by Cara Dee
Three servers appeared with carts full of food, and it raised the hum of the conversations flowing at the table.
Gray winced and shifted on his knees. Being so battered and bruised meant he couldn’t hold a position for long, and his knees were starting to protest by sending sharp bolts of pain up his thighs.
“Lee, Oscar, and I are always restrained,” Cole whispered. Gray caught himself right before he could whip his head in Cole’s direction. “Philip—the bastard who bought me… He wouldn’t be a match for me, and he knows it. A guard escorts us wherever we go. Same with Lee and Oscar’s owner, since he’s dealing with two. I don’t know his name, but their cabin is next to ours—number eight. I’m in nine.”
Gray swallowed and stored the information. Darius had shown him a rough drawing of the map of the yacht, and if it was correct, staterooms eight and nine were on the other side of the boat, same floor as Darius and Gray’s cabin.
One guard patrolled each deck at night. Evidently, Darius had been busy the two nights Gray had been drugged.
Something moved in the corner of his eye, and Gray adjusted his gaze enough to see it was Jonas who was walking toward him. This was it. They were about to find out if Darius was right, that’d he’d seen fury in Jonas—directed at the guards—when Linus had jumped overboard.
Fury was good. Fury could turn a person into a lethal warrior.
A guard became alert at Jonas’s approach, but Darius said it was all right. “I want to see if the pets have any chemistry.” He took a sip of his whiskey and stayed by the bar for now, even as dinner was being served and the others were digging in.
A few weren’t here, Gray noted, which wasn’t too weird. The meals weren’t mandatory to participate in.
Jonas slowed down before he reached Gray. The hesitancy was written all over Jonas, something Darius had banked on. This was an opportunity for Jonas to ask Gray if Darius could be trusted, and Gray hoped it was enough.
Carefully, Jonas got down on one knee in front of Gray. His eyes were light brown and shone with every emotion Gray had seen countless times in the other guys who’d been taken. Except, Jonas had apparently been tricked into taking a job here. Same shit, really.
Darius was walking over. “Don’t be shy, slave.” Okay, maybe he wasn’t coming here, after all. He passed the slave posts instead on his way to the table.
Jonas jumped slightly, then eased closer to Gray and coughed into his fist. “I’m…I’m supposed to touch you.”
Gray dipped his chin once. Under the guise of entertaining a buyer who wanted to have some extra fun tonight, they were going to put on a minor display of touching one another. Well…Gray couldn’t do much with his hands shackled. Either way, it would give them a sliver of time to talk. And for Jonas to take the drugs tucked into Gray’s boxer briefs.
Jonas closed the distance and placed his hands cautiously on Gray’s hips. His fingers were cold to the touch, and being so close revealed things Gray hadn’t seen earlier today. Like the scars on Jonas’s torso. Like his ribs showing, the shadows under his eyes, and the needle marks along his arms.
“Is Mr. B for real?” Jonas whispered, snaking his arms around Gray’s middle.
“Yes.” Gray slowly rested his forehead against Jonas’s shoulder. “He’s been showing me where he keeps guns hidden on board.” Only a small lie, as he hadn’t actually seen them. But he needed to convince Jonas. And Cole, for that matter. Without help, it’d be a lot harder to escape. “He’s done this before,” he added in a hushed tone. “My family knows him too. He was sent here to rescue me and as many as he could.”
“Okay.” Jonas sucked in a breath as he ghosted his fingers over an angry welt on Gray’s back. “I have nothing more to lose. My life here is worthless. Tell me where the stuff is, and I’ll help as best I can.”
Relief hit Gray squarely in the chest, quickly followed by a generous dose of adrenaline. He hadn’t anticipated the last one, but now it slithered through his veins.
“Waistband, left hip,” he whispered. “Do you know how to distribute it?”
Jonas nodded slowly and dipped his fingers underneath the waistband until he found the plastic baggie. “Mr. B gave me instructions. I’ll get it done.”
