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The chair exploded into pieces over Hamisi’s head, the sound of splintering wood drowned out by the staccato of gunfire. Two rounds found their targets across the room, taking out Hamisi’s henchmen with practicedprecision.
Before she could turn the gun on Hamisi, a suffocating silence filled the room. Arms of steel circled around her shoulders from behind, crushing her chest. “I do not die so easily,kuttiya,” Hamisi purred in her ear, sending sickening chills racing down herspine.
Thalia struggled against his grip, holding tight to the gun as his slimy hand slithered up her shoulder. If he got his hands around her neck she was dead. “When are you guys going to learn?” she grunted through clenched teeth. “I’m nobody’s bitch.” Stars exploded behind her eyelids as the back of her head connected with his face, the crunch of breaking bones echoing off the steel walls of the expansivespace.
She twisted from his arms, her knee finding his groin with flawless execution. Hunched over from the pain, either choking on his balls or about to puke them up, Thalia took out his knee with a swift kick, flattening him to the cold hard floor. Sweat stung the cuts on her face as she fought for each breath, her shiny, new pistol now leveled at Hamisi’s bloodied face. “Idon’t die that easily, you fucking kutta.” She pulled the trigger, the sound of a stale click sending shivers up herspine.
Hamisi’s laughter clawed its way over her skin. “Who is the stupid dognow?”
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was foolish, but she took a step closer to him, already imagining his brains slathered across the bottom of her boot. With blinding speed, Hamisi’s leg made contact and swept her off her feet, a searing hot pain slicing into herside.
Instinct had her moving before she could process the pain, clutching at his wrist. The dull light from the one bare bulb reflected off the blade extending from his clenched fist. She was no match for his brute, male strength. A scream tore its way past her bloody lips as the blade sunk into the top of her thigh. Desperate not to give into the torturous pain, she pushed away from him, the knife’s blade slicing further into her flesh. Holding onto her last thread of control, her hands found his face as she blindly searched for the one thing she knew would endthis.
An eerie shriek pierced the air and drowned out the other sounds of their struggle. Sticky, wet fluid coated her fingers as they found their mark. Hamisi’s hands released her from his grip as he cupped his face and screamed in horror. The odd shaped eyeball, still tethered to the nerve, balanced precariously in his palm. Thalia used her arms to drag herself away from the grisly scene. Footsteps pounded from the floor above her.Time to move. More blood seeped from her leg and her side, leaving a sodden trail along the floor as she dragged herself closer to the door. She needed to get to herfeet.
Bracing herself against a metal pole near the center of the dimly lit cargo hold, she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the knife.This is going to hurt like amother.
Sucking in one final breath, she ground her teeth together to hold back another scream clawing its way up her throat.Son of a bitch!The instant the blade was free, dark crimson blood rushed from the wound and began to pool under her leg. She was going to bleed to death before she could get out of this shithole, wherever thatwas.
Working as fast as her shaking hands allowed, she tore off a strip of what was left of her shirt and tied it around her thigh, biting back another scream. More heavy footfalls moved overhead and voices echoed through the steel hull from somewhereclose.
Hamisi’s screams had stopped. She guessed he’d passed out. God knows she probably would have. Nonetheless, she was thankful for the reprieve as she hobbled to the door and carefully peered around the frame. Clear in both directions, she stepped outside and was assaulted by the salty ocean air. From the familiar stench of dead fish and diesel fuel, she knew she was in a marina. What she didn’t know was where. Judging the distance to the water below, the boat was a freighter of some significant size. She’d been unconscious when they brought her here. How long ago that was, she wasn’tsure.
She studied the docks as she stumbled her way toward the back of the ship. The lights blurred and swayed as an icy blanket folded in around her. Her hands and feet felt like blocks of ice, dragging her to the slippery deck. She was losing too much blood. An agonized moan slipped beyond her control as she slid down a short flight of stairs, grasping the railing with her blood slickedhands.
Moving with pure adrenaline, she forced herself along the stern.It’s so dark. If only a day had passed she should still be somewhere along the African coastline. Looking out toward the ocean, she could see the faint twinkling of a few shining lights from the nearby coastal islands.I can swim that far.It wasn’t a question of if she could do it. She had to make it happen. It was her last conscious thought before her body hit the cold, salty waterbelow.
Two
“Son of a dickless monkey!”Grant Kendal shook out his throbbing hand. He was going to hunt down the bastard who’d sold him these cheap as shit nails and take his money back in slow, even installments of pain; one rusty nail at atime.
“Don’t get your tail in a wad, Winston. I wasn’t talking about you.” Winston lowered his hand from his face and turned his back to Grant, arms folded over his knobby knees. Crouched on his hands and knees on top of the thatched roof, Grant hung his head and let out a frustrated growl. He knew better than to feed the damn thing. “One piece of sugar cane and I’m married to a goddamn monkey!” He pounded his fist on the bare rafter he was trying desperately to cover before the afternoon storms blewin.
