"Admit it. That was fun." Mick grinned from ear to ear. Crouching next to the tunnel that had spit us out into the ship's laundry room seconds ago, he wiggled his brows.

The place, which was incidentally empty, could probably offer us a much-needed respite. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, it was," I replied, placing my keychain on the square mark hidden under the floor mat. With a gentle snap, the hatch closed, hiding our escape route from the perpetrators’ eyes. 

"Say…" Mick drawled. "What's our plan now?"

I bit back my urge to smile, lest I spoiled whatever little comradery this crisis had built, and looked at my watch. It was barely ten am. Even if we had kept to the schedule, our first destination—East port of Lamo Island—was half an hour away. "Shit."

“Something wrong?” 

"Not at all. Everything is under control," I said, my mind running a mile a minute. Trying to come up with different scenarios where we both get to survive this, I crossed them off one after another. The chances got slimmer till I had no choice except to lie. I smiled brightly as if I had stumbled upon the world's greatest treasure and prayed for that sentiment to reflect in my eyes. "Okay, so here's what we are going to do."

Five minutes later, Mick was on a lifeboat rowing towards west port of Lamo Island, while I stayed behind. I had lied to him and told him that our destination was barely ten minutes from our present location. Once there, all he had to do was call coast security and save me, while I was to hide in the laundry room for ten minutes. There was no way the perpetrators would find a trained guard, right? Right. 

Only Lamo had no coast security. What it did have was Mr. Carlton's men, waiting to receive their young master at the Eastern dock. 

After seeing Mick off, the first thing I did was take stock of my surroundings. I still wasn't sure who had shot at Mick, but the men (seven in all) wore black. With every part except their eyes covered, each was armed with a gun plus a different type of blade. Boot knives, karambits, and kukris were the only few my eyes could pick out at this distance.

"Tell me where he is or I will blow off your heads, one at a time, you hear?" A deep baritone voice drifted over to me. Though I had managed to save Mick, others on board didn't deserve to die. 

Crawling, slithering, hiding behind pool furniture, and doing everything in between, I managed to get as close as possible to the man barking orders. 

In front sat the ship's staff, cabin crew, and a handful of VIPs. 

Shit, the VIPS! How could I have forgotten about them!?

Mr. Carlton would have bitten my head off if I had abandoned them! At least I wouldn't die for not making an effort to save the bunch. Phew! 

The tall guy raised his weapon toward the sky and fired a shot, eliciting a plethora of responses. Shrieks, screams, and gasps filled the deck.

I knew what came next: torturing the hostages until one of them relented. Alas, I was the only one who knew where Mick was; ergo, every one of them was about to die. Without waiting for the inevitable, I checked my pockets. All they housed were my (signal-less) phone, my wallet with a few hundred dollar bills, and a picture of Freya, my daughter. 

Taking a deep breath, I returned the wallet to my pocket and factory reset my phone. And with as much force and precision as I could afford, I threw the useless piece of metal towards Mick's private cabin on the third floor, breaking the silence that reigned there until now. 

"What the hell are you guys doing? Go and inspect the third floor again!"

Three pairs of shoes ran towards Mick's room while I crept closer to the hostages. Making the best of the commotion afoot, I snuck up from behind one of the men and whacked him over his head; he went down without a fight. Dragging him behind the pool chairs, I switched our clothes and took his place on the far right of the hostages, waiting for my chance to be the hero they needed me to be. 

"There is no one there, sir." The men—that I had sent on a wide goose chase—panted.

"Did you find anything of interest at least?" demanded the man in charge. His eyes crinkled when the shortest of them handed him my phone. 

Did he just smile? 

Dread took me in its hold. Were they from The Watchtower? Were they here for me? No, that couldn't be. I had done nothing to make them think that I had switched sides. 

"It seems a rat has managed to avoid capture." Pointing his gun at the captain, the tall guy ordered, "Take a good look at these people and tell me if anyone except Mick Carlton is missing."

So the villain didn't know that Mick had a bodyguard. That was strange. Anyone wanting to attack Mick wouldn't do so without doing proper research. I hadn't left Mick's side in five years. Why did the man not know about me? Was it possible that he was pretending?

