Chapter Sixteen #2
“Screw you!” Lucas yelled. “My dad is a legend in the industry! You were lucky he hired you, and you spit his generosity back in his face. There’s a rule—you don’t narc on the captain!
It just goes to show that women have no place in lobstering.
It’s a man’s job. Men wouldn’t run to the authorities because they don’t have a life jacket.
Men wouldn’t cry because the captain wanted a little lobster roe for dinner.
And if you were smart, you would’ve taken advantage of the awesome meat on those huge lobsters.
But instead, you tattled on him. Ruined his reputation! ”
“I had no idea I had to have a dick in order to haul pots,” Marit taunted.
“And I’m sorry . . . a legend? Give me a break.
Your dad’s a laughingstock. Everyone talked about him behind his back.
Everyone knew he was an asshole. If it wasn’t me who’d turned him in, it would’ve been someone else—some guy. ”
As they argued, they slowly circled the hole. He’d step closer to one end, and she’d counter the move. She’d step to the right, he’d go left. It was almost like a dance. Or like two boxers sizing each other up. Each looking for the right moment to strike.
Marit just needed Lucas to get impatient enough to make one vital mistake.
“My dad is ten times the lobster fisherman you are!” Lucas screamed, spittle spraying from his lips.
His eyes were bugging slightly, and he looked deranged.
“Look at you! You’re weak! You don’t even come up to my chest. How the fuck you ever thought you were strong enough to do a man’s work is beyond me.
Instead of telling lies about my dad, you should’ve been barefoot in someone’s kitchen.
Women aren’t good for anything but lying flat on their backs and making sure their man has everything they want—food, pussy, and a clean house. ”
Marit snorted. She shouldn’t be surprised that’s how he thought, and yet hearing the actual words were still almost unbelievable.
“It’s the twenty-first century, not the seventeen hundreds, you moron.
I think women have more than proven they’re just as capable as men and can do whatever they put their minds to. I’ve proven it.”
“You’ve proven nothing except you’re a fucking tattletale little bitch!” Lucas yelled.
He was almost there. Almost so pissed at her, he was about to make a move.
Marit kept circling, not letting him get close enough to lunge and grab her from either end of the hole.
She needed him to take a step forward. Onto those boards.
She had to keep taunting him. Pushing him over the edge he was standing on . . . literally and figuratively.
“I’d go so far as to say I’m a better lobsterwoman than you and most of your friends,” she said, smirking.
“Including your father. Since I’m shorter, I’m closer to the water, which makes it easier to haul the pots.
My hands are smaller, so I can grab the lobsters out of the traps faster.
I have more body fat, so I can handle the cold for longer periods.
And I damn sure know my work ethic is far better than any man’s I’ve ever worked with.
I’m the first one to the boat in the morning and the last to leave every night.
“Your dad? He was lazy. Is probably still lazy. He breaks rules that are there to keep him and his crew safe—and you’ve learned to be just like him.
You think everyone in Rockville isn’t laughing because you can’t keep any deckhands?
That word hasn’t spread that you not only don’t know the first thing about lobstering, but you’re willing to put everyone in danger just to make a buck?
That you’ve got some hidden compartment on your boat for illegal hauls? ”
She smirked again as Lucas seethed, his face getting redder by the second.
“Nope. The way I see it, in a few years, women will completely take over the lobstering industry. You men will stay at home, waiting on us, having dinner ready for us when we arrive. You can watch the kids while we go off and earn the paycheck for the family. Your boat will be renamed Women At Work . . . but hey, at least it’ll finally catch some lobster, and in a shorter amount of time and in safer conditions .
. . while you sit at home and twiddle your thumbs. ”
The sound that left Lucas’s mouth was so unrecognizable, he almost sounded feral. If her plan didn’t work, he would most certainly strangle her to death when he got his hands on her.
A flash of panic hit Marit as sparks practically shot out of his eyes. His hands fisted—and she tensed.
This was it. Either her plan would work . . . or she’d be dead. Taunting him had been part of the strategy, but now he was so furious, he wasn’t thinking about anything except shutting her up.
Lucas lunged to the right, then to the left, as if trying to trick her, with Marit countering—then he did exactly as she’d hoped. He stepped forward, finally attempting a shortcut to get to her.
Right onto the boards that she’d placed across the hole. But instead of holding his weight, as he’d expected, they immediately tilted up on Marit’s side before falling into the hole.
And Lucas went right down with them.
When Marit placed the boards across the hole, she hadn’t centered them. Instead, she’d carefully placed each so the ends barely clung to the edge on one side . . . making them extremely unstable. Most of the leaves and sticks she’d strewn across the top were concentrated at that side.
