Chapter Forty-three

Greyson

The marina was officially closed. That didn’t stop the owners of the vessels from coming and going at all hours. As I parked my car, I looked for GODDESSES OF THE SEAS. If it were present, it would stick out like a luxurious giant sore thumb. Its sheer size would dwarf most of the yachts present. My stomach twisted at the thought of riding out to sea in the blue cigarette boat. I’d told myself for years that death would come but voluntarily being taken out into the Pacific Ocean was as dangerous as fucking the New York don’s granddaughter.

Apparently, I enjoyed living on the edge.

“Ingalls.”

I turned toward the unfamiliar voice.

The man with dark hair from the cigarette boat appeared as my stomach sank.

“Follow me.”