Page 16 of All The Way Under

CHAPTER EIGHT

brody

I’ve lost count of how many times she’s tripped me up today.

Saylor just touched my nose, and my whole body broke out in an electric shock. From a fucking boop on the nose. The crackling attraction between us is undeniable and visible to anyone.

She’s looking at me now like she wants to devour me whole. I know, because I’ve been trying to hide that same look all day. I saw her in her black bra and panties, soaking wet, and wanted to take her right there—the guards standing on the shore be damned.

Herein lies my unexpected new set of problems. How to stop myself from falling for a woman, whom I am likely to be spending every waking moment with, and still keep a pulse on my job and the end goal.

“This isn’t the real world, though. We’re trapped without options.”

She shakes her head, blue eyes staring into my soul.

“I would still say yes,” she deadpans, face expressionless. “Are you saying you want me here, but not in the real world?”

Leaning to the side, I peek over her shoulder to where the guards are. They aren’t watching us closely, and there’s no way they know what we’re talking about. It still makes me uneasy.

I say her name once, hoping to break the spell, but it does the opposite.

“Look around. This is not the place for our entertaining conversations.”

I cough to cover a laugh. There have been very few times in my life when I’ve dealt with a woman coming onto me. Mostly, this happens at a bar, and it’s easy enough to make a joke, laugh, and walk away because I’m not interested or attracted.

I am living with Saylor. Sharing everything with her for an undetermined amount of time. What would happen if I gave in to my desires? How sideways would this go if we fuck, fight, and botch this? I wouldn’t be able to convince her to do anything if she’s pissed at me tinged with scorn.

Saylor leans toward me across the table, her breathing speeding. Fuck. This wasn’t in any of the plans. Is this what my commander thinks I need? This sort of nuanced, illogical problem I’m supposed to fix or succumb to?

“I was asking a yes or no question,” she says, breathing heavily. “Yes, or no? You and me, in the real world?”

I’m about to say yes when the scene behind her piques my interest.

Ravelo and Nery are looming several tables over, speaking to two men I’ve not seen yet. They have to be the other hostages.

“We aren’t in the real world,” I hiss. “The other hostages are behind you. You need to focus on our surroundings, Saylor.”

Something about me saying her name snaps her out of the whatever lust haze she was in.

“Two men, and they’re speaking English. We need to talk to them.” I’m not sure why they’re here now, but this may be our only chance to figure out who they are.

Saylor looks over her shoulder, then spins back to me.

“You have to talk to them. They like and trust you,” she says, her demeanor changing on a beat. “Try to get their attention.”

“That’s something you can do,” I reply, winking, now that I’m safe from her sexual desires.

She smiles and shakes her head subtly. Saylor turns when the guards leave and signals for them to come over.

They look to be in their twenties or thirties, and they’ve been through it.

Their clothes are worn, and their skin is mottled with dirt.

It’s easy to tell they haven’t been afforded the same luxuries we have.

The one on the right looks terrified, but he stands and approaches our table, sliding in next to Saylor.

“You have to help us. We’ve been here for months. They said we aren’t worth much, and they may kill us if they can’t get anything for ransom.”

I swallow hard, deciphering how this new complication affects my initial plan. Surely the pirates are just telling them they’re going to kill them. They’re trying to get a higher ransom from the government.

“Please help us,” he says, low voice shaking.

“I’m Turner, and that’s my younger brother, Collin.

We don’t have family, and I think they picked us up by accident, thinking we were someone else.

Rich people of value or something. We’re nobodies, and I just need to get my brother out of here. Please.”

Turner’s voice turns to a whisper on the last plea. When his face lands on mine, I see a brief flicker of recognition, and it sends a trill of warning down my spine. I try to place him, but can’t.

Saylor palms her chest.

“We are also being held in the cage across the way. Are you guys in the one on the other side? I’m Saylor, and this is—” Saylor says, laying a hand on my arm.

I cut her off before she could say my name. “What skills do you have?”

“I’m a math teacher,” he says. “A high school math teacher. My brother is a real estate agent, and he’s good at…video games.”

I exhale a breath, showing my irritation. I don’t have much time. “How well can you lie?”

Turner looks around erratically, eyes wild. Not well, I think to myself before he replies. “I-I don’t know,” he stutters. “To save our lives, I can.”

