He settled back in his seat, outwardly calm. But Brianna saw the hand still wrapped around his water glass wasn’t quite so steady. ‘Watching someone wilfully waste away despite being surrounded by abundance isn’t exactly a forgettable experience.’
Her grip went slack. ‘I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you. Who do you...?’
He shook his head once and indicated her plate. ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t let your food go to waste, Moneypenny.’
Brianna glanced down at the remnants of her meal, trying to reconcile the outwardly confident man sitting across from her with the man whose hands trembled at a deeply disturbing memory. Not that she’d even been foolish enough to think Sakis Pantelides was one-faceted.
She recalled that one moment during her interview when he’d looked up from her file, his green eyes granite-hard and merciless.
‘If you are to survive this job, I’d strongly urge you to take one piece of advice, Miss Moneypenny. Don’t fall in love with me.’
Her response had been quick, painful memory making her tongue acid-sharp. ‘With respect, Mr Pantelides, I’m here for the salary. The benefits package isn’t too bad either, but most of all I’m here for the top-notch experience. To my knowledge, love never has and never will pay the bills.’
What she’d wanted to add then was that she’d been there, done her time and had the tattoo to prove it.
What she wanted tell him now was that she’d endured far, far worse than a hungry stomach. That she’d known the complete desolation of coming a poor second to her mother’s love for drugs. She’d slept rougher than any child deserved to and had fought every day to survive in a concrete jungle, surrounded by the drug-addled bullies with vicious fists.
She held her tongue because to speak would be to reveal far more than she could ever afford to reveal.
Curiosity gnawed at her but she refused to probe further. Probing would invite reciprocity. Her past was under lock and key, tucked behind a titanium vault and sealed in concrete. And that was exactly where she intended to keep it.
In silence, she finished her meal and looked up with relief as the attendant arrived to clear away their plates.
When the phone rang, she pounced on it, grabbing the familiarity that came with work in an effort to banish the brief moments of unguarded intimacy.
‘The captain of the coast guard is on the line for you.’
Sakis’s gaze swept over her face, a speculative gleam in his eyes that slowly disappeared as he took the phone.
With an inward sigh of relief, Brianna reached for her laptop and fired it up.
* * *
Sakis’s first glimpse of the troubled tanker made his gut clench hard. He tapped the helicopter pilot on the shoulder.
‘Circle the vessel, would you? I want to assess the damage from the air before we land.’
The pilot obliged. Sakis’s jaw tightened as he grasped the full impact of the damage of the tanker bearing the black and gold Pantelides colours.
He signalled for the pilot to land and alighted the moment the chopper touched down. A group of scandal-hungry journalists stood behind the cordoned-off area. From painful experience, Moneypenny’s suggestion to bring them on-side rankled, but Sakis didn’t dismiss the fact that in this instance she was right.
Ignoring them for now, he strode to where the crew waited, dressed in yellow, high-visibility jumpsuits.
‘What’s the situation?’ he asked.
The head of the salvage crew—a thickset, middle-aged man with greying hair—stepped forward. ‘We’ve managed to get inside the tanker and assessed the damage with the investigation team—we have three breached compartments. The other compartments haven’t been affected but, the longer the vessel stays askew, the more likely we are to have another breach. We’re working as fast as we can to set up the pumps to drain the compartment and the spillage.’
‘How long will it take?’
‘Thirty-six to forty-eight hours. Once the last of the crew get here, we’ll work around the clock.’
Sakis nodded and turned to see Brianna emerge from the hastily set-up tents on the far side of the beach. For a moment he couldn’t reconcile the woman heading towards him with his usual impeccably dressed assistant. Not that she had a hair out of place, of course. But she’d changed into cargo pants and a white T-shirt which was neatly tucked in and belted tight, emphasising her trim waist. Her shining hair made even more vivid by the fierce African sun was still caught in an immaculate knot, but on her feet she wore weathered combat boots.
For the second time today, Sakis felt the attraction he’d ruthlessly battened down strain at the leash.
Ignoring it, he turned his attention to the man next to him. ‘It’ll be nightfall in three hours. How many boats do you have conducting the search?’
‘We have four boats, including the two you provided. Your helicopter is also assisting with the search.’ The captain wiped a trickle of sweat off his face. ‘But what worries me is the possibility of pirates.’
His gut clenched. ‘You think they’ve been kidnapped?’
The captain nodded. ‘We can’t rule it out.’
Brianna’s eyes widened, then she extracted her mini-tablet from her thigh pocket, her fingers flying over the keypad.
One corner of her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she pressed buttons. A small spike of heat broke through the tight anxiety in his gut. Without giving it the tiniest room, Sakis smashed down on it. Hard.
‘What is it, Moneypenny?’ he asked briskly after he’d dismissed the captain.
Her brow creased but she didn’t look up. ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve anticipated the pirates angle...’
He caught her chin with his forefinger and gently forced her head up. When her gaze connected with his, he saw the trace of distress in her eyes.
‘That’s what the investigators are here for. Besides, you’ve had a lot to deal with in the last several hours. What I need is the list of journalists you promised. Can you handle that?’
Her nod made her skin slide against his finger. Soft. Silky. Smooth.
Stási!
He stepped back abruptly and pushed the aberration from his mind.
Turning, he moved towards the shoreline, conscious that she’d fallen into step beside him. From the air, he’d guestimated that the oil had spread about half a mile along the shore. As he surveyed the frantic activity up and down the once pristine shoreline, regret bit deep.
Whatever had triggered this accident, the blame for the now-blackened, polluted water lay with him, just as he was responsible for the missing crew members. Whatever it took, he would make this right.
The captain of
