What if I couldn’t do anything for him?
What if he died on my watch?
Would I be the next person they put a bullet in?
Cyrus held on to the bars with one hand and waved me closer with his other. He widened his eyes, giving me a look that definitely conveyed I needed to hurry and get my ass closer to the end of our cell. I inched forward, never taking my gaze from Cyrus and hoping he’d silently communicate with me and reassure me once again that because they couldn’t kill him meant they wouldn’t kill me.
I didn’t believe it earlier, but now I desperately wanted to.
The shipping container seemed to shrink with my steps, and before I realized it, I reached the metal bars separating us from freedom, a gun, and a bunch of people who probably wanted to toss me into the ocean. I actually wanted to stay in the tiny prison rather than face my fate.
When I walked close enough to the edge, the man removed his gun and unlocked the shipping container. Half of the metal bars swung open and his body filled the space.
I took a deep breath. As soon as I crossed over to the other side, my future would be out of Cyrus’s hands, and I only had my quick thinking to get me through. Maybe if I saved this guy’s friend from the gunshot wound, he’d let me go.
I put one foot near the edge, trying to wear a brave face. Cyrus bumped up against me, grabbed the door and ripped it closed before swinging it forward as hard as possible. He caught everyone off guard and the heavy metal door swung into the beast, knocking him to the floor.
In the commotion, I froze and Cyrus pushed me out of the way as he jumped from the container and flew onto the man as he struggled to stand and regain his footing.
The two of them hit the ground hard. Cyrus fell on top of our captor. I didn’t have time to waste. Cyrus had muscle, but he hadn’t had a drink in the least two days, and the man was twice the size of him and carrying a gun. I jumped out of the container and scanned the area, finding exactly what I needed leaning against the bright red shipping container only a few feet from us. I darted for it without time to think of my actions.
I ran at it as fast as my hungry stomach allowed and grabbed the metal beam. It was heavy in my arms, but we had no time to give up now. Cyrus struggled, but still had the upper hand. The massive beast raised his head, and Cyrus used an elbow to push it back into the concrete. It hit so loudly I swore the floor vibrated at our feet, but the man only blinked twice and then continued to rise.
Cyrus rolled to the side, stuck out a hand and gained control of the gun, which our kidnapper lost in the struggle. The two men stood with Cyrus aiming the weapon at him but not shooting. We understood what happened if a gunshot went off the bottom of the boat. It would alert everyone in the area.
The time for planning ended. We were at a deadlock. I pulled back and with every ounce of strength I had left in me, swung the metal beam at the man. He was taller than I expected and the beam hit him at the bottom of his head, but in the next second, he crumpled. His knees hit the ground, and then he fell face first against the concrete. This second thud hit smoother, like he’d simply fallen asleep.
I cringed. No way he got out of this with only a broken nose and not something worse. I’d vowed to never take a life or cause injury, but nursing school didn’t prepare me for a kidnapping. These circumstances required drastic measures.
Cyrus and I both stood quietly until he walked over and, with his boot, rolled our captor to his back. As I expected, blood poured out of his nose as Cyrus looked down and shook his head. “Impressive.”
My hands shook, and I dropped the metal beam, the sound echoing through the boat.
CHAPTER 4
CYRUS
Imogen’s whole body shook from the exertion. I wanted to congratulate her on the amazing hit, ask if she played baseball, and make a joke, but we didn’t have time. I needed to get us off the ship while she still had enough adrenaline in her system to keep her going. We didn’t have a second to waste. I grabbed on to her hand and tugged her toward the door where the asshole had entered.
We didn’t know what we would walk into or if we’d even survive on our way out, but I certainly wouldn’t stay there and wait to see what happened.
I opened the door slowly, the click on the metal lock causing us both to freeze. I peeked through the doorway first and found a set of metal stairs. We paused at the base as I prepared to walk up them without knowing who waited for us.
The ship we were on had to be more than the standard fun yacht I had any experience with, but in the world of freight shippers, it was quite small. I didn’t take time to scan the entire area, but I was pretty sure I could see from one end to the other. Plus, most shipping freighters didn’t store their containers under the ship. That’s where people slept and ate as well as where the mechanicals were housed. The fact there were three of them meant they used the vessel for nefarious purposes. More than likely, Imogen and I weren’t the first people to be kept in these containers.
I practically pulled Imogen up the steps, keeping her as close to me as possible and trying to make my footfalls quiet even though I wanted to run to get us out into the open. If anyone caught us in the stairwell, we were as good as dead.
As we reached the top of the staircase, artificial light streamed down and I squinted my eyes, not used to the brightness after so long under the ship. I covered my eyes and peeked my head over to the upper deck of the ship and saw of the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.
Land.
In my excitement, I forgot to look behind us. Only when a shout grabbed my attention and Imogen’s head had already cleared the boat’s floor did I realize my mistake. A bullet flew at us, pinging off the railing of the ship.
We couldn’t go back down the staircase. That meant certain destruction. Someone on the ship yelled, probably calling reinforcements. Without thinking, I took aim and fired further down the ship toward a door at the bow where the shot came from. We didn’t have time for me to stop and see how many bullets I had left in the gun, so I couldn’t afford to waste any more.
I tugged on Imogen’s hand, pulling her the last few steps up in one movement and hoping I didn’t scrape her skin against the metal flooring. Another bullet pinged close.
Too close.
