Enslaved By The Ocean (Criminals Of The Ocean #1)

  “Enough,” he rasps into my ear, tightening his grip on my wrist. Tears burn my eyes, and I struggle to blink them back. No weakness. I swore I’d show no more.

  “Just let me go, I don’t want you to sell me!”

  He flips me over, and puts his hands either side of my head, pinning me with his gaze. “You made a deal, a choice.”

  “You didn’t give me many options,” I yell, squirming.

  “You’re not in the position to be given options.”

  His dark eyes are piercing and deadly.

  “Just get off me, get off me!” I cry, squirming.

  “This is the only phone on the ship,” he growls. “It will now remain with me at all times.”

  “You’re a pig!” I spit as he moves his body from mine.

  I scramble to my feet, and turn, rushing toward the sofa. I drop down onto it, sinking into the old, well-used cushions. I grip the sheet, and I pull it up over my head before letting the tears escape my eyelids. I sob quietly, not wanting him to hear my weakness.

  He doesn’t leave the room, and he doesn’t speak to me again, but I know he can hear me. I know he can hear my pained whimpers as I cry myself to sleep.

  It’s dark, and I can hear his soft breathing. A faint light is coming underneath the door, and it shines just enough for me to see his silhouette. I am on my hands and knees, crawling toward him as quietly as I possibly can. I know he’s got the phone on him, and I know I’m going to give it one last shot. I can’t give up that easily. I can’t just lie down and accept my fate. I have to try, just once more.

  I reach his bed, and I rise up onto my knees, staring down at him. Why does he have to look so beautiful under this light? Why does it have to caress his body, showing every stunning curve of muscle? I reach down, and gently place my hand on his leg, slowly moving it up. He makes a grunting sound, and I freeze quickly. A moment later, he’s breathing deeply again. I slide my hand up higher until I reach his pocket. Nothing in there. I reach over gently, and try the other one. I feel a hard bump.

  My heart begins to pound.

  I flex my wrist, and then I gently angle it so that I can reach into his pocket. I can just feel the top of the phone when his hand moves at lightning speed, and grips mine. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, and he tugs. I go soaring forward and land half over his body, with my legs dangling off his bed. I squirm, but his other arm comes up and pins my hips, pressing me down into him.

  “You just don’t give up, do you?” he murmurs.

  It takes me a moment to respond, because I am completely dazed by the smell of him. His skin has a warm heat radiating off it, and the smell is a blend of rum and man. I swallow, and my vision swims as I realize how good it feels to be draped over him. I shake my head, horrified at myself for even taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of him against me. I tug my wrist free from his hand, and he snorts, tightening his arm over my hips.

  “Did you really think I’d make it easy for you?” I snap.

  “I did, considering you tied your friend’s life to your behavior.”

  I freeze.

  Eric.

  I stopped for just a second, thinking about how this could impact him. I close my eyes, horrified with myself.

  “Did you truly think you could sneak up on me and take that phone?” he says, his fingers flexing on my hips.

  “Let me go.”

  “Answer me, inocencia.”

  “No, I did not, pirate. But I had to try. I might have put my life before my friend’s, but it doesn’t mean that I will just roll over and accept it when I see a window of opportunity.”

  “So stupid,” he murmurs, and his fingers begin making circles on my hips. I stiffen.

  “L…l…let me go.”

  “In good time.”

  What the hell?

  “What makes you think you can just do whatever you want?” I whisper, tugging my body backwards in another poor attempt to wriggle free.

  “I’m a pirate, I make the rules on the ocean, and I break the rules on the ocean. I’m untouchable out here.”

  “It doesn’t make you invincible, pirate. I’ll make you pay for this. One day, I’ll find a way to make this burn.”

  He chuckles softly. “I know you will, inocencia.”

  “And how do you know that?” I bark.

  He lets me go, and my body slides down onto the floor.

  “Because you’re fire,” he murmurs. “And fire never stops burning.”

  “There she blows!”

