“There’s weather coming,” he told Ash as he dropped down the gangway from the flybridge onto the main deck.

She was reading a paperback in the comfortable lounge area, and made a point of ignoring him. She’d said little to either of them since they’d frog-marched her back to Shytown. As though if she couldn’t scream or run, she didn’t have to exist for them in this moment either.

“Ash,” he said urgently, “you’ve got to listen. The storm could be serious, and Matt won’t risk going into port. He’s afraid you’ll try to leave.”

Her lips curved slightly, a secret pleasure. “Party’s got to end sometime.”

“Matt thinks he can outrun a hurricane.” He grasped her shoulders, willing her to look at him. She flinched, and redoubled her focus on the book. But her whole body had stiffened, as though she were waiting for a blow.

Filled with self-hatred, he released her.

“Ash. When the storm hits, stay close to me.”

Finally, she lifted her eyes. Finally, he knew she was listening.

“Anything can happen in a hurricane,” he said. “Anyone can go overboard.”

“Even Matt?” she asked.

And gave him that same secret smile.