Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HOOK
When I come to again, I know exactly where I am and in what predicament.
I’m still tied to a chair. Still without a weapon. Still mostly in the darkness.
But there’s a commotion somewhere behind me, in another room. And directly in front of me, a tiny spot of light.
My vision is still hazy and I squint, trying to make sense of its shape. It’s about the size of a berry, but brighter than the sun. I can’t look directly at it without my eyes burning.
Somewhere in the recess of the building, a lock is opened. Hinges creak.
And in front of me, another opened lock.
I know right away that Roc has arrived.
Maybe at this point I could sense him anywhere. In darkness or in light.
Then Wendy’s voice rings out. “We’re lost and hoped you could help. We’re looking for Mr. Killips and we were given this address but—”
“There’s no Killips here,” Shorty says. “Can’t help you.”
“Sir, please!”
That’s Asha.
More whispering beyond my hostage room. The voices are insistent, a little panicked.
“We should run,” someone says. “Before the Crocodile devours us all!”
“Captain.”
Roc’s voice is like a balm on a burning wound.
I sigh and some of the tension fades from my spine.
He steps into the small ring of light dressed in his three-piece suit. His wedding attire.
What a way to start our union.
Behind him is Smee. She’s not dressed for a wedding, but then she isn’t one to put on a dress when a pair of leather trousers will do.
“Are you hurt?” Roc asks.
“They’ve knocked me out three times now. Or maybe two. I don’t remember. My head is pounding.”
More footsteps behind us and then someone enters the room. They come to a sudden stop with a collective breath.
Roc pops a cigarette in his mouth, cups his hand around the end as he puts it to flame. As he inhales, he turns his head up toward the naked bulb, all that sharp light glancing off his beautiful face.
The smoke curls up.
“I’m not sure what your motives are for this…”
The Gutter Snakes whisper to one another.
“And I don’t care,” Roc goes on. “Because in” —he pulls out his pocketwatch and flips open the lid— “less than six minutes, you will be dead.”
The silence that hangs after his proclamation is heavy and still.
And then—
Shouting. Panic. The rustle of fabric and the land of hurried footfalls as they race to the front of the warehouse.
“I’ll untie him,” Smee says to Roc. “You go have your fun.”
Roc holds the cigarette away and kisses me on the mouth. He tastes of rum and burning tobacco and relief.
It occurs to me that I haven’t kissed him like this in front of Smee and for a half second, my face is hot and embarrassed until Roc pulls away and I spy Smee hiding a smile behind the back of her hand.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Captain,” Roc says. “I would have burned the place to the ground if they’d hurt you. Thank you, Smee,” he adds, and then he’s gone.