Enslaved By The Ocean (9 page)

“Aw, now, don’t go gettin’ all upset, why . . . we’re only havin’ fun.”
 

Assholes.
 

“Yeah,” one says. “We wouldn’t want you to die on us now…”
 

“Leave her alone.”
 

I hear the voice, and turn my head to see Drake standing behind the group of guys.
 

“Now, Drakey-boy, ain’t no one doin’ anything wrong.”
 

“Leave. Her. Alone.”
 

His voice is like razor blades, and the pirates seem to get their backs up over it. The oldest of the group steps forward, pulling out a rusty knife. My stomach coils. Am I about to be caught in the middle of a fight? I wrap my arms around myself, stepping back further and watching with wide eyes. The older pirate steps forward, still pointing the knife at Drake.
 

“What did you say, Drake?” he hisses.
 

“You heard me,” Drake says, “I said leave her alone.”
 

“Since when did you become her body guard?”
 

“My business, Jekyll, is none of yours. Now, I will ask once more. Leave her alone and walk away.”
 

The pirate, Jekyll, roars with laughter and lunges forward. I watch with a horrified expression as he drives his knife towards Drake’s stomach. Just before it touches the skin, Drake’s arm lashes out and his fist drives upwards, smashing the pirate’s nose. Blood spurts from his face as he stumbles backwards. It takes only three seconds or so after that, for Drake to drop him onto the ground and press his boot to his throat. The pirate struggles beneath Drake’s boot, gasping for air.
 

“Do I need to kill you now?” he hisses.
 

“It was a joke, just a joke!” the pirate cries.
 

“Get out of my sight, before I make you wish you weren’t born.”
 

He removes his boot, and the pirate gets to his feet, coughing and spluttering, before storming off. The other two pirates back away slowly. My entire body slumps with relief. Thank God. I never realized how powerful Drake was until that very moment. I lift my eyes to meet his, and he stares at me for a second before starting to turn away. I can’t let him
leave
without a thank you; he just
rescued
me, yet again.
 

“You like saving me?” I say timidly.
 

He stops turning, and looks back at me. “Just doing my job.”
 

“Your job is to save the captives?”
 

His lip twitches. Oh my, does Drake smile?
 

“It is my job to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
 

“So he can sell me in one fine piece? Right?”
 

He shrugs. “Something like that.”
 

“So you don’t do it because you’re a nice person, then? That’s a real shame,” I say, finding an old bench and sitting on it. “Because I kind of liked you.”
 

His eyes fall on me, and he looks confused, like he can’t possibly believe I could like him or even contemplate liking him. Then he does something that surprises me; he walks over and sits down beside me. Compared to my small frame, he’s massive. I still can’t wrap my mind around the sheer size of him. We both stare out at the ocean for a moment, just sitting in silence, and then I turn to him.
 

“How come you’re so big?” I ask.
 

He shrugs, and I can see the muscles in his arms move as he does. “I used to play a lot of football back in school, but I was always a big kid. I did some security work for a large bar chain in the United States for a while. That took a lot of work, because I had to be big to be able to throw the drunken idiots out. I worked out hard, and got bigger. Then I met Hendrix and joined the crew, becoming his main security man. I am always with him when he goes to shore, and I keep this ship in line when he can’t.”
 

“So you don’t work out now?” I say, shocked.
 

He shakes his head. “Not all the time, but I do lift a lot.”
 

“You’re kind of…scary.”
 

His lips twitch again. “That’s kind of the point.”
 

“I guess it is.”
 

He turns his face, and looks down at me. “But you’re not scared of me.”
 

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not.”
 

“Why?”
 

I shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I see something that maybe you don’t.”
 

“And that is?”
 

“Kindness.”
 

He flinches, and turns his face away from mine, but not before I see a moment of pain in his eyes.
 

“You’ve been hurt really badly, haven’t you?”
 

He stands suddenly. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, Hendrix wouldn’t agree.”
 

“Hendrix doesn’t own me,” I protest.
 

He looks down at me once more then reaches out, lifts my hand and turns it over so he can see the faint red line from where Hendrix sliced me when we made our deal.
 

“But you’re wrong,” he says. “He does own you.”
 

Then he drops my hand and walks off.
 

There’s something very deep about Drake.
 

And I have a feeling he might be one of the only friends I’ll make on this ship.
 

Work like a captain–play like a pirate
.
 

**
 

The first few nights in Hendrix’s room go reasonably well. He’s not here
very often, s
o I spend my evenings alone on the sofa, or down with Eric. I have been trying to make small talk with Hendrix, but most of the time I fail. I so desperately want to see if there’s a chance of any kind of connection between us. It’s a far off dream, I do know this, but it’s worth a try. If Hendrix likes me, even a little, he might reconsider. That’s what I’m hoping for, at least. It’s got to be better than living in fear. I’ve figured out that my life is safe for the moment, at least until Hendrix sells me.
 

I’m making the most of that moment.
 

My dinner tonight is bland, boring and simple, but it’s food, and I’m not going to turn anything down. I eat as slowly as possible, trying to ease my stomach back into taking food. The past few days have been all about experimentation with food and water. The simple mashed potatoes are heavy and filling, but they’re bland, and I’ve worked out bland works. When I finish up my dinner, I have another shower and find myself a long daggy shirt in the small pile of clothes Jess gave me. I slide it on and find myself a comb before heading out to the sofa.
 

