The Frenchman is trying to remove a bullet from his arm with his fingers. I try to stop him, but he gets angry and moves my hand away, “Frenchman! Let me help you!”
“This is the Middle East – we use our fingers if we can, American Girl. Don’t worry about me. How are you?” He looks at my waist.
“Just a scratch,” I reply.
“That’s a deep scratch then. We need to check it out as soon as we make land,” the Frenchman says loud enough for Rage to hear.
“How bad is it?” Rage demands to know.
“I’ve had worse; this is nothing.”
“Okay. Can you walk me through the events? Why were you attacked?” Rage requests, and my guilty gaze navigate to the Frenchman again.
Maybe if I hadn’t made a scene about my documents. I can’t tell him that.
“It’s my fault. They found my passport, and I just reacted.”
The Frenchman mumbles something in French. He sounds upset.
I can’t blame him; he took a bullet for me. Literally.
“And your first reaction was to shoot and kill everyone around?”
“Rage. They are pirates. Dying is an occupational hazard for them,” I joke.
“Uh-huh. Try not to get yourself killed every five minutes. Would you?”
“Roger.”
Now that all that shit is over, I straighten and head toward the helm, but The Frenchman is already at it.
He doesn’t want me to navigate anymore. He claims that he realized I must bring bad luck.
You and me both, buddy. You and me both.
I peel him off anyway. He’s wounded and needs rest.
“How long until we can get off this boat?” I ask him.
“We’re nearly there,” he answers as he tightly bandages his arm with a piece of cloth he ripped from a shirt.
“Do you think we get to do a little more pirate target practice?” I ask with a smile.
He doesn’t find it funny.
What an awful sense of humor.
Chapter Thirty-Four
RAGE
There are bodies everywhere, and I mean, everywhere. Hell, in some places you don’t have bodies but body parts, and of course, lots and lots of blood.
This was a massacre – we slaughtered them. I’m not proud of the deed, though I’m goddamned proud of how it was done. The boys really excelled today.
I mean, it’s not every day you get to walk away untouched from a gunfight against the Yakuzas. MySoulless Bastardsare a force to be reckoned with. Everyone knows that about us when it comes to our turf, but now that’s also true whenever we play away from home.
And last but not least, it is all thanks to pretty boy and his intel. He has impressed me, though I hate the sound of that, he fucking has. He even saved my ass back there. I’ve got nothing but respect for him now.
