Maybe Always (Maybe Series Book 3) (21 page)

Nacio sits next to me, followed by the man who invited us down to play.
 

“Where’s Santino?” I ask.
 

“Driving the boat,” Nacio answers.
 

“And who is watching…” I can’t finish the sentence. I can’t say
kids
or
prisoners
or
shipment
, as they often call them. I can’t say any of those words.
 

“No one. There is no need. We are in the middle of the ocean, and they are locked up. We don’t have to worry about them until morning,” Nacio says.

I nod.
 

“I’m Kinsley,” I say to the two men whom I haven’t met before. “What are we playing?”
 

“I’m Don,” the younger man across from me says. He looks to be close to my age, and he has blond hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have the monster look yet.
 

I glance to the other man who looks slightly older, probably because of his eyes. His glare makes him look more menacing than Don. His hair is darker, and his stubble is thicker than Don’s.
 

“Maurice,” he says somberly.
 

“Poker. That’s all the men know how to play. You know how to play poker?” Nacio asks.
 

“Yes. I know the basics. What do are we playing for?”
 

“We usually play for duties, but since you both are the bosses, I don’t think that is the best idea,” Don says.
 

We all nod.
 

“Strip poker?” Nacio suggests.
 

I roll my eyes. That isn’t going to happen.
 

I glance around the room, trying to come up with something we could play for, but all I see are the tequila and tortilla chips. Tequila—that’s my only hope. If I can win enough games and get them drunk enough, I might have hope at getting the kids safely off the boat. I might have a chance at saving Killian.
 

“How about shots? Everyone that loses each round has to take a tequila shot. And when you lose all of your poker chips, you have to take three.”
 

The men shrug. I stand and pull four shot glasses out of the cabinet while the men pass out poker chips from a case beneath the table.
 

I watch as Maurice begins dealing out cards. I get a two and a seven. The men begin betting, only speaking to place their bets. I call and then watch the flop. None of the cards on the table go with the cards in my hand.

I am forced to fold, which causes me to have to take a shot. Don pours me a shot of tequila, and I down the glass. It burns down my throat. Nacio wins the hand and forces Don and Maurice to take a shot as well.
 

This isn’t going to work unless I win a majority of the games. I need them to pass out from the drinks, but if I pass out first, I won’t be able to save anyone.

Don deals the next round.
 

I lose. I drink.
 

After the third hand, I’ve had three shots while everyone else has split shots evenly among themselves.
 

I deal the fourth hand and finally win. I relax a little. But poker is a game of chance, especially with how the game is set up. The only way to keep from drinking is to win every hand, which is hard to do.
 

So, on my next deal, I make sure to make my own luck. I hide a pair of kings that I’ll use the next time I think I will lose a hand. It causes me to win three in a row, so all of the men have to drink. My head is spinning from the three shots I have had while most of the men at the table have had close to eight. Their heads must be pounding.
 

“I should go check on Santino,” Nacio says after another loss.
 

I glance at his pile of chips. “Not until I’ve won.”
 

He smiles. “Or I could just give you all of my chips now.”
 

“No. I want to win fair and square.”
 

“You’ve been cheating,” Maurice says next to me.
 

I freeze. “Have not.”
 

He smiles for the first time all night. “Relax. There is no way a pretty girl like you could cheat.”
 

He slurs his words, and I know he’s getting close to blacking out from the alcohol. So, instead of playing another hand, I grab the bottle of tequila that is almost empty, and I pour everyone a shot.
 

I lift my shot glass. “To Nacio, for the kick-ass yacht.”
 

Nacio tries to smile at me but only one side of his lips curls up. “To you.”
 

We clink glasses together, sloppily spilling half of our shots, before knocking them back.
 

I stand from the table and stumble as I get up. I’ve had more to drink than I planned on.
 

“You okay?” Nacio asks.
 

I nod and then sloppily kiss Nacio on the cheek. “Bathroom. Be right back to finish kicking your asses.”
 

I stumble through the kitchen to the bathroom just before the base of the stairs. I take my time in the bathroom, hoping to God that my plan works. I can’t shoot Killian, and I won’t ever be able to live with myself if I let those kids go. I wait almost twenty minutes and then decide I’ve waited long enough.
 

I slowly emerge from the bathroom and tiptoe to where the men are sitting. Maurice is snoring loudly. Don has moved from the table to the couch. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be asleep. Nacio has his head resting on the table, his breathing slow and easy.
 

I sigh and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. They are asleep. I just don’t know for how long or how deep of a sleep they are in. I slowly back out of the kitchen until I find the stairs at the back of the yacht. I pause at the stairs and glance back to where the men are sitting to see if any of them have moved. They haven’t, so I take my chance.
 

I move as quietly but as quickly as I can down the stairs, knowing that my time is limited, but I have to take this chance. It might be the only chance I will ever get. By the time I make it down the stairs, my head spins from the tequila, so much so that I can barely walk in a straight line. But I keep moving forward, regardless that it isn’t in a straight line.
 

I get to the first door. I turn the knob and push it open. I find an empty bedroom. No Killian. No kids.
 

I leave the door open and move to the second door, hoping I find them soon. Every second that I don’t is another chance I take that one of the men could wake up. The second room is empty, too.
 

I glance down the hallway and count ten other doors. I don’t have time for this.
 

“Killian,” I whisper as I now run down the hallway, pushing every door open but not finding him.
 

I get to the last two doors. I try to push the second to last door open, but it doesn’t open. The knob doesn’t turn.
 

