Swallow it Down - Addison Cain Page 0,42

Eugenia scowled. “Assuming you abscond me to Level 9, I wouldn’t even know what he did or with whom up here. Why even ask me? He could be fucking someone right now, and I’d never know.”

“Because you have to be the one to make him do it. The captain wants to keep you in this room, and that… is a dangerous idea.”

Objectively, the concept was fascinating—torturing him by making him fuck the others. But subjectively… “If I really loved him, my answer would be no.”

Joan smiled. “I had expected your first objection would be germs.”

“Then you should have considered that it would be easier for me to escape from an area of the ship I know than the heavily guarded family quarters. I don’t give a shit if he fucks every last hole on this ship. I just want off the boat.”

The question hung between them, Joan all-business. “And what if I offered you that?”

“I thought you said I’d die out there.”

“You will. And that will be on you. A whole lot more people will die if there is unrest. So, even though I like you, I’ll help you commit suicide.”

Joan was a coward who hid on a whore ship and assisted in unspeakable acts against women’s personal freedoms. What the fuck did she know about survival? Vodka and goddamn strawberries….

Eugenia would seek out her future just fine. “Swear it to me. You swear to me that if I play your game—”

“I’ll get you off the boat.”

Progress was made, the knots in Eugenia’s belly loosening. “If I find out you lied, I’ll kill you. We both know I will.”

Smiling, Joan held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

The shake was firm; it was promising. “Pleasure doing business with you, Joan.”

Chapter Fourteen

“You know this is a completely ludicrous idea!” Joan was right—the captain really was out of his gourd. Eugenia gawking at the single table set on a private deck, with candlelight and dinner waiting. “If anyone saw—”

“Who’s going to tell them?” As if courting danger was nothing but a taste of fun, the captain pulled out her chair. “Sit. It gets a shade cooler on this side of the ship with no rock face to warm it.”

All this said as he wrapped her in a blanket. Because, yes, it was cold.

And the candles were flickering, and the food… it smelled a whole lot better than the slop she ate day in and day out. Usually, Eugenia only got to watch other people eat like this, unless she conned one of the crew into giving her a bite for free.

After taking the chair across from her, he nodded at the food. “Go ahead and eat.”

But it felt… completely against the rules she’d adjusted to. Rules that had grown comforting in their familiarity. “I’m not sure I’m hungry.”

“Indulge me.” His grin grew, roguish and self-possessed. “Or are you going to keep shaking in your boots?”

Brow cocked, she gave him a glare and picked up the fork. And knife.

The man was pretty damn sure of himself to give her a knife. And she couldn’t help but laugh, looking down at the serrated edge and the polished glean of stainless steel. Using it to cut flaking fish that had no need for a knife… felt foreign. But she did, preparing a forkful covered in some kind of herb sauce.

And took a bite.

Understanding what he was saying loud and clear.

He wasn’t afraid of her temper. Or that she’d tried to kill a man the day before. Or that even in that moment she watched candlelight play off the blade and considered if she could stab him before he might stop her.

Distracted by such thoughts, Eugenia muttered, “Who’s going to shoot you in the back of the head, I wonder?”

“Thinking of Neil?” Such manners, such suave smiles. Where was the lazy cowboy, and who was this stranger?

“He got what he wanted. You said you’d never seen him happier. And then that was the end of him.” This person was a stranger. One she looked dead in the eyes. “No one gets to be happy in this world, on this ship… not even you, I think.”

Daring to lean closer, to put his fingers on hers, the captain said, “I’m happy right now.”

“And I have a knife in my hand.” And his wrist was right there. She was looking right at it.

“One I hope you’ll use before your dinner gets cold.”

How he could pour it on thick, knowing just how low to drop that southern drawl to make her