Enslaved By The Ocean (6 page)

“Do you see that?” Hendrix barks. “Do you fucking see it? That’s what is in these waters, that is what happens if you try and leap over the side.”
 

“I…I…I get it,” I cry.
 

He shoves my head down further, and I scream. “You want to be shark bait?”
 

“No,” I scream, squirming.
 

“You want them to tear you to pieces, slowly?”
 

“Goddammit, no!”
 

He hurls me back up, and my body slams into his chest. My knees do buckle now, and he lets me fall. I hit the deck. My hands splay out on the damp wood, and I begin to pant. I’m done for. I have no way out. How do you escape something like this? The
ocean has suddenly become a deadly place, filled with far more danger than I ever could have imagined.
 

“My suggestion to you is to stop trying. There is no way off this ship, girl. Not without causing your own death.”
 

I shake. I am doing this wrong. I am trying to escape when, really, my best chance at escape is when he attempts to make the deal. I imagine whoever he is selling me to will be on land, and therefore I will have a small window of opportunity to run. If I’m dead, I won’t get that chance.
 

Hendrix might have scared me, but I’m not about to give up.
 

Not yet.
 

Hendrix lets me sit on the deck for a moment after the shark incident while he speaks to a group of pirates in the corner. He’s deep in conversation, so I decide to take the risk. He is so sure he’s scared me enough that I won’t try and figure something out. My mind goes to the knives in the kitchen—hell, there’s probably even a gun or two lying around. A shock attack, and I’d have to be careful, but I might be able to get Eric and get into the small boat at the back of the ship. The small boat he doesn’t know I saw while I was sitting here, recovering from the shock scare. It’s there, though, right at the back, just visible. I stand slowly, and very carefully I tiptoe toward the door that leads down to the second level.
 

I hold my breath as I take each step, so sure I will have a gun pressed to my head before I make it down to the last step. I get to the bottom, and slowly turn. He hasn’t noticed. I pick up speed now, moving as quickly as I can down the halls. I get to the first room, and run into it. I don’t pay much attention to the bland wooden walls in the tiny room, or the single bed that looks like it’s seen better days in the corner. I go straight to the drawers beside it, and open them. Come on, there has to be a gun in here somewhere. Not finding one in this room, I run down to the kitchen. I hear voices, and know it’s out of bounds. My heart begins to thump desperately. I have minutes, if I’m lucky. My eyes dart around, and I run to the next room that’s open.
 

I go straight past the single beds—this one has two—and to the drawers. I yank them open, and I begin shuffling through desperately. Come on.
Come on
. When I find nothing, I stand straight and spin around, only to come crashing into a flabby, big chest. My entire body stiffens, and I lift my face to see an old disgusting pirate, grinning down at me. He’s got thinning grey hair, yellow teeth, and eyes that are a steely blue. He’s awful. My blood runs cold. He’s not giving me an expression that says he wants to hurt me. No, his expression is that of lust.
 

“Well, well, I heard there was a pretty girl on the ship. What’re you doin’ rummaging through my stuff, poppet?”
 

I shake my head, stepping back. “I was…I was just…”
 

“You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman?” He grins, showing me rotting teeth.
 

Oh no.
 

What was I thinking, trying to run through this ship alone? I take another step back, but he lashes out and grips me. I try to squirm and fight, but my body is so weak. He spins me around, crushing an arm across my chest. Then he presses a knife to my throat. Oh no, please, God, no. Don’t let this happen.
No.
 

“Don’t scream, or I’ll slit it,” he hisses into my ear.
 

Then his hands lower down over my stomach to my shorts. Everything in my world stops, and my entire body is stiff with fear. I can’t move, even though everything inside me is screaming to fight. His hand slips into my shorts, and tears burn my eyes as his knife presses against my throat. I make a choking sound, and I plead with him to stop.
 

“Silence,” he orders.
 

