“Loaded and awaiting your orders.”
Lucas nodded, but Niall wasn’t finished with his tirade. “Mate, if I wanted a bloody lifeboat, I would have bought one myself!”
“The ship is sound and Captain Matthews will take good care of your cargo. And if you want my help getting your merchandise into the country, you’ll use my ship.” He grinned broadly at Niall. “Trust me, she grows on you.”
The Australian didn’t seem at all convinced, but Lucas obviously didn’t care. “And where is the good doctor?” he asked.
Niall grunted. “He’s taking a different route to our destination. We’ll be riding with the cargo.”
From the satisfied grin on the other man’s face, I got a sick feeling there was more to it than that, but Lucas’ smile never wavered. “Ah. Well gentlemen, let’s make sure everything is to your satisfaction then we can leave and…”
“Oh no, we got other business to discuss.” Niall pointed at me. “She’s coming with us.”
My heart stopped, but Lucas gave a light laugh. “I’m afraid the girl stays with me,” he said, taking my arm, but stopped when the men at Niall’s back pulled out their guns.
“You didn’t tell me this little sheila belongs to your brother. Tell me, how much do you think he’d pay to get her back safely?”
I swallowed, fear causing my stomach to heave and roil. The guns weren’t pointing at us, yet, but the threat was obvious. Lucas’ smile never left his face, but it took on a flat note as he studied Niall and his thugs. “Quite a bit, I’d imagine.” Lucas clapped his hands. The sudden sound caused two of the goons to raise their weapons. “Well then, Captain,” he said to the man still standing next to him, “it seems like we’ll be having a few guests. Make sure extra accommodations are prepared.”
“Yes sir.”
“Bloody right.” Grinning at having won this argument, Niall stepped forward and reached for my arm. “You’re coming with me.”
I cringed back, prepared to fight tooth and nail, but Lucas stepped between us. He moved so quickly I didn’t even see him pull the gun until it was already under Niall’s chin. The big Australian jerked to a stop, rage and sudden fear making his face go florid as he glared at Lucas.
“Ms. Delacourt stays with me.” There was nothing jovial about Lucas now. He leaned in close to the other man’s face. “My ship, my rules. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Jackson?”
Niall looked like he was sucking on a lemon. Behind him, his men had their guns trained on Lucas and me. I prayed the gunrunner knew what he was doing.
“They’ll kill you and the girl,” Niall hissed, then grunted as Lucas pushed the gun harder against the tender flesh of his chin.
“Perhaps.” Lucas smiled, a hint of amusement in his tone. “But you’ll still be dead.”
The two men glared at one another, neither willing to back down. When Lucas manually cocked the weapon the fire died in Niall’s eyes. “Guns down,” he called, and his men lowered their weapons. The blond man stepped back and Lucas lowered the weapon, although it remained trained on the other man. “You’ll pay for that.”
“I have many things to pay for,” Lucas said. “This ranks low on my list.” Putting his hand again on my elbow, he steered me away and toward a nearby gangplank. When I struggled against his grip, he didn’t waver, forcing me up the narrow pathway to the ship.
“You promised me I could go,” I hissed, trying unsuccessfully to wrench my arm free.
“Yes I did.” Lucas’ lips were pressed in a grim line as he pulled me along behind him down the side of the ship. Much of it looked like a walking tetanus trap, despite obvious attempts at whitewashing and other paint jobs. The boat dipped and swayed, rocking in the turbulent winter waters. As we rounded the main part of the ship, a cabin door loomed into the darkness. “Down here, but watch your step.”
Water dripped from somewhere inside, but the stairway led into a cavernous opening within the bowels of the ship. Men were hard at work moving crates around on the bottom floor. Stairs and metal gangways wound around the open area, leading to different levels. Our staircase was long, running all the way to the cargo hold below. Lucas let me down a single flight then turned me onto a landing about halfway down. We passed several doors on the left before Lucas pushed one open, gesturing me inside.
The room was in much better condition than the rest of the ship. While small, it still had a queen size bed, a couple pieces of furniture and, to my relief, its own bathroom. “Your home sweet home for the next few days,” Lucas said as I examined the room. He ran a hand through his hair, the only indication that he was agitated. Like his brother, his face was hard to read, for once lacking its normal cocky grin. “There’s tablets in the bathroom cupboards if you get seasick. Keep the doors locked to everybody but myself, and you’ll be safe here.”
“Oh, you promise?” I snapped sarcastically. “Like how you promised I could go home after this?”
He conceded my point with a tip of his head. “Touché.”
“Lucas?” I called as he was closing the door. He paused and looked at me. “Is this what happened to Anya?”
“No. She thought the danger was romantic.” He shook his head and sighed. “And I, great fool that I was, let her come with me.”
I digested that as he shut the door, then hurried to lock it behind him. Collapsing backwards onto the hard mattress, I grabbed a pillow from above my head and covered my face. Oh, what a mess my life had become! Only a month ago, I was an office temp barely managing to get by living in the city. How on earth did I manage to get aboard a gunrunner’s boat?
I was still lying there several minutes later, staring at the wood ceiling, when I felt the jolt of the ship taking off. Closing my eyes, I turned my head into the pillows, wishing fervently my life wasn’t such a disaster.
Now that we were moving and away from the shore, the rocking surf grew more pronounced. My family had never been the kind to take boat tours, so I hadn’t developed much in the way of a sea stomach. I was okay so far, but decided it was better safe than sorry and headed to the bathroom to chew a tablet.
Unlike my room in the loft, this one had obviously never seen a woman’s touch. Spartan and threadbare, almost everything in the room was either bolted down or braced, which made sense for a seafaring vessel. Even the shelf nearby had a tall lip to keep the books from flying free, and I peeked through the titles. All of them were weathered and beaten, as if they’d seen extensive use. Some I expected, such as Sun Tzu’s “Art of War” and Machiavelli’s “The Prince.” Others weren’t what I imagined to find in Lucas’ room, such as Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Interesting selection, I thought, thumbing through the various titles, and then I abandoned that area to look around some more.