Chapter 20
few days swimming with the white sharks. Despite no sign of Bonnie, she was in heaven. But alongside that bliss was a growing frustration. Although Alec was always in the water with her, they hadn’t been able to find much time alone. He’d hinted a few times about the bathroom, but Grace was nervous they would be caught, and while she thought about asking Missy to vacate their cabin again for a few hours, it hardly seemed fair. Everyone was physically spent as they tried to get as much underwater footage as possible. Missy was especially tired, since she’d taken to accompanying Brad on the outboard in his attempts to tag.
They were more than halfway through the expedition, and energy had started to wane. Tempers frayed easily in such tight living quarters, nausea and a general malaise had afflicted just about everyone at some point, including Grace, and now bad weather was about to hit.
Her opportunity to get in the water today had just disappeared.
It was late morning, and Captain Bellamy had pulled anchor and was now steering the boat to a more protected cove. Grace took the opportunity to hunker down at her computer to assess the progress of the array. With so much time in the water, she’d neglected it.
There were bugs, but not anything that wasn’t fixable. She needed to concentrate, which had proved to be a challenge. It wasn’t just the gorgeous white sharks that were distracting her.
There was also a gorgeous filmmaker.
It was disconcerting how he addled her thoughts. She really needed to drag him into the bathroom again.
She tapped a key on her laptop to bring the screen to life. Her email was open.
What the hell?
She glanced over at her grad student. Tony was busy inputting shark dimension data, a never-ending task. “Did you send something from my computer?”
He didn’t look at her. “No, but Brad wanted to look at the code.”
Bullshit.
A few keystrokes later confirmed her suspicions.
The rat bastard.
She left the salon, barely acknowledging Alec and Double D on the diving deck, Mackenzie nearby like some groupie. The men were hunched over their camera gear, removing pieces from a bucket of fresh water and drying each one with a noisy air gun.
The boat tilted as a gust of wind pummeled her, forcing her to grab the stepladder leading to the observation deck. She turned her head to get a clump of hair out of her eyes and climbed up.
Brad and Fowler, both clad in windbreakers, were watching something on a personal device in Frank’s hand.
“Can I talk to you?” Grace said to Brad, her t-shirt billowing and flattening as the Mercado surfed the choppy water. She gripped the railing to keep her footing, her bare arms immune to the chilly wind. Her anger had superheated her core.
He glanced up. “Yep. What’s up?”
She flicked her gaze to Frank and in a flash decided she didn’t care if he stayed. “Did you copy my code?”
Brad squinted, his face stone-cold. “You don’t own it, Grace. Your work belongs to the Institute.”
“Who did you email it to?”
Sitting up straight, Brad averted his gaze.
“You’re so stupid,” she continued. “You sent it to yourself and someone named Bill Holmes straight from my computer. Who the hell is Bill Holmes?”
“He’s a friend of a friend,” Frank interrupted. “He’s a computer programmer, like you.”
She ignored Fowler. “Care to explain, Brad?”
Brad made a choking noise in his throat. “Your code isn’t performing perfectly. I don’t know if you can even make it work. Frank gave me a contact. This Holmes guy is going to look it over. Maybe he can help.”
“And you cleared this with Stewart?” she asked.
Brad’s lip curled. “I don’t have to clear every decision with him.”
“Who’s paying this guy?”
“I’ll push it through when we get back.”
Grace’s breath rattled in her chest as she fought the urge to punch Brad in the nose. “Everything we’re doing is proprietary.”
“Your code isn’t copyrighted, Grace.” Brad’s cheek flexed. “I don’t need your permission to have someone else work on it.”
That’s where you’re wrong, asshole. But until she could deliver a fully-functioning array to the CMI Board, she couldn’t invoke the closed-door contract they had agreed to with her.
She spun on her heel and headed back to the salon before she said something she’d regret, or worse, that might incriminate her in the event she and Brad ended up in court.
First, a password change on her computer. Tony could no longer be trusted. Second, a prayer. Please let the encryption hold. The entire file required a decoding key to view it. This Bill Holmes would know this as soon as he tried to open the layers of programming, but he apparently had not yet conveyed this stumbling block to Brad.
As she dropped down to the diving deck, Alec caught sight of her, concern immediately crossing his face. “You okay?”
Mackenzie was now helping them dry out their equipment, the girl’s annoying nearness to Alec plucking Grace’s irritation like a deeply embedded splinter. “Just dandy,” she said.
