Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Frankie
T he brig smells much like I’d expect it to.
Stale urine and fresh vomit are the prevailing aromas, with gentle notes of fart cloud and B.O.
woven through. Men and a few women cling to the metal bars, decrying their situation as I pass.
I find myself studying their bands more than their faces, judging their perceived crimes.
I’m no better than any of the killers aboard this ship, and I’m losing my humanity by the second. If I can speak to Castle, maybe I can remember why I’m here.
My brain rushes back to what Gary said in the bathroom.
One of the feds claimed to have done horrible things to women, and that can’t be the truth.
Agents are pushed through rigorous screenings.
My psych eval took months, and I’m pretty cut and dry.
I can only assume the agent said those things to fit in. The alternative makes my skin crawl.
Despite checking each cell twice, I don’t see anyone I recognize, and I can’t exactly wander down the line playing pin the tail on the fed. The sting of defeat nips at my heels as another cannon blast rocks the ship.
The second game is underway, and I’m running out of time.
I start down the aisle a third time, checking each face a little more closely.
Some of them hide in the shadows, making it difficult to see who they are.
It isn’t so difficult to see what some of them are doing, however.
The lightning-quick faps are hard to miss.
I guess furious masturbation helps pass the time.
But Castle isn’t here. When I reach the end again, I have to accept that.
“Let me the fuck out of here! Do you know what my boss will do to you when he finds out how we were treated? You’ll all burn for this! All of you!”
My ears practically swivel toward the familiar voice. It sounded muffled, as if the speaker was behind a closed door instead of locked inside these barred cells. I make my way to the other end of the hall and find a door hidden within the shadows. I open it and step inside.
This must be the ship’s medical area. Three Cattle sit strapped to seats lining the wall closest to the door.
A fourth lies on a metal table, his hands and feet held in place with leather straps as a man hunches over him.
When the man realizes he has an audience, he stands upright and blinks at me behind thick glasses.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he says. “Crew and Cattle only.”
I push ahead, hoping my authoritative tone is enough to convince him. “Are these the Cattle for the third game?”
“The fourth,” the man says. “I already stitched up the shits for the third game.”
I peer at the table and see that I interrupted his sewing class. A thick strand of thread hangs from the long needle in his hand. Blood drips from the pinprick wounds surrounding the Cattle’s mouth.
I turn back to the three Cattle sitting by the door and spot Castle.
“Perhaps you aren’t aware, but I’m the Confessor.
As such, it’s important that I understand their crimes.
I can’t kill them otherwise. Could I possibly take this one into a private room so that we can have a chat?
” I grin and bat my eyelashes at the man as I try to push my cleavage a little higher. “I sure would appreciate it.”
He eyes me, then looks past me, at the door. “Maybe I should talk to Jim first. How do I know you aren’t one of those feds?”
I’m a bit shocked by his question. Shouldn’t he want the feds to help him escape this death trap? Instead, he views us as the enemy. Come to think of it, Gary seemed pretty content with his current situation as well, and he wasn’t even a criminal.
Stop it, Frankie. This is why it’s so important to speak to Castle alone. You’re losing your grip, girl.
“Would a fed do this?” Without flinching—and that is a fucking feat, let me tell you—I grab the needle from his hand, hold it between my fingers, and turn the Cattle’s crotch into a pin cushion.
I drive the pointed end past the fabric until it meets skin a sickening number of times before I toss the needle onto his writhing stomach. “Satisfied?”
The man gulps. “Almost . . .”
Oh fuck, he’s got a boner. It’s hard to mistake in those fucking spandex pants. The fact that it’s so aggressively straining toward me doesn’t help.
“Well, let this be a lesson to you. Don’t fuck with the Confessor,” I say before motioning for him to free Castle. The sooner I can get away from his fleshy dowsing rod, the better.
He looks at the door once more before huffing and releasing Castle’s waist from the chain. Once he’s double-checked his wrist and ankle bindings, he nods for me to take him away.
Keeping my composure—again, massive feat—I calmly exit the room with Castle in tow.
Once the door closes behind him, he tries to speak, but I silence him with a look.
As he slowly dies inside, I turn and keep walking.
Deferring to a woman isn’t his bailiwick, but he’s about to learn today.
I’m not the Ghost he left at the airport four days ago.
I walk down the hallways like I know where I’m going, but by the time I’ve tried the third locked door, it’s clear I’m lost. Isn’t there a single fucking place on this godforsaken ship where we can get a little privacy?
Finally, the fourth door comes open, and we step into a supply closet filled with janitorial offerings.
The door clicks shut, and I lock it for good measure before turning to Castle.
“You dirty fucking bitch,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “You knew all along. That’s why you let me play the criminal. You wanted me to die so you could finally rise up the ranks.”
“Castle, I assure you, I had no idea.”
“Bullshit!” He flails his shoulders. “Untie my fucking hands.”
“I can’t do that.”
“The fuck you can’t. I refuse to die on this ship. Untie my fucking hands, and we can take them out together. I met a guy here. He isn’t from our unit, but I trust him. With his help, we can make it out of here.”
What he’s saying sounds good, and there’s a chance a few feds are playing Sinners on deck as well. If we all worked as a team, we could overpower damn near everyone on board, save for the big Scottish guy. And the big British guy. And his feisty fucking brother.
And Maverick.
Okay, maybe his plan isn’t a plan at all.
“No,” I say.
His eyes widen when he hears no indecision in my voice. “You can’t be fucking serious. Ghost, they’ll kill me. You’ve seen what they do.”
Yes, I have, and I’m not okay with it, but I don’t want Maverick to get caught in the crossfire. If I finish the mission and take Jim peacefully, no one else has to get hurt. Maybe not even Castle.
“Jim said I had a special guest appearing for round four. I think that’s you,” I say. “Once I know what the game is, I can try to find a way to keep you alive. The first round was keelhauling, and the?—”
“Keelhauling? You can’t survive that shit!
” He thrashes around again, knocking several rolls of toilet paper from a shelf.
I’ve never had or witnessed a panic attack, but this is a pretty textbook freak out.
I have to stop him before someone comes to find out why there’s a goddamn velociraptor in the mop closet.
“Shh!” I take a deep breath. “Keep it down. I’ll untie your hands while we talk, but you have to let me tie you up again before we exit the fucking closet. And you have to be quiet, okay?”
He clenches his jaw, but nods. With a scowl, he gives me his back, and I unfasten the rope around his wrists, revealing raw skin beneath. He’s been hard at work, trying to break out of his confines. A lot of good it’s done him.
But as the rope falls to the floor, I notice the band on his wrist. I lick my lips to wet them, but my mouth is a desert. My soul tries to evacuate my body as I stare at that silicone band, but I gather every ounce of strength and keep my composure.
I’m beginning to understand panic attacks a little better now. Because that band is not yellow.
It’s red.