found that impossibly noble.
And it made her blush hotter.
She had to stop thinking of him as a man and think of him as what he was—a means to an end.
Another echo of voices spurred him to action, and he lifted the cover off a lifeboat so they could crawl inside.
She could barely see him in the darkness, but the moon was bright enough overhead that a tiny bit of light shone through the canvas tarp. He held a finger up to his lips to indicate she should stay quiet.
Something sharp needled her back and hip. Damara wanted to stay still and silent, but it quickly became agony. Hawkins seemed to know and he pulled her tight against his body.
Time stopped again, just as it had on the ladder. She was stiff and frozen, but this time his fingers pushed her hair out of her face.
Those same bloody, damaged hands touched her gently, soothed her. This man said so much without saying anything at all. It was all there in that one simple gesture.
You’re safe.
I’ll protect you.
And she believed he would.
There was a part of her that didn’t want him to protect her. Part of her that wanted him to be a bastard. She didn’t want to get caught, but she couldn’t stop thinking about his hands. What they’d feel like on the rest of her body, what they’d look like on her skin.
Her face was so hot now she was sure that her cheeks would explode. She was embarrassed by the direction of her thoughts. It was all just fantasy anyway. She’d read too many forbidden books and been denied reasonable human contact for too long all in the name of purity. Her body might be untried, but her mind certainly wasn’t.
Damara shifted carefully to make herself more comfortable, but she was at a loss for what to do with her arm. If this was a lover’s embrace, she’d have clung to him, but he was a stranger. It was as if her own arm was this awkward part of her that didn’t belong on her body.
“It’s okay.” His breath tickled against the shell of her ear. “You can touch me. There’s nowhere else to go.” His voice was so low, she could barely hear it.
Heart hammering against her chest, she did as he suggested and wrapped herself around him.
The hard length was still there and it occurred to her that it might be a gun instead of— She was such a silly girl. She’d been so caught up in the fairy tale of being a princess he had to save, she’d imagined this whole attraction between them like some stupid movie. She’d even romanticized his indifference. Another reason why she had to get her head back in the game. She couldn’t afford to be a princess now. She had to be a leader. Damara had learned there was a big difference.
Except, he went through the motions of pushing her hair out of her face again. It was a caress, a touch for the sake of touch.
“Sleep, Princess. It’s a long ride to Marseille.”
She didn’t bother to tell him that there was no way she’d be able to sleep. Not with his nearness, his heat, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins from the events of the day. Or the possibility of being discovered.
Damara tried not to notice how strong he was, tried not to think about how good he felt under her hands, his strength wrapped around her. No, she was certain she’d never sleep. Especially when he’d said, It’s okay, you can touch me. It made her think about touching him. A lot. Being touched by him.
What if his hand strayed just a bit, and what if she arched into his touch. What if— No, there was to be no sleep for her.
But she was wrong, because it was some time later that she was startled awake by gunfire.
THE SOUND OF SEMIAUTOMATIC gunfire launched Byron into high alert. He’d been enjoying the feeling of holding Damara in the dark and the quiet. It was as if there were no other people in the world but them. She’d been pliant and warm, and she smelled of things like hope, things he dared not name. She’d quieted that buzz of guilt that played almost constantly in his head.
He heard yelling now but no return fire. They were being boarded.
They’d been at sea for several hours and piracy was more common in the waters to the east of them. The shipping lane they were on was largely unmolested. He’d made sure of that.
Stomping, banging on the side of the ship and loud voices echoed through the tiny space. He recognized the language as Russian. Byron only had a rudimentary knowledge of the language. But there was a heavy presence of Russian mob on Cyprus and in Greece, so he’d encountered several factions in his work for the DOD.
But as of yet, he didn’t have any intel that they were involved in piracy—at least not outright. They were subsidizing some of the Somali crews but not Russian crews. Shit, this was about to get dicey. The imagery of her face peering out from the body bag haunted him.
Just let me keep her safe. Just let her live through this.
When she started awake, he pressed his palm over her mouth gently to keep her from shrieking. “We’ve been boarded, but everything is going to be fine. Just remember to keep quiet and do as I say,” he reassured her.
Her eyes were wide and luminous, still so trusting.
He started processing their situation from every angle—each scenario that was within the immediate realm of possibility. He strategically moved them around the chessboard, trying to figure out the safest and most expedient course of action.
Until he heard Castallegna.
Renner had told him there were international and unsavory buyers for the Jewel.
For Damara.
He’d kill them before he’d let them touch her.
A calm came over him. His heartbeat slowed and the peace he’d been seeking filled him. Because this was his purpose; this was what he’d been born to do. And in this, he could keep her safe.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. It was the second time she’d sensed what his actions would be before he took them.
“I’ll be back.” He shifted carefully, hoping to make his exit from the lifeboat unseen.
“What if you’re not?” Damara asked.
“Then stay here. And when you dock, get to the American Consulate. Ask them to get in touch with Renner.”
She grabbed his hand.
He smiled in the darkness. “This is what I’m for, remember?”
“There’s too many of them to kill them all,” she pleaded.
“I like a challenge.” He didn’t say “trust me” because that was the last thing she should ever do, but this, this he could handle.
