Page 87 of Crimson Fate
The boat’s interior is a maze, but I sweep through the cabin swiftly. An urgency propels me, a critical task that can’t be left undone. I pull open the drawers wildly until I find a candle and a box of matches.
My fingers brush over the cold metal of the propane tank hidden beneath the kitchen cabinet. I remove the corded pipe and carry the tank to the back of the ship along with the candle and matches.
I wedge the propane tank next to where the fuel tanks reside just below. I move the candle a few feet away and carefully light it, ensuring there is enough distance between the candle and the tank for me to get clear before the show. With a quick twist of the valve, the propane begins filling the space, and I make my exit, leaping from the side of the boat onto the dock.
Racing to the other end, I scoop Eva into my arms. She seems alarmed until she realizes it’s me and then burrows deeper into my chest.
“Vincent?” Her voice is all the motivation I need as I sprint down the dock.
“I’m right here, angel,” I call out, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins.
“Almost there,” I whisper. Eva doesn’t need to know the danger that lingers on our heels—the imminent explosion designed to cover our tracks.
When my last footsteps off the dock, the world erupts into a crescendo of sound and heat as a fireball claws its way into the sky, consuming the night. I instinctively pull Eva closer to my side, shielding her with my body, feeling the shock wave roll over us like a physical force.
“What was that?” Eva’s voice trembles against the inferno’s roar, her eyes wide with alarm as she stares at the rising flames reflected in their depths.
“Nothing to worry about, Tesoro,” I say, pushing onto the car that awaits us down the street. I secure Eva into the passenger seat before slipping into the driver’s seat and closing my door.
Tossing the keys into the tray near the gear shift, I press the ignition, and the car purrs to life. As we glide away from the scene, I steal a glance in the rearview mirror. The boat is nothing more than a silhouette against the blaze, a fiery pyre that consumes every last shred of evidence along with Anthony’s corpse.
Eva wraps her arms around herself, shivering despite the warmth. “It feels like it’s all a dream,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on the burning embers floating down like sinister snowflakes.
I reach over to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”
She nods silently, leaning her head against the window. With each mile we put between us and the flames, the tension in her shoulders eases, replaced by a wary sense of relief.
Chapter Thirty-Three
My fingers drum a relentless rhythm on the armrest of my chair, the sound lost in the sterile symphony of the hospital waiting room. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and anxiety. I don’t need to look around to know that every member of our group is strung tighter than piano wire.
I was relieved to find Gia sleeping on one of the loveseats in the waiting room. I haven’t decided how I will tell her about her father yet.
I glance at the clock on the wall, its hands moving too slowly for my liking. Every second that ticks by is another moment Nico’s life hangs in the balance.
When I look up, Marco approaches the waiting room. He stepped away to see if there was any news on Nico’s progress. His usually composed face is etched with lines of worry. I shift Eva from my shoulder, and she peers up at me, wide-eyed.
“I’m going to talk to Marco,” I say. “You stay here with Amelia, okay?”
She nods, pulling my jacket back up under her chin, her legs pulled in tight to her chest. Amelia arrived at the hospital shortly after Eva and me. I was surprised Alexei and Nikolai accompanied her, but even more surprised they refused to leave until we heard something.
“Hey, man,” I whisper to Marco. “Let’s talk in the hall.”
He nods.
When we’re alone, I ask him if there’s any news.
Marco shakes his head, his hands clenched into tight fists. “No, they’re still in surgery. The waiting is killing me, Vincent. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it.”
“I had no idea the two of you were so close,” I admit, a little ashamed I had been so hard on Nico.
Marco shrugs. “We’ve been through some shit. I trust him.”
I place a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. “I’m sure he’s going to pull through. It’s good that Gia managed to sleep. I figured she would be a wreck after shooting her dad.”
Marco shoves his hands into his pockets, his eyes shifting around the hallway awkwardly.
“What is it?” I press.