by Ava Harrison
It takes all my effort to appear unaffected, but it’s pretty much a lost cause. Because no matter how hard I try, what he said sits heavy in my belly, and all the food I’ve just shoved in my mouth is not making me feel any better. I can feel bile rising up my throat. I try to swallow, but it’s hard.
Slowly, and with careful precision, I reach my hands to grab the glass of water in front of me.
Eating and drinking, pretty much doing anything, is nearly impossible with your hands tied. Each move I make hurts more than the next. The plastic bites at my skin, but I don’t show that I’m in pain. I refuse for him to see that it’s hurting me.
The only thing I should be thankful for is that he didn’t secure my hands behind my back. Lord, that would suck.
I lift it to my mouth and guzzle it down. Yeah, this is much easier in the movies.
“Having a problem?” the bastard asks from across the table. It’s probably a good thing I’m in this predicament right now because a very large part of me wants to throw this glass across the table at his head. That move would one hundred percent get me a one-way ticket into the ocean. Life vest not included.
Nope. Dying is not part of the plan. It’s obvious I have to abandon my mission, and now my only plan is getting off this boat alive and not allowing this asshole to use me as “bait.”
“How about I take those off?” Alaric says as he continues to look at me. I wish he would stop because it’s unnerving.
“Why do I feel like there’s a catch?”
“There’s no catch.”
Not one part of me believes him.
“There always is. Spit it out, and I’ll decide.”
“You don’t try to kill me. That’s the catch,” he says nonchalantly, and my mouth drops open. “I’ll keep you alive. I won’t kill you. I’ll even promise once your part is played in all this, I’ll let you go.”
The bargain doesn’t sit well, but I know I have no choice. “Fine.”
I’ll think of another plan. I always do. I’ll pretend to play nice, then I’ll search the boat for George. Together, I’m sure we can think of something.
Alaric abruptly stands and prowls over. With me sitting and him standing, he towers above me.
Tall and domineering.
He’s quick to reach under his shirt, to his hip, and pulls out a knife.
This isn’t some small pocketknife. This is a large hunting knife.
Seriously, Phoenix, what the hell have you gotten yourself involved in?
Who carries a knife that big? Someone who probably has a gun there too. Why am I surprised? The man employs an entourage of villains all on standby. He’s an arms dealer for crying out loud. Yep. I’m in way over my head.
The plastic pulls at my wrist, but then with a slice of his knife, I’m released.
I shake out my wrists. Once the blood begins to circulate properly, I rub at them. A small groove is present from the plastic. Luckily for me, it didn’t chafe.
After he banded my hands, I didn’t bother fighting because I didn’t want to tear my skin. With my free hands now at my disposal, I look at the table, my gaze lingering on the knife.
“Easy there, killer. We had a deal.”
“I know.”
“Then stop eyeing the butter knife. One, it won’t kill me, and two … it will just piss me off.”
“Good to know.”
I grab my fork and continue eating. With what I have planned, I’ll need my strength.
After the meal, Alaric escorts me to my stateroom.
It’s different than what I imagined. Luxurious and decadent. An enormous queen-sized bed sits in the middle of the room, and there are pillows for days, which makes me yawn.
But I don’t step inside.
“Is it not to your liking?” he asks, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“It’s not what I expected.”
“Did you expect a dungeon in the boat’s bow?”
“Basically,” I mutter.
He moves toward me, and I back away from him.
“You are not my prisoner.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Go to bed. You haven’t slept yet, so you must be exhausted.”
I hesitate before stepping farther into the room.
“This isn’t a trick or a trap. You are safe here.”
For now. He might not have said the words, but they hang in the air, heavy and thick with a warning.
“No one will disturb you.” He doesn’t wait for me to step in, nor does he say goodbye. Instead, I’m left standing in the door’s threshold. The choice is mine.
I don’t know if I believe him that I’m safe for the time being, but I have no choice but to accept that I’m here now, and I have no place to go.
I’ll need my strength and my wits, and I won’t be able to think if I’m delirious. I decide to walk inside, close the door, and throw myself onto the bed. I don’t bother looking for clothes or stripping. Instead, I close my eyes and let sleep find me.
When I wake sometime later, the boat is no longer moving. Or if it is, it’s moving very slow.
Pulling the shades back from the window above my bed, all I see is darkness. It’s the middle of the night.
Now is the perfect time.
I can sneak around …
Maybe I’ll find George.
My bare feet hit the carpeted floor, and I wonder if I should put on shoes, but then I shake that thought away. If I do, I won’t be able to creep around.
I’m still dressed in my clothes from before, but I don’t have anything else to change into, so it will have to do.
Heading for the door, I slowly open it, not wanting to make too much noise. The door is heavy. Much heavier than a normal door. The urge to use all my weight to swing it open is strong, but I can’t. Instead, I try to be as quiet as I can when I open it. When it does finally open, I realize my attempts were in vain.
Standing outside my door is one of his men.
Without a word, I slam the door shut, not caring how loud it echoes, and flop back on my bed.