Against Gray’s will, those words gave him a sliver of hope. It terrified him. If he lost it again, he knew he wouldn’t survive. He was hanging on by a thread as it was, and he didn’t even know the last stages of the plan yet. He only knew the importance of tonight and how this had to be done right.
Jonas soon returned to his spot behind the bar, and it was up to him now. Fucking obviously, Darius had a Plan B and goddamn Plan Z, but he’d been up-front with Gray. They were putting most of their eggs in this basket.
Jonas was going to spike enough drinks to put eight men out of commission. Eight men would wake up tomorrow morning feeling like shit. They’d suspect food poisoning and spend more time with their heads in the toilet than keeping watch. It wouldn’t take down the beast, but it would fracture a limb or two.
If Jonas pulled it off, the cocktail of drugs would be distributed between six guards and two buyers. Gray had requested Milo’s and Charlie’s owners, as they seemed particularly nasty.
“Are you actually serious?” Cole breathed out. “Is he here to save you? To save us?”
Gray side-eyed him subtly, only to catch Darius’s look. To answer the silent question, Gray bowed his head and directed his attention to the floor. Yes, it’s been done. The wait was gonna be another type of torture.
“Help us so we can go home,” Gray murmured pleadingly to Cole, never lifting his gaze. “I don’t know if it’s gonna work, but my family did send him. It’s the best chance we’ll get, Cole.”
“Shit.” Cole blew out a breath, suddenly antsy. The fear clung to the air around him. “How can you know?”
“Does it fucking matter at this point?” Gray hissed quietly. “I’m scared too, but I’m not gonna spend my life in captivity. I trust him. And if this doesn’t work, I’ll find a way to kill myself.”
An agonizing, sober thought hit him. If this didn’t work…it meant all had failed and Darius was dead too. Because whether or not they’d manage to escape had nothing to do with the fact that not a bone in Gray’s body believed Darius was a slave trader.
Cole didn’t hesitate as long this time. “I’m in. I’m not sure I can believe it’ll work, but I got nothin’ to lose.”
It was the same for all of them. It was all or nothing, and that thought gave him more pleasure than anything. Gray lifted his head slowly and scanned the faces of the handful of guards who were scattered around the deck. His mind clouded with something akin to sinister elation, fleeting as the feeling was.
The actual escape didn’t matter when it came to the damage he’d inflict, did it? Not really. Because when he thought of it, this was it. He’d get away or die trying, and he couldn’t fucking wait to smash their faces in.
Men who had nothing to lose…was there anything as dangerous and unpredictable?
Rather than heading for the dungeon after dinner, Gray was ushered back to their stateroom. He could sense something was wrong; Darius was tense, his jaw was set, and his grip on Gray’s arm was tighter than usual.
For once, Gray stayed level. His determination hadn’t faded, and he concentrated on his morbid fantasies of how to make the guards suffer.
As soon as the door was locked behind them, Darius cut straight to it. “We have a problem.”
Gray folded his arms over his chest and pushed past the anxiousness. “What is it?”
“Valerie allowed Linus’s buyer to leave earlier.” Darius loosened his tie in short, impatient tugs, and his jaw ticked. “They’re all about pleasing their esteemed fuckhead guests, so she pulled some strings so he could be taken to another auction.” He threw the tie at the desk before he pinched the bridge of his nose. Gray steeled himself. “He wasn’t alone. Jackie and his buyer were taken to the same auction.”
Gray’s
arms fell to his sides. The defeat threatened to pull him under again, and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths. It’s not the end of the world. When we get free, we can find Jackie. We’ll bring him home too. God, no one would believe that, much less Gray. At the same time, he couldn’t believe it was over. He couldn’t believe Jackie was lost.
He’d barely seen Jackie during this monstrous trip. Darius had mentioned that Jackie’s buyer wasn’t sadistic, that he was “just” a sick, lonely pervert. While there were hundreds of ways to break someone, Gray prayed the lack of violence would help Jackie survive longer. Until they could do something. Because there had to be something.
“Any other shitty news?” he asked dully.
