Ocean's Justice (12 page)

Nineteen

Morning dawned and William's body was warm beside mine, though I felt empty without him inside me. The hard, hot length pressed against my thigh told me that he was ready for more action and the very thought of him had me aching in anticipation. I tipped us so that he lay on his back and I sat astride him, gasping as I guided him inside me. In the morning light, I saw how big the man was and spread my legs wider to take his whole length. No wonder I ached so much – but it was a sweet ache, that could only be soothed with more, equally hot sex. I slipped up and down his shaft, working my hips so that he slid against that sweet spot inside me with every stroke. He started to lift his hips to meet mine, driving him deeper inside me, and I squeezed him as he reached the peak of each thrust.

"Mmmm," William said as his hands closed around my breasts, which bounced as my body moved.

Like last night, I felt the slow build before my bubble burst, though it was nowhere near as powerful as the pleasure William could wring from my body when I was no longer in control. I longed to wake him properly so that we could do it all again. Perhaps I could rouse him with a little pleasure of my own...

I rode him harder, clenching my inner muscles in rhythm with the movement.

"Oh God, Maria," he groaned as I felt the triumph of his hot release inside me. For a moment, his dreamy smile matched my own as I looked down at him over my breasts. If only it could have lasted.

A loud crash sounded from somewhere above and we both jerked in shock. William's expression changed from bemused bliss to panic as he took in our intimately intertwined bodies. "Oh my God, Maria, we didn't. I thought it was a dream and then I woke up and you...oh God." He pushed me off him and stood, striding over to the water jug to splash some on his face and his nether regions. Keeping his back to me, he pulled on some clothes, muttering under his breath so that I couldn't discern the words.

I stood, too, dropped so quickly from bliss to rejection. A trickle of fluid tracked down my thigh, but I ignored it. I didn't understand. Last night, he'd enjoyed every moment and this morning, too, I'd thought until he'd pushed me away.

"Where in hell are your clothes? For God's sake, get dressed." He barely glanced at me before he left the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I climbed the ladder to retrieve my shirt and my pants. Following William's cold example, I splashed some water between my legs to cool the hot flesh where I'd held him so tightly, only minutes before, then poured a little down the breasts he'd tenderly cupped in his hands. I pulled my pants on and slipped the shirt over my head, not caring that my passion-hardened nipples were clearly outlined through the damp fabric. I tucked my comb into my pocket, wanting to ask William if he could comb my hair and braid it again for me, for it was still undone from last night. But first, I needed to find him.

Swiping the tears from my face, I strode out into the passage, intent on making him tell me what I'd done wrong. I had no idea how I'd manage to ask him, nor whether I'd understand his explanation, but I had to try. I didn't want to make the same mistake again – I wanted to share more nights like last night with him. Forget Giuseppe, for he was cold and dead – he could never touch me and heat my blood again. I wanted William, forever and always.

Someone grabbed my arm and something hard struck my face. I found myself lying on the deck, staring up at the blank bulkhead before a boot came into view. It kicked me in the head and everything faded to black.

Twenty

I awoke to darkness and the creaking of metal under strain. I woke to aching and pain, too, as I tenderly touched my bruised face, remembering the blows that had knocked me unconscious. How much time had passed?

In the lack of light, it was impossible to judge time, so I didn't. More important was where I'd been lying – somewhere below decks and below the waterline, too, if the bulkheads made so much noise. I shouted, listening to the echo of my voice to judge the size of my prison. The echo was decidedly hollow – placing me in one of the large cargo holds.

First, I had to find my way out. There were three possible exits – the hatch in the ceiling or the hatch in the wall that led to the lower deck, both of which were kept firmly closed most of the time
,
or through the hull – but that would sink the ship. The ceiling hatch was too high for me to reach – unless I stood on the shadowy cargo. Standing on the edge of the catwalk that ran along the side of the hold, I stretched my foot out toward the flat substance filling the hold almost to the level of the catwalk. My toes sank into what felt like wet beach sand until most of my foot was covered with the stuff. I wasn't sure how deep the hold went, but I didn't trust the mud that filled it to hold my weight. That ruled out the ceiling hatch.

With considerable difficulty, I pulled my foot free of the sucking mud and headed along the catwalk toward the door hatch. This one I could reach easily – it was a door, after all – but there was no way to open it. A piece of metal in the middle told me that there had once been a valve wheel attached to the door for precisely this purpose, but my jailer had removed it before imprisoning me here.