So much for that.
11
Phoenix
Falling.
It feels like the ground is rocking underneath me, and I’m about to lose purchase just as my eyelids jolt open.
A dream. It was only a dream. But as I rub the sleep from my eyes, I realize that’s not the case. My nightmare, as it turned out, is also my reality. I am stuck on Alaric’s boat. I look around the plush and beautifully decorated stateroom Alaric led me to. When was that? How long have I slept? I feel groggy, not refreshed. Sitting up in the bed, I look around the room. There’s no clock, which makes sense.
Time is irrelevant. It drips between my fingers, almost tauntingly.
The drapes are still pulled back from my earlier attempt to leave, and again, I am met with darkness. The moonlight reflecting in the distance is the only visible light.
How can it still be night?
Should I go outside? Should I try again? Although I slept, I’m not in the mood to bump into him, so instead, I walk into the bathroom inside my room and turn on the shower. Before I strip out of my clothes I have been wearing for days, I look around for something to put on, and that’s when I see a robe hanging behind the door. Later, I’ll look to see if there’re any clothes, but for now, I need to wash off the past forty-something hours. I don’t know how long it’s been, but it makes no difference. I still feel dirty, tired, and disgusted with myself.
Once the water is on and my clothes are on the floor, I step into the scorching water and let it beat down on me, cleansing away the grime and salty air that clings to my body.
It doesn’t take me long to feel like a new person. I shut the off water and dry myself with a towel. Then I wrap the robe around my body and feel ready to search the boat. The only problem is my lack of clothing. I have a choice, but the idea of putting on that little dress again makes my skin crawl. I notice a pair of slippers, put them on, and head out the door. T
he first thing I notice is that my guard is missing. The next is how quiet the boat is, leading me to believe that it’s well past midnight. If it’s the wee hours of the morning, this might be the perfect time to look for the radio. The boat isn’t moving right now—or if it is, it’s moving slow, which could bode well in my favor. Maybe the captain is sleeping. I kick off my slippers, realizing the sound they make slapping against the floor is too loud.
I make it up the stairs and toward the front of the boat. When I push open the door to where the captain should be, I see a light glimmer in the corner.
I’m not alone in here. Fear wraps around me like a tight belt. Each step I take farther into the room tightens the belt another notch.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” the voice that has haunted my dreams purrs from the shadows.
I turn my head in his direction, but there’s not much I can see. Even with the lamp, he is bathed in darkness, but the whites of his eyes shine in the dim light.
“Are you here to play, little dove?”
That made me step closer, teeth bared and ready to fight. “My name is Phoenix.”
“I’m well aware of your name. But it doesn’t fit or work under the circumstances, so I’ve changed it.”
“You can’t change it on me. I have a say. I’m not frail or weak.”
“No. You are just a pawn I will use to my advantage.”
I place my hands on my hips in defiance. “You think so little of my father that you can lure him into a trap?”
“Not little,” he says, but he doesn’t clarify his meaning.
“Then what?”
“He loves you. He will do anything to get you back. I will use this to my advantage.”
“Will you kill him?”
He leans forward in his chair, the light now hitting the sharp lines of his face. The way he looks at me makes my insides tremble. The usual smirk is long gone, and the playfulness in his eyes has disappeared.
Only malice and hatred stare back at me.
He is every bit the killer right now that the rumors spoke of.
“Killing him would be too easy.”
I charge forward, not knowing what I’m doing, but as soon as I do, I realize my mistake because he grabs my arms, twisting and pulling, until he’s on top of me.
My back hits the couch, my hands drawn together in his grasp above my head.
He’s too damn close, his rock-hard body against mine. “Do not test me,” he hisses as I try to break free. “I don’t like to be tested.”
“Let me go.” The pressure of his body against mine has me going into fight-or-flight mode. I try to move my hands to push him off me.
It’s useless.
“Not until you calm down. I don’t want to lock you up. I don’t want to hurt you. But if you don’t put your claws away, I will.”
I can’t move. Completely immobilized. My chest heaves with each attempt, but it’s no use. We stay in this position for too long. His warm breath fans my face, my body pliant beneath his. He could try to take me, and the thought makes me tense.
“You don’t have to fear that,” he says as if he has a window into my soul, like he can hear my nightmares as they replay in my head.
“Sure.”
“I don’t need to force anyone.” His voice is cocky, and I know he’s not lying. There’s no hint of anything but arrogance. He doesn’t need to take because women must throw themselves at him. Beg him.
Not me. I’ll never beg. Nor would I ever want this man.
No matter how beautiful he is from the outside, the inside is rotten to the core. Time crawls slowly as I inhale and exhale, trying to calm the anger inside me.
When it finally subsides, he stands and releases my hands.
“Let me go.”
“You chose to be a stowaway. It’s not my fault you ended up stuck on my yacht.” The bastard smirks.
“I didn’t know you were going to leave the port.”
“I made an announcement. You must have been busy searching my office. Did you find anything?”
“Fuck you.”
