Enslaved by the Ocean
Page 19

He removes his boot, and the pirate gets to his feet, coughing and spluttering, before storming off. The other two pirates back away slowly. My entire body slumps with relief. Thank God. I never realized how powerful Drake was until that very moment. I lift my eyes to meet his, and he stares at me for a second before starting to turn away. I can’t let him leave without a thank you; he just rescued saved me, yet again.
“You like saving me?” I say timidly.
He stops turning, and looks back at me. “Just doing my job.”
“Your job is to save the captives?”
His lip twitches. Oh my, does Drake smile?
“It is my job to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“So he can sell me in one fine piece? Right?”
He shrugs. “Something like that.”
“So you don’t do it because you’re a nice person, then? That’s a real shame,” I say, finding an old bench and sitting on it. “Because I kind of liked you.”
His eyes fall on me, and he looks confused, like he can’t possibly believe I could like him or even contemplate liking him. Then he does something that surprises me; he walks over and sits down beside me. Compared to my small frame, he’s massive. I still can’t wrap my mind around the sheer size of him. We both stare out at the ocean for a moment, just sitting in silence, and then I turn to him.
“How come you’re so big?” I ask.
He shrugs, and I can see the muscles in his arms move as he does. “I used to play a lot of football back in school, but I was always a big kid. I did some security work for a large bar chain in the United States for a while. That took a lot of work, because I had to be big to be able to throw the drunken idiots out. I worked out hard, and got bigger. Then I met Hendrix and joined the crew, becoming his main security man. I am always with him when he goes to shore, and I keep this ship in line when he can’t.”
“So you don’t work out now?” I say, shocked.
He shakes his head. “Not all the time, but I do lift a lot.”
“You’re kind of…scary.”
His lips twitch again. “That’s kind of the point.”
“I guess it is.”
He turns his face, and looks down at me. “But you’re not scared of me.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I see something that maybe you don’t.”
“And that is?”
“Kindness.”
He flinches, and turns his face away from mine, but not before I see a moment of pain in his eyes.
“You’ve been hurt really badly, haven’t you?”
He stands suddenly. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, Hendrix wouldn’t agree.”
“Hendrix doesn’t own me,” I protest.
He looks down at me once more then reaches out, lifts my hand and turns it over so he can see the faint red line from where Hendrix sliced me when we made our deal.
“But you’re wrong,” he says. “He does own you.”
Then he drops my hand and walks off.
There’s something very deep about Drake.
And I have a feeling he might be one of the only friends I’ll make on this ship.
Work like a captain–play like a pirate.
The first few nights in Hendrix’s room go reasonably well. He’s not here very often, so I spend my evenings alone on the sofa, or down with Eric. I have been trying to make small talk with Hendrix, but most of the time I fail. I so desperately want to see if there’s a chance of any kind of connection between us. It’s a far off dream, I do know this, but it’s worth a try. If Hendrix likes me, even a little, he might reconsider. That’s what I’m hoping for, at least. It’s got to be better than living in fear. I’ve figured out that my life is safe for the moment, at least until Hendrix sells me.
I’m making the most of that moment.
My dinner tonight is bland, boring and simple, but it’s food, and I’m not going to turn anything down. I eat as slowly as possible, trying to ease my stomach back into taking food. The past few days have been all about experimentation with food and water. The simple mashed potatoes are heavy and filling, but they’re bland, and I’ve worked out bland works. When I finish up my dinner, I have another shower and find myself a long daggy shirt in the small pile of clothes Jess gave me. I slide it on and find myself a comb before heading out to the sofa.
Hendrix is at his desk when I step out, and he looks up when he hears the door creak. We might not have a personal connection, but there’s certainly a sexual connection. It’s hard not to create something sexual when the air crackles every time he walks into the room. It’s strong, and intense, and so alluring. I watch as he lets his eyes travel down my body, before lifting back up to my face. He looks like he’s satisfied. “You’re looking healthier, it’s good.”
I cross my arms and walk over to the sofa, sitting down and running the comb through my damp hair. “I don’t feel all that much better.”
“Has your leg healed?”
I shift uncomfortably, and stare down at the small purple scar on my leg where he shot me—well, where he grazed me. “It’s fine,” I mutter.
Hendrix is flicking through some papers on his desk, and I notice his eyes are narrowed like he’s deep in thought. He reaches down and opens a drawer, and pulls out a phone. My eyes widen, and I try to smother the gasp that escapes my lips. Hendrix has a phone that’s not just a ship line? Oh God. He lifts the tiny device up and punches in a number before bringing it to his ear. He waits a moment, not looking at me, probably not even thinking about the fact that he just showed me a way out.