Chapter 162 Sea Delivery Service
Chapter 162 Sea Delivery Service
James's POV:
"Your boss chased our fishing boat with her yacht for two days," the fishing club owner explained, his weathered face showing a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
"They saw it was one of our club's boats," the man continued, "so they assumed someone had chartered it to join them in the fishing area. They didn't pay much attention to it until they reached the designated fishing spot and stopped."
"And then?" Isabella prompted.
"Your boss steered her yacht right up next to their boat and jumped across." The club owner made a leaping gesture with his hand.
"That's when she realized she'd followed the wrong boat. Everyone on board had two fishing rods each—they weren't her targets at all."
Isabella visibly relaxed, exhaling deeply. "So she wasn't in any danger."
"That area is deep sea," the club owner said. "No cell signal, no way to contact the shore or the club. And she doesn't know how to read radar, so she couldn't find her way back alone. She had to followed their captain out."
"So what did she do? Just fish with them?" I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.
"Donna fishing? Can she even sit still that long?" Isabella shot me a look that suggested I'd lost my mind.
The club owner chuckled. "You called it. She lasted about half an hour before getting bored."
"And then what?" Isabella pressed.
"And then... she convinced our fishing group to sit on the deck drinking and playing games."
"Of course she did," I said, not even trying to hide my grin now.
"They grilled the fish they caught and ate them. Drank every drop of alcohol on board."
"Wait," Isabella interrupted. "How much alcohol could they possibly have had?"
"Enough for her to stay drunk for three days," the club owner said.
"Three days?" Isabella and I echoed in unison.
"Our fishing boat crew? Also drunk for three days." He shook his head. "Only the captain stayed sober, thank God. He's using his boat to tow her yacht back now."
"That's why the trip that should have taken two days will now take three," I said.
The owner nodded.
"Wait a minute," Isabella said, her brow furrowing. "Emma's yacht and your fishing boat are just small vessels, right? They can only hold about fifteen people each. How did they have that much alcohol on board?"
The club owner's weathered face broke into a wide grin. "She gave her Cartier earrings to a passing cargo ship in exchange for ten cases of red wine."
"She what?" Isabella's voice rose an octave.
"Also got some Italian sausage and cheese to go with it. For snacks, she said."
"Donna really is something else," I finally said, shaking my head. "Out in the deep sea and she still manages to... get fucking delivery service to the boat."
---
Eight days after Emma had first gone missing, we finally spotted the fishing boat towing her yacht toward the harbor.
As soon as they docked, Isabella and I jumped aboard. We found Emma sprawled across a leather sofa in the cabin, clutching an empty wine bottle to her chest like a teddy bear, fast asleep.
Isabella and I exchanged a look. I pulled out my phone and quickly called Alexander.
After hanging up, Isabella carefully helped Emma to her feet. Emma mumbled something incoherent but didn't wake as Isabella guided her off the boat.
Isabella and I managed to get Emma into our SUV and back to the villa without incident. We laid her in bed, and Isabella pulled the covers over her.
---
Emma woke up around noon the next day. Isabella and I were in the living room when we heard movement from the bedroom. We quickly explained what had happened—how she'd chased the wrong boat, spent days drinking with strangers, and finally been towed back to shore.
Emma said nothing. She just stared at us with bloodshot eyes, then turned and walked straight to the bathroom. We heard the shower running moments later.
When she emerged, wrapped in a bathrobe with her damp hair falling around her shoulders, she looked marginally more alive.
"Donna," I said, "Antonio caught the family head you were chasing. He's waiting for you to decide what to do with him."
Emma's gaze slowly shifted to me.
Isabella shot me a murderous glare. "You just had to bring that up now? Really tactful, James."
---
"I told you to fucking row!" I shouted, my arms burning as I pulled the oars through the water. "Row, goddamnit! Row!"
The vast Mediterranean stretched in every direction, not a speck of land in sight. I sat in a wooden boat, a compass at my feet, rowing like my life depended on it—because it fucking did.
Bound hand and foot in the bottom of the boat lay a man—the family head Emma had been hunting.
"Phoenix's Underboss, reduced to a glorified gondolier," the man sneered. "You follow her orders like a trained dog. Rowing a boat? Really?"
I glared at him but kept rowing. I'd been at it for six hours straight. My hands were raw, my back on fire.
"Why not join me?" the bound man offered. "Cut me loose, and when I rebuild my organization, I'll make you my right hand. What do you say?"
I stopped rowing and considered him for a moment. "Good," I said finally.
The man's eyes lit up. "You'll do it?"
"I've been rowing for six hours. That's far enough," I said, dropping the oars inside the boat. I stood up, stretching my aching muscles.
"Emma said to untie you and let you swim back if you can. If you can't... well, drown, I guess."
The man's expression shifted from hope to confusion.
"But you know what? You've been talking non-stop this whole trip, and it's given me one hell of a headache." I dusted off my hands and looked down at him.
"So I'm not going to untie you after all."
"What?" His eyes widened in panic.
"You want to rise up again?" I asked, grabbing the rope that bound him. "Try fucking floating first."
With one heave, I tossed him overboard. As I did, something else fell into the water with a splash.
"Bye bye!" I called out, watching him struggle in the waves.
Only after he disappeared beneath the surface did I realize what else had fallen in.
"The compass," I whispered, looking at the empty spot where it had been. "Where the fuck is my compass?"
"FUCK!"