“Would a fed do this?” Without flinching—and that is a fucking feat, let me tell you—I grab the needle from his hand, hold it between my fingers, and turn the Cattle’s crotch into a pin cushion. I drive the pointed end past the fabric until it meets skin a sickening number of times before I toss the needle onto his writhing stomach. “Satisfied?”
The man gulps. “Almost . . .”
Oh fuck, he’s got a boner. It’s hard to mistake in those fucking spandex pants. The fact that it’s so aggressively straining toward me doesn’t help.
“Well, let this be a lesson to you. Don’t fuck with the Confessor,” I say before motioning for him to free Castle. The sooner I can get away from his fleshy dowsing rod, the better.
He looks at the door once more before huffing and releasing Castle’s waist from the chain. Once he’s double-checked his wrist and ankle bindings, he nods for me to take him away.
Keeping my composure—again, massive feat—I calmly exit the room with Castle in tow. Once the door closes behind him, he tries to speak, but I silence him with a look. As he slowly dies inside, I turn and keep walking. Deferring to a woman isn’t his bailiwick, but he’s about to learn today. I’m not the Ghost he left at the airport four days ago.
I walk down the hallways like I know where I’m going, but by the time I’ve tried the third locked door, it’s clear I’m lost. Isn’t there a single fucking place on this godforsaken ship where we can get a little privacy? Finally, the fourth door comes open, and we step into a supply closet filled with janitorial offerings. The door clicks shut, and I lock it for good measure before turning to Castle.
“You dirty fucking bitch,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “You knew all along. That’s why you let me play the criminal. You wanted me to die so you could finally rise up the ranks.”
“Castle, I assure you, I had no idea.”
“Bullshit!” He flails his shoulders. “Untie my fucking hands.”
“I can’t do that.”
“The fuck you can’t. I refuse to die on this ship. Untie my fucking hands, and we can take them out together. I met a guy here. He isn’t from our unit, but I trust him. With his help, we can make it out of here.”
What he’s saying sounds good, and there’s a chance a few feds are playing Sinners on deck as well. If we all worked as a team, we could overpower damn near everyone on board, save for the big Scottish guy. And the big British guy. And his feisty fucking brother.
And Maverick.
Okay, maybe his plan isn’t a plan at all.
“No,” I say.
His eyes widen when he hears no indecision in my voice. “You can’t be fucking serious. Ghost, they’ll kill me. You’ve seen what they do.”
Yes, I have, and I’m not okay with it, but I don’t want Maverick to get caught in the crossfire. If I finish the mission and take Jim peacefully, no one else has to get hurt. Maybe not even Castle.
“Jim said I had a special guest appearing for round four. I think that’s you,” I say. “Once I know what the game is, I can try to find a way to keep you alive. The first round was keelhauling, and the?—”
“Keelhauling? You can’t survive that shit!” He thrashes around again, knocking several rolls of toilet paper from a shelf. I’ve never had or witnessed a panic attack, but this is a pretty textbook freak out. I have to stop him before someone comes to find out why there’s a goddamn velociraptor in the mop closet.
“Shh!” I take a deep breath. “Keep it down. I’ll untie your hands while we talk, but you have to let me tie you up again before we exit the fucking closet. And you have to be quiet, okay?”
He clenches his jaw, but nods. With a scowl, he gives me his back, and I unfasten the rope around his wrists, revealing raw skin beneath. He’s been hard at work, trying to break out of his confines. A lot of good it’s done him.
But as the rope falls to the floor, I notice the band on his wrist. I lick my lips to wet them, but my mouth is a desert. My soul tries to evacuate my body as I stare at that silicone band, but I gather every ounce of strength and keep my composure.
I’m beginning to understand panic attacks a little better now. Because that band is not yellow.
It’s red.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maverick
Eve flops onto her ass, followed by Aven. They drop back on the deck with their arms outstretched as they fight for each breath. I’m just as winded, but I manage to stay upright.
“That could’ve been a touch easier with our fourth,” Aven says. “I dinnae get a break.”
His accent is thicker when he’s tired, making him difficult to understand, but I get the gist. He’s irritated that Frankie wasn’t here to help, and I concur. We were forced to saw through the plank as the Cattle inch-wormed his way toward us, and it’s a race we almost lost. Unlike the other teams, we couldn’t take breaks in pairs. Eve and I just repeatedly switched with each other.