  The first week passes with no more drama. I spend most of my time down with Eric, and we talk as much as we can about escape, though the longer I am here the less I think escape is actually an option until we stop, if we stop. I am grateful, however, that Eric is being fed and cared for. Hendrix has been living up to his end of the deal, so I have been living up to mine. I have been eating, and taking care of myself, and I haven’t tried to escape again.

  Staying in Hendrix’s room has been interesting, to say the least. He spends most of his time at the little desk in the corner on the phone that I can’t have, barking orders at people and organizing things that…from the sounds of them…aren’t things I wish to know about. The evenings are the oddest. Trying to sleep when he’s in the bed just over from me is…awkward. It’s even worse when he gets up in the morning and walks right past me, half-naked with morning wood. I won’t lie…the man has impressive morning wood.

  I hate that I’m looking, and part of me has considered that I am temporarily insane, but it’s hard to turn away. The man has a body that is unlike any I’ve ever seen. His chest is broad and defined, his abs trim and strong, and his skin is that beautiful bronze color. His chest has a range of tattoos, all of them grey and black; there is no color. His arms are both fully sleeved, but his back has nothing—nothing but gorgeous, olive skin over hard, defined muscle.

  I won’t lie and say that I don’t open my eyes in the morning and watch him walk past. His hair is always sleep mussed, and his eyes are always heavy, with those thick lashes on display for me to admire. I find myself clenching of a morning, hating that my body is turning against my better judgment, and tightening itself with want for a man who I really don’t like. It’s wrong, but God help me, I can’t stop looking. I don’t even know if I want to stop looking.

  On the eighth morning I wake before Hendrix, which isn’t something that usually happens. I slide off my place on the sofa, and creep into the bathroom. I haven’t showered for a few days because I’ve been spending all my time down with Eric. By the time I get back, I’m exhausted. I usually fall onto the sofa and don’t move.

  I need a shower today though. I am finally feeling more like myself, and my skin is beginning to heal nicely, so I figure it’s time to go into the shower and remove the last of it. This is the perfect time to do it.

  I step into the bathroom, and close the door behind me. I drop the loose dress I am wearing, and I turn the water on. When it’s warm enough, I step in. A content sigh leaves my lips, and I close my eyes, tilting my head back and letting the water run over my body and head. I reach my hand out until I find a bottle of shampoo, and I tip some into my hand before bringing it to my hair and lathering it through. Oh, that’s nice.

  I finish up with my hair, and give my body a good scrub, removing the last of the dead skin that is left behind from the sunburn. When it’s gone, I wash it once more and then step out. I go to take a towel, only to see there’s none left. My eyes widen, and I curse. Shit, you have to be kidding me? No towel. I look down at the dress on the floor, only to see it’s soaked from the water I splashed out. I have to go out and get the one off the sofa. I walk to the door, and crack it open. Hendrix is still asleep, his big arms tucked up behind his head, and his chest rising and falling heavily.

  I decide to make a run for it. I step out of the shower, and I begin rushing toward the sofa, but I don’t make it. I trip and fall on a pillow that’s been tossed on the floor, and I land with a thump and a scream. The
light is flicked on in a matter of seconds, and I am scurrying backwards to try and get back to the shower. Before I can make it, Hendrix appears, sleep roused and holding a gun towards me. I do the only thing I can think of, I throw my hands up.

  His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open.

  It’s only then I realize what putting my hands up has done to my position.

  I’m now on the ground naked, with my hands in the air.

  “Holy fuck,” Hendrix hisses.

  I drop my arms and try to cover myself. If I move, he will see all I have to offer. I lift my legs, trying to hide myself. Hendrix grips the towel from the sofa, and tosses it at me, not once taking his eyes from my body. Why does that have it breaking out with goosebumps?

  “I…I…there wasn’t one in the shower, and…”

  “You have beautiful skin,” he says, his eyes now focused on the skin that covers my shoulders.

  “I…um…”

  “It’s like silk, so damned pretty. I didn’t know you were so fuckin’ perfect.”

  Oh God.

