter 10 - The Shoreline Boathouse
The salt air of Long Island Sound hit my face like a splash of cold water as we burst out of the heavy wooden doors of the boathouse into the freezing October night.
The waves crashed against the stone pilings below, churning white under a moonless sky. In the distance, half a mile out on the dark water, the lights of a sleek black yacht flickered against the horizon—Silas Dyer’s escape vessel, waiting for a signal.
Vincent slammed the heavy boathouse doors shut, sliding a rusted iron deadbolt into place just as the distant sounds of shouting echoed from the path behind us.
“They’ll be here in two minutes,” Vincent said, scanning the shoreline. A motorized speedboat rocked gently against the wooden dock inside the boathouse, its engine humming quietly in idle.
He turned to me, his face illuminated only by the green glow of the boat's dashboard instruments.
“Bridget,” he said, his voice urgent, cutting through the sound of the wind. “Take the ledger. Take the keys to this boat. Go across the bay to the old Westport dock. There's a safehouse there—the address is memorized in the boat’s GPS. You'll find enough cash and documents to get your mother out of the state before Silas even realizes you've escaped.”
I froze, clutching the worn leather book to my chest. “And you?”
“I’m going back up to the house,” Vincent said simply, checking the magazine of his pistol. “As long as they think I’m the one holding the cards, they won't look at the water.”
“No,” I said, stepping onto the wooden dock and planting my feet firmly against the damp planks. “I'm not running away while you take the fall for my family's history.”
Vincent stared at me, disbelief flashing across his striking features. “Bridget, this isn't a game. Silas wants you dead or captured so that ledger never sees daylight.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have the ledger, and you have the gun,” I replied, my voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in my ears. I tossed the keys to the boat into the dark water beside the pilings with a sharp splash.
Vincent stared down at the dark water, then back up at my face, a slow, dangerous kind of respect dawning in his pale gray eyes.
May you like
Before he could answer, the rear window of the boathouse shattered inward with an explosive crash.
A heavy boot slammed against the wooden framing as a shadowy figure dropped through the opening, leveling a silenced weapon directly at Vincent’s chest.
