Play Along

by T L Swan

  I go over the night before I got off the boat. It was all such a blur. I thought he went to Chelsea and I fought with him. Then he had me checked out and I told him about my past. I didn’t even know I was getting off the boat until an hour before I actually did, and then he was in the room all morning.

  A sickening thought comes to me.

  I didn’t hide the guns that I had hidden under the bed.

  I should have thrown them overboard. In annoyance, I glance out the window of the car.

  Oh my God.

  They are going to know that I was in the shipping containers. They are going to know I have the diamonds.

  You fucking idiot!

  I close my eyes as my blood starts to pump heavily through my bloodstream.

  Fuck!

  For the rest of the cab ride, I feel sick. Sick with worry over my stupid oversight.

  Stace will blame Stucco, I know he will. I hope he kills him when they fight.

  Hang on a minute…

  Horror dawns.

  I didn’t tell Stace that Stucco is planning on killing him. I forgot all about hearing that conversation outside the container. Things were so hectic and then the fight and then…

  My hands go to my hair in a panic. They were going to call for a maintenance call in the middle of the night.

  I get a vision of Stace walking the ship in the dead of night alone.

  And those fuckers…

  Oh my God. I put my head into my hands.

  What do I do?

  Nothing. You’ve got away with it. Don’t do anything stupid.

  This is drug money, fucking take it.

  I feel sick. They will kill him.

  They will kill him and throw him overboard and then blame him for the diamonds.

  He will get the blame for something he never did

  I push my thumbs into my eyes as I think.

  No, no no, this can’t be happening. Stop thinking about it. Get on a plane and go to Europe now. The diamonds are there for twenty-four months if I want. For half an hour, I sit in the back of the cab with my mind in overdrive until finally the driver turns to me over the seat, breaking my thoughts. “We are here, Miss.”

  I glance in at the hotel and after a moment I make the stupidest decision I know I have ever made.

  “Can you wait here for a minute, please, while I run in and get my things? I need another ride.”

  “Where you want to go to, Miss?”

  I glance at the clock on his dashboard. I don’t even know if I have time to make it, but damn it I have to try or I will never forgive myself.

  “The shipping dock.”

  * * *

  I lie on the bed in silence. It’s 8pm and Stace hasn’t come back from his day’s work. I made the ship and boarded, unnoticed.

  We have been sailing for two hours and I have been in the cabin waiting for him to come home.

  Part of me knows that I didn’t want him to know I was on board until it was too late because I’m scared he wouldn’t want me here.

  Part of me knows I will a die a little if he doesn’t.

  I’m not here for him, anyway. I’m here as a humanitarian, I remind myself. I may be messed up, but I can’t live my life with his murder on my conscience. What kind of a human being would I be if I knowingly let him die? It should be no big deal that I’m here, anyway. It’s only two weeks until we get to Puerto Rico and then I will have time to dispose of the guns and warn Stace about the planned attack.

  It was a smart decision to come back. I’m just covering my tracks, that’s all.

  * * *

  I’m pacing. It’s 10pm and Stace hasn’t come back to the room.

  What if he didn’t even get on the boat… ship, or whatever the fuck it is.

  What if he went back for me and I put myself on here?

  My hands run through my hair in a panic.

  Oh God, what the hell have I done?

  For over an hour I pace back and forth with my heart beating hard.

  He’s not on the ship.

  I know he’s not on the ship. He would have come back to change for dinner for sure.

  I start to feel sick about my decision. Nobody knows I am on here and he couldn’t find me in Bogota even if he was trying. If they know I am on here alone, it’s going to be open slaughter. But then… maybe not now that they know me. I know Angela and her boys would protect me.

  Calm down, calm down. I walk into the bathroom and stare at the girl staring back at me. “What the hell have you fucking done?” I ask my reflection.

  “I don’t know,” I answer.

  “You idiot,” I mouth.

  More importantly, what am I going to do now?

  The key sounds in the door and I put my hands over my heart in relief.

  He’s here. Thank God, he’s here.

  I hear the keys put down on the drawers and I step into the room, his back is to me.

  “Hello.”

  He turns and his face drops. “Rosh?”

  I smile hopefully. “It seems I missed the nautical life.”

  His face falls. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He snarls.

  “What?” I whisper, shocked by his venom.

  “You can’t be on here! I docked the boat to get you to safety and you fucking came back?” He’s angry, furious, in fact.

  “I missed you, too,” I whisper through my hurt.

  He shakes his head. “This ship is about to become a fucking nightmare and I can’t protect you. I got you off this boat for that reason.” He growls.

  “I came to protect you,” I whisper.

  “What?” he screams. “I don’t need fucking protecting.”

  “Y-yes, you do,” I stammer, trying to calm him down. “I forgot to tell you that I overheard Stucco planning with someone else to murder you.”

  “What?” His face screws up as if not believing my story.

  “It was the night that you went to Chelsea and I was so upset.”

  “I didn’t go to fucking Chelsea,” he snaps. “Stop going on about Chelsea. You are pissing me off with it.”