  He stares at me for a minute at least, his eyes blazing with something I can’t decipher, and then suddenly he shakes his head as if he couldn’t believe what he just said. Then he stiffens, and growls, “Chopper will love it” before turning and rushing out the door, slamming it loudly.

  What the hell was that?

  Salty wind. It’s my daily pleasure. I love to stand in it, and breathe it in. I love the way it makes my hair curl and tangle. I love the way it makes my skin feel. This morning the wind is light and cool, and the ocean smells divine. I grip the side railings on the ship, and stare out. I haven’t seen Hendrix since our little run-in earlier; he’s managed to find a way to avoid me. I even went looking for him, but couldn’t find him on the ship. I’d love to know how he did that.

  I turn, staring over at the lifeboat. I still wonder about escaping on it. I don’t know if I can, or what my chances are, but it’s more than once crossed my mind. I peer around the deck, and see no one is up here, so I head over to it. I’m halfway up when I trip on a pile of ropes on the ground. I land with a thump, and curse loudly. Dammit. I go to move, only to realize my leg is tangled in one of the thick ropes. I squirm and tug, twisting my foot only to tangle myself more.

  “What’re you doin’?” I hear Hendrix’s voice coming from behind me.

  Of course he chooses now to come over.

  “I got stuck.”

  He leans down, gripping my foot and trying to untangle it.

  “How the hell did you get it so tangled?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter. “Trying to untangle it?”

  He shakes his head, and crouches down, twisting my foot to try and get it out. I squirm and pull, and he slaps my thigh. “Stop moving.”

  My mouth drops open. He stops moving, as if he realizes what he just did. Our eyes meet and we just stare, confused.

  “Did you just…slap me?” I whisper, shocked.

  “If you quit moving, I wouldn’t have had to,” he grunts, turning his focus back to the ropes.

  My mouth hangs open.

  “Close that, before I find good use for it,” he growls, lifting his dark eyes to meet mine. My skin tingles.

  “Stand up, this will be easier if you do,” he orders. He stands, taking me with him, and I lose my balance when I accidentally try to lift the wrong foot. Hendrix reaches out, taking my shoulder and goes to take a step forward to steady me, only to realize he’s wrapped the rope around his ankle, and is now tangled too. As if in slow motion, we topple backwards. I scream, and land with a thump on the ground as the ropes surround me. Hendrix lands over me, but manages to put his hand down to stop me taking the force of his body. He’s pressing into me in places he really shouldn’t be.

  “Fuck,” he curses, tugging his hand to try and untangle it.

  “How the hell did you get tangled too?” I cry out, squirming.

  “Stop fuckin’ squirming like that,” he orders, and I stop as soon as I realize why he’s asked me to. He’s hard. My God, he’s hard.

  “You’re…you’re…”

  “I’m fuckin’ hard because you’re squirming against me. I’m a man. Get over it.”

  I gape up at him, and he gives me a determined glare before tugging one of his hands, and freeing it. He reaches down and untangles my hand, and I shift to try and move my feet.

  “Stop fuckin’ moving, you’re tangling us again.”

  “Well, I can’t just lay here and not move,” I protest. “Why don’t you just get up and let me figure myself out.”

  “If I leave it up to you, I’ll come back next week to a bag of rotting bones.”

  “That’s mean,” I snap.

  “Stop fucking squirming,” he hisses.

  I didn’t realize I was squirming again. I try to stop myself, and I let him focus on untangling us. Stopping has me focusing on his erection pressing against my thigh, and that’s really not a good thing. I close my eyes and try to focus on anything else but the way his body is flexing and moving against mine.

  “Errr, boss?”

  We both turn our heads to see Drake staring down at us.

  “Drake, cut these fuckin’ ropes,” Hendrix barks.

  “Yes boss,” he says, but I can hear the humor in his voice.

  “It’s not funny, Drake,” I snap.

  He doesn’t answer; he just cuts us free. After Hendrix pulls himself to his feet he reaches down and pulls me up too. I kick the strands off my foot, and refuse to meet his gaze as I hurry off.

