"We're not dead, mija. I can fucking promise you that." Marcus muttered, almost growled, but he was staring off into the middle distance, lost in thought. Her first idea wasn't as easy to dismiss. Normally, Marcus didn't hold to conspiracy theories. And she'd flat-out admitted that her friend or whoever it was who'd spun it was a whack-job... but he had to agree with her, right? Ships didn't just go off-course. That much was fact.
"Shit." He pushed his own hair out of his face, trying to think. Damn it, it did sort of make sense. It made more sense than all of this happening for no reason. There were still pirates, various stripes of terrorists. And why wouldn't they be a target? Giant ostentatious cruise ship... shit, that had to be tempting.
Not to mention York, himself. Hadn't Rob been involved in some kind of mess in Haiti a couple years back? Something to do with his fucking brother. Something to do, Marcus suspected, with why Stephen wasn't in the wedding party.
"You're right," he admitted. "It's fucking weird. Too fucking weird. But if it's about money... some kind of fucked up ransom thing, like you said, then that bossy little guy will get us out of it. I've known that fucker for years. This is his fucking wedding--"
He cut himself off. Fuck. He didn't know if Rob's family was into politics, or were even all that powerful, but he couldn't say for sure that they weren't. In fact, he had no idea what Rob's job title actually was, and - as he'd said - he'd known the guy for years. What if this was some kind of political assassination? Someone wanted a York dead bad enough to take out a whole boat full of people as well? Could Rob York possibly be important enough to warrant shit like that? He acted like he thought he was, most of the time, but Marcus had always thought that was bullshit posturing.
It was paranoid, yeah, but maybe there was something to it. "Fuck, maybe someone did want to get us here. Or York here."