The skies were alight with the colors of magic bursting up through Don Armando's large circular sea gazing window at the head of his cabin, and raining down in a crescendo of explosive flame.

  I felt a clammy finger trace down the back of my thigh, as a shock to my system jolted me a few feet away from The Don, in the expansive candlelit room, which also served as a study, shelves brimming with surely untouched books.

  “Quite a show, huh?” The Don moaned, staring me up and down, licking his chops.

  “That it is,” I sold tactfully, running my fingers along the bindings of the many neatly organized tomes collecting dust along his darkly varnished fixtures. “I love a man who's well read,” I added, trying to put on a seductive inflection in my voice.

  “That's me, baby,” The Don said, grabbing my arm and swinging me back around to face his ogreish mug. “I could read you like a book.”

  Not sure that one even made any sense. I wished he was more inebriated for a line of that caliber to roll on out. For his sake, I wasn't too sure though.

  “How about this...” I twirled back out of his arms and scanned the titles as quickly as I could. “Why don't you...read something to me?” I pursed a finger to my lip, like they do in the movies. Stupid and cliche, I know, but could it really work?

  “Oh baby,” The Don reached past me with a sigh. “You know how to get me all hot and bothered.”

  Not sure why I even questioned it.

  “How about this one?” The Don pulled out a thick text, eying me with deft precision.

  “The DaVinci Code?” I couldn't help but feel my face scrunch, as I gently directed his hand back to the shelf. “Maybe something else?” I groaned. “How about...” I found it, and yanked it quickly from its spot, particles of dust fluttering off, fleeing their immortal prison, “This one?”

  The Don's eyes widened. “Oh no,” he said, “we can't do Moby Dick.”

  “Why not?” I pouted, gripping the book tightly as he tried to pull it away. “It's my favorite. I love di--.”

  “No can do sweetheart,” he lurched forward, sweat beating off his brow.

  I was never so glad for a man to interrupt me before. Still, I pushed off of him and trotted away. “It's not one of your favorites? I noticed the Pequod. A man with literary taste is captivating.” I quickly scrambled to open it.

  The pages flew by, racing past each other with rapidity and fell upon some neatly folded documents in the center. “What are these?” I ventured, retrieving them from their bookmark position. “Someone left some notes in this copy,” I chided, pushing my luck.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “That's enough,” The Don shouted, dropping his own book and slamming mine shut, but not before I'd retrieved the slip, and held it to my backside tightly. “You broads just don't listen. Dumb, dumb, broads,” he mumbled loudly, bringing the book back to the shelf.

  I couldn't help but sneak a peak while he was occupied. Raising the paper, I unfolded it. It looked like an official memorandum about a large donation made to a certainly fake charity group called 'Armando Cares For Kids.' Not very inventive. Awarded by a non-profit called 'CHARADES.' If that wasn't a sign of malfeasance, I don't know what was. Wait...a $20 million dollar donation! These were deep pockets. Dangerous pockets.

  “Didn't I just tell you not to be a dumb broad,” The Don said, snatching my wrist and jerking me towards him. Rage twitched in his eyes as he spotted the open note. “You shouldn't have done that.” He tore the note from my hands. “That's personal business.”

  “Fake donations are personal business?” I couldn't help myself. A trait that seemingly never worked in my favor.”

  The Don whipped back around. “What'd you just say?” He yelled, accosting my elbow and pulled me in. “Huh?!”

  “Willing to take any payment for a life, right?” I said, struggling to pull my arm from his grip.

  “Who are you?” Then, recognition. His narrowing eyes relaxed. “You're an even dumber broad than I thought.”

  “Got no other material, eh?” I pushed at him.

  “My white whale. You rarely get a second chance. ” He tightened his grip, my flesh paling with pressure at the edges

  “Not today, Ahab!” I stomped down on his foot, causing him to yelp in pain, while the fireworks finale began crackling off all around us, pulsating the room with sound and a disorienting palette of colors.

  I made way for the door, but his hand caught my foot and sent me tumbling to the ground.

  “You not getting away this time!” he yelled, clawing at my legs.

  Kicking backwards, I tried to shoo him off, but he climbed up me and twisted my body to face him, his hands finding my neck.

  “I'll make this quick,” he snarled, applying pressure.

  The airways locked, I fought violently against him, flailing as best as I could, but to no avail. Was this how it ends? I searched around me for any sign of Jack...of anyone. Feeling the floor around me, when suddenly, my hand fell upon something hard, and thick. My fingers wrapped around it and raised it with gusto. The book smacked into The Don's head, sending him reeling in pain.

  “You...you!" He frothed at the mouth. "I'll kill you!”

  And I could kiss you, Dan Brown, I thought, looking at the blunted corner of The DaVinci Code. Thank god for hardcovers. Returning to the moment, I picked myself up and raced for the door, my hand reaching the doorknob, before his pounded on the frame, holding it shut.

  “Not happening!” He cried, pulling me around to face him. “You'll be at the bottom of the sea by the end of the night.” A manic look shone from his eyes, and fear from mine, the fireworks reaching their grand finale.

  CRASH! The glass window behind us shattered inward, as a darkened figure swooped in and landed to the ground with ease.

  The familiar figure rose in shadows, partially illuminated by the spectacle of lights behind it. Jack rose and sent chills down The Don's spine with a glare. The Don's jaw dropped, as he fell to his knees, trying to pick up pieces. “That's a $40,000 dollar piece of glass!”

  Jack perked his head in confusion, looking at me.

  “My bosun just destroyed a $40,000 dollar custom pane!”

  “Firstly,” Jack said, “not a bosun, second, I know a guy who could get that done for $150 tops.”

  “You!” The Don shouted, hurtling towards him, before Jack dealt a swift chop to his neck and tossed him onto his pile of shards with judo finesse.

  “'Sorry I was late,” Jack said, rushing to my side. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded rubbing my throat.

  His touch ran along it, a graze paining tenderly. “I'm sorry.” He frowned, disappointed at himself.

  “It's okay,” I said, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. “You're here now.”

  He smiled slightly. “I was procuring our ticket outta here,” he said, jingling a pair of keys before me.

  “Outta here!” The Don screamed, pulling himself up to his feet and flicking open a small glass case containing a red button before his fist mashed down on it. “You're not going anywhere!”