Page 126 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Catherine peered out of the master bedroom’s cabin door. She had listened for what felt like hours as people outside the bedroom worked. She heard Cross talk to men, and several voices talk back. She even heard the unknown men speak in a language she didn’t understand.

Cross had warned it was going to take a long time to move the guns from one ship to the other, and he had been right. She didn’t quite realize how long, though.

Eventually, the noise quieted, and the footsteps stopped echoing outside her door. Once it had been quiet for a while, she decided to peek out the door and check the hall that led to the lower section of the ship.

Nothing was there.

No one stood waiting.

Catherine could hear footsteps up above her head—more than one set—so she quickly closed the door and moved back to the bed. Grabbing her iPod from her bag, she rested back and shoved the earbuds in.

Cross would come get her once they were in the clear. That’s what he said.

Turning the tunes up a bit louder, Catherine closed her eyes and tried to relax. She hated being bored; it always led her to bad situations.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that. Long enough for her playlist to shuffle through the songs once, and then start over again.

When a hand touched her arm, Catherine’s gaze opened instantly. She hadn’t reacted in fear only because she assumed the person touching her would be Cross coming to let her know he was done.

She was wrong.

A blue-eyed, dark-haired man stood above her. His pale skin was reddened from the sun, and his mouth pulled into a smirk at the sight of Catherine’s widening gaze.

She didn’t know what the fuck this man was doing, who he was, or why he was in her room. He shouldn’t be in there at all. For safety reasons, the doors couldn’t be locked on the bedrooms. Yet, Catherine had distinctly heard Cross explain where the guns were stashed when the men came into the lower section of the yacht.

This man shouldn’t be here.

Catherine didn’t even have time to react. The second she opened her mouth to scream, the blue-eyed man’s hand covered her mouth. Instantly, he was on the bed with her, a hand going to her throat as she trashed and bucked against his weight falling on hers.

Her earbuds came out of her ears in the struggle, and she heard his accented voice warning her.

“Stop fighting, girl,” he hissed. “Your friend is on our boat. No one is coming to help.”

“Fuck you,” Catherine mumbled beneath his hand. “Get off me!”

It was hard to talk with a hand on her mouth, and another choking her throat. He only let go of her throat long enough to pry her legs apart and force her dress up.

Catherine’s memories flashed with things she had never been able to forget—assaults by men who did not listen when she said no. Once, she had been unable to fight back at all. Another time, she froze because her shock and memories had been too much to bear.

Not this time.

She kicked, clawed, and tried to scream despite the hand on her mouth. She drew blood in her effort to fight back, although the man didn’t seem all too bothered by her struggle. In fact, he laughed at her.

She swore all rapists were the same.

Fucking monsters.

There was no gray area.

“Pretty, pretty,” he taunted. “We don’t get very many pretty girls around when we’re working for the boss. Your friend should have known better than to bring a piece of ass onto the boat with him. Just a little taste …”

He ripped her panties as he tried yanking them off her body. The fabric bit into her skin and stung like hell from the force. His fingers digging into her inner thigh likely left bruises as he kept them forced apart.

Catherine bit the asshole’s hand still covering her mouth. The guy pulled back with a shout, but quickly slapped her with the same hand. Still, his grip had loosened.

She used that to her advantage. The small wiggle room he allowed her was enough. Catherine’s hand snuck to the side as the guy started shoving his board shorts down enough to get his dick in his hand. Her fingers slipped into her bag as she felt him pressing between her thighs. He didn’t see the switch blade coming.

Catherine shoved the blade of her favorite knife as deep into the side of the man’s throat as she could get it. Just as fast, she pulled the blade out. Blood arched across the room in the spray it created. It dotted the wall, the bed, and her.