  “They are going to call a maintenance call in the middle of the night and push you overboard.”

  He frowns.

  “And I remembered that I didn’t tell you and I was freaking out.” I pick up his hand and hold it in mine. “I had to warn you and coming back onto the ship was my only choice. I didn’t have your number to call,” I whisper.

  “I don’t need your protection. I can handle myself.” He sighs and I can see a glimmer of forgiveness.

  “I know you can.” I pause and try to sweeten the deal. “I wanted an excuse to see you.” My eyes search his.

  He stares at me as the last words I said roll around in his brain.

  “You wanted an excuse to see me?” He narrows his eyes. “I thought I was just the guy who kidnapped you?”

  I smile softly as I gently cup his face in my hand. “Maybe not. Maybe you’re more.”

  He moves close and I know I may be forgiven. “How much more?” he whispers against my lips.

  I smile up at him. “Stop asking stupid questions and thank me.”

  He roughly grabs my behind and kisses me, and I laugh into his lips.

  “Stop doing stupid things.” He growls.

  “I can’t, it comes naturally,” I reply.

  He throws me onto the bed and I bounce with a laugh.

  “So, you are here by choice now?” he asks darkly as he slowly undoes his belt from his pants.

  Desire runs through my blood and I nod. “Aha.”

  “Here for me.” He pauses and raises his brow. “By choice?”

  “Yes,” I breathe as I watch his pants slowly slide down his legs.

  “So, I can legally do whatever I want to do to you now.” He purrs sexily.

  Shivers run down my spine. “Yes,” I whisper in anticipation. “What do you want?”

  His dark eyes hold mine. “Fucking everything.”

  *
* *

  The pager wakes us from our sleep. I glance at the clock to see it’s 4am in the morning. Stace rolls over and looks at the clock. I know he’s thinking the same thing as me.

  He gets up and reads the message on his pager.

  I sit up. “What does it say?”

  He doesn’t answer and goes to the bathroom, flicking the light on. “What does it say?” I call after him.

  “There is a problem in the engine room,” he replies dryly.

  Oh no, I jump out of bed. “It’s a trap. This is it. I’m telling you, it’s a trap. This… this is what I heard them talking about,” I stammer.

  “It could also be a problem in the engine room,” he replies.

  “Don’t go. You can’t go.”

  He zips up his pants and pulls his shirt around his shoulders. “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m coming with you,” I snap as I try to find some clothes.

  “You are not fucking coming with me. What are you going to do?”

  I put my hands on my naked hips in an outrage. “I can fight, you know.”

  He smirks and kisses me quickly on the lips. “I can fight better. Go to bed. I will be home soon.” And with that he leaves the room.

  Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I grab some clothes from the drawer and pull them on, and then I get down on the floor and slide my rifle out and attach the silencer.

  I click it up to ready the ammunition.

  I warned that fucker not to mess with him.

  I open the cabin door and peer out into the darkened hallway.

  Game on.

  14

  I creep up the hall in the darkness until I get to the staircase, then l look back down from where I came from, relieved there’s still nobody around. I glance at the staircase going up, and although it feels like the safer option, I know that side of the ship is the enemy at the moment. If you go overboard, you’re toast. The thought of the cold, hard maintenance level is freaking me out, but I head down anyway with my gun gripped tightly in my hand. I tiptoe down the stairs that are lit only by the exit sign. The sound of the engine is loud and obnoxious. My heart is beating so fast and I have no idea what I am going to be faced with when I get to the bottom. Fuck’s sake, why did I let him come back here to this hell ship?

  I arrive on the bottom step and slowly peer around the corner to see there’s nobody around. The engine is loud and whirring. With my gun in my hand, I walk farther into the room.

  What if he is already dead?

  No, the call was only moments ago.

  I hear someone coming down the stairs from where I just came from and I duck into a darkened hallway.

  Shit. Who is that?

  I stand flattened against the wall as I listen, and then I see Stucco walk past. Shit, it is really true.

  This is it.

  My heart begins to hammer and I see him stuff something in his back pocket.

  Was that a knife? I frown. It wasn’t big enough to be a gun. I peer around the darkened corner and he calls out, “Mac, you here?”

  I listen and I know that Stace is down here doing the exact same thing as me. Flattened against a wall somewhere listening to the fucker. I wonder how fast his heart is beating?

  “Mac!” He calls again.

  “What’s the problem?” Stace eventually replies as he appears around the back corner.

  “The gasket in the rotator is gone.”

  Stace’s knowing eyes hold his.

  The tension between them is thick.

  “No, they aren’t. That’s a blatant lie,” Stace replies calmly.

  “But…”

  “There are no buts. I just fucking checked them.” He sneers.

  Stucco stares him down.

  “A little birdie told me you plan on knocking me off?” Stace smiles sarcastically. “Good luck. I’m waiting pretty boy.”

  “Fuck you,” Stucco hisses.

  “I’m sick and tired of your fucking shit. You got something to say or do.” He pushes Stucco in the chest as a silent dare. “Do it now.”

  Oh shit.

  Stucco runs at him and Stace punches him hard in the face, but Stucco comes back and connects a hit to his jaw and Stace staggers back.

