Page 115 of Duty Unbound

“Coast Guard, Coast Guard, this is the pleasure craftDestiny. Do you copy? Over.”

A crackling voice responded almost immediately. “Destiny, this is US Coast Guard. We’re reading an EPIRB signal from your location. Do you require assistance? Over.”

Tommy laughed easily, his entire demeanor transformed. “That’s a negative, Coast Guard. Bit embarrassing, actually. I was doing some maintenance on the EPIRB and accidentally activated it. Everything’s shipshape here. Over.”

“Copy that,Destiny. We’ll mark it as a false alarm. Just remember that EPIRB signals trigger full search and rescue protocols. Over.”

“Won’t happen again, Coast Guard. Appreciate your understanding.Destinyout.”

Tommy replaced the radio handset, then turned to face me. The friendly mask he’d worn for the Coast Guard dissolved, revealing something cold and calculating underneath.

He strode back to where I was tied, kneeling down to grip my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him.

“You’ll learn,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over my split lip. “Just like the others should have learned. But you’re smarter, I can tell. You’ll understand eventually that we’re meant to be together.”

He leaned in, his face inches from mine. “There’s no one to run to out here. No one to save you. Just you and me and all the time in the world.”

His words sent waves of revulsion through me, but I couldn’t look away, couldn’t escape the madness I saw in his eyes.

“When I get back, I’ll start teaching you how not to be a tease,” he whispered. “How to be the woman I need you to be.”

He released my face and stood, retrieving the EPIRB from where he’d set it. Without another word, he walked to the edge of the boat and tossed the device into the water. The yellow beacon bobbed for a moment before beginning to drift away.

Tommy returned to the helm, starting the engines with a roar. The boat lurched forward, quickly putting distance between us and the floating distress signal.

“Even if they decide to check,” he called over the engine noise, “they won’t find us anywhere near the signal.”

I sagged against my restraints, despair washing over me. My one chance at rescue, literally thrown overboard.

Tommy set a course and engaged what must have been some kind of autopilot before returning to where I sat. He crouched down, stroking my hair with false tenderness.

“It’s just us now, Mel. You’ll see how good it can be, once you stop fighting it.”

A single tear escaped, sliding down my cheek. Tommy caught it with his thumb, looking almost fascinated.

“I knew you were special from the moment I saw you,” he murmured. “Not like Nova—all flash and ego. You’re real. Genuine. The kind of woman who understands what matters in life.”

I tried to speak through the gag, making only muffled sounds of protest.

“Shh,” he soothed, standing again. “I have preparations to make. You just sit there and think about how lucky you are. Most women never find a man who loves them the way I love you.”

As he disappeared below deck, I tested my restraints, finding no give in the expertly tied knots. The sun beat down on myexposed skin, the gentle lapping of waves against the hull almost mocking in its serenity.

Ethan’s face filled my mind again—his quiet strength, his unwavering protection. Would I ever see him again? Would I ever get to tell him how I felt about him?

The thought of never experiencing the safety of his arms again sent a fresh wave of despair through me. I closed my eyes, trying to summon his voice, trying to find comfort in the memory of the few precious days we’d shared.

Somewhere out in that endless blue, the EPIRB would be sending its signal into the void—a tiny electronic plea for help, drifting farther away with each passing second.

Just like hope.

Chapter 37

Ethan

“Boss, how good of a swimmer are you?”

Jace’s question from twelve hours ago echoed in my mind as I crouched low in our inflatable raft, the Atlantic waves gently rocking beneath us. Stars reflected off the dark water, the moon providing just enough light for us to see the outline of Tommy Fitzsimmons’s mini yacht about a hundred yards ahead.

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