Enslaved By The Ocean (7 page)

“I don’t want to stay in here with you, let me go back to the cell.”
 

“Ain’t gonna happen.”
 

“I won’t leave my friend
.
I will make your life a living hell if you keep me here, take it from me,” I threaten.
 

“Is that a threat?” he growls, uncrossing his arms and stalking over.
 

“No, pirate. It’s a promise. He’s everything to me. I won’t let you leave him down there to rot. Unless you’re going to watch me every second of every day then you can’t be sure I won’t do whatever it takes to escape this. Including trying to take my own life again.”
 

He takes a deep, ragged breath. “You would really do that to your friend? Kill yourself? Leave him alone on a ship to be killed?”
 

His words burn. “Sometimes, there is no choice.”
 

“I will give you a choice,” he says, meeting my stare dead on. “You either take it, or you don’t. If you stay here, keep yourself safe and don’t attempt to run or hurt yourself again…I will continue to feed your friend. I will give him food and water, and when we stop I will let him go.”
 

My eyes widen. He’s offering Eric’s freedom in return for me promising to stay and do as he asks. Basically, it’s my friend’s life, or my own. If I say no, Eric dies. If I say yes, I am selling myself. I close my eyes. I already know the answer. I knew it from the moment I decided I would do whatever I could for Eric. I knew it when I decided
moments ago that I wasn’t going to show weakness. I have to be the stronger one. Eric could never know how close I got to giving up on both of us. I open my eyes and I meet Hendrix’s gaze. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
 

“Pirates’ code. We make the deal in blood. I don’t break my deals.”
 

“You’ll swear that he’ll be fed and given water, and released with no strings. He can go back to his life and live it happily if I promise to do as you ask?”
 

Hendrix nods.
 

I close my eyes and hang my head. “It’s a deal.”
 

He steps forward, and I lift my eyes to see him bring out a knife. He slices it across his palm lightly. A small trickle of blood appears. I cringe, and my entire body begins to throb. I’m about to sign my life away. It’s the only choice. At least with this choice I know Eric goes free. I can find a way to escape after. I’m sure I can. Hendrix reaches down, and he takes my hand, bringing the knife to my palm. I try to tug it away.
 

“No, I don’t want to blend blood,” I cry.
 

“Everything is sealed in blood, pirates’ code. You don’t seal it, I don’t promise your friend’s safety. I don’t have diseases, so stop your crazy and shake my fuckin’ hand.”
 

He makes a line so fine on my palm I barely feel it. Only a tiny drizzle of blood appears. He reaches his hand out. I hesitate.
 

“How much is your friend’s life worth to you? If you don’t shake my hand, I don’t make the deal. By blood, or by nothing. I don’t break my promises. You hesitate a moment longer, and I will change my mind. If I change it, you won’t get this chance again. Save your friend.”
 

I stretch out my hand. If I die from a disease, so be it. My outcome really isn’t looking too positive anyway. Hendrix reaches his hand out, and just before I touch it, he speaks the words. The words that bind me to him—at least for now.
 

“By the code of the ocean, we make this deal.”
 

I swallow, and I put my hand in his. One of his large hands covers mine, and I find myself shivering at the contact.
 

“By the code of the ocean,” I whisper, “we make this deal.”
 

He squeezes my hand, and then drops it. I quickly wipe my palm against my shorts, and lift my eyes to his.
 

“It’s done. You break my deal, I kill your friend.”
 

I nod, and lift my hand, inspecting the wound on my palm.
 

“You’re not bleeding enough, which means you’re dehydrated.”
 

No shit, Sherlock.
 

“I will have Jess bring you food, water and some clothes. You can shower, and you will be fed daily. I can’t deliver you looking like a bag of bones
.
”
 

God, did I look that bad?
 

“Fine.” I nod.
 