“Unfortunately.” Darius slumped down next to Gray and scrubbed at his face. He’d never looked so tired, and it tugged at Gray. It rattled him too. It wasn’t okay. Darius was a strong motherfucker. Everyone was counting on him. “They left on the yacht’s tender along with three guards. Before dinner, three new guards showed up in another boat. Which means there are three new faces to worry about.”
Gray’s forehead creased. So there’d been…like, a guard change. “Does that mean problems for us? It’s the same number.”
“They’ll be more alert.” Darius planted his elbows on his knees and his chin on his linked knuckles. “They can’t anticipate our moves or needs yet, so they’ll be extra attentive—not to mention trigger-happy. Moreover, I don’t know shit about them. I don’t know whether they’re hotheaded or calculating.”
Okay, that was…problematic. Shit, shit, shit. No, where was the menacing fuck who was itching to plan revenge? Gray needed him back. They had Jonas! Jonas was gonna help out a lot. Cole was standing by too. They weren’t alone. This had to work.
Gray swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. “Then we gotta come up with something. I can’t afford to crash again. I wanna be useful.” He shifted a little and wrapped his hands around Darius’s bicep. “Tell me what to do, Darius. Things went smoothly with Jonas, and Cole’s in. That’s good news, right?”
Darius didn’t answer, but he seemed to appreciate that Gray didn’t immediately give up like the loser he was. In the meantime, as Darius observed him pensively, Gray clung. Literally and figuratively. He grasped at his resolve, and he held on to Darius’s arm and dropped his forehead to his shoulder.
“Tell me what to do, tell me what to do,” Gray whispered urgently. “I’ll fight with everything I am, I fucking swear. I just want them all to die.”
Darius sighed and surprised Gray, maybe himself too, by pressing a kiss to Gray’s hair. They both went still, and Darius didn’t back off. And it became…okay. It was comforting. It was new territory. For a second, Gray felt like he was more equal. He wasn’t a slave, even a pretend one. He was trying his damnedest to be Darius’s partner so they could get the hell off this boat.
“It may have to come to that, knucklehead,” Darius murmured. “I wanted this quick and easy, but I think we’re shit outta luck on that. Tomorrow’s gonna get messy.”
“I’m ready for it.” Gray eased off the bed and kneeled on the floor. He looked up imploringly, pleadingly. “You can count on me, I promise. I don’t care how messy it gets.”
Darius’s eyes flashed with compassion, and he cupped the back of Gray’s neck. “You’ve never killed anyone, Gray. It does something to you, no matter how much you hate your target.”
Gray didn’t respond, ’cause he’d be a dick to argue. Darius knew what he was doing, and Gray didn’t. Even so, he didn’t think he’d hesitate. Not for a millisecond.
He would have to prove himself.
Darius excused himself to take a quick shower, and it left Gray worried as hell. It also changed the direction of his thoughts. All he knew about Darius was the man he’d been these past couple of days. Strong, unyielding, on top of his game. And now…Gray had to consider what Darius kept to himself.
Gray sighed and got off the floor as the water started running in the bathroom. He hadn’t been fair to Darius. Coming on board this boat to wait stealthily and play a part before getting away with one person was a lot different from orchestrating a rescue operation that involved…Christ, how many? There was Cole, Milo, Lee, Oscar, Charlie, and eight staff members who were kept here against their will. And Gray himself.
They’d lost Linus. Jackie was…who the fuck knew where.
Guilt struck Gray hard. He rubbed at his chest to ease the pressure, but it only got worse when he continued thinking back on the time they’d spent on this boat. He’d made everything Darius’s job. His task to figure things out, his job to save everyone, his responsibility to plan it all. Meanwhile, just an hour on board had the ability to change Gray’s entire view of the world, so he’d become a juvenile headcase whose moods and resolve changed constantly.
He had all the reasons, but he couldn’t let it be his excuse. He had to help Darius. He had to be there for him.
A loud, shattering thump came from the bathroom; it was the sound of something solid breaking, and Gray flew toward the door before he even thought of it. His heart jumped up in his throat as he heard Darius’s low voice.