He’d managed to live thirty-four years—no small feat considering his chosen profession—without falling prey to a single woman’s charms.He’d never considered himself much of a ladies man. Spending most of his adult life in the shadows, hunting down the cockroaches of the human species, he hadn’t had much use for the social niceties women usually expected from a relationship. Procuring a warm, willing body for a night to fulfill his baser needs didn’t require a lifetime commitment of manipulation and crazy mood swings. Apparently befriending a Macaque monkey did.Retired less than a year and I’m attached at the hip to an emotionally challenged primate with apenis!
Twisting and shuffling his way across each beam, Grant made it to the western edge of the roof. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he stepped down onto the top rung of the ladder. “Come down, you moody bastard. I’ll fix us adrink.”
Winston looked over his furry shoulder, displaying his pouty bottom lip before turning away again. “Goddamn it! I’m not apologizing! I wasn’t even talking to you!” Grant moved down the ladder, but stopped only a few steps down, shaking his head. When had he become such a pussy? Solitude meant being alone, right? Not having to listen to meaningless chatter or put up with a society that had disintegrated into chaos. Or having to placate thefeelingsof a damn monkey. He would have been better off if he’d painted a face on a hand grenade and called it aday.
Nearly a year ago he’d taken a job as a favor to his mentor and friend, Daniel Gregory. For some reason it had left him feeling dead inside. Daniel’s daughter Natalie had been taken and sold into the sex slave industry, and Daniel had spent the last twelve years searching for her. The cockroach who ran the U.S. side of the human trafficking ring, Hector Morganti, was now behind bars thanks to Daniel’s relentless pursuit and to the testimony of Hector’s daughter, Gabby. Daniel, however, never found Hector’s diary of transactions he hoped would lead him to the monsters that bought his daughter. When Hector was put away, his second in command, Lucien Moretti, took over the business without a hitch, apparently using the ledger of sales as blackmail and to continue the steady supply of childslaves.
Grant and Daniel had used Lucien’s obsession with Gabby to lure him into a trap, hoping to find the ledger and put him away with Hector. Their plan had failed when Lucien slipped through his fingers and he was forced to kill him before he’d killed Gabby. Putting a bullet between Lucien’s eyes had felt good, even if he’d deserved a far more painful death. However much he deserved it, killing Lucien had destroyed Daniel’s chances of finding his daughter. They never found the ledger. The sophisticated slave ring fell apart after Lucien’s demise. It may have bought some time before some other piece of shit stepped in to fill the supply gap, but thanks to Grant, his friend may never find hisdaughter.
Living with that shouldn’t have been a problem for Grant. Bad people did bad things to good people all the time. He was called to take out the trash and move on to the next job. No questions. No regrets. He didn’t regret a single kill he’d made, but seeing the hopelessness in Daniels eyes and sweet Gabby’s reaction to the monster inside him had left him feeling cold. That’s when he knew he was done. For the first time in his life he hadn’t liked the emotionless tool he’dbecome.
Setting himself up on a deserted scrub island in the middle of the Indian Ocean was supposed to give him some clarity; time to cleanse himself of the beast within and consider his next step. Ten months later, and the only thing he was sure of was that he wasn’t built to mingle with the humanrace.
Grant banged his head against the ladder rung in front of him a few times before cursing his way back to the top. Apparently he wasn’t fit to cohabitate with monkeys either. “Fine. I’m sorry. Better?” he said through his clenchedteeth.
Before he could see if his half-assed attempt at placating the bratty imp had worked, the singing sound of fishing line being ripped from his reel caught his attention. Grant turned just in time to see his fishing pole fly out of the holder onto the sand and inch its way toward the water. “Sonof a….” Winston’s scolding screech had him choking back the curse as he slid down the ladder, skipping the last four rungs, and sprinting past his fire pit toward the surf. “Fish on, Winston! Fishon!”
Two days earlier he’d seen a nice sized sailfish stalking his bait from the deep channel that ran west of the island. Deciding to take up the challenge, he’d changed out his gear and reset his bait. Two whole days and not so much as a nibble. He’d obviously lost his touch if a fish could wait him out. Thanks to his newfound complacency, he was about to lose a thousand bucks worth of tackleandthe damnfish!
Waves splashed at his feet as he made one final push off the sand before diving into the surf. His palm wrapped around the familiar corked end of his pole before another wave washed over his face, the cold salty spray stinging his eyes. Fuck all if he was going to lose this fish. Pulling the pole into his chest, his knees dug into the sand as the drag of the fish pulled him towards the deep. Digging in his heels, he set the hook, shaking the salty foam from hishair.
Snap!“Fuck!” Grant fell back into the surf, what was left of the line flapping in the wind at the tip of his pole. “Fuck, fucking godda—” The rest of his rant was cut off at the sight of the sailfish as it flew through the air with his float hanging from its bill, landing with a splash Grant could only see as a taunt. His fist pounded through the surf as he glared out at the deep, green waters.Fucking war is what thisis.
Cold water sluiced down his face as he threaded a wet hand through his hair then pushed to his feet. He stomped through the surf toward the sandy beach, ignoring Winston’s screeching cackles echoing from further down the shoreline. The damn monkey was crazy if he thought he was going to sleep inside the cabin tonight. It was supposed to rain a foot before morning.We’ll see whose laughing later, you imprudentape!