“We could use another hand.” Alec’s voice was hopeful.
No, you couldn’t. Grace would just be in the way.
“I have work to do.” She turned her back to them and headed into the salon. Grabbing her laptop and charging cord, she didn’t stop until she was tucked into her cabin. Missy was gone—probably in the galley playing cards—so Grace could work in solitude.
Once she was alone, she slumped into the chair and rubbed her forehead, the aftermath of her anger leaving her shaky.
She couldn’t fucking believe it. Brad had stolen her work. Again.
No matter how hard she tried to protect what was hers, she was fighting an uphill battle. For every two steps she took, she kept sliding back down the hill.
And what about Galloway? Could she trust him? Was it only a matter of time before pretty Mackenzie turned his attention away from her?
Chin up, Gracie. Her father’s words echoed in her head.
If Eddie Mann had ever found fault with his daughters, it was usually in one area—self-pity. He’d had no tolerance for it.
If what she suspected was true, that Galloway had stolen something far worse than Brad had from her—her heart—then she’d somehow deal with it if he ended up breaking it.
Opening her laptop, she found solace in the only thing that mattered—her work.
of his turkey on rye and glanced at Brad and Fowler sitting across from him. They were alone in the galley, and while Alec was glad to be free of Mackenzie and her annoying hovering, he wasn’t sure the switch had landed him in better company.
And where was Grace? She had disappeared into her cabin a few hours ago.
“So, what’s up?” Alec asked.
Brad was working his way through a ham sandwich, but Fowler was eating saltines and sipping ginger ale. Alec suppressed a smile. Seasickness was a bitch, and the galley was probably the last place Fowler should be with the constant swaying from the growing storm slowly enveloping the boat.
“I got an email this morning from Ruschart Media,” Frank said. “They’re very interested in this doc we’re making.”
Alarm bells went off in Alec’s head. “Why am I not surprised that you’re in bed with them.”
The boat rocked, and Fowler blanched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They’re behind a lot of the shock-and-awe programming that surrounds wildlife filmmaking.”
Fowler shook his head. “Your holier-than-thou attitude is admirable but doesn’t necessarily make any of us money. Ruschart has a huge reach, and they’ve offered a substantial amount for worldwide rights to the film you’re making.”
Alec took a long drag from his water bottle. “But?”
“We need to up the danger quotient.”
Alec shook his head. “It’s been plenty dangerous already.”
“I know,” Brad chimed in. “And we’ve got excellent footage. But we either need more shots of Felix, and preferably him going after Grace again, or we need a new story.”
Alec couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re saying you want to provoke Felix into aggressive behavior?”
Brad shrugged. “He’s already aggressive. Let’s just shine an extra spotlight on it.”
“Grace’ll never go for it.”
“That’s why I’m talking to you. And honestly, you don’t have to do much. That shark is already on some sort of personal warpath. So, that brings me to plan number two. Bonnie.”
Alec abandoned what was left of his sandwich, his stomach beginning to sour the more Brad flapped his lips.
“We need a narrative around this shark,” Brad continued. “Something dark and mysterious. We already have shots of Grace with her, but maybe we can dig up some footage of her dad? Wouldn’t it be great if we could find old film of him with Bonnie? Maybe you can ask her if she has any home movies.”
Alec clenched his jaw. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? And for the record, I won’t put Grace in danger just to get an exciting shot.”
Michaels shifted the ball cap on his head. “Shit, Galloway, have you not been paying attention? She gets herself into dicey situations all the time. Just make sure you catch it on film.”
Alec didn’t like the turn this was taking. He couldn’t disagree about searching for an angle for the film, and he’d been toying with several ideas this past week, but he wouldn’t know what he had until he and Double D got to work in the editing room. But Alec also knew that CMI could take any film he produced and re-cut it if they chose to. He wasn’t about to voice that aloud, however.
Alec slid out of his seat and stood, gathering his lunch plate. “It will be a good film, Brad. We don’t need to manufacture any drama. Why don’t you trust me on this?” Alec glanced at Frank. “Grace has a presence on film. It’ll be enough.”
Fowler wiped at his forehead, having sprung a leak of sweat. “I hope so.”
“You look like you need to use the john, Frank.”
Alec left the men with his most amiable smile, but the knot in his stomach returned. Grace and Felix and Bonnie just didn’t strike Alec as a friendly threesome.