I smirk. I like that she doesn’t trust Chelsea, either. “Go on,” I whisper.
“Apparently one of the men told her he knows too much to have had the job he claimed to have had before he was here. Something doesn’t add up.”
My eyes flicker to Chelsea as she walks up in front. “Does she…?” I don’t want to ask how often she sleeps with him, but she seems to understand what I am thinking anyway.
“Not often,” she replies as she sits at the table. “Only very rarely and when we have been out at sea a long time.”
I stand, unable to sit down. “Have you…?” I ask as my eyes flash to the other girls who are now at the bar.
She shakes her head. “No. My men don’t loan me out.”
Oh God. Loan me out. I feel sick. This is fucked up.
“Have they?” I ask as I point to the other girls with my chin.
She nods subtly. “Not for a while, though, I don’t think.”
I drop into the seat next to her. I can’t believe I am having this conversation with her. God, I bet he fucked one of them last night. “The sooner I am off this ship the better.” I sigh as my eyes stare out the large windows.
“It’s a couple of weeks before we hit land.”
“I know.” I sigh, deep in thought.
“Do you want a drink?” she asks as she stands.
I nod. “Yes, please. Diet Coke.” I watch her disappear to the bar.
The girls come back and we eat lunch in relative silence, my mind in overdrive. I don’t know what has rattled me more, the comment that he will let me go and just bide my time, the fact that he may be an AWOL marine, or it could be the whole he fucks them all comment. She’s right, he is different to the other men, but I can’t put my finger on why. I do know one thing for sure: I don’t like Chelsea. She is an outright rude bitch. The other four seem nice, but she is just… I don’t even know where to start with what I don’t like about her. She has this whole passive aggressive demeanour with the other girls and talks over them constantly. I walk over to the big windows that look out over the ship and I see Mac and three men standing on the deck deep in conversation about something, pointing over to the shipping containers. I watch them for a while. One man is holding flags and the other two have radio devices that they are talking through.
Mac is looking up into the air with his hand shielding his face from the sun. What’s he looking for? I look into the air and I see a helicopter hovering above the boat.
What the hell?
Help.
Help is here! My eyes dart around frantically. Help is here and I dash toward the door.
“Roshelle,” Angela calls out.
I run up the hall toward the stairs and she takes chase. “Stop!” she calls. “Roshelle, stop.”
I take the stairs two at a time and get to the top just in time to see the doors open of the helicopter and two huge man with machine guns get out.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Angela grabs my arm from behind. “Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed.” she whispers angrily.
“They will help me,” I breathe frantically as my eyes snap between her and the chopper.
She shakes her head. “The people who come to this boat do not help you.”
I watch as Mac greets a man in a suit that has gotten out of the helicopter and the two bodyguards with guns watch on. He gestures over to the containers and they all walk over and disappear out of sight.
My eyes fall to Angela. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. Keep your head down and stay close to Mac. These people will kill you. Actually, no, you will wish you had died instead of living after they have finished with you. These are fucked up high powered criminals.”
I frown, still unsure if I should run out there. The guns are putting me off.