“Killian,” I whisper again.
 

I wait a second.
 

“Kinsley?” Killian whispers back.
 

I sigh in relief from just knowing that I’ve found him.
 

“I need to get you out, but the door is locked. Can you unlock it from the inside?”
 

A second passes and then another as I wait for Killian to answer me.
 

“No. I can’t open it. What are you doing here?”

“Getting you out. I don’t have time to explain. We don’t have much time, and we have to be quiet.”
 

“You’re going to have to find a way to unlock it from out there. I’m tied up, and even if I weren’t, the door can’t be unlocked from the inside.”
 

“Do you know who would have the key?” I ask.
 

“No.”
 

I think for a moment, trying to decide on what to do. I could try to search the men for the key, but that would be risky, as they could wake up. I could pick the lock, but I have no idea how to do that or even if I could find the tools. I could kick down the door, but it would be loud, and I would risk waking them up, or Santino could hear us from where he is driving the yacht.
 

“Can we pick the lock?” I ask.
 

“Have you ever done that before?”

“No.”
 

“Okay. I can try to walk you through it. Do you have a hairpin?”
 

“No,” I sigh. I think back to all the bedrooms. If a woman or girl stayed in any of them, there is a good chance that one fell on the floor. “Hold on though.” I run through bedroom after bedroom, searching the bathrooms and floors to find a hairpin. I get lucky in the third room, finding a hairpin lying in the corner of the bathroom floor.
 

I run back to the room where Killian is locked inside. “I have a hairpin.”
 

“Good. You need to break it in half.”
 

I easily break it. “Okay, it’s broken.”
 

“One half, you need to bend, so it is curved like a hook,” he says, his voice so calm.
 

My hands are shaking viciously. “Done.”
 

“The other half, you need to bend the end just a little.”
 

I bend it, but I must bend it too far because it breaks.
 

“It broke,” I say in a panicked voice.
 

If I can’t get him out, he’s going to die.
 

“It’s okay. Just try again.” His voice stays calm.
 

I bend it slower this time, and it doesn’t break. “Okay. Now what?”

“Put the hooked one in the bottom and the slightly bent one on top.”
 

I do it.
 

“Then, slowly move the top one in to lift each barrel, keeping pressure on the bottom one. You have to lift each lever to get it to unlock.”
 

I begin thinking that this is never going to happen, that I’m never going to figure it out, but it unlocks easily with hardly any effort. I push the door open and see Killian standing on the other side of the door. His hands are tied firmly behind his back.
 

Tears streak down my face at the sight of him. I run over and throw my arms around him, and my lips go to his. Even though his hands are tied behind his back, he still sucks me in and holds me with his body, with his lips. It’s a feeling I never thought I would get again. Every emotion that I have been holding in every time I am around him comes flooding back as his lips kiss mine. Love, hunger, need. My desire overtakes my body and thoughts with each kiss. With each kiss, I forget more and more of why we are here. That we are in danger. That we have to stop.
 

All I can think about is, I need him. I need him filling me. I need him to keep devouring me like this. I need…

I hear a scream from the room next to us as the yacht rocks harder when we hit a rough patch. We are out of time.
 

“We have to go,” I say as I force my lips off of Killian’s.
 

Killian turns. “Untie me.”
 

I try to untie him, but I can’t. “There’s a knife upstairs. I can use it to cut the rope off.”
 

He nods. “Go. I’ll start working on talking to the kids.”
 

I run down the hallway, back to the stairs. I slow as I move my way up, trying to keep my steps quiet. When I get to the top, another wave hits just as I reach the door. I grab the handle to keep from falling over and to keep from squealing. The kids downstairs don’t hold back though. I can hear their squeals from here.
 

I slowly walk to the kitchen, being as quiet as I can be, as I pull a knife from a drawer. The whole time, I keep my eyes glued on the men in the room, hoping they will stay asleep. Another wave hits, and I swear, Nacio opens one of his eyes. I freeze, trying to come up with a reason I would be holding a knife. But I can’t come up with one. He doesn’t move though, and when I look again, his eyes are closed. I must have imagined it.
 

I quickly run back downstairs to Killian, who is trying to calm the kids at the door.
 

“We are going to get you out, but you have to be quiet,” Killian says through the door.
 

He sees me, and I know he isn’t as sure that they are going to get out. I walk behind him and immediately start working on cutting the ropes holding his hands together.
 

“They are still asleep upstairs, but I don’t know for how much longer.”
 

“There is a small boat on the back. We can all fit on it. We will head straight for the shore. It’s a long shot because this yacht could easily outrun the smaller lifeboat, but it’s our only shot.”
 

“I agree. I’ll try to stall them for as long as I can to give you a chance.”
 

The ropes come undone just as Killian turns to me with intensity in his eyes. “You’re coming with us.” He firmly grabs my hands, and I know he will drag me on the boat if I don’t convince him.
 

“I can’t.”
 

“Why the hell not?”
 

“Because there are more locations than just Paris. There is one in Asia.”
 

“Where in Asia?”
 

“I don’t know, but if I can earn Nacio’s trust, he might tell me. And I need to make sure that, when the FBI comes, they find them. That they don’t run. The FBI will need someone on the inside.”
 

Killian runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t like it. I should be the one who stays, not you.”
 

I shake my head. “They will kill you if you stay.”
 

He raises his eyebrow at me. “And they won’t kill you?”
 

“No, they won’t. They have no reason to believe I helped you. Why would I help you and then stay? It doesn’t make sense.”