Lucas simply hadn’t noticed. He’d been too focused on her. Had assumed the boards were stable, that she’d covered up the hole so he couldn’t shove her back in.
It had taken a bit of skill and a lot of luck to keep Lucas where she’d wanted him . . . on the side of the hole where the boards were unstable. She almost couldn’t believe she’d managed it!
The swear words coming from the bottom of the hole were actually quite impressive. Marit stood at the top looking down for a beat, still hardly believing her plan had worked.
“You’re dead!” Lucas screamed, as he tried to jump up and grab the edge of the hole.
Marit stepped back involuntarily, but she needn’t have worried.
He couldn’t reach the edge. He then stupidly tried to scramble up the side, much as she had earlier, but he was too out of control, too out of breath, too heavy, too desperate.
By clawing at the sides, all he managed to do was rain dirt down on top of him.
He was actually widening the hole with his desperate attempts to climb out.
If he was smart, he’d use the boards that had fallen into the hole to help himself get out. But Lucas Pearson definitely wasn’t a smart man.
He continued to swear at her, to describe all the despicable things he was going to do when he got his hands on her.
Marit stood at the top of the hole, staring down at the man who would definitely kill her at his first opportunity, and tried to think about her next steps.
She was afraid to leave, in case he managed to get himself out.
There were still a few boards lying on the ground; if it looked like he was going to reach the top of the hole, she could always bash him in the head to make him fall again.
That option wasn’t one she liked, as the thought of hitting him made her kind of queasy.
But at this point, it was keep him where he was or die.
And she kind of liked breathing, thank you very much.
He still had the keys to the boat in his pocket, so he was correct when he’d taunted her by saying she couldn’t leave the island.
But staying up here meant she couldn’t signal any boats that might happen to go by.
The last thing she wanted was to spend the night listening to Lucas’s threats, but she was too afraid to take her eyes off him.
So it looked as if she’d be staying right where she was.
Someone would notice Lucas’s boat at some point . . . she hoped.
She could probably risk heading back to shore to see if he had any emergency rations stored aboard that she could eat. But as soon as she had the thought, she mentally shook her head.
No. She had an irrational fear that the second she turned her back on Lucas, he’d somehow levitate out of that hole and come after her again. And he wouldn’t be so easy to trick a second time.
Being on top of this hill wasn’t ideal. The wind had picked up, and now that her adrenaline was waning, she was feeling the chill more than she had before.
She needed to hunker down, wait for someone to find them.
It could be twenty minutes or twenty days.
She had no idea. But someone would find them. Of that she was sure.
Zach was out there. He knew she was missing, and he wouldn’t stop until he found her.
Even if everyone else thought she’d run, could no longer deal with the harassment, wanted to make a fresh start elsewhere, as she’d done in the recent past when she’d left Portland, Zach would know she wouldn’t just up and leave.
Not when she’d left him that morning happy and content and with plans for the upcoming holidays.
Marit picked up a few boards and arranged them together so she could sit on something other than the ground. She made sure to keep the heaviest one within arm’s reach, just in case she needed to protect herself.
Lucas hadn’t stopped threatening her. But at least now she couldn’t see his desperate and wild attempts to climb out of the hole that he himself had dug.
He’d done a little too good a job of making it escape-proof.
At least for someone his size. He hadn’t considered that her smaller height and weight would work to her advantage.
Sighing, Marit huddled in on herself, semirelaxing for the first time since waking on the bottom of the Men At Work.
Lucas was an asshole, yes. A misogynistic good ol’ boy and a spoiled brat.
But he also, unfortunately, wasn’t the only one of his kind out there.
Men who would go to any extremes possible to protect what they believed were their “rights.” Their right to catch whatever lobsters they wanted and pick and choose which rules to follow.
Plenty of men who thought women should stay home and let men do all the work.
Marit just wanted to make a living doing something she loved, the same way everyone else did.
Being on the water made her feel at home.
The repetitive motions of hauling pots, banding lobsters, rebaiting the pots, and throwing them back overboard were soothing to her.
Her mind could wander if she wished, or she could simply be in the moment with the water and the work.
Suddenly exhausted, and sore as hell, Marit put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, wanting just a moment of silence. Of course, her hands didn’t completely block out Lucas’s continued threats, but they were muted. She’d take it.
“Please find me, Zach. Soon,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms, safe, warm.
She was proud of herself for dealing with the situation she’d found herself in.
But now that she was safe—well, relatively safe, as long as Lucas was in that hole—all she wanted was to give control of everything to the man she loved.
He, and his family, would make everything all right again.
He’d deal with Lucas and make sure he wasn’t ever a threat again.