“You don’t want to be my enemy, dove. Now be a good little bird and go back to bed. We have much to discuss tomorrow.”
I stand, fixing my now disheveled robe. “I won’t stop until I burn you to the ground.”
“You can try.”
12
Alaric
“She’s sleeping?” Cristian asks as he steps out into the warm air. I’ve been here for the past hour—ever since I walked Phoenix to her room. I brought out a glass and a tumbler of scotch.
“Can’t you hear it’s quiet?” I gesture to the seat across from me. “Grab a glass and have a drink with me.”
“Should I gather the men?”
“That would probably be an excellent idea,” I say, lifting the drink to my mouth. It doesn’t take long. Soon, five of my best men surround me at the table. A few light cigars, and everyone drinks.
When my glass is empty, I lean forward. “What have you heard from Michael? Has he put two and two together yet?”
“He’s been quiet. No one has seen or heard from him. But seeing as Peter dropped George’s body in the middle of the square, wrapped up like a Christmas present, we have to assume he got the message. It’s been two days since he’s probably spoken to her. He must know we have her.”
“So, then what the fuck is he waiting for? He needs to crawl out of the hole he’s hiding in.”
That’s the thing about Michael. Ever since our war began, no one has seen him. He was like a fog, hovering close but just out of reach.
Cristian leans forward. “Cut her finger off.”
My hands hit the table. “No. She won’t be harmed. We don’t have to harm her to get what we want. Her father will leave his rock if we give him enough rope to hang himself.”
“You want to let him know where we are.” His brown eyes are wide in shock.
“Yes.”
“But—”
“No buts. We won’t hurt her; he will come. And because it involves his feelings, he won’t risk her. No war has to bring him to us. It’s almost too easy. He can trade himself for her.”
“Think he will?” Cristian asks.
I think about that for a minute. To ask that question would imply he didn’t love her, but to keep her hidden so well for all these years means my plan will work.
I won’t need to hunt for him. He will come to me willingly.
The next day comes before I know it. I spent most of the night not sleeping but talking logistics. We have a fairly large shipment of guns on the boat. We need to transport them to Caracas and make a pickup. Then I can handle Phoenix. The problem being, however, what to do with her.
She’s a slippery little thing, one who will use the opportunity to attempt escape. We won’t be there for a week, though, which will give us plenty of time to get her father to come.
Once on land, we can make the trade—one feisty little bird for a dead man.
That’s what he will be. I’ve already taken his guns. This last shipment I plan to intercept will be the nail in his coffin. He owes money to corrupt men as is. But I’m fair. Although I should torture him for my brother, I’ve grown tired of this war.
We’ve been on the boat for two days now, and the waters are choppy as we cross over toward South America.
As I walk down the hall, I hear a noise coming from Phoenix’s room. The first thing I notice as I make my way into her dark stateroom is the bed is unmade, the second being that it’s empty. Scanning the room, I hear the grumbling again. It’s coming from the bathroom.
“Dove.” I walk toward the door. Lifting my hand, I knock. She doesn’t answer, so I push it open.
The sight before makes me inhale deeply.
She looks so pathetic curled over the toilet. Since she wasn’t sick yesterday, I thought she would be okay, but the waters are rocky even for me, and I live here.
I move closer. Her hair hangs in her face as she gets sick all ove
r again.
I step up behind her and reach my hand out as she continues to be ill.
A part of me can’t believe I’m doing this, that I’m holding her hair back. But seeing her like this touches a place in my heart. I don’t want to care, and I don’t. But one thing I enjoy most about Phoenix is her attitude, her spirit, and now she has neither. It’s not fun when we don’t spar.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks, lifting her head to look me in the eyes.
“I can’t have my bait dying before I use her?” I respond, ever the asshole.
Phoenix scoffs into the toilet. She must be done because she gets up quickly, and my hands slip out of her hair.
“Where are you going?” I ask, standing up as well.
“To bed.”
“I’ll get you some medicine. Don’t stay inside when you’re sick.”
“Leave me alone. I don’t need your advice.” She walks away from me but doesn’t make it far before the boat hits a wave and rocks abruptly. She groans loudly as her hands reach out to steady herself on the wall.
“Go upstairs. Can’t you just listen to me. What the fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you trying to help me is rich.”
“I might be an asshole, but I’m not that big of one.”
“Only a murderer.”
“Yep. Only a murderer. Go up to the sundeck. Fresh air and the horizon will make you feel better. I’ll grab you some medicine. It’ll take about thirty minutes to kick in, but as long as you take it for the next few days, you won’t get sick, and you’ll get your sea legs.”
“Where are we going? Why can’t you just let me go?”
“Unfortunately, that’s not in the cards for you right now.”
“My presence is still needed?” She groans.
“It is.”
“Whatever.” She scoffs as she wipes her mouth and walks past me.
Even sick, she’s stronger than most, an interesting and somewhat upsetting notion. Because to do what I’m going to do, I can’t feel anything for her at all, and every second I stay with her, I’m finding it harder and harder not to like her.
