Desire & Blood - The Thorne Siblings

41. Shower

The hold was as I remembered it—its curved wall at one side, the puddles of oily water on its floor, the decaying crates. All of that was there, and with it came the taste, the dread, and the smell of the hours we had been confined here. My stomach cramped.

"Theresa," I yelled as I entered, yet I already knew.

She was not there.

"What a rank place," Lieutenant Grafton said behind me. "Smells like shit. Literally. Someone... or something has been held captive here, it seems. Or the ship's plumbing is leaking something bad. Anyway, we'll need to have this analyzed." She laid a hand on my shoulder. "And now we should get out of here. Forensics will want to have the hold untouched."

I followed her, fighting my nausea and eager to leave the cramped room. I pushed my way past Shortbitten who just stood there, a hand hiding his long nose.

"You're coming, Detective?" Grafton said as we stood at the foot of the ladder.

"Yeah." His face was even paler than usual as he emerged from the hold.

Something was missing. Someone.

Where was Thierry?

"Where's Mr. Thorne?" Grafton echoed my thoughts, right behind me.

"He's probably run off," I muttered as I climbed the ladder. "Realized that your eggheads will find proof that he held Theresa and me in that hole down there."

When I reached the corridor above, I realized how wrong I was. Thierry Thorne hadn't run. Or, in fact, he had run somewhere—and now he was back, armed. He stood three steps away from me, a pistol in his hand. The weapon's muzzle was trained at my head.

"Stop right there." The calm of his voice was a stark contrast to the threat the weapon he held in his fist.

I froze. Grafton was halfway through the ladder's opening in the floor and stared at him. Shortbitten was still below.

"Anne, you come over now. And you..." He pointed the pistol at Grafton, "... come up, slowly, but keep your hands on the rungs."

I looked down the corridor, away from him. The stairs to the main deck were about ten paces away.

"Forget it, Anne" Thierry said. "You wouldn't make it. And now, get over here. Slowly."

Drawn by fear and the power of his voice, I moved closer to the man. He turned me around, away from him, so I was facing Grafton, who had reached the top of the ladder. A heavy hand settled on my shoulder, and the pistol's unforgiving metal made contact with my neck.

"Take that weapon from your holster and put it down, slowly," Thierry said.

Grafton complied, her gaze fixed on the man behind me.

"Now tell Detective Shortbitten to come up, too."

Grafton looked down. "You heard him. He's keeping Anderson hostage. Get up here, slowly."

Grafton moved away from the ladder, and Shortbitten's head appeared. "Thierry, let's talk—"

"Shut up," Thierry said. "Climb out of that hole and drop your weapon, too."

The detective followed the instructions. His mouth was a pale, thin line, as straight as his nose, but horizontal.

"And now..." Thierry took one step towards them, pushing me along before him, like a shield. "You both leave this ship."

They turned and marched towards the exit. We followed. Thierry's hand was still on my shoulder, its fingers capturing me in their firm, unyielding grip. When we ascended the stairs behind the others, he pressed me close to the heat of his hard body.