Dorie’s lips moved, and given that Brandy, Cadence, and Andy all turned to look at him, Dorie was explaining exactly whose shirt it was, and why she was wearing it.
He wanted to turn away but there was the little matter of what they’d just seen below to discuss. Feeling like he weighed a million pounds, he moved closer to Dorie. “I need to talk to you.”
“Later,” Andy told him.
Christian gave Dorie a long look, trying to convey the need for them to talk now.
She closed her eyes.
Well, hell. He turned toward Denny, who was still trying to corral everyone into the raft. “Problem.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Denny looked sincerely rattled, shaken to the core, and beaten down from the past twelve hours fighting the storm. “We’re abandoning ship. Jesus, I’ve never had to do this with guests on board. Where the hell’s Bobby?”
Christian opened his mouth, but Andy called out to them.
“Wait,” Denny said to Andy, eyes locked on Christian. “Did you find him yet?”
“Damn it, this can’t wait!” Andy pointed to the east, where the sky had lightened from purple to pink, where the horizon didn’t just fall off the earth but hit a distinct black outline.
The outline of an island.
Denny stared at it. “Thank fucking Christ.”
“Is it Fiji?” Cadence asked.
“I doubt it,” Andy said. “Maybe it’s Bora Bora.”
Denny turned to Ethan and Christian. “We’ll limp in.”
They had little choice because without the sails or their equipment-all in complete shreds and tatters-they could do nothing but.
“Ethan!” Denny called out, on a mission now. “Starboard-”
“On it.”
Christian leapt to help, directing the Sun Song to where it could be drawn in toward the island by the tide.
“Windward shore approach,” Denny yelled.
Andy shifted closer, followed by the others. “What does that mean?”
“The windward shore is where the wind is blowing from,” Christian explained.
“The waves’ll be smaller because of the reduced fetch,” Denny called, standing at the half gone helm.
Everyone turned to Christian for translation.
“Fetch is the distance of water that the wind is blowing over.”
“Leeward shore harbor!” Denny called.
Again everyone looked at Christian.
“Jesus, Denny.” He rubbed his forehead before meeting everyone’s gaze, trying to tamp down his own impatience. “The entrance is narrow. It might be difficult to enter. Especially the way we’re crawling in.”
“Oh, God,” Cadence whispered, gripping Brandy and Dorie tight. “Can this get any worse?”
“Yes,” Dorie said, her eyes on Christian. “Trust me. It can.”
Christian tried to reassure her with his eyes but she turned away. With no idea what that meant, he worked the boat with Ethan.
“I hope the island has a big restaurant,” Andy said. “I’m starving.”
“You won’t starve if we’re in the American Samoas,” Brandy said. “None of us will. Half the canned tuna sold in American supermarkets comes from the Samoa Islands.” She lifted a shoulder. “I watch a lot of the Discovery Channel.”
“Don’t worry,” Denny shouted down to them from the damaged helm, his gaze locked on the outline of the island. “We’ve made it this far, we’re not going to do anything less than cross the finish line.” He gestured Christian close. “Obviously we have no idea where we are but I think-hope-some Cook island just saved our ass.”
The Cook Islands spread across 750,000 square miles. Christian wasn’t sure how that translated to saving their asses, but not drowning was excellent. “About Bobby.”
“It’s going to be fine. In an hour this will all be a distant memory.”
“I don’t think so.” Christian glanced back at Dorie. She was with the others, in a tight group, but looking right at him. Her eyes were huge and unwavering.
“We’re still in serious trouble.”
“Are you kidding?” Denny laughed. “Bullet dodged. Lawsuits avoided. By noon we could be in a bar, checking out the local ladies…” But when Christian just looked at him, his smile slowly faded. “Don’t tell me. Ah, Christ, I don’t want to know.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Dorie was still looking at him, waiting for him to do something about poor Bobby. Bobby, who was not on this boat. Bobby, who’d bled all over his bathroom, and who might have not have left this boat by choice. “Denny.”
“Later. Over that beer.”
“This can’t wait.”
“Denny?” Brandy called. “Is this island inhabited?”
Everyone shifted closer for his answer, dripping wet, exhausted, and just about as far from carefree vacationers as they could get, looking more like drowned rats instead.
And they were all within listening range.
Panicking range.
“I’m banking on a lux hotel,” Denny said, charm intact. “Five star.”
Christian stared at him. There was no way to know that, and in fact, with the hundreds and hundreds of islands in the South Pacific, a huge number of them uninhabitable or even uncharted, the percentages were against them. They were more likely to find wild boars than a five-star hotel. “You can’t promise-”
With a laugh that didn’t ring true, Denny slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s just get there.”
Christian glanced at Dorie, who was still snuggled up to Andy. The guy was cupping her head close to his chest in his big home run hitting hand. Over her wild hair, Andy met Christian’s eyes, his cool and assessing.
Had she told him about Bobby? Christian doubted it. But Andy had known Bobby before the cruise. They’d been friends, which meant one of two things. Either Andy was about to be completely devastated, or…
Or he’d had something to do with him going overboard.
Ethan and Bobby had known each other, too. They’d worked together all season, long enough for Ethan to be perpetually annoyed and frustrated at Bobby’s lackadaisical work ethic.
Ethan hated lackadaisical.
But Jesus, hated enough to kill? It was hard to imagine.
“Did you see Bobby?” Ethan asked him.
“Later,” Denny said, looking at Christian. “We’ll get to Bobby later.”
Which left Christian to wonder about the third man who’d known Bobby.
“Let’s just get to land,” Denny said. “Where I promise to make up this whole nightmare to each of you. We’ll get a fancy hotel and meet in the bar for drinks on the house. But for now, since we’re not going rafting, if everyone could go belowdecks while we bring her in, or even to your rooms-”
“Denny,” Christian said softly, thinking of Bobby’s room, and what would be found there, “the salon would be better than belowdecks.”
“Perfect,” Denny said without missing a beat. “Everyone to the salon as we bring this baby in. Andy? Could you get the women into the salon?”
“Sure.” Andy guided the women inside. Christian saw Dorie go up on tiptoe, brushing her mouth to Andy’s ear to say something. He responded, probably drawling in that soft accent he had, and shaking his head, tried to hold her back.
Dorie broke free, patting Andy gently on the arm, a comforting gesture that had always irritated Christian whenever it’d been done to him. But suddenly he wanted Dorie to pat his arm in that same sweet, caring, comforting manner.
Clearly, he was losing it.
Then he sucked in a breath because she walked right up to him, eyes bright, looking at him with that blazing inner strength and determination he couldn’t help but admire, even when it doubled his worry.
“What can I do?” she whispered.
“Stay safe. That’s your only job.”
“I want to help, Christian.”
“You can help by keeping a low profile.”
“You don’t want me to say anything about Bobby.” Her eyes telegraphed her emotions on that very clearly. She was wondering why he didn’t want her to tell.