CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jack
As I’d used my super-spy-skills to unlock the cabin door, it appeared that I was to be first out of said door.
Charming! I eased the door open a few centimetres and looked out onto the corridor.
I was ridiculously thirsty and my brain was still foggy from the sedation.
Nate remained at my rear, literally. He was so close I could feel the heat of his crotch pressed up against my backside.
It was…distracting. The hall carpet was covered with painter’s drop cloths.
The lingering scents of paint and turpentine hit me then. I turned back to Nate and whispered,
“The ship’s being refurbished. That’s why we don’t hear any other guests.
” Rectangular windows ran along the far wall of the narrow corridor, much like on an old train.
Through the windows I could see it was early morning on a bright, cloudless summer’s day.
I noted the distant tree-line of a dense wooded area, an array of boats moored in a marina, and closer, dinghies, canoes, and kayaks were piled up on racks.
“Looks like we’re on land, in dry-dock,” I whispered.
“Ah! That’s why we can’t feel the sway of the water,” Nate said, mirroring my own thoughts.
Clutching my table leg in one hand, I looked left and right, before reaching back and tapping Nate’s thigh as a GO signal.
I opened the door fully and stepped out.
Keeping low so as not to be spotted through the windows, I moved off with Nate close behind me.
We passed the open doors of other cabins, looking in to make sure that they weren’t occupied.
These cabins were in disarray, filled with a jumble of old furniture, and divan bed bases.
In the hallway, a fire safety sign buzzed and flickered, an arrow showing the way to the exit.
At least we were heading in the right direction.
When we’d passed the bank of windows, we both straightened and with careful, measured steps climbed a staircase that we discovered led to a wide lounge on the upper floor.
I didn’t step into the lounge, but paused and peered around the door jamb.
The room was larger than I’d expected, with walls of honey coloured timber laminate and 360-degree windows.
From my vantage point I could see a jumble of tables, chairs, and banquette benches with torn burgundy leatherette covers mended in places with strips of silver duct tape.
This room had probably once been used as a restaurant or café area.
Then I noted something that made a rush of light-headedness roll over me and I pulled back against Nate’s firm chest. He reached out and threaded his arm around my waist to steady me.
“What? What is it?” he whispered. What I’d seen gave me chills.
Two chairs were placed in the middle of the floor with construction lamps facing them, now turned off.
Cut cable ties and empty water bottles were strewn around.
The bruises around my wrists smarted, as if my body remembered the pain of restraint and the helplessness.
“This is where they interrogated us,” I explained.
From the number of empty take-out food containers, water, and beer bottles it seems that several men were here for our interrogation party and it had not been quick.
Fuck, I wish I could remember exactly what I’d said, but the flashes of memory were unclear.
I hated that there were hours of my life I couldn’t recall.
The men didn’t find what they were looking for on us, and decided it was in our hotel room.
A loud snorting snore and masticating sounds pulled my awareness back to the present.
I turned to meet Nate’s alarmed gaze, “Did you hear that?” I whispered.
He nodded, and then swatted my arse to force me to move up the steps and into the lounge—towards the danger!
I sent him a scandalized look, but, if we were going to get out of here, forward was the only way to go.
I stepped up, through the doorway and into the lounge.
To the far left of the room there was a door that led outside onto the main deck.
When I saw what made the snuffling sound an evil thought sprang to mind and I wanted to bark out a laugh, but I held it in and gingerly stepped back to the stairway where Nate had remained.
I grabbed Nate’s hand, hurried back down the stairs and into an empty cabin.
“What did you see?” he asked in an anxious whisper.
“Two men.”
“Shit, what the fuck are we going to do?” Nate said in a panicked whisper.
Anxiety was another side effect of Rohypnol that I’d experienced before and so I wasn’t surprised Nate was freaking out.
I was strangely calm and detached. Nate and I trained for months before the shoot and I knew his close quarter’s combat skills were excellent.
My talents were in my speed and agility.
We worked well together, I knew it, but I needed my friend to get his head in the game so we could escape.
I took Nate’s table leg from him and placed them both gently on the floor.
Then I clasped Nate’s face in my hands and I looked into his eyes, enjoying the buzz of connection.
“Take a breath, mate. Come on, centre yourself. Mirror me, yeah!” He nodded.
I breathed in for a count of six and then out for a count of four, over and over until Nate’s breaths matched mine.
He began to calm and brightness returned to his eyes.
“I’m sorry man. My thoughts are all over the place and my body isn’t responding as quickly as it should. I fuckin’ hate not being in control. What are we going to do?” Nate asked softly.
“We’re not going to do anything!”
Nate cocked his head, reminding me of a confused dog.
“We’re not going to do anything,” I repeated, and then in my MI6 character accent I said, “Gabriel and Aden are going to get us out of here. Do you understand?”
Nate’s eyes lit up. “I do.” Then Nate spoke in Gabriel’s deeper, raspier voice. “What’s the sitrep, babe?”
“Two IC-1 males, thirties to forties, possibly ex-military. They’re in sleeping bags blocking the exit onto the main deck, they’re armed. And I’ve got a great idea,” I said as I wagged my brows. Nate, or should I say Gabe listened as I explained my plan.
“Damn, that’s a good plan,” Gabe said in a confident whisper, sharing a wicked grin.
Then I added, “There’s no time to hang around.
Let’s do this! We’ll show GHOST who they’re dealing with.
” That line was from our movie—the GHOST organization was the antagonist. We looked at one another dumbly for a minute and then grinned, amused that Gabe, and Aden had a new mission.
Failure wasn’t an option. Privately, I really hoped these ex-military guys wouldn’t kick our lily-white arses!
Wielding IKEA table legs like baseball bats, we travelled warily along the hall and up the steps into the lounge.
The guard dog henchmen were snoring soundly, wrapped up in their military cammo sleeping bags.
Using the hand gestures we’d been taught by an ex-FBI tactical officer, I signalled to Nate that he should take the man on the left, and I’d take the man on the right.
He nodded in understanding. I stepped gingerly on the timber floor hoping that the floorboards wouldn’t creek and give us away.
The stench of beer and farts was stronger the closer I got to my quarry.
I paused and mouthed “Christ!” holding my nose for a second.
Nate grimaced and nodded. When I was two strides away from my henchman I slowly squatted, then reached out with my table leg, using the end with the embedded bolt to aid me.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I placed the bolt into the trigger guard of the revolver by the henchman’s side and dragged the gun toward me.
Relieved that the man hadn’t woken from his deep slumber, I placed the table leg under my armpit, picked up the gun, checked the safety was on, and pushed it into the back of my jeans.
Nate, or should I say, my husband Gabe had done the same, mirroring my every move as if we’d choreographed the exercise.
We waited for a count of thirty seconds, and then we both silently placed our table legs on the floor and stepped up to our quarry.