Page 25 of Rescuing Mia
“I could maybe do forty percent,” he says finally. “But that’s my absolute limit.”
A flicker of brightness sparks in my eyes, quickly subdued as I strive to act as if I don’t care. “Seventy percent.” I counter, voice steady, betraying none of the hope surging within.
My fingers curl slightly into my palm, the only sign of the excitement I work to conceal.
He hesitates for a long moment, and I’m afraid he’s going to refuse, but then, with a quick nod, he agrees.
“You know what? Because I like you and don’t want to see this cabin go to waste, I’ll give it to you for seventy-five percent off.”
“You will?” Relief floods through me, so strong it nearly brings tears to my eyes.
“I’m feeling generous.” He takes a long look at me. “May I see your identification and passport, please?”
My hands shake as I hand him my passport—my fake passport. He takes it, quickly scanning the document. He doesn’t even confirm the photo matches my face. He enters my information and then hands the passport back to me.
“How will you be paying?”
I hesitate using the money from the satchel, then remember what else I took from Agent Torres’s body. I feel like a thief, but I rationalize Red Phoenix will be looking for credit card charges from a woman, not a dead man.
I pull out my dead contact’s wallet, my fingers trembling as I hand over a credit card that’s not mine.
This purchase is going to raise all kinds of red flags, but I’m hoping it will leave a trail. Not for those following me but for the people that man worked for. After they discover his body, they’ll notice the lack of a wallet. This purchase will tell them someone used his credit card.
It’s my hope that will lead the good guys to rescue me.
I tap the card at the payment terminal. A second passes, and then a beep confirms that the transaction is approved. I take a deep breath.
“Perfect. You’re all set.” The man hands me my boarding pass and informational materials for my cruise. “Please proceed through embarkation. The last call for boarding is in five minutes. Enjoy your cruise.”
As he hands me the ticket, he gives me a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? I could get in trouble.”
I nod, giving him a grateful smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”
With the ticket in hand, I make my way toward the gangway, my heart lighter than it’s been in days. I’m not naive enough to think that my troubles are over, but for the first time, I feel like I have a chance.
As I walk up the gangway, my heart is in my throat. I’m terrified, but there’s a flicker of something else too.
Something that feels suspiciously like hope.
I don’t know if I’ll ever feel truly safe again, but for now, as I step onto the deck of theSerenity, I allow myself to breathe. To believe that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
A crew member checks my ticket and passport. Unlike the attendant at the ticket counter, he pays far more attention. His eyes linger on my face, and he checks my passport while a bead of sweat trickles down my spine.
“Welcome aboard.” He waves me through, and I step onto the gangway, feeling a tremendous weight lift off my shoulders. The metal grating clangs beneath my feet, and the boat gently sways beneath me.
So far, so good.
Serenityis a vision of gleaming white metal and polished brass. She’s a much smaller vessel than a regular cruise ship, very close to the water line, reminding me of the steamers of old. She has a certain vintage charm about her that sets her apart from her behemoth cousins that dwarf her at port.
Tonight, once it’s dark, I’m going to the stern, to the dive platform, and watch the world disappear.
The deck is narrow, and the railings are worn smooth by countless hands. My imagination runs wild as I envision all the conversations that have taken place here, the laughter and excitement, the families with little children heading out on an adventure of a lifetime.
What I wouldn’t give for that to be me.
Instead, my gut churns with fear, and I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for the authorities to drag me back to Shanghai, where I will pay for my crimes.
On that down note, I make my way to my cabin, navigating the narrow corridors with ease. The halls may be small, but they’re richly appointed with wood paneling and soft carpets to absorb sound. The air inside is cool, if not a bit salty, and beneath my feet, the gentle thrum of engines vibrates the steel floor beneath me.