Chapter 147

Chapter 147
Mia's POV
Lima's men swept in with everything they had, and Tanner's crew didn't stand a chance. They scattered like smoke.
That was when I found out.
Vincent had gone over the railing.
The information hit me like a slap—cold, sudden, disorienting. Lima had deployed every available man into the water and was already pulling in reinforcements. Before he left, he pulled Anthony aside on the deck, his voice flat and completely without warmth.
"We'll be looking into how this happened," Lima said. "If I find out you were working with Tanner—" He paused just long enough to let the silence sharpen. "You don't want that, Anthony. Trust me."
He wasn't threatening. That was almost worse. It was a statement of fact delivered by a man who had never needed to raise his voice in his life.
Anthony went pale. "Mr. Lima, I swear—this had nothing to do with me. Tanner wasn't my doing. None of this was."
"We'll find out for ourselves what the truth is." Lima held his gaze for one more beat. "Act accordingly."
Anthony opened his mouth, closed it, and said nothing. There wasn't anything left to say.
Lima transferred us to his yacht and left immediately to continue the search. The moment his back was turned, Anthony fell into step beside me, his composure completely unraveling.
"Mia." He grabbed at my sleeve, his voice dropping into something raw and desperate. "You have to help me. The party—everything tonight—I put that together for you. I had no idea any of this would happen. I didn't know those men were coming. I didn't know—"
He dragged both hands through his hair, looking genuinely lost. There was no performance in it. Just fear.
"Mia, please." He caught my wrist, and his grip was shaking. "If Lima decides to hold me responsible—I can't. I don't want to die. I'm too young to die over something I didn't even do."
I kept my voice measured. "If you weren't working with Tanner, you have nothing to be afraid of. Lima doesn't go after people without cause."
Anthony nodded so fast it looked like it hurt. "I wasn't. I swear I wasn't. I would never even know how to reach someone like Tanner." He lifted one hand toward the ceiling—some instinctive, half-desperate oath. "God as my witness."
"Then you'll be fine," I said. "You can't be blamed for something you didn't do."
Some of the tension left his face, though not all of it. He still looked like a man waiting for a sentence to come down.
I told him I was exhausted and needed to lie down. He didn't argue.
---
The moment the cabin door was closed and locked behind me, I swept the room on habit—checked the corners, the closet, the bathroom—and then pulled out my phone.
"Deploy our people," I said quietly, when the line connected. "Send them into the water. I want them searching for Vincent. And when you find him—if you find him—don't tell Lima. Don't tell anyone. Bring him back quietly."
I hung up.
Vincent was my partner. Of course I was going to look for him. That was the simple, logical answer, and it was also true.
But the fury underneath it wasn't logical at all.
I stared at the far wall for a moment, breathing through it. Then I called Tanner.
He picked up on the second ring.
"You absolute idiot," I said, before he could speak. "What the hell were you thinking? We had an agreement. I told you to take Nydia—that was all. That was the only thing you were supposed to do. I never authorized you to touch Vincent. Do you have any idea what you've done? I didn't want him hurt. I would never want him hurt. And you—"
"My, my." Tanner sounded almost amused. "You're furious."
"Yes, I'm furious—"
"Calm down and think for a second." His voice stayed easy, unhurried, which only made it worse. "You and I both know my history with Vincent. We've been trying to kill each other for years. If I'd shown up tonight with that kind of operation and let him walk away without a scratch, don't you think he'd find that strange? Vincent isn't stupid, Mia. He's the least stupid person I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. He would have started asking questions."
I didn't answer.
"And if he started asking questions," Tanner continued, in that same pleasant tone, "and he followed them all the way back to you—followed them back to the fact that this entire thing was your idea, that you arranged it, that Nydia was taken because of you—"
He left it hanging.
My stomach dropped.
I knew exactly what Vincent would do. I'd watched him closely enough in Italy to understand how he was built—how completely and without reservation he loved Nydia, how that love had become the one thing in the world he refused to compromise on. If he ever found out what I'd set in motion—
I pressed my lips together and said nothing.
