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“What’s the plan now?” she asked as she hurried up the stairs behind him.
“Run like hell.”
She didn’t like that plan very much, but it seemed that it was all they were left with. An explosion rattled the ship and she screamed, but alarms drowned out the sound.
“Don’t worry. It’s forward aft. We’ll be exiting toward the rear.”
“What did you do?”
“Answers later. Running now,” he commanded.
The sun was overhead by this point, and the crewmen who saw them were too busy responding to the emergency and keeping the ship afloat to bother with them.
When they got to the side, he started to climb over. “I’m going to jump and then you’re going to jump, okay? I’ll catch you.”
Damara froze.
“Don’t bail on me now, Princess. You’ve faced down ruthless thugs like you were at a cotillion. A little leap is nothing.”
He landed on the deck of one of the Russian’s boats. Then he emptied the .38 into the rear of the boat ahead of him, damaging the rudder. Hawkins held out his arms for her. “Hurry. They can still use the lifeboats, and they might catch us. You have to jump now.”
Damara’s brain screamed at her to keep moving, but her feet were rooted to the spot.
Castallegna. She had to do this for Castallegna. If she was caught... She couldn’t finish the thought. They’d blame her for Grisha’s death. They’d punish her for it, and she knew from what her bodyguards had told her that Abele’s head torturer had nothing on the Russians.
She remembered again from when she was little—the wind would carry her safely. Like it had then, like it had on the bike...and it was Hawkins. He’d kept her safe before. If he said he’d catch her, he’d catch her.
She jumped. Time stopped, and for Damara, it was as if she’d flung herself out into nothingness rather than over the side of a boat down to waiting arms on the deck of the small yacht. Terror froze her limbs, but he caught her easily and deposited her on the deck. She didn’t want to let go of him; her arms stayed around his neck even as Byron started the boat. Soon, Circe’s Storm grew smaller in the distance behind them, as did the smoke billowing up from her. So far, no one was in pursuit, but the captain knew where they were headed and a radio or a satphone would be much faster than a boat.
“You know we’ll still have to be on our guard. It’ll be best if we choose another port. Maybe Barcelona. It’s closer. If the fuel doesn’t hold, the wind will.”
She leaned against his shoulder, knowing she should release him but unwilling to just yet. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done.”
“You’re not safe yet.”
“Safer than I was.”
“You did good in there, Princess. You’re going to be okay.” He pulled her closer for a minute. When he released her, she finally let him go.
Again, his praise shouldn’t have been so warm, like basking in the sun, but it was. She’d never been good for anything but getting her brother what he wanted. Pride swelled at the notion that a man like him thought she could handle herself.
But she remembered the look of surprise on Grisha’s face. The sound of the gun as the bullet exploded out of the barrel and into the man. She knew it had to be done, but that didn’t make it any less horrific.
Damara shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her again.
How quickly this physicality came to be normal between them, this touching. She leaned into his warmth and let him shelter her there for just a moment. Perhaps it was the stress of the situation, but she liked how easily he touched her, how he allowed her to touch him. This sort of intimacy was unheard of for her.
But as much as she enjoyed it, guilt swarmed her. “A man died. Because of me.”
“Are you sorry he’s dead?” He didn’t look at her, but out at the water as he guided the craft.
“Of course. He was a living being. I don’t want anyone to die because of me, but he was going to hurt me. And if he had the chance, he’d hurt Castallegna. He told me he was Bratva.”
Byron nodded. “Russian mob. They have a heavy presence in the Mediterranean. With the state of geopolitics, it makes sense.”
“I can’t believe my brother would align himself with these kinds of people.” No, she supposed that wasn’t true. She could believe it, but she didn’t want to. Abele had loved her once, when she was very young. Before he’d gone power mad when their father had died.
Before the Council of Lords had tried to have him declared illegitimate.
She tightened her arms around Hawkins’s waist and just buried her face in his chest. It was safe there. The outside world didn’t exist, only his warmth and strength.
Why couldn’t a man like him want her?
He was fierce and strong as all good leaders must be, but he was noble, too, self-sacrificing.
“Castallegna is small. This seems like much trouble to go to simply to have a base and consulate on Castallegnian soil.” She sighed.
“It would be good to have a government that was receptive to our operatives. Safe houses, if you will. Priceless, really. The Russians are trafficking in people, arms, munitions, and a lot of it is filtering through Greece, Cyprus and Italy.”
“Won’t that make Barcelona too dangerous because of the proximity to the Mediterranean?”
“No, I have contacts in Barcelona. We may have to lie low for a few days, but we’ll get you on U.S. soil soon.”
“I don’t mean to look a gift horse, Hawkins, but wasn’t Miklos a contact?”
