Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1)(28)

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized it was true. He was in Hell. The ship-breaking yards were Hell. And wherever this girl came from, whatever she was, it had to be better than anything else he knew. Even Lucky Strike, who everyone thought lived like a king, was nothing in comparison to this spoiled sleek girl. Fifty people answering to her. Lucky Strike could muster Raymond and Blue Eyes and Sammy Hu, and that was enough for most of his leg-breaking jobs, but it was nothing outside. And even Lucky Strike smiled and scraped when the big bosses from Lawson & Carlson rolled in on their special train to inspect the breaking, before it rolled out again to wherever swanks lived. This girl was from a whole different planet.

And she was going back to it.

“If you want to stay alive,” he said, “you take us with you when you go.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”

“She’s lying,” Pima said. “Buying time, that’s all. She’s not our crew. As soon as her people show, she’s gone and we’re back in the yards.” She glanced back to where the invisible hulks of the wrecked ocean vessels lay along the beach. “If we’re lucky.”

“That true?” Nailer studied the swank carefully, trying to divine if she was a liar. “You going to ditch us? Dump us back with the rest of the ship breakers while you go back to being swank?”

“I don’t lie,” the girl said. She didn’t look away from his gaze. She held, hard as obsidian.

Nailer took out his knife. “Let’s see, then.”

He came around the fire to her. She flinched away, but he grabbed her by the wrist, and even though she struggled, he was stronger. He held the knife in front of her eyes. Pima grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her.

“Just a little blood, Lucky Girl. Just a little,” she said. “Just to make sure, right?” The girl didn’t stand a chance against Pima’s strength.

Nailer dragged her hand toward him. She fought all the way, jerking and twisting, but it was nothing, and soon he had her hand outstretched before him. He pressed the blade to her palm and looked up at her, smiling. “You still swear now?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “We going with you when you go?”

The girl was breathing fast, scared and panicky, her eyes going from the blade to him and back again. “I swear,” she whispered. “I swear.”

Still, he studied her face, hunting for signs that she’d betray them, that she’d pull a Sloth and stab them in the back. He glanced at Pima. She nodded a go-ahead.

“Guess she wants it.”

“Guess so.”

Nailer slashed her palm. Blood welled and the girl’s hand spasmed, fingers trembling at the gash. He was surprised she didn’t scream. Nailer slashed his own hand and made a fist with hers.

“Crew up, Lucky Girl,” he said. “I got your back, you got mine.” He held her eyes with his own.

Pima jostled the girl. “Say it.”

Lucky Girl stuttered, but she said the words. “I got your back, you got mine.”

Nailer nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

He pried open her bleeding hand and drove his thumb into the slash of her open wound. She gasped at this new pain and then he pressed his thumb to her forehead. She flinched as he applied the bloody tattoo between her eyes, a third-eye mark of shared destiny. She trembled and closed her eyes as he marked her.

“Now you mark him,” Pima said. “Blood with blood, Lucky Girl. That’s how we do it. Blood with blood.”

Lucky Girl did as she was told, her face frozen as she drove her own thumb into his palm and marked him well.

“Good.” Pima leaned close. “Now me.”

When it was done, they went down to the black water and rinsed the blood from their hands before hiking back up into the vegetation. The sea was all around, leaving the three of them alone in the darkness as they slowly climbed up to their beacon fire. Nailer’s shoulder was tender and inflamed from all the activity and it made climbing difficult. Lucky Girl scrambled ahead of them, loud in the vegetation, unused to climbing, breathing heavily, her clothes torn. Nailer watched her slim legs and smooth form under her skirt.

Pima smacked him. “What? You think you’re getting with her after you stuck a knife in her hand?”

He grinned and made a shrug of embarrassment. “She’s damn pretty.”

“Probably cleans up nice,” Pima agreed; then she lowered her voice. “What do you think? Is she really crew?”

Nailer paused in the climb, rotating his shoulder carefully, feeling the sear of his wound across his back. “Being crew wasn’t worth a scrap of rust with Sloth. Crew don’t mean anything except that we’re all sweating together on the same ship.” He shrugged and winced at the pain again. “Still, it’s worth a gamble, right?”

“You serious about leaving here?”

Nailer nodded. “Yeah. That’s the smart thing, right? The real smart thing. Nothing here for us. We need to get out, or we die here same as everyone else. Even Lucky Strike got trashed in the storm. Being light crew boss didn’t do Bapi any good at all. Just got him killed.”

“Lucky Strike did a lot better than us.”

“Sure.” Nailer spat. “That’s what the pig in the pen says when his brother gets knifed for dinner.” He shrugged. “You’re still in the pen. Still gonna die.”