Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 102: The Ghost Yacht Incident

Luckily, one of the bodyguards was close enough to swim over and drag Connor to the surface.

Every killer who'd been stashed inside the yacht was now thrashing and scrambling to stay afloat, utterly baffled. Is this a dream?

Would someone please explain what in the actual hell just happened?

...

Mariella had never absorbed anything as large as a yacht before. The effort had nearly knocked her out.

Losing consciousness underwater was not a small problem.

If Chandler hadn't been there, and if she hadn't been wearing an oxygen mask, it could have ended badly.

By the time she recovered, Connor's backup had arrived.

Helicopter rotors and boat engines on the surface. Had to be Harvey's reinforcements.

To avoid exposing the storage space, Mariella abandoned her plan to strip the killers of their weapons. She pulled Chandler into the space and disappeared.

The yacht Connor had rented for a fortune had evaporated. And that was a catastrophic problem.

The killers, fished out of the water, had failed their mission. But they'd already collected half the fee up front, and refunds were not on the table.

And the yacht's replacement cost was astronomical. Even liquidating everything the Shepherds owned wouldn't cover it.

Harvey had co-signed. He was on the hook.

The yacht's owner was a man known as Vere Guerrero. He'd come up through the underworld. His legitimate businesses were mediocre, but his reach was enormous, and he had a talent for making problems disappear, or ensuring they suddenly appeared.

In the post-disaster world, with social order crumbling, men like Vere were thriving.

Harvey was out of his depth.

"First priority, pay for the yacht." He sat down with Connor. "Sell off every asset you can move. We have to cover the damages. I'll try to negotiate with Vere."

He prayed Vere didn't think he'd deliberately made up a story to steal the yacht.

Fannie wailed, "My son! When are you going to save my son!"

Roxanna buried herself in Harvey's arms, eyes shining with tears. "Harvey, please think of something..."

Harvey shoved her away, his patience finally cracking. "What do you want me to do? There's nothing I can do except pay!"

Roxanna stumbled and nearly fell.

She stared, wide-eyed, at the man who had always been gentle with her. "Harvey, you..."

Harvey caught himself and pulled her close again. "I'm worried about Kingston, too. That's why I'm upset. There's been no word from him. I'm scared something's really happened to him."

"Harvey, what are we going to do?" Roxanna gripped his arm like a lifeline, nails digging into his skin.

"First, we raise the money to pay for the yacht. Vere is not someone we cross." Harvey held his temper.

Connor sank into the couch, ashen. "We have to empty everything we have..."

If that happened, wouldn't he be broke all over again?

"Right now, staying alive matters more than money." Harvey looked perfectly earnest. "As long as I'm here, I'll make sure your family is taken care of. Roxanna is the love of my life. Of course, I'll look after her family."

Connor wasn't stupid. The man talked a beautiful game but never opened his wallet. Fine.

Still, what choice did he have now?

He decided to hide a portion of his supplies as a contingency.

The shortfall? Let Harvey cover it. He was the guarantor. If Vere didn't get his money, Harvey was the one who'd pay the price.

...

Mariella and Chandler took the inflatable boat back to Celestine Ridge.

Chandler deflated and folded the boat. They walked the rest of the way home.

They had only been gone seven days, but Celestine Ridge had changed a lot.

Mariella noticed a full perimeter of chain-link fencing around the residential area. What had been semi-open was now fully enclosed.

The fence was taller than a person. Enough to keep crocodiles out.

The trade-off was that getting in now required finding an entrance.

Arrows on the fence pointed toward four entry gates.

They walked along the perimeter for a while and entered through the northwest gate.

A two-wheeled electric scooter rolled past. The woman on the back seat had one arm in a sling, her other hand gripping the grab bar.

"Mar-i-el-la Town-send!" The woman stared at Mariella like she was looking at a ghost. "Stop! Stop the scooter!"

The driver was also a young woman. Both of them had briefcases on their backs, like they were coming off a shift.

Mariella looked up. Well, well. She knew both of them.

The one with the sling was Jennifer. The driver was another Graham Group employee named Fiona Cunningham.