Malasada's For the Healing Soul -prologue
Prologue
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His dislike of boats had nothing to do with the boats themselves, or even the generally overwhelming amount of water they sat on. Oh no, without question his dislike of boats came from the rocking; the relentless, never ending back and forth that made his stomach roll and his last meal threaten to make a reappearance no matter how small the waves might be. When he woke up with his head pounding and his exhausted body aching in a far too familiar way, it was the nausea that told him he was on a boat. Correction: he was still on a boat.
Needless to say when the two men baring arms had barged into his previously pitch black cabin (cell) and dragged him off his miserably uncomfortable cot and into what could only be the ship’s dining area, he had not been the most polite of prisoners.
Four blackening bruised eyes later, only one of which adorned his own face, he found himself being forcefully shoved onto a hard wooden chair with his escorts looming menacingly behind him. They were so close he imagined he could feel their body heat on his skin and the knowledge that it would only take one well-placed elbow driving backwards to take them and their family jewels out of commission had him twitching in his chair. He kept his elbows to himself for now though, mainly because he just didn’t have the energy for any more useless fights, and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt chilled, had a headache that rivaled the first day he’d worked with Steve, and had no qualms sharing his anger by leveling his best glare at the man sitting comfortably across the small table from him.
“Mr. Williams,” Marcel greeted as he looked him over briefly, his gaze lingering on his swelling eye before he leaned forward and gently slid a cup of what looked like coffee across the table to sit before Danny. “I hope you slept well,” he addressed politely and Danny increased the heat of his glare, making no move to take the proffered drink. He wasn’t that desperate yet.
“I’d sleep better at home in my own bed, but hey, I’d settle for solid ground if that’s the best you’re willing to offer,” he snarled in response.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Daniel.” Marcel barely blinked as he stared at him and then shrugged casually, almost regretfully.
“I prefer Detective Williams,” he snapped back, and he wouldn’t lie to himself: the man was creepy. Danny clenched his fists tightly as the ship rocked and the coffee mug slid an inch to the left. Marcel’s lips quirked, apparently finding that amusing and then shifted to lean forward over the table, his fingers steepled before. “You are aware of the reasons I can not simply allow you to leave our company, of course,” his confidence absolute and grating heavily on Danny’s already strained nerves.
“And you are aware that abduction and unlawful detainment is frowned upon, even in international waters.” Danny crossed his arms more tightly in a wasted effort to feel warmer.
“Yes, well I suppose we can both agree that this would be one of my tamer felonies,” Marcel shrugged and took a sip of espresso. “But I am more interested in discussing you and your…unique disposition.”
“Let me go,” Danny snarled, anger curling in his stomach and becoming even more intense as Marcel remained unmoved across from him.
“I see you’re not yet ready to cooperate.”
“That’s not likely to change,” he snapped, met the man’s eyes defiantly, tried to hold onto his remaining calm and refused to flinch when one of the men behind him laid a heavy paw on his shoulder and squeezed in warning.
“Oh, I’m certain it will.” Marcel held out his hand and the woman who had been standing diligently behind him stepped forward to hand a dark folder over. Danny swallowed thickly as he watched it flip open and had its contents laid on the table. His eyes tracked over the colourful, glossy image and his entire world turned white hot with fury. It took everything he had to not try and leap across the table to rip the guys throat out; he knew he wouldn’t make it past standing with the men diligently guarding over him, and he forced himself to take a calm, deep breath. He was not at all comforted that the man didn’t seem even mildly intimidated. He didn’t look smug either, which was a little surprising, he just looked...interested. Deeply, intensely interested and Danny was without a doubt the object of this fascination. He looked back down at the picture before him and had to clench his jaw shut as a new fear began to build.
“Let’s talk about your daughter,” Marcel said with the politeness of a circling shark and pushed the cooling coffee mug to sit before Danny once again. Danny continued to ignore it. He couldn’t drink it now anyway, the nausea had doubled since the picture had been laid out and he had to take several deep breaths to calm down. Jesus. He felt sick with dread.
Steve had better find him.
Soon.
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Chapter 1
Masterpost