  “Thank you would be nice,” Hendrix yells.

  “Thank you,” I cry, and scurry down the stairs.

  God, could it get any worse?

  Ahoy, me heartie!

  I hide in shame for the remainder of the day. My cheeks flush every time I think about my little moment with Hendrix. I decide today I won’t go and see Eric; I just need to think. When night falls, I go to bed early, trying to avoid any confrontation. I’m becoming bored and desperate, and the only thing I can do is sleep. Tonight, however, sleep isn’t happening. I just can’t settle, and my body is restless. I decide after much debate, to make a dash to the kitchen. I need milk. It fixes all my sleeping problems.

  I climb off the sofa and sneak out to the kitchen. When I get inside, I flick on the light and tiptoe in until I reach the fridge. Opening it, I ruffle through until I find a bottle of milk. I take it out, and pour some into a glass before popping it into the microwave. I hit 30 seconds, and wait. The ship is noisy this evening. I guess the guys decided it was time to party. The microwave dings, and I pull my warm glass out, swishing it around before bringing it to my lips. The warm liquid soothes my dry throat, and I sigh.

  I turn to head back out, when the kitchen door swings open and Hendrix comes stumbling in. Oh magic, he’s drunk. He doesn’t notice me at first, and walks over to the cupboard, opening it to pull out a packet of crackers. I clear my throat, and he spins, sending crackers flying across the floor. I snort a laugh, and wrap both of my hands around my milk to stop it from spilling.

  “What the…?” he mutters.

  His eyes are glassy, so my guess is that he’s had more than just a few. I hold up the glass. “Just getting milk. You guys are noisy and I couldn’t sleep.”

  He begins walking toward me, and the look on his face has my heart speeding up. “Could always join in, inocencia.”

  Why the hell does he keep calling me that?

  “No thanks,” I mutter, trying to step past him.

  He puts his arm out, stopping me. “You scared of me?”

  I tilt my head up and meet his eyes. “No, not at all.”

  “Then why won’t you join in?”

  “Because you don’t really want me to, and because I’m only here because I made a deal with you to behave. You’re selling me, there’s really no point in me trying to befriend anyone.”

  “Keep your friends close,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “and your enemies closer. Didn?
??t anyone teach you that, inocencia?”

  “They did,” I whisper, biting my lower lip.

  Why does he have to come so close? I can smell the rum on his breath as he leans down, meeting my gaze. God, he’s gorgeous. Tonight he’s wearing a tight black T-shirt, with a pair of faded blue jeans, heavy black boots, a dog chain around his neck and his dark hair is ruffled and messy. He has these thick gold and silver chains around his wrists that just seem to give him something extra. Perhaps the of bad boy that is needed for his look.

  “There are many ways to get to sleep,” he says, staring down at my lips.

  Shit.

  Walk away, Indigo.

  “Sure there are,” I try to say, but my voice wavers. “This is just the best one.”

  “A warm body usually does the trick for me, sweetheart.”

  Did he just call me sweetheart? Why is my heart thumping over that?

  “I have a name, you know?”

  A small, gorgeous grin spreads across his face. Lordy he’s beautiful when he smiles. “Indigo,” he purrs.

  “I should…go.”

  I try to squeeze past him, but his hand lashes out and grips my hip. I stiffen and swallow, turning toward him. He takes another step closer, and stares down at me. “If I didn’t have to,” he murmurs, “I wouldn’t sell you. You’re just what I need.”

  I stiffen and shove him back. “You’re such a jerk. I’m no one’s bedmate!”

  His eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “And yet you’re the one who is wet at the thought of me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snarl.

  “If I put my fingers between your legs right now, inocencia, you would be dripping for me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  He steps closer, forcing my body back against the counter behind me. “Am I?”

  “Stop it,” I whisper, shaking my head.

  “Just say the word, and I’ll let you go.”

  He’s challenging me. I hate that he’s right. My body is alive for him, but I won’t show him that. My pride won’t allow it. I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and growl, “Let me go.”