The Subtle Art of Love and War 3

Chapter 24: Free-falling

Every cell in my body is on high fucking alert as I creep down the hallway, my head turning from side to side, front and back. There's not a single fucking soul in sight. Not a single sound to be heard. Then a knob turns and my hand flies to the glock behind me. Unlock, cock, fingers ready to pull the trigger. All in the split second that I turn to see a door open in front of me. With both hands steadily and securely wrapped around the handgun, I lift and aim at the person stepping outside.

"Woah! The hell, Tiffin!" Cedric instantly takes a few steps back with his hands raised in surrender. His eyes are wide with alarm.

I stare at him, gun still aimed. He's not armed and the wild look on his face is genuine. I strain my ears, lifting a finger against my pursed lips to silently tell to shut the fuck up, but aside from his heavy breaths, there's nothing. My hands fall to my sides and sigh.

"What's going on?" He hisses under his breath. "Why are you holding a gun?

"Have you heard anything from the crew?" I ask him instead of answering his questions.

He frowns. "No, that's why I came out. It's getting late and no one's bothered to call me about dinner. Seriously, Hero, what the fuck is going on?"

"Something's wrong," I inform him vaguely. "Have you been in there the whole time?"

"Yes. I've been reading through some contracts. Are you really not going to tell me what's happening here and why the hell you're ready to shoot that gun?" He nods down to the glock clutched tightly in my hand.

"Grab whatever you can to defend yourself, Benson," I instruct, moving along to the end of the hallway that leads to the lower deck.

"What? Why?" He scampers behind me.

Planting my back against the end of the wall, I take a peek out to the deck. It's deserted. I quickly yet quietly pad towards the opposite direction that leads to the bar and indoor dining.

"Tiffin," Cedric hisses my name and the sound grates my ears.

"I can't explain everything right now. All you have to know is that I think someone snuck inside the yacht and if you want to bloody help me find out what's happened to the entire crew, you better grab a fucking weapon just in case." The words come out in a hush, rushing out of my mouth with every silent step I take.

"Just in case what?" He growls, frustrated. He's right behind me, breathing down my fucking neck.

"Just in case I'm not being paranoid and that we're all fucked."

Outside the sliding door leading to the dining room, Cedric takes the fire extinguisher that hangs on the wall and wields it like a baseball bat. His muscles are taught, stretching his navy polo shirt with every ripple and flex. That would work, I guess, but there is still a sliver of hope that I'm fucking wrong about all of this. That I'm just overreacting. That there is no eminent danger for all of us on this yacht.

With both hands clasping the handgun safely pointed down to the floor, fingers poised to pull the trigger, I step into the already slid open door. The lights are muted to a soft glow but the room is clearly empty. No Jason or Samara in sight but the oval table is already set for dinner. The sight triggers another shudder to rip down my back. I don't fucking like where this is going.

Without preamble, I cross the room and push the swinging door leading into the kitchen. It creaks loudly on its hinges and I can't help but wince at the grating sound. When my eyes adjust to the unlit kitchen, I freeze in place. Cedric knocks my back which, in turn, makes me sway a little in place. I swear to god, my heart stops beating at this instant.

"Shit," he curses under his breath when he follows my horrified gaze.

On the floor by the three-door fridge are Samara and Jason. Both unconscious with their hands restrained behind their backs. Samara's head rests on Jason's shoulder whilst the latter has his bent down.