I hammered on the door, shouting until my sore throat stole my capacity for sound. Last night I'd screamed for joy as William made my body sing in ways I couldn't have imagined and today I paid the price – I didn't have a strong enough voice to scream for help. I pounded on the door for a few more seconds, but I received no response. That left only one means of escape – the one that could kill everyone else on board.

Padding along the catwalk in my bare feet, I scanned the bulkhead that I knew was the inner wall of the hull, searching for its weak points. I'd seen where shells had pierced the
Emden
's hull, almost a decade ago, but the greatest damage had been where the hull plates met and the joins had come undone in the force of shell impacts. This vessel's plates were riveted together and the round rivets stood out in long rows, like regimented barnacles. There was one place that the rows weren't regular – a metal plate, perhaps half the size of the door, covered a section of bulkhead. Water seeped out from the bottom of the plate, creating a slow trickle into the slushy cargo. If I wanted a weak point, I'd found it – for the vessel had already sprung a slight leak here. All I'd need was something to pry the rivets from the panel and I could swim out of here, right up to the surface.

I searched the hold for some sort of pry bar that I could use and I found the next best thing – two shovels, attached to the catwalk with a length of rope, but the shovels themselves were partially submerged in the ooze. I pulled them out and set to work, untying the water-swollen hemp. It felt like forever before I'd freed them, but I had little else to do.

Setting the edge of the shovel against the lowest rivet, I slowly leaned my weight on the handle. The rusty rivet snapped, increasing the trickle to a rivulet down the side of the ship. I examined the remaining rivets, which looked equally corroded. With my shovel, I'd make short work of this and then what? If I reached the surface, I'd still be climbing aboard a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean. At best, I could save William and some of the crew before she sank, but what if my imprisonment was at the captain's command with the crew's acquiescence? They'd take me prisoner once more on the lifeboat, in much closer quarters than here. Why had they locked me in here, anyway? Was it just one person, or the whole crew who'd locked me up?

I barely knew any of these men. Even William, who'd loved me one minute and rejected me the next. For the first time, I longed to be home. No matter how vicious the old women at home were, they'd never lock me up in the bowels of a ship. Instead, they'd banished me to the freedom of the outside world.

I sank to the floor, uncertainty overwhelming me. I was no longer a child – I knew the consequences of sinking a ship and killing those on board. A shipwreck had brought Giuseppe to my arms, too. William. I couldn't kill William. Not unless I knew for certain that he'd condemned me to this prison.

One thing I swore: the men who had would die.

Hefting the shovel once more, I drove it against the next rivet, which crumbled like old bread.

Clanking across the hold froze me, followed by a man's voice swearing. I gripped my shovel and stepped softly along the catwalk. My jailer had returned and the only one who would leave this hold alive was me.

Twenty-One

The furtive manner of the man who swung the door open told me more than any of his words. He was afraid of being discovered here. He wouldn't be so fearful if his actions were sanctioned by the rest of the crew. I smiled in the darkness. Today, he would die.

"I say it's bad luck to bring a woman aboard. Sciarra says it's the best kind of luck. Whores like you keep the men happy on a long voyage," a nasal voice said, followed by the clang of him pulling the hatch closed behind him. Closed but not locked, for the valve wheel was still missing. He clicked on a handheld light, a tube that directed a beam of light from one end, and pointed it at the catwalk. "I heard you scream for McGregor last night. Only whores make that much noise – normal girls just lie passive, waiting for the fucking to finish. So you can scream for me, too. Down here where no one, not even your precious McGregor, will hear you. If you make me happy, I might decide to keep you instead of throwing you overboard for the sharks."

Sharks I knew. I wished I had a school of them now, to feed his screaming body to
.

The light beam swung closer to where I stood on the catwalk with my shovel raised. Three more steps, two, one...I swung my weapon with all my strength, but I'd misjudged the man's height and I hit his shoulder and not his head. He roared and backhanded me so that I crashed to the catwalk, my breath knocked from my lungs. The shovel flew out of my hands and into the ooze.

The man threw his weight on top of me, wrapping his arm around my neck and dragging me up by the throat. "You'll pay for that, whore." His arm tightened around my throat so that I could barely breathe.

My life would not end like this. Not on a raft in the middle of the ocean; not in bed without ever regaining consciousness; and not at the hands of this sterling example of human chivalry. I just had to work out how I intended to kill him. I wanted it to be slow and painful...and I wanted to watch. Sharks...I'd settle for just one of the beasts right now.

The bastard let go of my throat, hefting my body as if to throw me. I braced myself for the blow, for it was sure to hurt, and laughed as my body smacked into the cold mud. I looked up at the hatch above me and stretched out on the surface of the slurry. He'd made a deadly mistake that he wouldn't survive to regret.