“You can sleep on the sofa, and you have access to this room and the entire ship. Now you have made that deal, I will remove the watch. You even try to escape, I slit your friend’s throat without hesitation. You can’t get him out of those cells, so any notion of escape you might have…wipe it. I can see he means a lot to you, so it’s your decision to keep him alive. You try and run, believe me, I will make it hurt for him.”
 

“I get it, okay? I’m not fucking going anywhere,” I snarl.
 

He narrows his eyes at me, and then he turns and stalks over to his desk. He picks up a phone, and presses a few buttons. I stare at the phone longingly, but it’s not an outside line, only an inside line. I can only wish.
 

“Jess, get me food, water and some clothes for the girl. Bring them now.”
 

He hangs up before the girl even gets the chance to answer. Five minutes later, a knock sounds out at the door. I turn on the sofa and watch as Hendrix goes over and opens the door, revealing something I didn’t expect to see. There’s a young girl, I assume in her late twenties, standing at the door. I figured he had skanks on the ship, but this girl looks tidy, clean, and almost friendly. She has long, thick red hair and big green eyes. Her skin is pale, and her body is tiny and petite. What the hell is she doing on a pirate ship?
 

“Thanks,” Hendrix says, taking the items from her hand.
 

She turns her eyes to me, and for a moment we hold each other’s gaze. Could this girl be my way out? She gives me a small weak smile and then turns and leaves. Just how many women are on this ship? I thought it was some sort of rule that women didn’t stay on pirate ships, but then, I didn’t think pirates even existed in the world anymore.
 

I guess everything I believed in was wrong.
 

Hendrix walks over, dropping the things on the table in front of me. I see a tank top, a pair of jeans, a bottle of water and a sandwich. My stomach twists angrily, and I’m not sure eating is a wise idea.
 

“Is that girl a prisoner too?” I suddenly ask.
 

Hendrix was just turning away, but at my words he stops and glares down at me. “She is here willingly.”
 

“Why?” I blurt.
 

Why would anyone, in their right mind, stay on a pirate ship?
 

“Her life ain’t your business
.
N
or are any of my crew’s lives.”
 

I narrow my eyes, but I drop it. I turn and stare at the sandwich again.
 

“I suggest you eat that, drink the water, get in the shower, and then rest.”
 

“Like you care,” I murmur, reaching over and gripping the sandwich.
 

“I have to give something worth wanting,” he snaps. “Right now you wouldn’t sell for even the cheapest price.”
 

Ouch.
 

I don’t answer him. I just lift the sandwich to my mouth and take a bite. The minute the food hits my tongue, I cringe. I’m starving, don’t get me wrong, but my stomach has been starved for so many days, the idea of food and the reaction to food has it coiling angrily. I chew slowly, closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. I have to eat, for my health and my strength. I swallow the chewed piece down, and wince loudly at the pain in my throat.
 

“Don’t go eating that too fast,” Hendrix says. “You will only chuck it back up. Take it from me.”
 

I glare at him. “What would you know
? H
ave you ever been so starved the thought of food actually repulses you?”
 

He meets my gaze, his eyes deadly serious. “Yeah, I have.”
 

He has? I blink. That wasn’t the answer I expected. Unable to say anything to that, I turn my head back to the sandwich, and take another bite. It’s ham and cheese, basic, simple, and if I wasn’t feeling so ill, probably very yummy. I reach over and take the water, unscrewing the top and bringing it to my lips. The desperation grips me again, and I want so badly to just swallow it all down. I know I can’t. I have to go easy, so I take a few big sips and put it down. I take another bite of the sandwich, then stand and lift the clothes into my arms. I turn and walk off toward the bathroom without another look at Hendrix. I can’t eat another bite more until I have showered. I just can’t.
 

The bathroom is actually quite large with a shower over a tub, a toilet, and a
big
square sink. I walk over, running my fingers over the razors and aftershave on the countertop. It’s like being in a normal man’s bathroom, only Hendrix isn’t a normal man. I turn toward the mirror, and gasp when I see myself. Oh…my…God. He’s right. I look hideous. My face is covered in peeling skin, my hair is ratty and disgusting, and my eyes are bloodshot, saggy, and have dark rings under them. I’m usually quite tanned, with dark blond hair and big brown eyes. I actually like my looks. Right now, though, I look like a peeling snake.
 

