Josie simply fixed her gaze upon him, a mix of determination and concern etched on her face. “This is far too risky, Dexter. You shouldn’t have to shoulder this burden for me,” she asserted, her-voice laced with worry.
Dexter gently lifted her hand, the one still gripping the firearm, which was noticeably shaking from the tension. “Were you injured?”
She gave her head a slight shake, dismissing his worry. “But those two who were patrolling earlier haven’t come back yet. It’s only a matter of time before they notice we’re here,” she cautioned, the urgency in her voice growing.
Suddenly, another series of knocks echoed at the door, followed by a call, “Joshua, is everything okay in there? We’re all waiting on you.”
Dexter’s expression tightened with resolve as he carefully pinned his badge onto his disguise. In his haste to board the ship, he had incapacitated a guard and assumed his identity to blend in seamlessly.
“Just a moment,” he called out, his voice steady.
As he adjusted his mask and lowered his hat to obscure his face further, he turned toward Josie. “I’ll remain on the ship tonight. Take this -it’s a signal transmitter. Should anything happen, use it to alert me immediately,” he instructed, placing the sturdy device in her hand.
However, Josie’s anxiety did not wane; instead, she swiftly caught hold of Dexter’s arm, her concern evident in her eyes. “Are you certain this is the best course of action?” she pressed for reassurance.
Dexter maintained his composure, though a trace of unease flickered through his stoic façade. “I have to do this, so, Jo, I need your assistance,” he explained, not commanding her help but rather requesting it.
This subtle distinction made Josie feel like she was more than just a bystander in these events. A realization struck her just as Dexter was stepping out the door, which he closed gently behind him.
He had deliberately chosen not to have Justin accompany him, suggesting that he had been prepared to face this ordeal alone from the start.
As the sound of Dexter’s convivial chatter with the crew outside dwindled, Josie found herself momentarily frozen, unable to act. She knew she had to distance herself from this precarious situation.
The time for departure had arrived. Arnold stood on the deck, his actions decisive as he cut the mooring rope. The ship sprung to life, its lights illuminating the darkness, a horn sounding off into the night as it embarked on its voyage.
Josie scrambled to find a secure spot to conceal her cash, but every potential hiding place was under strict surveillance. It seemed there was no safe refuge for her here.
After what felt like an eternity, a message from Dexter arrived: Vipera and Mr. Dalton have departed on a smaller vessel; the cargo we sought isn’t aboard this ship.
With this new understanding, Josie set out to find Arnold. He was surprisingly alone, seated on the deck with a bottle of wine, seemingly lost in contemplation under the starlit sky.
The voice came through the communicator, “No anomalies detected, proceed as planned.”
Arnold mused aloud, “Has Dexter’s men been found yet?”
Scar’s voice came through, “No sign of them. Perhaps Josie didn’t tell him.”
Arnold’s response was a cold, derisive laugh, a clear indication of his disdain.
Disconnecting the communicator, Arnold took a leisurely sip of his wine before casually remarking, “How much longer do you plan to skulk in the shadows?”
Alerted by the noise, his bodyguards immediately tensed, scanning their surroundings for any sign of intrusion.
Josie no longer saw any point in hiding and stepped forward boldly. “Seems like you’re enjoying yourself, Arnold. Even with danger looming, you still find time for leisure,” she observed, her tone a mix of mockery and challenge.
Arnold turned, only to be greeted by the business end of Josie’s handgun.
His reaction was one of mild curiosity mixed with a fatalistic acceptance. “Facing this alone, quite daring of you,” he commented, eyeing the weapon pointedly.
Josie released the safety catch, her actions deliberate. “You’re playing a dangerous game. The stakes on this ship could very well be your undoing,” she stated, her voice steady, betraying none of the information she had gleaned.
Arnold simply swirled his wine, seemingly unfazed. “And how many have you brought with you?” he inquired, as if indulging in casual conversation.
Josie stepped closer, the gun now mere inches from him. “Doesn’t the prospect of death frighten you?” she challenged, seeking to gauge his resolve.
Unblinking, Arnold met her gaze head-on. “Death is an inevitability, sooner or later. If my time is now, then so be it. I’d prefer it to be by your hand,” he declared, a hint of madness in his acceptance.
Lunatic, Josie muttered under her breath, her hands trembling slightly with the gravity of the situation.
“I’m not bluffing. I will pull this trigger,” she warned, her resolve hardening. Arnold simply took another sip of his wine, his silence a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air.
