Chapter 1 #2
Pirate Pete looks at Zander, and I'm not imagining it when he loses a shade of color.
"What are you doing here?" he asks with far less confidence than seconds earlier.
The Wilde boys and, more importantly, their dad, Finnegan, have a dangerous reputation, but I worry it's not enough to get Zander and me out of here alive.
Zander walks toward me.
Chug stiffens. "You're not taking her."
"The hell I'm not." Seawater drips off Zander, leaving puddles on the warped wooden floor. His hair is slicked back off his breathtaking face, and his jaw is set tight like a steel trap. He's Poseidon, big and fierce and godlike. The king of the sea just emerged from his castle below the waves.
The men fill in a half circle to block the cabin steps.
They cross arms but look less than sure of themselves.
Zander was an unstoppable torpedo on the football field in high school.
Bad grades and lots of suspensions never let him reach his potential on the gridiron, but I still wouldn't bet against him when it came to taking out the circle of men.
The click of a gun doesn't stop Zander from taking gentle hold of my chin.
I can feel the warmth of his touch and the intensity of his gaze all the way through to my soul.
The memory of last night's intimacy triggers a warm blush through my body.
His finger lightly touches the cut on my cheek. I flinch.
"Who did this to you, Nevvie?" His deep, all-too-familiar voice brings tears to my eyes. Damn him for coming in and fraying my nerves more and damn me for reacting so quickly and profoundly to his presence. I shake my head because my throat is too tight for words.
Chug lifts the gun higher. "Think you should leave, Wilde. This isn't your fight. We're waiting for Hoffman. Just want our ransom and then we're picking up anchor. Unless you brought a hundred grand with you?" he asks hopefully.
"Who did this to her?" Zander can be as stubborn as a bent nail when he wants. He ignores the gun barrel that's pointing directly at him and surveys the group of misfits. He zeroes in on Pirate Pete.
Pirate Pete's lone eye blinks nervously as Zander stomps toward him. He points to the red bite mark on Pete's arm. It's small, but I left a deep imprint. "You do this, Nev?" Zander asks with an impressed smile.
I nod. It seems I no longer have a voice. It wasn't a problem telling the crew to fuck off and go to hell, but Zander Wilde steps on board and I'm a simpering imbecile. Why do I let that happen? So fucking aggravating.
Zander turns back to Pete. Pete's face looks ashen, but, at the same time, he's straightened his slumpy posture to try and match Zander in height and width. He doesn't come close, and his attempt is comical.
"I'm going to assume that since she left teeth marks on you, you're the one who left that cut on her cheek."
Pete shakes his head frantically. "Wasn't me. I promise."
"You know what? Doesn't matter. I'm done here, and I'm going to start with you.
Sorry about, well, you know, the one eye thing.
" Zander's fist flies through the air so fast, none of us, Pete included, realize what's happening until impact.
Pete shoots backward, groaning and holding his good eye.
He lands hard on the edge of the galley counter and crumples to the floor in a heap.
Chug steps forward, gun pointed.
"Zander!" I cry out.
Zander's long leg shoots out. The gun flies out of Chug's hand. Chug lunges at him. Zander plows his fist into Chug's stomach. The rest of the crew jump into action. Taze launches himself onto Zander's back. Blood is flying. Most of it belongs to the crew, but Zander has taken a few good hits, too.
I work my hands harder now, desperate to break free and grab the fallen gun. My hands are wet with blood, but my wrists and hands are mostly numb, so the pain is easy to ignore.
Baby Soft comes out of nowhere holding a steak knife.
"Zander, he's got a knife!" I cry out. I groan in frustration that I'm still not free.
Zander pulls his head out from a headlock and throws his fist at Baby Soft.
Baby Soft has better fighting skills than I gave him credit for.
He dodges Zander's fist and manages to slice through Zander's forearm.
Blood sprays from the cut as Zander throws his fist again.
This time he makes contact, and Baby Soft stumbles back, the knife still clutched in his hand.
Chug has recovered from a blow. His face is red with rage. "Hold him, fucking hold him."
Baby Soft has rejoined his team. It takes three men to get hold of Zander.
Zander's wet hair flies back as he whips his face up.
It looks like he just stepped out of the surf, and he's throwing back his hair, only blood flies with the drips of water.
His lip is torn. Blood is pouring off the hand of the cut arm.
For a brief, heartbreaking second our gazes catch, and for that same split moment, I'm carried back in time.
There's no boat, no kidnappers, no rough sea under our feet, and Zander is gazing at me from across the school cafeteria.
He did it often. We hung out in entirely different social circles.
We could go for days without talking or seeing each other at school and then there'd be that one moment in the cafeteria or hallway when we'd catch a glimpse of each other, and it felt as if we were alone in the world as our gazes held.
Then something would break the connection, and we'd both wander off to our own corners, pretending it never happened.
"Look out!" I scream.
Zander pulls free of their grasp before Chug can slam him with his fist.
I'm no longer hiding my escape attempts.
I saw my hands back and forth. I just need the ropes to pass my knuckles, then they'll slide down my fingers and I'll be free.
More skin is being scraped away as I move my hands urgently past each other.
Zander is up against five again. Pete never recovered from the first blow.
