by Ava Harrison
I head back to the desk and continue my pursuit. I’m sure we’ll dock again soon, and I need to make sure I’m down below when that happens.
It pops open, and I don’t even bother looking. I just grab my phone and start clicking the camera, taking pictures of the documents Alaric has hidden in the desk.
The boat turns again and starts to pick up speed.
Something isn’t right. It’s one thing to show off, but not like this.
I need to get out of here. I put the papers back in the box and close it then place it back in its spot, leaving everything the way it was.
Then I head toward the door.
It feels like my heart is beating out of my chest at the sight in front of me. There’s no knob. No door. It’s locked completely from the inside. I’m stuck, and I can’t get out.
I grab my phone to call George for help, but I have no service.
I don’t know what to do.
I bang on the wall, hoping a guest will hear and find me. I’ll explain I thought it was the bathroom and the door shut before I realized.
I continue to bang and bang, but no one comes.
Time stands still as I start attacking the door. No one is coming. The party music is too loud, and with my luck, they are probably driving around to light off some fireworks.
I’ll just have to wait until Alaric realizes I’m gone.
I feel sick to my stomach, but since the bathroom is next door, he might believe my story. I sit down on the couch, my feet starting to hurt from my shoes.
I flip through the pictures I took on my phone when I was in a rush to gather any evidence from the documents in his desk. It’s too small to read the text on the papers, so I enlarge the words on the first image I took.
What I see makes my fingers flick faster and faster.
It’s not a document. No, not at all.
It’s the same words typed over and over again. It feels like I’m living in a horror movie and I’m the star of the film.
We think caged birds sing when indeed, they cry.
John Webster? Why is there a quote from John Webster here? I keep reading, and the wind is knocked out of me with what I see next.
How do you like your cage, little dove?
My body trembles as my phone slips from my hand and crashes to the floor.
He knows.
8
Phoenix
This is bad.
Way worse than anything I had mentally plotted out in my head.
The boat is still moving, and I’m still locked in this room. There is no way this isn’t intentional.
They are driving out to sea to dump me overboard. The worst part, my phone is still not working, which leads me to believe they have something blocking the signal.
My father will never know what happened to me.
It won’t take a rocket scientist to know I’m dead, but he’ll never get the closure he deserves.
Now what do I? And another question is, where’s George? If I can get out of here and find him on the boat, we might have a chance.
If I was caught, there’s a good chance he was too. Maybe if I can get out of here and search the boat, I’ll find him, and we can come up with a plan.
The only problem is, I’ll have to wait until someone opens this damn door. Resigned to my fate, I flop back on the couch in the office.
I could search for something, but let’s be honest. It’s pointless.
I’m stuck here. Probably in the middle of nowhere and the worst part …
All that planning on using the bathroom as my excuse for being here now makes me have to pee.
Don’t think of water.
Don’t think of water.
Easier said than done when I’m on a boat surrounded by water. I sit for what seems like forever before I stand and start pacing.
The boat rocks, hitting a wave.
Come to think of it, the boat has been getting rockier with each minute that passes.
Oh God.
There’s only one reason that would happen.
He’s taking us out to sea. No matter what happens now, I’m royally screwed, because if the roll of the boat is any indication, we are nowhere near land.
This is bad. Really, really bad.
What the hell am I going to do?
When we do finally stop, will I be able to get off? As if summoned by my thoughts, I can hear the door opening from the outside. I glance around the room, looking for anything that I can use as a weapon. It’s probably not a smart idea. There is no getting off this boat. But at least I can fight. The door opens just as I’m grabbing the lamp.
“Well. Well. Well. What do we have here? A stowaway.” Our gazes lock before he’s dropping his to look at my hands. “I wouldn’t do that.” His voice cuts through the stale air, loud and sinister. “Drop the lamp.”
“You lock me in here, and you don’t expect me to fight back?” My hand is still reaching out, but without the element of surprise, I have no hope to get past him, even with a giant lamp as a weapon.
“There would be no fun if you didn’t try. But let me tell you something, little dove, there’s no getting off this boat until you tell me what I want to know.”
“Little dove?” I grit, not liking what the nickname is implying.
“It’s more fitting than Phoenix,” he says with a wicked and large smirk, confirming my fear that he knows exactly who I am. “A dove is easily caught.”
“I won’t talk.” I flatten my lips into a straight line.
“Everyone talks. It’s all about finding the right incentive. I’ll find yours or …”
“Or?”
He ignores my question and opens the door farther. That’s when I see he’s not alone. A freaking team waits for me in the hallway. Four men, to be exact. They surround him in the room as he catches me by my arm. I kick and punch, but it’s no use.
Before I can even think about what to do next, he wraps a zip tie around my wrists.
Bound and now helpless, he steps back, admiring his handiwork. “Now let’s go up top. It’s quite a beautiful sunrise. No need to waste it inside.”
