Page 90 of The Situation Ship
Sophia went down like a sack of potatoes, bleeding from a nasty gash on the back of her head. Phoebe dropped the brick and looked like she was going to be sick.
“Help me,” Isaiah said urgently, getting Poppy to the ledge.
Phoebe snapped out of her trance and helped him ease Poppy onto the side. “She’s breathing,” she told him, resting Poppy on her side so she coughed up some water. Isaiah took some deep breaths as he scrambled out of the pool and got to Poppy’s side.
With Poppy safe, Phoebe grabbed Isaiah’s gun and pointed it at Sophia.
“Poppy?” Isaiah called, resting her on his lap. Her eyelids fluttered, but it seemed like she couldn’t focus on him. There was no blood around her head, so she hadn’t hit her head.
“These were on the sun lounger,” Phoebe said, her hand shaking as she handed him a bottle of pills in Martha Roe’s name. It was empty. “This must be how she got her into the water. She drugged her first.”
“The sedatives are keeping her unconscious,” Isaiah said, listening to Poppy’s shallow breathing until the ambulance arrived in case she stopped breathing. The sirens were music to his ears, until he tried to move her. Blood pooled beneath her as her stab wound opened. Isaiah gritted his teeth to contain his rage at Sophia, putting pressure against the wound.
“Go to the front and direct the paramedics. Show them the bottle of pills, but don’t talk to the police unless I’m with you,” he ordered.
“Okay, I’m going,” Phoebe said, handing him the gun and rushing out of the side gate.
Poppy heaved awake. He rolled her onto her side again as she threw up her stomach contents. Hopefully, some of the pills hadn’t been absorbed yet. Her breathing was short and rough as she stared up at him.
Sophia grumbled as she regained consciousness, but he doubted she had the strength to do harm. If Sophia didn’t get help soon, she wouldn’t last long.
“I knew you’d come,” Poppy rasped, struggling to open her eyes.
“Of course. I’m here and not going anywhere.” He held her close, trying to keep pressure on her shoulder so she didn’t lose too much blood. “You’re going to be fine; help is almost here.”
A fierce cry startled them both. Blood pooling down her face, Sophia charged at them with a knife.
Everything became a blur. Isaiah threw himself in front of Poppy, knowing with a cold certainty that this was it. He was going to die.
Two gunshots rang out, and he stopped breathing for a second – then realised it was Poppy holding the gun. He stared at Sophia, who had been shot twice in the chest. She stood over them, frozen, before falling limply onto the grass. Her eyes stared up at the sky as life left her.
Poppy dropped the gun and passed out in his arms.
He didn’t have time to process anything before two paramedics followed Phoebe into the garden and crouched beside them. Isaiah reluctantly handed her over to them so they could work. In a blur, Poppy was loaded onto a stretcher, and Isaiah asked Phoebe to go with her while he checked Sophia’s pulse. She was gone, and Poppy’s secret was safe. She wouldn’t have to spend her life looking over her shoulder.
He wiped the gun clean and quickly kicked the brick Phoebe had used to knock Sophia out into the pool to wash away any prints. He didn’t want her to have to go back to court after what she had been through; he would tell them that he’d struck Sophia before getting into the pool.
Another set of paramedics arrived, along with the police, and Isaiah stayed with Sophia’s body to make sure they got the rightstory. The police took his statement while the paramedics loaded Sophia in the next ambulance. Thankfully, the officer didn’t keep him long and agreed to escort him to the hospital. He didn’t want Poppy to wake again and find he wasn’t with her.
Two Weeks Later
After all they had been through, Poppy had never expected them to make it home to Ireland without further complications. She’d half-expected their flight to be delayed, the airport to go on strike, or a natural disaster to prevent her from leaving. The last thing she’d anticipated was boarding their flight on time without a paparazzi ready to interrogate them about theMidasincident, a harrowing experience that had left them all scarred.
Yet all that had occurred on theMidasand afterwards had been swiftly dealt with, and the case closed with Sophia’s demise. The guests and owner of the ship were not keen on a lengthy investigation that could damage their reputation, andwith no killer to charge, the incident could be kept out of the media. Poppy felt that enough in her life had been covered up, but she didn’t want Mina, Isaiah, or Phoebe smeared across the papers. One day it would probably come out and someone would go snooping, but as she lay in the Irish hospital, today wasn’t the day.
“How are you feeling?” Isaiah asked, bringing her the strawberry milkshake she’d requested because having to fast for surgery had sucked. Sophia hadn’t ruined them for her completely.
“Groggy, but pleasantly numb,” Poppy said, not even attempting to move her right arm until the physio came by. She might have survived Sophia’s attempt to drown her, but her shoulder had suffered significant trauma. Once the hospital in Italy had given her the all-clear to travel, she’d been ordered to return home and have surgery to repair the damage. Despite the physical and emotional toll, Poppy was determined to heal and move forward.
“You did great, and the surgeon doesn’t think you’ll need another. With physio and time, you should heal up nicely,” Isaiah said, kissing her forehead. “The nurse should be back soon to check on you.”
He was always so careful not to hurt her. When they had flown home to Dublin, she hadn’t thought he would survive constantly checking on her and Mina. Mina liked being obsessed over less than she did, and when Eckells had threatened to send a private plane for them, she’d threatened to quit. It hadn’t stopped him. He’d even been waiting for them at the airport, so Poppy had finally got to put a stern face to the name. She’d thought he’d be furious about the chaos she had brought down on his ship, but to her surprise, all he cared about was their well-being.
“I love my nurse,” she answered Isaiah, still fuzzy from the anaesthetic.
“Should I be jealous of her?” he teased.
“Maybe– she has the good painkillers,” Poppy said, sipping her shake slowly. She was so hungry, she’d take a bite out of Isaiah soon. The cold shake helped soothe her dry throat for now.
