Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
My cracked mouth remains paralyzed.
“I believe Little One is a lot more capable than you’re comfortable with so I’m gonna operate under the guise he is trying to rescue us meaning we need to find a way to communicate our whereabouts as well find a safe place to barricade while we wait once the message has been delivered.” One hand falls to her hip. “I’m thinking we secure a radio, find the signal for the Coast Guard, send our SOS, and hide out in the kitchen. They typically have one access point on these types of vessels and a shit ton of things we can use as weapons or turn them into MacGyver style.”
“Appropriate reference.”
“Thank you for being ancient enough to understand it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
Disregarding the ugly truth about the other portion of her statement is harder than expected yet something I manage to push through. “We could just procure weapons from any of the security we come across.”
“We could, but guns are loud and will alert anyone and everyone to our whereabouts in a matter of seconds.”
“True…” escapes just above a whisper. “Quiet and methodical will be best.”
“Glad you agree, Counselor.” She flashes another smug smirk and waves her tiny weapon towards my face. “Now, find something to defend yourself with. Shit’s about to get a little rough.”
Chapter 23
Salay
I’ve never killed a pirate before.
Tussled?
Tangled?
Third based?
Yes.
Merced?
Not so much.
I mean, it’s not like I’m pledging to be a fucking Lost Boy or doing Peter’s dirty work because I’m riding his recently turned eighteen dick or owe Captain Hook my first born so offing him would save my imaginary child’s life.
It’s just…never been necessary.
Even when I’ve been temporarily indisposed by one – or seven – over a financial dispute, dropping them permanently just wasn’t warranted.
However, just because I haven’t, doesn’t mean I can’t.
Or won’t.
Or will hesitate if – or more likely when – the opportunity presents itself.
You know.
Like if they’re trying to kill me first.
Climbing up the curved staircase for the above level deck is meant to be done slow and deliberate, but impatience and anxiousness lead to the man behind me repeatedly attempting to storm forward, disregarding all stealth ideas.
“Could you slow your flippers down there, Free Willy?” I quietly scold in tandem with extending my arm outward. “Your echolocation isn’t the type that’s gonna successfully stun the enemy so much as alert them to exactly what we’re doing.”
“I am not making that much noise.”
“You could be conducting the orchestra for ‘Under the Sea’.”
His eyes narrow in obvious displeasure.
Fuck him.
He’s the one who could potentially ruin the sneak element we’re actually relying on.
Upon our arrival at the door, I give a small twist to check its status.
Locked.
Because of course it’s locked.
You wouldn’t want the people you’re holding prisoner to figure out how to get out of their binds – like we did – and give them an easy escape.
“It’s locked,” Garcia needlessly announces out loud, rearranging the pillowcase, alarm clock concoction around in his grasp. “But if we can find something small and metal, I could pick it.”
A theatrical gasp escapes alongside my free hand clutching my chest. “Why counselor, I’m pretty sure that’s breaking and entering, which is a crime.”
“Breaking and exiting to seek help, which is lawful.”
“You know how to pick locks?”
At that, the corner of his lip kicks upward. “You don’t?”
“Of course, I do.” I flash him a similar expression at the same time my fingers slip further into my bikini top. “Jailbreak was even more fun than escaping getting caught by pirates.”
“Did you father just expect you to end up in danger?”
“Don’t you?” My lighthearted rebuttal precedes the revealing of a bobby pin. “I always keep one tucked into the padding of my bikini top for emergencies.”
“Eso me parece más sexy de lo que probablemente debería.”
“Or…maybe you should find that even sexier than you currently do.”
“Now’s not exactly the right time for that.”
“I don’t know that it’s the wrong time.” Unbending the small piece of metal to take the shape I actually need precedes me adding, “I may be bias-”
“May?”
“But it’s always a good time to tell a person how much they turn you on.”
The skeptical glare I’m shot is attached to a slow headshake. “No. It isn’t.”
“Disagree.”
“Middle of a possible homicide or suicide mission is not the right time, Salay.”
“Perfect time, Victor.” Leaning down to carefully align the metal with the tiny hole occurs. “Life and death situations always have a tendency to make people the most honest or the most reciprocal to honesty.”
“Courts have slightly different views on that…” There isn’t time for a rebuttal. “And let’s not call me Victor.”
“Why?” Gently moving around the object in search of the release mechanism is accompanied by further poking. “It’s your name.”
“It is, however-”
“Your legal name.”
“I-”
“The name I bet your parents call you.”
“It’s just not the name I want you calling me.”