  Oh no. What do I do? I grip the gun. What the hell do I do?

  Stace runs at him and tackles him to the floor and then he is on him and they struggle for a while rolling around. Over and over they roll and Stace gets the upper hand and smashes him hard in the face repeatedly.

  I step back to my hiding place around the corner. Holy fucking shit.

  “What are you doing?” Mac screams in his face. I call him Mac because that’s who he is at the moment. There isn’t a trace of my beautiful Stace here.

  He slams his head on the concrete. “What do you fucking want?” he screams again.

  Stucco struggles and tries to punch up at him, but he doesn’t stand a chance against Mac’s strength.

  As if losing control, he slams him continually until Stucco is out cold.

  I stay hidden, disturbed by what I have just witnessed, and yet sickly proud.

  He was right. He didn’t need me at all.

  I watch as Stace rolls him over and checks his pocket and pulls out a syringe filled with something. He eyes it suspiciously.

  I hear someone coming down the steps. Oh no. I flatten up against the wall in the darkness.

  “What’s going on?” I hear a male voice ask. I peer around the corner to see one of Stace’s colleagues from the control tower.

  “This fuckwit just jumped me and I found this on him.” Stace holds the syringe up and the guy takes it from him

  Oh no, don’t trust him. Don’t trust him. Don’t give him the syringe.

  “Fucking idiot.” He sighs. “We will put him in the lockup and deal with him tomorrow,” he replies dryly.

  They grab an arm each and pick him up and half carry and half drag him up the stairs, no doubt to the lock up in the control tower.

  I lean back against the wall and let out a deep breath. That was close.

  * * *

  An hour later I lie in the darkened room and I wonder who I am sleeping with.

  He was cold and calculating tonight.

  No remorse, no empathy.

  No fear.

  He smashed Stucco’s head on the floor until he was unconscious, I know how Stace’s story started out, but how does it end?

  My mother told me that my father started out with petty crimes, and look what a monster he turned into. Is this how she felt about him when they first met? Did she know he was into some bad shit, but didn’t care anyway? Was she blinded by the percentage that was good and thought that he was going to leave this life behind? But then, what was Stace supposed to do? It was attack or get attacked and even I was prepared to shoot Stucco dead.

  Maybe it’s me.

  Maybe I am the one who is fucked up.

  I don’t even know anymore.

  My thoughts are interrupted by him coming back to the cabin. He walks into the bathroom and gets into the shower, not saying anything. Does he honestly think I’m asleep?

  Ten minutes later he gets into bed beside me.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he replies quietly.

  I frown into the darkness.

  “Was Stucco there?”

  “Nope.”

  Why is he lying?

  We stay silent as my mind begins to spin.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He rolls over and takes me in his arms. “I am now that I am next to you.” He kisses my shoulder gently.

  A lie and a truth in the same sentence. My pleasure and my pain.

  * * *

  “Remember that time in Mexico when the border control had to be bribed?” one man says and the table all laugh out loud.

  We are at dinner and the men are all swapping Vikinos stories. He arrives tomorrow and the ship has been in overdrive to prepare. Apparently this is the first time he has been on
the ship in over eight months and he is flying in for the day to check out operations. From what I can tell, Stace is the only one who knows him personally. The other men just don’t know how personally.

  I have questions myself.

  When he said he went on to work for him, was that as one of his hit men or have I just watched too many movies?

  The way he lied to me about fighting Stucco the other night has only planted the seed of doubt in my mind. Was he telling me the truth about his past or what he wishes were the truth? Has he really been innocently blindsided into this life, or is he a lifelong criminal, as I first thought?

  I don’t know what’s going on with him this week, but he is getting more and more agitated at Vikinos’s impending arrival. He must have told me a thousand times that I am not allowed out of the cabin while Vikinos is on the ship. He even sat me down this afternoon and told me that if he leaves the ship suddenly, I am to stay with Angela and the boys until we get to dock and they will keep me safe.

  Is he thinking he is going to leave with Vikinos?

  I’m confused, but I’m not bothering asking questions because they will be met with lies. It was only a white lie, I keep telling myself, and he was probably trying to stop me from worrying about him.

  But a white lie is a black lie to me. They all hurt the same.

  I am brought back to the moment with the conversation going on around me.

  “Oh, and he hates cops,” one guy chips in.

  “Yeah,” someone else says. “Remember that warehouse he had?”

  “The Pig Fryer, they call it,” says another.

  The men all erupt into laughter and Stace drops his head and clenches his jaw in anger.

  I frown as I watch him. He is visibly rattled by this conversation.

  Why?

  “Why do they call it The Pig Fryer?” I ask. I want to know why it is affecting him so much.

  “He ties up cops and tortures them to death. Electrocutes the fuckers. Cooks the fucking pork.”

  The men all burst out laughing and Stace drinks his beer and stares at the floor with a murderous look on his face.

  The floor sways beneath me as I join all the puzzle pieces together.

  Oh my God.

  Stace’s brother. Vikinos killed Stace’s brother.