Sunrise. What the hell does he mean by sunrise? How long was I locked in this room?
He pulls my hands.
“Wait—”
He exhales a breath. “What now?”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I answer through gritted teeth. Not a lie. I’ve had to go for hours.
His brow lifts. “Isn’t that what got you into this mess in the first place?” I don’t answer his silly comment, so he continues. “Very well, I’d hate for you to make a mess on the new rug they just installed prior to this trip.”
He leads us out of the office, and once we’re back in the main room, he points at the door I know to be the bathroom.
“Don’t even think of doing anything fucking stupid. There’s no escaping. Soon you will see, your options are limited, so trying to defy me is futile.”
Not wanting to hear another word he says, I gesture to the bathroom. “Are you going to at least open it for me? Seeing as my hands are tied,” I deadpan. My attitude probably won’t get me anywhere, but I refuse to give in that easily.
“And what will you do for me if I do?” He chuckles, and I grind my teeth together. As much as I want to tell him to go to hell, I know that what he says is true. My options are limited; mouthing off to him won’t help. The only option I have is to look for George, and then I need to get hold of the radio. Every boat has a radio. I should be able to call the Coast Guard.
It’s a solid plan. As solid as the last plan you had.
God, this is bad.
I step into the bathroom then use my feet to kick it closed.
To get out of this bathroom, I’m going to have to do some fancy maneuvers with my hands, but I don’t want to ask for his help.
The need to pee was so bad that I was desperate, but once I’m done, it will be fine.
I make my way over to the toilet, and using my fin
gers, I lift it. Hard but manageable. It doesn’t take me long before I’m done, and I thank my lucky stars I’m wearing a dress because pants would’ve been difficult at this moment. I wash my hands and then go to the door. My fingers are just about to start to turn the knob again when it opens. Alaric is standing there.
“I thought you could use a hand.” I step past him, and he chuckles. He probably thinks I should say thank you, but nope, that will not happen. No thank you will ever leave my mouth.
Now, a colossal fuck you? That I can do.
With my head held high, I walk toward the door to the deck on this level.
The sticky salty air hits my face, lashing my skin with the disheveled wisps from last night.
We are going very fast for a yacht.
He’s trying to get as far away from land as possible. Seeing as we have been on the water for at least six hours, who knows where we are. This is bad. Terrible.
“I can see the wheels turning,” he says as he stands beside me. “Trying to figure out where we are. Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s no hope for you unless I decide to be a gentleman and let you go.”
“Yeah? How are my chances looking?” I bite out. No point in playing coy anymore.
That makes him laugh. A hardy laugh that bounces around inside me and warms my stomach from the sound. I hate how my body responds to him. I hate that I gave him liberties to kiss me yesterday because now as he laughs, I can imagine the feel of his lips on mine.
When his laughter dries up, he advances toward me. I step back, hitting the cold metal of a safety rail.
I turn over my shoulder, glancing at the water below. The way it shines and sparkles as the sun dances on its surface reminds me of an explosion of diamonds.
How far is the drop? Would I survive? I look out at a horizon of endless blue with no land in sight.
“To answer your question …” he starts, and I turn back to face him. “No. Also, don’t jump. I’d hate to jump in after you. That’s right, little dove, I won’t let you die. Death would be too easy for what he deserves.”
9
Alaric
She truly is a sight to behold. Her hair is disheveled, whipping against her face. Her skintight white dress hides little of her small and petite frame, and its hem is a little too high, but with her hands tied, she can’t do anything about it.
She’s feisty, I’ll give her that much. And gorgeous.
It’s a shame she’s Michael’s daughter. I’d fuck her to get her out of my system, but the way she snarls at me, that will not happen.
But now I know what she tastes like, so not wanting to fuck her will be a problem.
I won’t go there, and neither will she, but when I see her struggle against the bonds, I can’t help but imagine what she would look like tied to my bed, begging me.
I shake my head. There’s no place for that. “Come on,” I say, wrapping my hand around her bicep and turning her. “You must be hungry, and we have to talk.”
She refuses to speak. Instead, her lips are impassive, and it’s actually a cute look on her.
She’s acting like a petulant child, throwing a tantrum and refusing to speak, but she makes it look good. Much better than most would fair under the circumstances.
I would expect tears and begging, yet I find neither with this one. She’s resolved in her mind that she won’t talk, and to be honest, I kind of respect her for it.
She may be a worthy opponent.
Leading us to the deck, I pull a chair out for her when we reach the table setup.
“Sit,” I growl, not at all liking how much I enjoy staring at her. I can’t have any distractions now. George, Michael’s henchman, had no useful intel for me. I hadn’t questioned him really, but the daughter of my enemy? Yes, I could use her as bait. I could finally get the revenge I have desired all these years.
Ever since her father killed the only family I had left.
My brother.
A casualty of a war he should never have been a part of.
