by Mary Ellen Martin
The prow of the ship exploded in the dark night. Smoke roiled into the air, reminding me of the ocean during a storm.
The blast knocked me overboard. I landed in the water in an ungraceful belly flop I would have noticed, had the shock, pain, and lack of air been only minor issues.
Sounds were muted, or maybe I was just deaf now, but the light from the fire was bright enough that I had no trouble telling which way was up.
I broke the surface, gasping, looking around for any falling debris that might hit my head. We were close enough to the harbor, and someone surely called 911. Should I stay, or should I go? I had to remember not to hum that in front of the cops.
I treaded water, watching the boat burn. Caster was going to give me hell over this, but I would tell him that’s what he got, with the booby traps. He would call it an occupational hazard, and congratulate me for taking his advice.
Was I the only survivor? Where was Mark? Did he make it? Doubtful. He’d been standing next to the ice chest when it exploded, lifting the lid and reaching for a beer.
Of course, this is what Mark got. I didn’t know, when I met him, that he was an abusive son of a bitch.
And he didn’t know I was friends with smugglers.
6 comments:
Enjoyable revenge story! Makes me want to read more about this character.
I want the book! You've got skills!
I like it, but I really want more. Seriously.
Want more. How did she get involved with this guy? Where did they meet? Who's Mark? Smuggling what? More, more, MORE!
Great hook! I also want to know how the story ends.
Enjoyed it.
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