Page 61 of Ship Happens
Castle chokes on air. “What the fuck did you say?”
“I hear you’ve been hiding a little secret of your own, Castle. I don’t know the details yet, but when I figure them out, I’ll bring them to King’s attention. I never even thought about taking your position, but if it’s as empty as your fucking head, I might as well.”
When Frankie finally delivers the heat I expect, I’m overjoyed, but that joy is short-lived. Muffled bumps, bangs, and grunts filter through the door. She might be a federal agent trained in the art of hand-to-hand combat, but she’s also shut in a confined space with a fucking bull. The horns are bound to gore her.
But when I try the door, I realize she isn’t just shut in that space. She’s locked inside.
With no room to gear up for a running start, I ram my shoulder into the door. As I repeatedly beat my body against the unyielding slab of wood, I feel so helpless. I have to get her out of there.
A bug-eyed man emerges from the bathroom further down the hall. He’s a member of the crew, so I can only hope he’s high enough in Jim’s ranks to have a key to this fucking door.
“Little help!” I shout toward him.
He looks to his left and right, then points to his chest. With raised eyebrows, he mouthsMe?, and I want to scream.
“No, the little green man behind you,” I bellow. “Yes, you! Do you have a key to this door?”
The man hurries closer, stopping a few feet from me when he hears the commotion.
“Not the lady with the purple feather,” he says. “Not her.”
“Yes, her. Now help me help her!”
Frankie screams, and that seems to get him into gear. He hurries forward again until he’s at my side.
“On three, we’ll ram the door,” I say. “Ready?”
He nods, then shakes his head. “Wait,onthree? Or after three? Like, one, two,ram? Or one, two?—”
“The fucking first one! One, two?—”
We push into the door with all our might, but it still isn’t enough. We manage to knock the doorknob slightly loose, but that’s about it.
The cannon blasts, adding to the sounds of the struggle happening just out of sight. I squeeze the back of my neck and fight the urge to panic as Frankie’s whimpers intensify. I hope she realizes I’m not up on deck, playing a game as she fights for her life. I’m down here with her, trying to save her. And when I get my hands on this man, there won’t be anything left of him.
The door rattles again, shaking the dangling doorknob, and I have an idea.
“Can you get a hammer?” I ask the bug-eyed man. “Anything metal and heavy, really. A few blows to that doorknob should have us in there in seconds.”
His eyes bulge a bit more. “I don’t know about a hammer, but after Jim found me, part of my skull had to be replaced. Is titanium strong enough?”
The man doesn’t realize what he’s offering. The force it would take to dislodge the doorknob would likely kill him in the process. Despite being who I am and doing what I do, I can’t bring myself to take advantage of his ignorance.
But then he says, “I know I might not survive it, but she was so kind to me. In the bathroom, she?—”
I grip the side of his head and slam it against the doorknob.
“The plate’s on the other side,” he says so matter-of-factly, as if I didn’t just bash his head in. As he stands upright, blood drips into his eye from a large gash, but at least the scar will go well with the dozens littering his face. “I don’t feel much pain, so don’t worry about?—”
My hand takes the other side of his head and rams it onto the doorknob. This time, the metal gives way and crashes to the floor, followed by the man.
There isn’t time to tend to him. I knock the mechanism loose from inside the door, then yank open the useless slab of wood. Castle currently straddles Frankie’s prone form, his hands coiled around her throat. Her nails dig into his wrists, but she’s fighting a losing battle. Her glassy gaze rises to mine, pleading for me to help her.
With a hop step, I slam my shin into Castle’s side, but the brute is immovable. I repeat the action until something cracks, and only once he grips his side and grunts do I know it was his rib cage. Intense pain radiates through my leg, but it was worth it, now that his hands no longer close Frankie’s airway. She gulps oxygen and coughs beneath the lug groaning on top of her. I take the opportunity to land another kick, this time aiming for his head. His skull rocks to the side, and then he crumples against the shelf as Frankie scrambles out from under him.
“You son of a fuckingbitch!” she screams as she rises like a phoenix. I can practically see the tendrils of smoke curling from her ears. When she raises her foot and stomps her boot heel on his crotch, I damn near get a boner. “You’re a sick piece of shit, and I hope they blow out your asshole in prison!”
He won’t make it to prison. When I see the red finger marks on Frankie’s neck, coupled with her swollen lower lip and puffy right eye, rage overcomes my senses.