The guilt I feel in my chest is a weight that makes it hard to breathe some days. Today, looking at her makes me clench my fist. I’m better than this. Yes, I’ll kill Michael, and yes, I’ll use his daughter in my plan, but I won’t hurt her. Not truly.
When she doesn’t sit right away, I push her shoulder down, forcing the movement.
Although she’s frail like a small dove, she’s no porcelain doll.
Anyone who did what she intended to do can face the consequences of their actions.
“I said sit,” I bark out, aggravation heavy in my voice.
“I’m not a dog that you can command.” Her comment makes me chuckle.
“No, you’re a caged bird.”
“Great metaphor,” she hisses. “Very lyrical. Now tell me why I’m here.”
“Is that really how you’re going to play it? I catch you snooping in my office, and this is how you’re going to act?” She leans forward in her chair, resting her elbow on the surface. Cocking her head to the side, she smiles. A coy smile filled with the innocence of a child who found her presents on Christmas Eve but is pretending she didn’t.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I had to go to the bathroom, and I opened the wrong door. By the time I stepped inside, the door had closed, but there was no doorknob.”
Now it’s my time to lean forward. Mimicking her position, I lift my brow in question.
“You really expect me to believe that?” I ask.
“Well.” Cue a broad saccharine smile. “Of course.”
My fist pounds the glass, making the table wobble under the pressure. “Cut the shit.”
Her eyes widen, and the silly smirk is now gone. She thought she had one more shot to pull one over on me.
She doesn’t. She won’t.
“Phoenix. Adoptive daughter of Michael Lawrence.”
Sitting across the table from me, she tries hard to appear unaffected by my revelation. Her face is stoic. She shows no emotion whatsoever.
But that is for the unobservant person. I have made it my lifelong mission to be able to read people. I don’t even know her, but I can tell knowing all of this secret information scares her. I watch as a little vein in her neck throbs, and her jaw tightens. At my news, I watch as her breasts heave on the inhale she takes. Again most people wouldn’t notice, but I see everything.
“So, what are we going to do with you?”
“I don’t suppose dropping me off at the next port would do.” She shrugs.
“No. I don’t think that’s in the cards right now.”
“Why don’t you tell me then?” She leans back in her chair, trying to look uninterested.
“Here’s what we’ll do. We are going to talk about you.”
She chuckles. “As if I’ll tell you anything about me.”
“You will.” There is no room for objection in my voice, but she just smiles.
“Oh, is big bad Alaric Prince going to torture me?” Her words drip with sarcasm.
“I won’t need to,” I respond coolly.
“I’m not going to speak.”
“Probably not.” I smile. But I don’t say another word. Instead, I reach for the glass of water in front of me.
As if on cue, one of my staff members brings out plates of fresh food. I didn’t know what she liked, so I had my chef make one of everything.
“Enough food here?” she says.
“I don’t think so, actually. Shall I order more?”
She shakes her head at my quip.
“How do you expect me to eat this?”
“With your mouth, obviously.”
She lifts her hands and puckers her lips. “With what hands?” she deadpans.
“From where I’m sitting, I see two perfectly good hands.”
“Tied hands,” she interjects.
“As you’re a rather resourceful girl, I don’t expect this to be a problem for you.”
She glares at me from across the
table. “And how am I supposed to cut it?”
“Again, you’re resourceful. You did sneak into my office, after all.”
“A fat lot of good that did me,” she murmurs under her breath.
“You get an A for effort.”
She rolls her eyes before lowering her bound hands to the plate, and then she does something I don’t expect. She bypasses the fork altogether. Instead, she grabs the piece of French toast between her fingers and lifts it to her mouth. She pretends she doesn’t like it. Hell, she pretends she’s not starving, but I know she is. She eats the piece without ever lowering her hands, and once she’s done, she looks back up at me.
“Is this necessary?” She wiggles her arm around.
“No. It’s not,” I admit on a chuckle.
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because I like to play before I go in for the kill.” Her face blanches at my words, but she’s quick to pull herself together.
“You plan on killing me?”
She stops eating now, and all her attention is focused on me, on what my answer will be. It’s impressive how calm Phoenix pretends to be. If it weren’t for the sound of a knee bouncing, I would think she’s unaffected by my threat.
“Still on the fence. It all depends.”
“Is this the part where you try to make a deal? Because if it is, you can hold your breath. I’m not going to tell you anything. I’m certainly not gonna tell you where my father is. And I’m not gonna be used as bait.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong.” Lifting my fork, I take a bite of the French toast in front of me.
Her eyes narrow, and then she opens her mouth. “How do you figure?”
The fork clangs against the table as I place it down and then stare into her eyes. “You already are bait. Already strung up and hooked by the fishing line. The only question is, are you a catch and release?”
10
Phoenix
Holy crap.
I am in way over my head. My stomach flip-flops as his words bounce around in my head.
There has to be a way off this boat.
