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He’s always awake. It is as if he never closes his eyes for more than an hour, or maybe two. I end the call. I welcomed the solitude that came with us all going into hiding — I do not need them poking in my business. I’m mildly annoyed my friends are checking on me, but I know it’s me, not them.
***
I have had zero hours sleep while waiting on the boat to come in, I think my blood type is espresso right now. There is the low hum of a caffeine headache in my ears, and for the first time in days Raul is just quietly lying in his crib. It’s deathly silent and the mist that is clinging to my island blocks out any view of the world around us.
Only the lighthouse and the small security crew are guiding the boat in, with no visibility it’s harder than one would think. I pace up and down, the sound of my footsteps and the ocean an almost lullaby keeping Raul quiet. When I stand still, he niggles, and I am enjoying his silence too much to stop walking.
“They’re here.”
My heart shudders to a stop when I am interrupted with news that the boat has finally arrived. I take a deep breath, pull on a coat and walk down the stone steps to the dock, the wind is a gale and it’s cold. The mist is thick enough that it is like I am walking through a cloud, only the sound of the water guiding me in the right direction.
The sound of the engines is thunderous as the enormous cargo vessel docks, these are not small shipping boats. They are designed to move large quantities of anything illegal without a trace. Black as night, and with the tech to avoid being seen, they are a fleet of many talents. They keep the island connected with reality, stocked with supplies and in return we provide them with other services. The tech that keeps their boats from being found is mine, and they are constantly looking for ways to evade governments and law enforcement all over the world.
The engines die down, and the boat rises and falls against the dock where the crew are securing it, the weather is shit. They will probably stay the night and wait for it to clear before leaving again.
“This is for you.” The captain of the boat walks off with a staggering sick-looking Lucia. She’s blindfolded and dirty. Nothing like I have got to know her to be, she has come down to earth with a thud. “Careful it vomits.” He pulls his nose up and shoves her in my direction, she stumbles over her feet but doesn’t fall.
“Thank you,” I say to him and wonder just how awful they were to her, she is pretty young lady on a boat full of men. “I appreciate you bringing me what I need.” The crew are unloading the crates of supplies for the house, and Raul. We don’t like to have to do this too often but having a child on the island has made it essential to restock more often.
“We just do what we are told, Mr. Sal,” the captain says, lighting a cigarette with great difficulty in the wind. “This is a shitty place to stay, you know that.” He looks around, and on night like this it is a shit place to be, but occasionally it is a glorious little slice of heaven. If the sun shines, the wind doesn’t blow, and there are no hurricanes.
Lucia is shivering and doesn’t fight against the hold I have on her upper arm. She just stands there silent while we talk — and when I realize I am talking in front of her I cut the conversation short. “I need to get my visitor to her accommodations, if you don’t mind.” The man shrugs as if this is nothing out of the ordinary for him at all. I am sure it isn’t, I know they are involved in trafficking, and prostitution rings all over the world.
I yank Lucia along the cold concrete and back towards the house. The entrance to the storm cellar is at the bottom of the concrete steps. The door opens with facial recognition, and I push it open easily, dragging her inside with me.
“Welcome’s Lucia,” I greet her since there were no formalities out there in the wind, “I hope your stay will be miserably unhappy.”
Once the door is closed and I know she can’t try anything silly, I pull her blindfold off.
“You!” She seems shocked that it is me who took her, as if I didn’t have a good reason.
“Who were you expecting, Lucia?” I smirk, wondering what she thought was happening. “The man who said he would take you to his island? Welcome to my island. Were you expecting to be swept off your feet? You can’t even stand straight, your sea legs are weak. Who did you think you were playing games online with?” She swallows, her eyes wide and her hands trembling. Lucia knows this is not a good thing, that she is in all kinds of trouble. “Make yourself at home, I will see you tomorrow.”
It’s late, my thoughts and judgement are clouded — seeing her right in front of me has my head spinning. She’s not going anywhere, we can do this in the morning when I have had time to calm the excitement of this plan having worked and think about what to do now that I have her here.
CHAPTER7
Lucia
When I heard them talking Russian, I presumed my new husband-to-be got mad and decided to take me, but it didn’t add up when I was treated like a common prisoner. He wouldn’t dare do that, my family would have him lynched. I try to justify what happened, and none of the scenarios I can think of make any sense to me.
My brother’s might have needed money, maybe this is to claim the insurance on me, it is much higher than it is on any of them. I get seasick looking at boats and being below deck for God alone knows how long, has made me violently ill. I’m dehydrated, weak and my stomach rolls as if I am still on the ocean even though I have been handed over to whomever it was that had me taken.
It’s cold and the wind is howling around me, the sound of the restless waves crashes loudly next to me. I can feel the spray and taste the salt air. My body is relieved to be on dry land, but my mind still rocks like I am not.
Dizziness and the assault of smells and sounds drown out anything that is going on, someone has a vice-like grip on my arm. I am too weak to try and get away, I don’t know where I am, I cannot see. I just stand still rocking internally and shivering from the sudden exposure to the icy wind. It was hotter than Satan’s butt crack in the hull of the boat.
I’m disoriented and the light is harsh when the blindfold is ripped off — and I am horrified when I see who it is standing smirking at me.I really was stupid. So many things he said to me online make sense — how did I not place him? He literally had KING in his screen name, and he is not the island King, most who know him think he is the crazy King.
He doesn’t hang around, he just locks the door and leaves me alone under the bright fluorescent lights, in a room that is built of concrete. It’s cold, almost sterile and smells of ocean damp. I am underground, I think.
I should have screamed for help, I should have fought to get away, now I have no escape. My eyes scan every inch of the space I am in, and I already know there is no way out of it. Men like him do not leave anything to chance. Weak from the days on that stinking hot boat I don’t even try and think about what is happening. I simply curl into a ball on the freshly made bed, it’s all very clean and comfortable for a prison cell.
Salvatore plans to keep me here — for a while. The waves are still pushing and pulling me as I try to sleep. “What have I done?” I whisper as the exhaustion and reality crash into one another, and I pass out. I dream of my family rushing in to save me in a shower of bullets and the dramatic reunion as my father is both angry and relieved to see me. My dreams float from rescue to darker nightmares. My family killed his, what if he brought me here to die?
Our families will hold grudges and seek revenge for generations — he took me for a reason. I am sure I will know in the morning what it is. Until then, I am all alone with my aching body and lucid dreams.
The sound of squawking seagulls wakes me. It’s cold, and I pull the blankets up over me. The bright lights still buzz, and I need to pee so badly my eyes are watering. There is a bathroom, I can see it through an open door in the far corner of the space. When I can’t anymore, I get up and go relieve myself. When I catch a glimpse of what I look like in the mirror above the sink I feel sick again. I am a mess. The overwhelming sensation of being filthy freaks me out, and I want to get into the bathtub beside me and scrub my skin clean off.
