Chapter 2 - The Sound of Footsteps
Naomi threw herself flat behind the velvet modular sofa just as the saloon door slid open with a whisper of hydraulic grease. Marcus walked in, his heavy boat shoes squeaking against the varnished floor. He smelled of salt air, tobacco, and expensive cologne.
""Julian,"" Marcus called back over his shoulder. ""I’m grabbing the manifests from the safe.""
""Make it quick,"" Julian’s voice drifted in from the deck. ""The pilot says the squall is rolling in from the east. We dump her after the swell picks up, call in the man-overboard alert around two in the morning. Tragic accident. Mourning fiancé inherits fifty-one percent.""
Naomi held her breath, pressing her face against the woven rug beneath the sofa. Marcus passed inches from her hiding spot, his trousers brushing the sofa's fringe. He reached the master study door, punched a four-digit code into the recessed electronic lock, and stepped inside.
This was her only window. Naomi slipped off her leather sandals, holding them by the straps. She crawled along the narrow corridor toward the lower deck stairs, keeping her weight off the centerboards that were prone to creaking under pressure. Every muscle in her core burned, her heart slamming against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She reached the companionway steps, sliding down into the master stateroom. The room was bathed in the dim crimson glow of the emergency floor strips. She bolted the interior door quietly, threw off the heavy duvet, and dragged the mattress sideways.
There, sunk flush into the floorboards, was a heavy steel inspection hatch with a brass latch. She dropped to her knees, breaking a fingernail as she twisted the latch loose. The heavy plate lifted, exhaling a gust of damp, oily engine exhaust and black seawater.
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Naomi reached into the dark void beneath the hull, her hand sweeping wildly across grease-coated pipes until her fingers hit something cold and square: a waterproof pelican case zip-tied to a support rib.
She sliced the ties with the sharp edge of her metallic clutch and hauled the box upward. As she flipped open the snaps, the sudden thud of heavy footsteps echoed directly outside the stateroom door. A keycard chimed.