“You know woodworking and carpentry,” I say, lowering my voice to a growl. “We will need your help soon.”

Turner looks at his brother, then turns back to Saylor, then me, nodding. His gaze finds mine.

“I know you,” he says. “Where do I know you from?”

From my periphery, I can see Saylor narrow her eyes at him and then me.

“You’ve been caged for a long time. We’re just the first Americans you’ve seen. We don’t know each other, but we will soon if you do what I say.”

I don’t know him. That’s for sure. What are the odds that he knows me from back home? From college? He teaches math, so he must hold a college degree. From the Naval Academy, though? He looks the same age as me, but I’m also weathered from a rough and tumble life.

“Tell your brother to man up if you want to live.”

He’s across the room, shaking without his big brother by his side. Clearing my throat, I let my eyes dart to the guards returning, the bamboo door making a swishing noise as they enter.

“You saw how the stairs needed to be fixed, and you know woodworking. They let us out because they found out we have skills they don’t. Specialize in something. We’ll be fixing the stairs sometime this week, and we will need help. Tell them that.”

As soon as Nery sees Turner at our table, he blows a dart, hitting him in the bicep. Saylor screams. Not her blood-curdling, annoying screech, but an actual scream because she’s terrified, and that dart missed her by mere centimeters.

Turner falls to the ground seconds later. His brother, Collin, runs over, tears streaming down his red, dirty face.

“You aren’t allowed to communicate.” Nery hisses.

Collin puts his hands up, making goal posts with his arms.

“We didn’t know. Please, we didn’t know. Don’t dart me,” he pleads. “I’ll carry him back. Don’t hurt him more.”

His words shake because his body is trembling so hard. They have broken them down.

Nery prepares another dart.

Even if I shouldn’t care, I step in.

“I called the brother to talk to me,” I say in their language.

“I overheard them speaking about the stairs here. He has woodworking skills and can help us with our project tomorrow,” I explain, saying tomorrow, even though they haven’t said when to put a time frame on the order. “He will be helpful to us.”

Saylor grabs my wrist, gaze wide and pleading. She stays silent, willing me to read her face.

“Both of these brothers are useful. He gardens,” I say, nodding at the shivering shit kneeling on the ground. Him gardening sounds like a lie they’d believe. “He said he noticed a blight on the arabica beans. He wanted to know if we saw it.”

The lies keep coming because Saylor is looking at me like I’m a superhero who can solve the world’s problems. Why does letting her down feel like a mortal sin?

“Yes,” Collin says, barely believable.

Great, they both suck at lying. Good in most cases, bad when it comes to saving their own life.

“Yes. That is correct.”

I close my eyes because I’m getting secondhand embarrassment from this show.

Nery orders Collin to carry his brother back, and I make eye contact with the younger brother. He nods at me. This is the charade he needs to play.

Saylor stands from the table, shaking herself, planting one hand on the bamboo surface to steady herself.

“They are unpredictable,” she says, hushed, as Ravelo walks us out of the room.

Collin is struggling with Turner over his shoulder, but I don’t dare help. I need to protect Saylor. She needs to be the focus.

“They weren’t supposed to hurt us.”

They won’t hurt her. She’s worth too much, but a dose of fear is good to keep her in line. She looks up at me, and tears pool in her big blue eyes.

“Thank you for standing up for them. You didn’t have to because I know you don’t care.”

I care. I do. In my own fucked-up way.

“We can use them as tools,” I say instead.

She huffs, standing closer to me now than she ever has as we walk toward our cage.

“Can I use the bathroom over there before we go in?” Saylor’s question is laced sweetly as she points to the shack we can see from our cage.

Ravelo seems to think about it for a moment or two and agrees.

Since we’re over here anyway, he allows me to go as well.

From this new angle, I can see where the other hostages are being held.

From the second floor of this stilted structure, they have a bird’s-eye view of both our cage and theirs.

They can also communicate with anyone in the other stilted structure we eat at.

The lineup of their buildings is tactical in nature.

He locks the door behind us when we’re back in our cage, and Saylor throws herself onto the floor.

“Could this really go on for months?”

“It’s how they drive a higher ransom,” I explain, then realize this is information a car mechanic probably wouldn’t have.

I’m being too honest with her, and I’m slipping up.

“That’s what I read before my sail, anyway.”

She nods but also sobs. Saylor sits up.