I feel bile rise in my throat as the tips of his fingers skim my panties. My vision begins to blur, and I struggle to find my fight.
 

When his fingers pull at the elastic of my panties, I find that fight. I drive my elbow backwards suddenly, hitting him in the ribs. He bellows and stumbles, crashing into the drawers beside the bed. The knife drops to the floor, and I lunge for it. I wrap my fingers around it, and just as he goes to charge me I drop low, driving it into his leg. He screams,
dropping to the floor. Blood runs from his leg, and the knife tumbles from my grip. I feel the blood drain from my face as I stumble backwards. I just . . . I just . . . stabbed him.
 

I make a rasping sound, and I hear voices down the hall. I have to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore. I drop to my knees, and the pirate is still rolling and screaming, gripping his leg. I grasp at the gun in his pants, and I pull it free. I push to my feet, and my hands wobble. I point the gun at him, and
in a wobbly hiss, I snarl,
 “Don’t move.” He is still groaning in pain, and I figure he hasn’t acknowledged what I said. Blood is pouring from the deep wound in his leg.
 

“What the fuck?”
 

I hear Hendrix’s angry voice, and spin to see him standing at the door, gun out.
 

“What are you doin’?”
 

“He tried to…he…he put his hands…”
 

“What did he do?” he says, his voice hard.
 

“He tried to rape me,” I whisper.
 

Hendrix’s fiery gaze turns to the pirate on the ground. “Is that fact?”
 

“No boss, it’s not…she’s lyin’. She came in here and threw herself at me…”
 

Hendrix’s face turns stony, and he pulls the trigger on his gun without a second question. I scream as a bullet lands right between the pirate’s eyes. A clean hole appears, and blood begins to flow steadily from the wound. My entire body sways, and I can hear myself crying. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I just want to leave. Why won’t he let me leave? I’m tired. Exhausted. I’m done.
 

I lift the gun, and I press it to my temple. Hendrix turns, his eyes widen, and he very gently says, “Put that down, girl.”
 

“What’s the point?” I whisper. “My life is over anyway.”
 

“It isn’t what you want to do…”
 

“Isn’t it?” I scream, my hand shaking. “What is it you think I want? To live life as a sex slave? This is the better way.”
 

Hendrix slowly raises his gun, only to about my thigh height. “Put it down, I don’t want to hurt you.”
 

“N…n…no.”
 

I hear a shot fire out, I feel the burning in my thigh, and I feel myself collapse onto the floor. The gun topples from my hand, and skids across the wood. I open my mouth, and nothing except a strangled gurgle comes out. I feel like there is fire spreading up my leg. It burns. I scream, and my hands instantly go to the wound where I feel hot, sticky blood.
 

Hendrix is there quickly, leaning down, and lifting me into his arms. “It’s only a graze, you’re okay.”
 

“You shot me,” I bellow, my stomach twisting from the pain.
 

“I couldn’t let you kill yourself. It isn’t the right way.”
 

“What would you know about the right way?” I cry.
 

“More than you think.”
 

I tremble violently as he carries me down the halls. Everything is spinning, nothing makes sense. Everything in my world has been turned upside down, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I feel sick with fear at the idea that I considered, even for a second, taking my own life. What about Eric? How could I do that to him? How could I be so selfish?
 

Hendrix takes me to his room, and he lowers me onto the sofa. Then he turns and heads out to the hall, sticking his head out and barking something before turning and coming back into the room. He kneels down, gripping my shorts and tearing them clean off. I scream and squirm, but he doesn’t stop. He lifts a shirt from the ground, and presses it to my leg. The pressure hurts, and I find myself pleading with him to stop.
 

“I’m saving your leg, stop fighting me.”
 

“You tried to kill me,” I wail.
 

“I tried to stop you killing yourself, now lie still,” he orders, “or I’ll make you lie still.”
 

I sob, and close my eyes, feeling tears flow down my cheeks. I feel sick inside; I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I’d take three rounds with Kane again over being in this situation.
 