“Every fucking time…”
Okay, well, no time like the present to start sharing the burden. Gray got nervous, and he fidgeted outside the door before he summoned the courage to knock.
“I’m fine. I’ll be out soon,” Darius muttered in response.
It wasn’t good enough for Gray. The man obviously wasn’t fine. Giving the doorknob a tentative twist, he noticed the door was unlocked, which was both a relief and something that hitched his anxiety. You pussy. You were never afraid before. Gray’s mouth flattened into a thin line, and he opened the door out of sheer stubbornness to prove himself wrong.
He stopped short in the doorway.
Holy fuck.
He hadn’t been prepared on any level. Darius wasn’t in the shower, and there were no fogged-up walls to hide anything. He stood completely naked by the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter. Face downcast.
The large crack in the mirror and the sight of blood on the floor made Gray’s stomach flip. Darius was the image of breathtaking strength on the brink of collapse. Nobody should be allowed to be that sexy, so fucking stunning, but it was terrifying too. Gray needed Darius to remain strong, and now he could only hope his support would make a difference.
“I’m just waiting for the water to heat up. You can wait outside.”
Gray ignored the lie, manned up, and approached Darius. He eyed the mirror briefly, then gently pried Darius’s fingers from the death grip his injured hand had on the counter.
The cuts weren’t too deep. Three of them graced his knuckles, and Gray brought them under the faucet and turned on the water.
Darius hissed under his breath and flexed his fingers.
“Tell me what you’re the most worried about,” Gray requested quietly. He washed the cuts carefully. “I wanna help. Let me in on the whole plan.”
Darius clenched his jaw and breathed deeply through his nose. He’d straightened a bit but kept his eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t know how to get sixteen people off this boat.”
Sixteen…
Christ. “Only” fifteen more than he’d originally planned. There was no word for how stupid Gray had been. Not to mention ungrateful.
“Jonas and the staff…”
“Ten,” Darius confirmed. “It was his stipulation for helping out, and we can’t blame him for that. I probably would’ve tried to help them anyway.”
Gray’s mind spun, going over what little he knew of the original plan. Or plans, rather. Shutting off the water, he grabbed a fresh towel and cradled Darius’s hand in it. He was careful with the pressure and checked the wounds to see if the bleeding started up again.
No stitches needed, thankfully.
“You said ‘every fucking time’ earlier,” Gray murmured.
Darius lifted his head as if it weig
hed a ton and offered a tired, self-deprecating smirk. “I tell myself not to give a fuck. Not to get tangled up in attachments and guilt and the urge to do the right thing.”
Gray flicked him a glance, and he could see it. He could see Darius putting up one hell of a front in order to stay practical and calculating. Who could forget Darius’s attitude the morning after Gray’s auction? Darius had only been in it for the money and so on.
“You make it sound like a bad thing to do what’s right.”
“It’s what gets people killed.”
Yikes. Gray didn’t push it. He patted Darius’s knuckles dry and discarded the towel. “Okay, so sixteen people. I guess that means the lifeboat is useless.”
Darius nodded with a dip of his chin. “So is the tender. It ain’t big enough.”
And somehow taking both wouldn’t work either. Unless they split up and Darius found more people he could rely on to lead. And they had to be realistic. Gray, Jonas, and Cole could probably pull their own weight, but when push came to shove, they were dealing with one strong, able-bodied soldier and sixteen scared-shitless punks. Splitting up would create more fear and uncertainty, because guards and other bastards could appear out of nowhere.
The yacht wasn’t small. They couldn’t know exactly when and where the coast was clear. Too many hiding spots—hmm. Gray cocked his head. Why did they have to flee and make themselves the prey? He chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked at Darius.
“Why try to escape unnoticed when we can attack unnoticed?”
Darius straightened further and furrowed his brow.
Gray clarified as the thoughts became clearer. “Instead of running and not knowing who’s chasing us, we could attack them one by one.” The idea grew on him fast. “You have guns and shit stashed around the boat, and there are countless cabins we can lock people inside of.”
