Page 3 of Tempting Triton
“I should’ve known better. Who else drives a beat-up old caravan, if not for creeps who go around kidnapping women?” she spits out bitterly.
My muscles tense, thinking of the camper van parked outside the cabin. I also thought they were tourists who had gotten lost.
“Yeah, that’s a no-brainer, sorry. Are you feeling any better? I heard you throwing up down there.” I nod towards where she had woken up.
“A little. My head won’t stop swaying, though. Whatever they knocked me out with has really messed me up.”
“I thought it was just me, but I’ve been awake for a while now, so I think the drug has worn off. My head hasn’t stoppedswaying either.”
“Huh.” Morgan scrunches her eyes shut for a moment before they spring back open with surprise. “We’re rocking.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” I roll my eyes. Maybe that fall gave her a concussion or something.
“No, not swaying. Rocking. This, whatever this is”—she gestures around at our enclosure—“is rocking. The room is rocking!”
“Wha—” I frown, confused.
Morgan tries to get her feet beneath her while her hands are bound and fails, falling headfirst into my lap.
“Do you mind?” I grumble, exasperated.
“Sorry,” she grunts, her voice muffled in my leg as she uses me for leverage to stand up and tentatively walk over to where light filters through one of the openings across from us.
Reaching up on her toes, she peers through the hole before flinching back, the bright light burning her retina after being in the shadows for who knows how long. Morgan tries again, silence encompassing us for a moment before she lets out a sharp gasp.
“We’re in a shipping container.” Her voice is a whisper, and I almost think I’ve misheard her.
“You can’t be serious?” I choke out.
She turns to face me, eyes wide, and nods. I huff, maneuvering my aching body to stand as best I can with my hands bound, determined to see for myself. I shuffle over to another hole in the wall and peer out with my eyelid half-open, careful not to make the same mistake as Morgan. The bright white light fades into blues and grays as far as my eye can see. My saliva feels thick in my throat, fear gripping the edges of my thoughts. Fuck.
“The only reason we’d be in a shipping container is if—”
“We’re on a ship.” I cut her off mid-sentence, my voice wavering. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. I peer back out through the hole, dark clouds gathering on the horizon at what seems like an unnaturally rapid pace.
“No, no, no, no. This is not good. I mean, this whole thing is not good, but this is really not good.” Panic laces Morgan’s words. “How are we supposed to be rescued if we’re in the middle of the freaking ocean?!” she screeches, and someone stirs, groaning in the shadows.
“I wouldn’t worry about that so much as this storm rolling in. The sky looks pretty nasty out there. It’s about to get rough.” The dark clouds roll in faster than I ever thought was possible, thunder flashing before cracksof lightning hit the ocean in blinding forks. The rapid change in air pressure stirs up the ocean around us, causing the ship to rock all the more violently.
Morgan groans, sliding onto her ass, and bangs her head against the metal wall in frustration. Within minutes, the rain thunders violently on the steel roof, rousing some of the other captives, the tossing causing them to empty their stomachs on the container floor. The smell of bile filters around us and burns my nose. I breathe through my mouth, trying my best not to gag as I slide back down the wall. Sitting seems like a good idea right now.
“You got someone back home who’ll notice you’re gone?” Morgan asks over the sounds of thunder and someone crying softly on the other side of the container.
“My coach.” I think about Brett. He’s all I have left. “No one else. Things weren’t really great between us when I was taken, either. I’d mentioned I was thinking about quitting swimming. He didn’t take it too well. He’ll probably think I’ve run off or something… I-I don’t know if he’d look all that hard for me, you know? Not like family would, or a partner.”
I don’t know if I really believe that. Once Brett realizes I haven’t just run off, he’ll be worried sick. But by then, it’ll be much too late. Morgan nods in understanding, and I can’t help but wonder how this woman, who looks like she’d never harm a fly, could possibly have no one who cares enough to notice she’s missing.
Our steel prison pitches back and forth with the storm, the ocean seeming intent on battering the ship with tremendous force. I shift a little, making myself as comfortable as possible, settling in to ride out this wild weather. Suddenly, a violent grinding rips through the air. My body locks up; tense silence falls over us. We continue to rock back and forth like we’re a bunch of kids on a seesaw, but way less fun. Another screech, like the sharp grinding of metal on metal. We shift suddenly. I grunt as Morgan is shunted forward into me.
“We really have to stop meeting like this,” I joke, trying to keep the situation light, but my voice wobbles. I’m trying desperately not to let the ‘what-ifs’ sink their claws in and drive me to panic. Morgan hefts herself off me when another, much louder screech reverberates through the container, sounding like the moan of a dying beast. We pitch to the side again, but this time, we don’t stop.
A whoosh of air escapes me as Morgan is thrown into me once more, the force of gravity preventing her from righting herself. Someone slides past us, still unconscious, and then weightlessness has my stomach sitting in my throat as the container tips past the point of no return. Screams bounce off the steel around me as we’re thrown around the container.
A thud reverberates through the walls. Screams cut off as we end up in a pile on top of one another, limbs tangled and bruised. I grunt, smacking my head against the steel, tasting blood as my teeth clamp down on my tongue. I’m pinned in place, stuck on a ride I desperately want to get off. My vision blurs. I must’ve hit just the right, or wrong, spot. I don’t have time to freak out as the tell-tale signs of a concussion sink in. I know I shouldn’t close my eyes, but I just can’t stop—
3
Elena