Hendrix is at his desk when I step out, and he looks up when he hears the door creak. We might not have a personal connection, but there’s certainly a sexual connection. It’s hard not to create something sexual when the air crackles every time he walks into the room. It’s strong, and intense, and so alluring. I watch as he lets his eyes travel down my body, before lifting back up to my face. He looks like he’s satisfied. “You’re looking healthier, it’s good.”
 

I cross my arms and walk over to the sofa, sitting down and running the
comb t
hrough my damp hair. “I don’t feel all that much better.”
 

“Has your leg healed?”
 

I shift uncomfortably, and stare down at the small purple scar on my leg where he shot me—well, where he grazed me. “It’s fine,” I mutter.
 

Hendrix is flicking through some papers on his desk, and I notice his eyes are narrowed like he’s deep in thought. He reaches down and opens a drawer, and pulls out a phone. My eyes widen, and I try to smother the gasp that escapes my lips. Hendrix has a phone that’s not just a ship line? Oh God. He lifts the tiny device up and punches in a number before bringing it to his ear. He waits a moment, not looking at me, probably not even thinking about the fact that he just showed
me a way out.
 

“JR, yeah, it’s me. You got his location yet?”
 

I watch him nod.
 

“Fuck. Yeah. Let me know when you do.”
 

He brings the phone down, and growls a curse. He’s obviously having a bad night. He turns and storms toward the bathroom, muttering something about incompetent idiots. He slams the door, and I leap to my feet. I don’t think, I don’t hesitate, I just run toward the phone on the desk. I flip it open, darting my
gaze
to the bathroom door. Oh God, I have seconds, maybe minutes, if I’m lucky. He could walk back out at any moment.
 

Adrenalin fills my veins, and I begin to shake as I fumble with the keys, punching in Eric’s mother’s number. I know it by heart, because we’ve been close for so many years. My heart is thumping, and my head is spinning as I struggle to catch my breath. Come on
. Come on
. I bring the phone to my ear when a hand lashes out and thumps my wrist, sending the phone flying. I spin around, crying out as I lunge towards it, landing on my knees and wincing in pain.
 

Hendrix is on me in seconds, flattening his body over mine. He lashes out and grips my wrist as I attempt to reach out for the phone. His hard body is crushing me into to the floor, but I still squirm, desperation taking over.
 

“Enough,” he rasps into my ear, tightening his grip on my wrist. Tears burn my eyes, and I struggle to blink them back.
No weakness
. I swore I’d show no more.
 

“Just let me go, I don’t want you to sell me!”
 

He flips me over, and puts his hands either side of my head, pinning me with his gaze. “You made a deal, a choice.”
 

“You didn’t give me many options,” I yell, squirming.
 

“You’re not in the position to be given options.”
 

His dark eyes are piercing and deadly.
 

“Just get off me, get off me!” I cry, squirming.
 

“This is the only phone on the ship,” he growls. “It will now remain with me at all times.”
 

“You’re a pig!” I spit as he moves his body from mine.
 

I scramble to my feet, and turn, rushing toward the sofa. I drop down onto it, sinking into the old, well-used cushions. I grip the sheet, and I pull it up over my head before letting the tears escape my eyelids. I sob quietly, not wanting him to hear my weakness.
 

He doesn’t leave the room, and he doesn’t speak to me again, but I know he can hear me. I know he can hear my pained whimpers as I cry myself to sleep.
 

It’s dark, and I can hear his soft breathing. A faint light is coming underneath the door, and it shines just enough for me to see his silhouette. I am on my hands and knees, crawling toward him as quietly as I possibly can. I know he’s got the phone on him, and I know I’m going to give it one last shot. I can’t give up that easily. I can’t just lie down and accept my fate. I have to try, just once more.
 

I reach his bed, and I rise up onto my knees, staring down at him. Why does he have to look so beautiful under this light? Why does it have to caress his body, showing every stunning curve of muscle? I reach down, and gently place my hand on his leg, slowly moving it up. He makes a grunting sound, and I freeze quickly. A moment later, he’s breathing deeply again. I slide my hand up higher until I reach his pocket. Nothing in there. I reach over gently, and try the other one. I feel a hard bump.
 

My heart begins to pound.
 

I flex my wrist, and then I gently angle it so that I can reach into his pocket. I can just feel the top of the phone when his hand moves at lightning speed, and grips mine. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, and he tugs. I go soaring forward and land half over his body, with my legs dangling off his bed. I squirm, but his other arm comes up and pins my hips, pressing me down into him.
 

“You just don’t give up, do you?” he murmurs.
 

It takes me a moment to respond, because I am completely dazed by the smell of him. His skin has a warm heat radiating off it, and the smell is a blend of rum and man. I swallow, and my vision swims as I realize how good it feels to be draped over him. I shake my head, horrified at myself for even taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of him against me. I tug my wrist free from his hand, and he snorts, tightening his arm over my hips.
 

“Did you really think I’d make it easy for you?” I snap.
 

“I did, considering you tied your friend’s life to your behavior.”
 

I freeze.
 

Eric.
 

I stopped for just a second, thinking about how this could impact him. I close my eyes, horrified with myself.
 

“Did you truly think you could sneak up on me and take that phone?” he says, his fingers flexing on my hips.
 

“Let me go.”
 

“Answer me,
inocencia
.”
 

“No, I did not, pirate. But I had to try. I might have put my life before my friend’s, but it doesn’t mean that I will just roll over and accept it when I see a window of opportunity.”
 

“So stupid,” he murmurs, and his fingers begin making circles on my hips. I stiffen.
 

“L…l…let me go.”
 

“In good time.”
 

What the hell?
 

“What makes you think you can just do whatever you want?” I whisper, tugging my body backwards in another poor attempt to wriggle free.