“I only grazed you
. A
couple of stitches and you’ll be fine.”
 

“Why stop me?” I whisper, my voice having given up. “You don’t care about my life. Surely you have other things to sell, just let me have it my way.”
 

“No,” he says simply.
 

His fingers glide up my thigh, and for a split second, I forget the pain. He grips the top of my thigh, and turns me so he can get better pressure on my other leg. He doesn’t move his hand when he stops moving me, and my entire body aches. The burning in my other thigh stops me feeling too much, but I don’t stop, not even for a second, feeling that hand on my thigh. Hendrix lifts his head, his eyes meet mine, and something passes between us. I don’t know what it is…maybe it’s understanding? What could Hendrix possibly understand about me?
 

His finger begins moving in a gentle soothing circle, and he doesn’t move his eyes from mine. My breath hitches, and I struggle to steady out my breathing. Hendrix’s brown eyes scan my face, like he’s looking for something he’s sure he’ll never find. He almost looks desperate. When his eyes fall back on mine, I feel his fingers squeeze my thigh…almost reassuringly. I don’t understand him. I don’t think I ever will.
 

“Cap?”
 

Hendrix jerks his hand off my thigh, almost guiltily, and then quickly stands up. He doesn’t meet my gaze again, simply turns to the blond woman standing in the room. “Stitches. She needs about three.”
 

She turns her gaze to me, and narrows her eyes. She’s big, busty and blond. She’s not ugly by any means, but she’s not stunning either. With a growl, she walks in and over to the sofa. She kneels down, removing the shirt off my thigh and staring down at the wound. “Two should do it.”
 

I close my eyes, feeling my stomach turning again.
 

I don’t open them until she’s finished and gone.
 

Then I turn to my side, and I close my eyes.
 

I don’t want to see anyone.
 

“You’ve earned yourself extra watch,” Hendrix grunts later that night after I’ve woken up.
 

He stands in front of me, holding a towel. He thrusts it at me, and crosses his arms. Jackass. I slowly sit up, and my leg throbs. The blond girl used antiseptic, and I hope sterile equipment, but it’s slowly starting to wear off and ache. I feel sick inside for resorting to pressing a gun to my temple. Would I have pulled the trigger? I really don’t know, but for a moment, just a moment, I felt a weakness I’ve never felt in my life, and never plan on feeling again.
 

“If you think I’m going to try and escape after that experience, you’re very wrong,” I hiss, trying to control my body while it desperately attempts to expel the nothingness in my stomach.
 

“Doesn’t mean I trust you. You’ll stay in here, with me. I’ll have a watch for you when I’m not in here. I don’t trust you down in those cells, and I need to get you looking a bit healthier before I sell you to Chopper.”
 

Chopper?
 

The name has my skin crawling.
 

“Please, reconsider…” I say, lifting my
eyes
to meet his. There has to be something inside him I can use to make him stop.  I saw it for just a moment earlier, when he shot me. It was there…
 

He crosses his broad arms across his chest, and standing like that he looks incredibly handsome and powerful. God, he’s dangerous; it’s written all over him. From the way his muscles rip and move when he does, to the way his clothes hug his hard, firm body. His hair is loose this afternoon, and it hangs down to the base of his neck in thick waves. He has the kind of hair a woman would envy. The gold hoops in his ear glimmer. How can he be so beautiful, and yet so completely awful?
 

“All the pleading ain’t goin’ to change my mind. I have debts to pay. Don’t take it personally.”
 

“Don’t take it personally,” I snarl. “You’re selling me to someone who is likely to use my body however he wants, but you don’t want me to take it personally?”
 

He growls. “Listen, girl. I suggest you stop questioning my motives, and start learning to shut your mouth. I am not beyond hangin’ you off the side of the ship and lettin’ the sharks have a go at catchin’ you.”
 

My eyes widen.
 

His tell me he’s serious.