Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(3)

From behind my closed lids, I could tell when the lights dimmed.

“Try now. Shouldn’t kill you.”

I squinted, and when the brightness didn’t cause me pain, I opened my eyes a little further.

Above me, two men hovered. One wore navy-blue coveralls, and the other had on a white button-down and a navy tie. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which was the captain. He looked older than Uncle Ruben, with his dark beard going gray, but he was tall and broad and didn’t have a hint of my uncle’s beer gut.

“Good to see you’re awake, kid. You want to tell me how the fuck you ended up on my ship?”

“Water,” I croaked out.

“Doc,” the captain barked.

A blond man wearing a white coat came to the side of the bed with a clear plastic cup and held a straw to my lips. “Don’t drink too fast, kid,” he said, but I sucked down the cool, crisp liquid as fast as I could. “Hold up. You’ll puke if you drink too much.” He pulled it away before I was done.

“So, what do we do with him now?” the captain asked the doctor like I wasn’t even there.

“He’s got IV fluids going. He’s massively dehydrated, as you’d expect. His shoulder was dislocated, but I relocated it while he was out. Kinder that way. His torso is covered with healing contusions, and if I had to guess, I’d say he likely has bruised or broken ribs.”

“Am I gonna die?” The words felt like they were drawn from my throat by rusty pliers.

The doctor shook his head. “You’re lucky as hell we found you when we did. A few more days without water . . .” He trailed off, but I knew what he was going to say.

I would have died.

“What the fuck do we do with him?” the man in coveralls asked.

“Report him to the authorities in Baltimore,” the captain said. “They’ll have to track down his parents, and we’ll put him on a plane home.”

“No.” I coughed twice, and my ribs protested. “Please. Don’t.”

The captain looked down at me, his brown eyes scanning my face. From the way the man studied me, the remains of Uncle Ruben’s handiwork were still visible.

“Give me one good reason, kid. I could lose my license if I don’t. My whole fucking business.”

“He’ll kill me if you send me back.”

The captain crouched by the side of the cot. “Who will kill you?”

I coughed again, trying to clear my throat. “My uncle. I won’t go back. Fucking ever. I don’t care what you do to me. I’ll never go back there.”

The captain glanced up at the doctor before looking back down at me. “He beat on you a lot?”

My pride reared up, but a voice in my head told me to tell him the truth, at least about this. “As often as he could. He’s a mean drunk.”

“You have no other family?”

“No, sir. My aunt died the day I left. That’s when he busted my shoulder.”

The captain’s dark eyebrows knit together, and white lines appeared in the weathered skin around his eyes and mouth. “How old are you, kid?”

My brain was slowly coming back to life, and something told me if I gave him my real age, he’d get me off this boat faster than I could finish answering his questions.

“Seventeen. Almost eighteen. I can work. I work hard. Just give me a chance. I swear, I won’t fuck it up.”

Once again, his gaze flicked to the doctor and the guy in the coveralls. “Everyone out. Don’t say a fucking thing about this, or I’ll toss you overboard.”

The two men nodded, and they filed out of the room. When we were alone, the captain pulled up a chair and sat down beside my cot.

“How old are you really, kid?”

“I told you—”

“No, you lied to me.”

I pressed my chapped, peeling lips together. “You can’t send me back. I won’t go. I’ll run again. I don’t care where.”

“Then tell me the truth. How old are you?”

I released a long breath and crumpled the white sheet in my fist. “Fourteen. Almost fifteen. But I’m smart. I’m strong. I can work. I’ll outwork every man you have on this boat. I swear to Christ. Just give me a chance.”

“You should be in school. A cargo ship is no place for a kid,” the captain replied, crushing my hope that he’d let me stay.

“What about cabin boys? Don’t they have a place on a ship? I can do that. Whatever you need. Scrub floors. I’m good at cleaning. I can work in the kitchen. Do whatever. Please, just don’t send me back.”

The captain rose and dragged a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Jericho Forge.”

“You got balls, Jericho Forge. I’ll give you that.” His jaw shifted, and I knew he was considering what might end up being my death sentence.

“Please, just give me a chance, sir. I swear, I won’t make you regret it.” I gripped the sheet tighter, my palm sweaty.

As he stroked his beard, I swallowed, my scratchy throat burning for another sip of water as I awaited his judgment.

“I joined the merchant marines when I was eighteen. Fast as I could get out of my house. My pop liked his liquor too. Got nasty when he got deep in the bottle. If I let you stay, you’re going to have to work and study. We’ll get you GED books, and you’ll have to pass, because every real man needs at least a high school education. A strong body isn’t shit without a strong mind.”