He's still lying in a heap on the floor below the kitchen sink.
Zander lays out Baby Soft with one massive blow.
A solid kick slams Taze hard against the galley table.
Paper plates and beer cans fly every direction.
Zander is gaining the upper hand, and Chug's too preoccupied with getting the shit beaten out of him to remember his gun is sitting beneath a bench on the side wall.
I keep working my hands as I start to jump-scoot toward the bench.
I want to be in front of it before Chug remembers to look for his gun.
It's down to just Chug and the guy who was driving the van that picked me up.
He's beefy and tough looking, but he's no match for Zander, and he seems to know it.
Zander is just about to wipe the floor with the guy when the boat literally tilts to the side as if some sea monster has grabbed hold of the railing and is trying to capsize us.
The cabin door has been swinging back and forth with the rhythm of the ocean. Now, it swings wide and cracks off the hinges. The shoe that lands on the first step is big enough for a cat to curl up in and take a nap. It's Gargon.
Zander looks at Chug. "What the fuck? Did you haul that monster out of the sea?"
An ugly smirk appears on Chug's bruised and battered face.
"Looks like you've met your match, Wilde.
Speaking of Wilde, how's that old man of yours?
Heard he's just one rushed heartbeat away from the grave.
" A creepy laugh follows, then he turns to his beast. "Gargon, take him out.
" Chug steps clear of Zander, and Gargon plods with Frankenstein-like steps toward Zander.
The giant's forehead is big enough to be a billboard, and his hands look like they could crush a bowling ball.
I feel a moment of pity for the woman who pushed him out of her womb.
The beast's eyes are slightly crossed, and his blubbery lips are wet with drool.
He truly does look like a monster that was pulled from the deepest depths of the sea.
Zander is massively built and the strongest, toughest person I know, but my heart races in fear.
It's not the first time I've seen Zander fight, but it's the first time I've feared for his safety.
Zander positions his feet to brace himself for impact.
With the grace of a drunken hippo, Gargon lunges at Zander.
His heavy steps rattle the small cabin. My chair inches forward on its own.
The arrival of Chug's monster makes me forget my mission to free my hands.
I hold my breath as the two giant men meet in the center of the crowded space.
Zander doesn't have enough room to dodge Gargon.
Gargon's fists look like granite boulders as he lifts them and brings them down on Zander.
Zander flies sideways, but still takes a blow to his right shoulder.
He yells out in pain and grabs hold of his arm.
It looks loose as if it's been removed from the shoulder, and the arm hangs lower than it should.
"Fuck you, you goddamn beast!" His right arm, his dominant arm, rendered useless, Zander kicks Gargon.
His steel-toed work boot makes direct contact with Gargon's nose.
We all moan in disgust as the sound of cracking bone and squishing flesh fills the air.
Blood pours like a river from the giant's flattened nose.
He wipes at it casually as if just scratching an itch.
With a feral roar, the beast flies at Zander.
Zander spins around and manages another kick.
This time it lands in Gargon's stomach. He bends over a second to catch his breath.
Zander uses the opportunity to punch the creep's already broken nose with his left fist. Shockingly, the giant drops humbly to his knees, signaling surrender.
His nose is so flat and his face so filled with blood, he's struggling to catch a decent breath.
"Any more surprises or is this shit over?" Zander asks cockily as he spins around.
I'm so focused on the fight, I don't notice Chug standing next to me until the cold barrel of his gun presses into my temple. Zander tenses every muscle in his body. It makes the dislocated shoulder look more pronounced.
"Take that gun off her right now," Zander growls through gritted teeth.
Chug pushes it harder against my temple. "Looks like you lost, Wilde."
I scream as a boulder-sized fist comes flying through the air. It comes down hard on Zander's head. Zander collapses to the ground.
"Zander!" I cry through torrents of tears.
Chug pulls the gun from my head, but none of that matters. Zander is unconscious and still on the ground.
"Zander!" I call his name over and over, but he doesn't stir.
"Tie his hands," Chug orders.
Baby Soft and Taze tie rope around Zander's wrists. He still hasn't moved. I close my eyes and wish hard for him to wake. He's not dead, I tell myself. I've seen Zander in every stage—angry, happy, sad and occasionally lost—but I've never seen him vulnerable.
"Toss him overboard and carry her up to the deck, so she can watch." Chug's evil grin turns my stomach.
"You fucking asshole!" I scream at him. Calm, cool and resolute Nev is gone. This is it. I'm going to lose Zander. We're both going to die, and it's my fault.
I yank at my hands with all the strength I have left.
They're still tied effectively together, and that rope is still tied to the chair.
Gargon lifts Zander. He drops him over his shoulder like a rag doll.
Baby Soft and Taze lift the chair and carry me upstairs.
I try with all my might to kick a leg out, but the ropes are too tight.
They set me down on the deck. A wet breeze sprays my face, and the sea salt mixes with the salt of my tears.
Gargon wastes no time. His entire face is swollen like a pillow, and his nose is nothing more than a flat blob with two uneven holes for nostrils. Zander still hasn't moved. Gargon pulls him off his shoulder and unceremoniously drops Zander into the ocean.
"Zander, no!"