I spin around and reach in to turn the shower on. The thought of soothing warm water has my body tingling in anticipation. I haven’t showered for days. I drop my clothes, wincing as I run them over my raw burned body. I step into the shower, and the moment the water
touches
my skin I cry out. I grit my teeth, knowing I have no choice but to stay and endure this. I need it. My body needs it. I close my eyes, and steady myself by pressing my palms against the shower wall. The ship rocks slightly, and I widen my stance to stop myself from tipping over.
 

It takes about five minutes for my skin to feel better. When it eases, I lean down and fill my palm full of soap. I gently wipe it over the least burned parts of my body, and then I lather it into my hair. I
find a
washcloth, and I begin gently wiping my face, removing all the dried-up skin. I rinse my hair, my body and my face, and then step out. I must admit I do feel fresher. My thoughts go to Eric. I should have requested that he got a
shower. Maybe I can add it in. I dry myself gently, and then pull on the jeans and tank. Getting the jeans over my sore leg is a challenge, but I get there. They’re a little big, but that’s okay. They’re clean and they’re comfy.
 

When I’m done, I lift a comb from the counter and I run it through my hair. It takes me a solid fifteen minutes to detangle my blond locks, but when I look in the mirror again I can see a glimpse of myself. My face looks red, but far less hideous. Taking a deep breath, I turn and head back out. When I step out of the bathroom, I hear a giggle and turn my eyes to the far end of the room where Hendrix’s bed sits. The blond girl who gave me the stitches, is sitting on the edge of his bed, running her hands up and down his leg. Oh hell no, he’s not seriously going to get it on while I’m in the room…is he?
 

I clear my throat.
 

He looks up, and his eyes widen. It takes a moment for him to put the serious expression back on his face. Was he shocked that I actually look like a female?
 

“Why is she in here?” she whines.
 

I wrinkle my nose, and mutter, “I’m his prisoner. Remember?”
 

“Is she going to be in here long?” She pouts, turning her gaze to Hendrix, who still has his eyes on me.
 

“She is,” he murmurs.
 

“I don’t recall having sex in front of me being part of our deal,” I point out.
 

“I don’t recall your opinion being part of it either.” He smirks.
 

“I will make you wish you didn’t stick her in front of me,” I snap. “Believe me when I say I will make it impossible for you to get it up for her if you even attempt to fuck her in this room while I am in it.”
 

He raises his brows. “Is that another threat?”
 

“No, again, it’s a promise.”
 

“Don’t tell me fucking frightens you,
inocencia
?” he rasps.
 

What did he just call me? It sounded almost…Spanish.
 

I don’t answer him. I simply turn and walk back to my sofa, dropping myself down and tucking my legs beneath me. I pick up the sandwich and water, and continue to nibble and sip. I hear the giggles behind me, then the distinct sound of sucking. He can’t be serious? What sort of pig is he? I close my eyes, and I think of ways to piss him off enough to get him to stop. I know by now Hendrix isn’t going to kill me, he loses too much if it does. So, I decide on the only thing I know I can do well.
 

I sing.
 

And I make it count.
 

“Drink up me earties’ yo ho, yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me.”
 

I repeat this over and over, at the top of my lungs. The girl growls after about five minutes, and I hear her stand and stomp her foot. “Make her shut up!”
 

I turn my eyes to Hendrix, and he’s smirking at me. God, he’s beautiful when he looks like that. I continue singing, not once moving my eyes from his. I raise my brows, as if to say, “Did you think I was joking?” He turns his eyes to the girl.
 

“Leave, I have business to take care of.”
 

She huffs, and glares at me. “Next time, lock her up.”