any good intelligence officer, he let her continue in the hopes of discovering the answer to some or all of those questions.
“My sister and I would often wish on the first star of the night. But I suppose that would be too foolish for a big, bad Navy SEAL, huh?”
“Doc, I think you’ve got the wrong impression of me. There have been plenty of times in my life I would have prayed to wood nymphs, Aztec gods or, hell, Martians, if it meant saving lives. I believe in my training. I respect the brothers who fought beside me. And I’m wise enough to realize there are forces at work outside our control every single day. I value life and understand what’s important—people, not things.”
Her pale blue eyes jerked to his. “Interesting.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “Just not what I expected.”
Knox felt his lips curve down into a frown.
Slowly she cleared her throat, turning and folding her arms over the railing so she could stare down at the water churning beneath them. “Look, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Maybe?” There was no question they’d gotten off on the wrong foot.
“Hey, you’re the one who almost ran me over with that little car.”
“Doc, that wasn’t just any car. And she might be small, but she’s damn powerful.”
“And fast.”
Knox grinned. “And fast.”
He mirrored her position, sliding closer and folding his own arms over the railing.
“What’s so special about the car...aside from the fact that it came inches away from wearing me as a hood ornament?”
He could have rattled off a bunch of statistics, talked about the car’s racing history. Instead, Knox found himself saying, “First of all, like I told you that day, I was in complete control the entire time. You were never in any danger.”
“Excuse me if I don’t trust your judgment on that.”
Knox’s lips flashed up into a self-deprecating grin, the kind that acknowledged her statement and then immediately dismissed it. Because she was absolutely wrong. However, he was intelligent enough to realize that having this argument again wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere.
“But, more importantly, it’s my brother’s.”
Which wasn’t true since Kyle had never owned it, but Knox always thought of the car as his. It should have been his.
Kyle had talked about that car incessantly. Had put posters of the Shelby on his wall. Together, the two of them had planned to fix one up. His brother had even started saving.
Since Kyle hadn’t been able to follow through on the dream, in his spare time Knox had done it for him. It had been a labor of love, and of atonement. It was the least he could do since Kyle’s death had been his fault. That car was Knox’s single most prized possession.
The familiar guilt snaked through his chest, tightening everything to the point that he couldn’t breathe. It was a battle he’d fought for the past sixteen years. A battle that never seemed to get easier.
It didn’t matter that no one else blamed him for the accident that had killed his brother, his brother’s girlfriend and his best friend. He blamed himself and always would.
He should have done more. Not swerved to miss the deer that had jumped out onto the dark country road late that night. He should have been able to recover from the skid the car went into. Should have prevented the car from slamming into the guardrail at sixty miles an hour.
Everyone told him it was a miracle he’d walked away from the crash. And they weren’t wrong. He’d had several broken bones, a concussion and various cuts and bruises.
Bethany had died on impact. Chase minutes later on the side of the road. Kyle...he’d survived for several hours.
Knox would never forget standing beside his brother, watching EMTs try to save his life. The most helpless Knox had ever been. A sensation he never wanted to experience again.
“Your brother needs better taste in cars.”
Pushing away from the railing, Knox let his gaze sweep across Avery. “My brother’s dead,” he said, his words blunt and infused with every drop of remembered pain, even if he hadn’t meant to unleash it on her.
Avery’s pale eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.
He should feel...something for pulling that kind of reaction. Satisfaction, at least. It was what he’d been going for with the stark statement.
Instead, he simply wanted away—from her and the unpleasant memories she’d unwittingly called up.
Turning, he walked in the opposite direction, leaving her with the pod of dolphins that had decided to ghost through the water with the ship.
* * *
KNOX’S WORDS RANG through her head. Okay, more like clanged. But how was she to know his brother was dead? Or that her question could cause that haunted, hunted look in his eyes?
She felt like crap, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Apologize, but she’d really done nothing wrong. And something told her saying anything else would make the situation worse. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it.
She’d seen Knox standing at the railing looking up at the stars and had wanted to get things on track. She really needed Knox to...if not like her then at least leave her alone enough to do her job. Or not do her job.
At the thought, a heavy pit settled into her stomach. It made her sick. Instead of making things better, somehow she’d managed to irritate him more.
It was clearly time to regroup.
Avery headed back to her cabin. She’d been surprised to be assigned her own considering the lack of space, but it would make things easier. She was exhausted from traveling and her body was starting to crash from the ups and downs of the day.
She forced herself to unpack—the cases with her supplies and equipment had already been unloaded—putting all of her clothes away before beginning her nightly ritual. There was something about getting her space in order that always soothed her.
Maybe it was from all the years living out of suitcases. Or a holdover from trying to find a sense of security when the only thing she’d been able to control was her immediate environment.
Her father’s work had taken them to some amazing places—Africa, Egypt, Thailand, South America, Australia. She’d experienced different cultures. Could understand five languages, though she wasn’t fluent in all of them.
She now owned a house in Texas, but she spent more time away from it—consulting, working, giving speeches or preparing papers, occasionally teaching—than there. While she liked it well enough and always enjoyed going back, she wasn’t tied to home the way most people were.
Her