Cap. Jones and I were well acquainted. He was two months away from retiring. It wouldn't have surprised me if he gave my name up, but he didn't. The same couldn't be said about Niki, who yelled, "I can tell you who's missing."

"Lovely!" The uniformed man let go of Jones and called Niki forward; walking closer, she stopped just an arm's length out of his reach. "So, who is it?"

"What will I get in return?" The woman asked, sounding obnoxiously confident. 

"Freedom, obviously," came the confident response. 

"What if I don't want it?"

"Then name your price." The man growled, stepping closer. "If it is within my power to give it to you, you will have it."

Why did he sound pissed, wasn't he supposed to be feel happy?

"Hold up, soldier." Niki purred. "My other plans seem to have crashed and burned. So what I want now is to join you. I don't want to waste my life serving a fucking faggot."

That bitch! 

The uniformed man let out a mirthless laugh. Leaning away from Niki, he bobbed his head. "Alright. Anything else?"

"Yes, there is. Are you their leader?"

"Yes."

Niki's smile grew wider. "Great. Then give me your word that once we are off this ship, you will treat me like your queen."

Does she have a death wish? Then again, it wouldn't hurt if she died.

As the man contemplated, I pulled up the blueprint of the ship from my memory. I was close to the ship's kitchen. Why hadn't I thought of it earlier!?

The man in charge shook his head. "Very well. You drive a hard bargain, woman. Now that we are on the same page, tell me what you know."

Fuck!

It was do-or-die for me now. "Sir," I called and stepped forward. When the man's eyes landed on me, I pointed towards the kitchen and signaled that I had heard a voice coming from there.

I was sure that if he bought my lie, he would send me to look into it. And he did. 

Nodding once, he gestured to me to go. And just as I turned my back and walked slowly towards the kitchen, I heard Niki say, "I think Mick's dog, Rob, is still onboard. I overheard Mr. Carlton brief..."

I drowned out the traitor's voice, softly opened the kitchen door, and stepped inside. I left the door ajar so as not to raise suspicion. 

Pretending to track down the source of the sound that had led me here (just in case the man had sent someone behind me), I closed in on my destination: the liquor cabinet. 

Yes! Patting myself on the back, I moved around a few expensive, vintage bottles until my fingers closed around what I needed: a bottle of tear gas and its antidote.

Without a seconds delay, I let the medicinal liquid hit my eyes, it stung. However, the pain was gone an instant later. Just as I dropped the drug in my uniform's shirt pocket, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. 

"Find anything?"

I shook my head and turned around, holding a 1969 vintage bottle of wine. The man's eyes narrowed, and he dropped to his knees to get a better look.

Crash! 

Shit! 

Footfalls echoed outside, moving towards me. I needed to get out. Retrieving a second canister of tear gas from the cupboard, I sprayed half of it at the entry and hid behind the door with seconds to spare as three uniformed men entered the kitchen and immediately winced, rubbing their watering eyes. 

"Some fucking bastard—"

Without waiting to hear the rest, I slipped out of the kitchen and bolted the door from outside before rushing to the dining area. 

I had incapacitated five out of seven men. Two were still out and about; I had no clue how to deal with them.

"Where the fuck are you assholes at?" I heard the man in charge yell. "Report. Now." He barked into the talkie.

While he waited for a response—which I hoped wouldn't come—I reached the dining area and peeked out the window. It gave me a clear view of the hostages and the leader of this mission. The last man eluded my sight. 

Blood drained from my face as I saw the chief lift Niki by her collar and, without warning, blow her brains out. 

Why the fuck did he do that!? What had the bitch said to deserve such a fate? I wondered, but before I could make sense of the situation, the murderer dropped his gun and closed his ears. The hostages, all except Niki, obviously, followed suit. 

Only one weapon could ilicite such a reaction: the S gun. There was only one of it in existence as far as I knew, and by now, it should have been on Lamo Island. But it wasn't. Which meant that… 

Mick was here!

*****
[Chapter word count: 1700]