Castaways

  Castaways

  Tara Brown

  eBook Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted. This book is a work of fiction, any similarities are coincidental. All characters in this fictional story are based entirely on the crazed mind of the author and are not based on any human. Any similarities are by chance and not intentional.

  Cover Art by Dark Tree Designs

  Edited by Andrea Burns

  http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com

  Contents

  Other Books by Tara Brown

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  The End

  Other Books by Tara Brown

  The Serendipity Series

  Fling Club – coming August 14

  He Loves You Not – coming October 23

  Blood and Bone

  Blood and Bone

  Sin and Swoon

  Soul and Blade

  The Puck Buddies Series

  Puck Buddies

  Roommates

  Bed Buddies

  Baby Daddies – coming soon

  The Single Lady Spy Series

  The End of Me

  The End of Games

  The End of Tomorrow

  The End of Lies – coming soon

  The Lonely Duet

  The Lonely

  LOST BOY

  Crimson Cove Mysteries

  If At First

  Second Nature

  Third Time’s a Charm

  Four Crimson Corners

  Hang Five

  The Seventh Day Trilogy

  The Seventh Day

  The Last Hour

  The Earth’s End – coming soon

  The Royals Trilogy

  A Royal Pain

  A Royal Affair – coming soon

  The Devil’s Roses

  Cursed

  Bane

  Hyde

  Witch

  Death

  Blackwater

  Midnight Coven

  Redeemers

  Betrayers

  The Born Trilogy

  Born

  Born to Fight

  Reborn

  The Four Horsemen

  The End of Days

  Imaginations

  Imaginations

  Duplicities

  Reparation – coming soon

  The Blood Trail Chronicles

  Vengeance

  Vanquished

  Valiant – coming soon

  Standalone Novels

  My Side

  The Long Way Home

  First Kiss

  Sunder

  In the Fading Light

  For Love or Money

  Lost in La La Land

  Prologue

  The waves rocked the yacht much like they would a dinghy rather than an ocean cruiser that could handle anything. But the wind had picked up around lunch, worsening the already rough seas we’d endured for days.

  At the time the trip was planned, the weather had sounded ideal, but I’d overheard the captain say this part of the Atlantic was known for being rough and unpredictable, so a change in the forecast wasn't surprising, just annoying.

  Tonight, I found it more than annoying. It stressed me out that our plan might go off schedule with the changing weather, bringing an unforeseen possibility of disaster. And uncontrollable.

  I hurried toward the kitchen but paused in the hall outside the galley, swearing I heard the sound of a woman’s voice being muffled nearby.

  Spinning in a slow circle, I listened intently but couldn't place where it had come from until it happened again, right next to me.

  “No! I said no!” a woman protested halfheartedly, making me jump.

  Behind the door next to me was a linen closet, one I’d already taken refuge in for a secret meeting.

  But now a guy spoke softly—his words impossible to be heard from where I stood—to which the girl giggled again. She clearly was not being forced to remain in there with whoever was making her laugh, despite her protests.

  The sound was familiar, maybe that idiot Lizzie, but being the group we were, it could have been anyone. Everyone on this boat was hooking up with someone they shouldn't. Myself included. But appearances were everything.

  I didn't have time to sit and listen to figure out who was in there. I had work to do.

  My steps were silent as I tiptoed into the galley, listening for the cook. He was nowhere to be found, thank God. I didn't need another inconvenience.

  The crew’s dining carts had been assembled. They were always ready to go at six in the evening, so the crew would be done dining by the time we were ready to eat at eight every night.

  With one more glance about the kitchen, I strained my ears a little harder, listening for anyone who might witness what I was about to do before slipping the vial from my pocket.

  It was the last night at sea, the last night the security team could enjoy a relaxing evening off duty. The last night they would drink wine with dinner.

  The kitchen was colder than the rest of the yacht.

  My fingers trembled slightly as I popped the lid from the vial and sprinkled the salt-like contents into the red and white wine already in decanters. I added some to the water jugs, just in case.

  Being extra careful not to touch the coarse powder, I unscrewed the lid on the salt and pepper shakers and added it to them both, emptying the last of the granules into the pepper. I tossed the vial into the garbage and washed my hands quickly before using a napkin to screw the lids on the shakers. Then I shook them slightly to mix the contents so the white wasn't noticeable in the pepper. I tossed the napkin, washed my clammy hands again, and stepped back from the carts.

  This was it.