"So I handled it," Tanner said simply. "I made it look exactly like what it was supposed to look like. Clean, credible, no loose ends. You're welcome. And besides—" A small pause, something almost playful in it. "There's a chance the problem resolved itself. He may not make it."
"He is not going to die." My voice came out harder than I expected. "Vincent doesn't die. And I will not allow it. Do you understand me?"
"Ha." He sounded genuinely entertained. "Then I'd suggest you hurry up and fish him out before something else in the ocean gets to him first."
"We're done," I said flatly. "This partnership is over. Effective now."
A brief silence. "And Nydia?"
"Do whatever you want with her."
I ended the call.
For a long moment I stood completely still in the middle of the cabin, phone clutched in both hands. Then I set it down, pressed my palms together, and closed my eyes.
Please.
The word moved through me like a current, reaching for something I couldn't name.
Let him be alive. Let my people find him first. Please—just let him be alive.
---
## Olive's POV
Gordon was going to give me an aneurysm.
Every other person on that yacht was doing the sensible thing—lining up, moving in an orderly fashion toward Lima's rescue boat, getting the hell out. But not Gordon. Gordon had apparently decided that tonight was the night to develop a death wish, because he was trying to commandeer a speedboat to go after Tanner.
I stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Because he had.
He was drunk—not pleasantly, socially drunk, but the stumbling, can't-walk-in-a-straight-line variety of drunk. He had no weapon. No backup. No plan.
Tanner had an armed crew, automatic weapons, and absolutely zero hesitation about using them.
Going after him empty-handed wasn't brave. It was suicide.
And if Gordon died, where did that leave me?
I stepped in front of him. "Stop. You can't go. You'll be killed."
He shoved me aside.
Not gently. Not the way you move someone out of the way when you're in a hurry. He shoved me, hard enough that I nearly lost my footing, and pointed a finger in my face like I was the one who'd lost their mind.
"Get out of my way." His voice cracked on the words. "Nydia's out there. She's alone, and she's scared, and she's waiting for someone to come for her. I'm not standing here while she—" He stopped, chest heaving, and pressed both hands over his face. "God. God. I never should have listened to you. I should have listened to her. She was right about everything, and I threw it all away, and now she's—"
He made a sound that I can only describe as a man breaking in real time—something raw and unguarded and completely humiliating to witness.
"I love her," he said, like it was being pulled out of him. "I love Nydia. Not you. I've never loved you. I don't even like you. She's the only one who ever—and now she's out there because of me, because I wasn't—I have to go get her. I have to—"
He was already moving toward the speedboat.
I stood there and watched him, and I felt something hot and vicious coil through my chest.
Nydia.
Always Nydia.
When Tanner's men had dragged her away, I'd felt something I wasn't proud of—a brief, bright, shameful flicker of yes. Finally. Gone. Because as long as Nydia existed and Gordon could see her, I would always be second. I would always be the wrong choice, the substitute, the consolation prize he'd been trapped into. She needed to be gone. She needed to stop being a possibility.
And if Vincent was dead or missing and she had no one left—the last thing I was going to do was let Gordon ride in and rescue her. That wasn't happening.
I looked at Gordon—swaying slightly, tears drying on his face, absolutely committed to getting himself killed for a woman who had never wanted him back—and I made a decision.
"Fine," I said. "Go. Go save her."
He blinked at me, surprised by the sudden surrender.
I had already turned away. I moved quickly, found two of the security personnel loitering near the gangway, and pulled out my wallet.
The conversation was brief. The number was generous.
By the time Gordon turned around, they were already behind him.
He didn't even see it coming.
They caught him cleanly, and he went down without a sound.
I watched them carry him aboard Lima's yacht, his head lolling, dead weight between their shoulders, and felt absolutely nothing except the quiet satisfaction of a problem solved.
He could be furious when he woke up.
But he'd be alive.
And Nydia would still be Tanner's problem.