Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,12

six feet. At a guess, I would say six-three. I have no hopes of outrunning or outweighing him, so it looks like I’ll have to outsmart him, and I will.

When he comes to a standstill behind me and begins untying the rope, I can’t believe I’m actually thankful since he’s the reason I’m tied up in the first place. When he frees my arms, I sigh as the relief is incredible. I rub my shoulders, hoping to get the feeling back.

He then unties my legs and lastly, my ankles.

I’m too relieved to be free to even attempt to run because where would I run to anyway? My jelly legs barely hold me up. That shower can’t come soon enough. I turn in the direction of the bathroom, but Saint grabs me by my bicep and leads me toward the stairs.

I dig my heels in. “Where are we going? The shower is back there.” I hook my thumb behind me, but he ignores me and continues to haul me up the stairs. With no other choice, I follow.

The hot sun blasts down around me, and I shield my eyes with my hand as it hurts my sensitive pupils. The Russians are mid bite of their breakfast when they see me behind Saint. It’s clear this wasn’t part of their plans.

They exchange words in Russian, and I am surprised when Saint replies back in their native tongue. I didn’t know he spoke Russian, but I suppose I don’t know a lot of things about him. They eventually cave as it’s clearly not a fight worth having.

I take in my surroundings and see nothing but blue ocean for miles. The scene would be quite pretty if I wasn’t here against my will.

I was right. We are on a mid-sized yacht. Nothing too fancy, but nothing too shabby to alert anyone of the illegal activities on board. Standing out here, I feel my skin begin to fry. I can’t believe they are sitting out here in long sleeves and ski masks. They look ridiculous. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sleep with the masks on.

Saint allows me to take it all in, which surprises me. His mood swings are sure to leave me with whiplash. I peer around, wondering if maybe a shower is located somewhere up here. But there doesn’t seem to be. Just when I’m about to ask, he clarifies just why we’re here.

“Strip.”

My mouth gapes open, and I blink once. “Excuse me?”

“Strip,” he repeats, releasing me.

I stumble backward, his command winding me. “I will not,” I argue, folding my arms around me in protection. The two Russians watch on, our quarrel much more interesting than their food it seems.

“Suit yourself.” He grips my forearm and drags me toward the front of the yacht. I squirm, attempting to break free, but it’s useless. When we get to the edge, he gestures with his chin to the water. “You can just jump in wearing your clothes. See if I care.”

“Jump?” I question, horrified. No way is he implying for me to shower in the ocean. But when he stands rigid, I know that’s exactly what he’s proposing. “You’re fucking insane! I’ll drown.”

He chuckles in response. “There are worse ways to die.” Even though he’s right, what’s wrong with using the shower?

Curse my inability to mask my thoughts, because before I know what he’s doing, he’s taking off one boot, hopping on one leg as he then removes the other. When he begins to unbuckle his belt, I back up, gulping. “What are you doing?” I don’t want to know, but I torture myself anyway.

“Preparing in case you drown.”

Fuck him and his smugness.

When he threads his fingers into the waistband of his pants, clearly about to disrobe, I instantly turn my back, embarrassed. I feel stupid, but I don’t want to see him get naked. I hate the man.

As I look out at the ocean, I wonder if maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. This could be escape attempt number two. I literally have nothing to lose, which is why I shift to the right, hoping the high sail can provide some privacy. But the thought of taking off my dress in front of those two Russian perverts turns my stomach. And with them gone, I only have to outswim one captor instead of three.

Saint comes up behind me, startling me. “We haven’t got all day. You have one minute.”

“I…” I lick my lips, refusing to look at him. “Please make them go