  This was the moment we were waiting and planning for.

  I did a gut check, searching for remorse or regret, but there was nothing.

  Tomorrow would be a new day, a start to something better. And as with all evil plots, this one was going to get worse before it got better.

  With a turn, I fled the galley and hurried for the front of the ship, the panic of getting caught only leaving me when I was on the stairs, far removed from the carts of food. Instead of worrying about being caught, now I had to be hopeful their delivery would be as planned. Trusting this would go as intended wasn't easy. One wrong move and lives would be lost. And not just the ones we were gambling on.

  Another loud voice caught my attention, only t
his time it wasn't laughter coming from a closet, but rather the captain speaking loudly to someone.

  I crept through the hallway near the bridge and listened as he spoke into a phone while pacing in a small circle. It had to be a satellite phone since none of our cell phones were working. “I’m telling ya, I think we’re off course. It’s dark so I can’t be sure, but I don't even know where we are. So if I can’t get the equipment working again, I’m sending an SOS. If you haven’t heard from me in the next five or six hours, you send the SOS for me. I just hope we haven’t veered south, that would worry me.”

  He didn't mention why he would be worried which made me anxious.

  We’d deviated south.

  I knew that because I’d made sure of it. I just didn't know why it would matter, what was wrong with going south.

  “Okay, talk later.” He hung up with a heavy sigh, leaving me with questions and no answers. Sort of the same way we’d left him when we wrecked his nav system.

  He didn't know there was sabotage, he wouldn’t until it was too late.

  Chapter One

  Not the happy ending I was looking for

  The waves of the Atlantic rocked the yacht back and forth, toying with it much like a figurine in a child’s bathtub. Only this was more akin to ten little brats creating waves by wrestling above us, like leviathans.

  Not being much of a boating enthusiast, I’d never experienced such rough seas and hated that my legs didn't seem to acclimatize. Of course wearing heels, the only shoes I had brought in all my infinite wisdom, wasn't helping either. I wasn’t sure what the age was where matching shoes to outfits became less important than avoiding breaking one’s ankles, but apparently twenty-five wasn’t it.

  The ship creaked and groaned with the rough seas we’d endured the entire trip from New York to Bermuda, our destination. And for the fifth night in a row it made my slow walk to bed just delightful.

  As I slammed into another wall of the long corridor, I shuddered and tried not to hate the boat that had been my idea in the first place. “I don't hate boating,” I whispered to the Gods of the seas, hoping my words would convince them to stop torturing me, “I just love mooring more.”

  Though the ship wasn’t the only problem, or the only thing creaking. For about two hours, my stomach had been debating whether or not I’d keep dinner down. The movement of the yacht made me wish we’d saved the fifty-year-old rum for a night in port, but we hadn’t. All I could do was hope the booze was as smooth coming back up when it brought whatever was left of the sushi we had for dinner.

  It was a safe assumption that my wedge heels, rum, and farm-girl stomach were not cut out for rough seas.

  It was also a safe assumption that I couldn't eat through seasickness the same way I normally did with the flu.

  My father always mocked me for that, saying I was the only kid in the world who needed to eat through nausea. But his famous toast and peaches was a cure-all I swore by, even still.

  But there was no way his cure-all would be saving me tonight.

  I’d done myself in and my stomach was killing me.

  It was the only thing stopping me from turning right at the end of the hall to go to Jesse’s room instead of my own. Even drunk I knew going to his room would be a mistake, but it was one I wanted to make. One I only confessed to when I was drunk. And even then, only to myself.

  The next wave tossed me into the wood paneled wall again, making me cling to the doorway I was next to. Mid sour-cheeked prayer I caught a glimpse of someone else at the end of the hall. In the flickering lights, I noted how rough she looked.

  Thank God it wasn’t just me.

  Her dark hair was limp around her thin face and her eyes had glossed over as though she were dead. The windows to her soul seemed shut while still being open. Pale, almost gray or green, she swayed with the rocking ship.

  It took nearly three heartbeats to realize she was me—my reflection in the mirror on the back of a door, my door. I waved at her, double-checking. But she waved back and stepped when I did, mimicking me. “These Hollywood types know how to party, huh?” I asked her—me. We laughed bitterly.

  I staggered a little closer to lock eyes with myself and consider whether I should’ve gone to the retreat my therapist recommended, instead of planning this boat trip with my friends. The retreat would have rejuvenated me, something my shrink felt I needed. She said I was overworked and about to come apart.

  But I’d disagreed, believing this party boat would be just the thing.

  Seeing myself now, I realized who was right and who was not.

  There was no way I could show up to set looking like I’d partied this hard.

  The hard part of admitting that was knowing I should’ve turned down my next project that was about to start on the heels of the one I’d just finished.

  I leaned closer, searching for more truths, like maybe being the “it” girl of Hollywood wasn’t everything.

  My tired reflection in front of me agreed. Burning the candle at both ends was wearing on us.

  But the devil on my shoulder whispered I hadn’t gotten to where I was by taking breaks or the easy way out.

  I didn’t grow up in Hollywood.

  I had built my career from scratch at seventeen and didn't have the luxury of falling back on family money. If I washed out, I landed back in Idaho, living with my dad on our hobby farm, building houses while listening to stories about my mom.

  And I’d worked way too hard for that to happen.

  No, I’d take it slower tomorrow and make sure I stayed hydrated and refreshed so when I got off this boat, I’d be ready to start the new job. And just to be sure I was ready, I’d call my spa back home and schedule two days of treatments right before the first day on set.

  I’d be fine.

  More than fine.

  “Glad we had this chat.” I nodded at my own ghost as we read each other’s thoughts. I reached for the doorknob as the boat caught another wave, making me miss it and sway. “Who the hell is driving this thing?”

  In a calm moment between waves, I got the handle turned and flung the door back. With the swell of the next one, I staggered across my room to land facedown on something hard as the door slammed behind me. “Oomph.”

  “Hey!” a voice spoke from somewhere in the dark.

  “What the—?” I slapped the hard thing, wondering if I had missed the bed or if the bed was talking to me.

  “About time,” the bed or the thing on it whispered.

  The shape was a pair of moving legs under the blankets. “Who is this?” I hit them as I wiggled my poor feet from my shoes. “Jesse?” Oh shit.

  “Jesse?” the person asked, no longer whispering and not Jesse.

  “Uhhhhh—I think you have the wrong room.” Do I have the right room?

  Arms shot up from the intruder, not pushing or hitting back but instead scooping me into them, into a naked chest.

  Hot breath assaulted me in the dark, brushing against my cheek and ear. “I’ve been waiting for you,” the stranger mouthed into my nape.

  “No.” I gagged with the sudden movement and sway of the boat. “No. Don’t. I feel sick. My stomach hurts.”

  “I’ll make you better.” He slid his hands under my butt, sitting me on his lap and entangling us both with covers.

  “Who-who is this?” I struggled to get free, running my hands over his face.

  “Someone who’s been waiting a long time for this moment,” he spoke a bit louder and I realized who it was. My whole body shuddered with pins and needles.

  “Austen?” What the hell? “Are you lost? It’s Lizzie, not Sarah. You’re in the wrong room.” I pulled back, pushing on his rigid chest. Of course, the only guy on the yacht with an official girlfriend had climbed into my bed accidentally.

  “Do you want me to say I’m lost, Lizzie?” He lowered his face to my neck again and mumbled as he placed kisses, “It’s dark and we’re drunk. This might not even be happening. Why don't we pretend
we’re dreaming?” He chuckled. “Just let it happen.”

  Correction, not accidentally.

  “You know you want this too,” he continued.

  “That sounds creepy.” I couldn't help but laugh at him. He was the least creepy person I knew, but he had a girlfriend, a mean one. “I feel sick, Austen, seriously sick. I can’t do this right now. The sushi isn’t sitting right and I drank too much and my feet hurt.” And you have a girlfriend.

  “You won’t even remember you felt sick in a minute. Just go with it.” He dragged his tongue up my neck. His arms encircled me, pulling me in more, squishing me into the rigidity of his chest.

  “We can’t do this,” I groaned as the bed and waves swayed me, possibly giving him the wrong idea with all the grinding.

  “I’ve wanted you forever, Lizzie. You’re so beautiful and funny and sexy.”

  I gagged again, unsure how to stop this. If left up to my body, I would throw up a little and pass out hard, but I needed to continue to dissuade him before either of those things happened.

  Before I could do anything, he flipped us over so my back was on the bed and he was between my legs. I groaned with the movement again, which he took the wrong way. “I knew you wanted me too.” He kissed my shoulder at the opening of my blouse as he moved, undoing buttons and tearing it from my chest. His hands left heat trails as they traveled to my skirt, lifting it.