“He was an associate.” Hawkins laughed. “Contacts. U.S. government. They’ll get us stateside safely. I promise you.”
“Then what will happen to me?”
“I’ll turn you over to Renner, the guy you spoke with. Then he’ll take it from there.”
“What will you do?” She didn’t want to be handed over to anyone else. But she had to remember that to him, she was just a job. A package that had to be delivered. Something he hadn’t wanted to take to start with.
“I’ll have to go back to Italy. I’m still on assignment there.”
“I hope I didn’t blow your cover.”
“No, it’ll be fine. Miklos doesn’t run with the same people. We’ve never had any transactions anywhere that was well lit, and I have a different name. Different social circles. They think I’m in finance. It’s not a bad gig, really.”
“So if I asked you how the yen was doing in comparison to the dollar, you’d be able to tell me?”
“Yes. Do you want to hear it?”
“Not really.” She laughed. “I’ve acquired many skills, but finance and global trends all turn to gibberish when I try to make sense of them. I understand spending money, and I understand budgets and taxes. But crude investments versus pork bellies because of the rise in gold? Nothing.” She’d always felt as if she should know more about international finance, but her brain just didn’t work that way.
“Whenever anything else was going wrong in my life, numbers always made sense. They’re irrefutable. Math is a universal language. Even though people say money is cold, hard and unfeeling, it’s not. It’s a tool. The stock market is attuned to feelings. When people don’t feel safe, the numbers drop. When they do, they rise.” He shrugged.
She liked that view of things. It made sense to her.
“I wish you could come with me after we’re stateside. I don’t know Renner. I know you.” It was the closest she could come to asking him without actually saying she wanted him.
“You don’t. Not really. I’m not a good guy, Princess. It’s nice that you see me that way now. But it’s like I said, I’m not really good at this protection gig. Killing is more my speed.”
“Then why do I feel so safe?” She was still tucked against his body, shielded by his heat and his strength.
“Because you haven’t learned any better.” His tone wasn’t quite condescension, but it was close.
“I’ve learned what you’ve taught me.” She looked up at his hard profile. “And what you’ve taught me is that I’m safe with you. That you’ll protect me. Even at the cost of your own life.”
“I work for the good guys, but don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m a good guy.” He turned away from the controls and stared down at her, his gaze focusing on her mouth.
For one second, she hoped he’d be what he thought was a bad guy and kiss her. He probably thought she was some sheltered girl with no experience. She supposed that was true, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t know what she wanted or wasn’t capable of making her own choices. She trembled and wanted to ask him if he was going to kiss her, but she knew that would shatter the moment. She wanted him to slam his mouth into hers and kiss her with no thought of where they were, who she was or what it meant.
His eyes were even more intense, his pupils dilated and his breathing was rough and hard, as if he exerted some superhuman effort just standing there. Maybe he wanted to kiss her, too. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her head up slowly.
“This can’t happen,” he said, his voice as low and guttural as Grisha’s had been when he’d demanded to know why she didn’t want him.
It occurred to her then that she wanted Byron Hawkins with the same intensity with which she’d despised Grisha.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_f1457185-9510-5bb9-a382-9724f6e31131)
SOME PEOPLE WOULD think that because Damara was a princess, she didn’t understand the word no. She understood it plenty. She heard it so often that yes was more of a surprise. So rather than be upset, she asked, “Why not? Am I not pretty?”
“You know you’re beautiful.”
“Am I?” She lifted her chin, wondering if that’s actually what he thought of her or if he was just being polite.
“Now you’re fishing for compliments and you’re not going to get them. You know how you look.”
“I don’t. Not really. My suitors all tell me I’m beautiful, but all they want is the power that comes with being married to me. I have maids. I have servants. They all tell me I’m beautiful, but they all must. What is it you don’t like?”
She dared to ask the question, but she was actually afraid of the answer. She didn’t want to be told that she wasn’t enough—that she had nothing to offer him since he didn’t want a crown.
“Your innocence.”
“I see.” Damara didn’t. Not really. “Because you’re a bad man?” She turned the conversation back to familiar territory.
“A very bad man.”
“A bad man wouldn’t care. Had I offered myself to Grisha, he wouldn’t have waited.” She shivered, both with fear and anticipation.
“You deserve better than a man like Grisha.”
“I know that. That’s why I picked you. But you’re not cooperating.”
Damara Petrakis wasn’t sure who was more surprised by what came out of her mouth. The expression on his face looked like she’d kicked him somewhere unforgivable. She wasn’t sure what strange maggot had burrowed into her brain, but she suddenly realized that this was the answer to half of her problems. Not only would it eliminate many of Abele’s contenders for her hand; on a more selfish note, it was something she wanted to experience. She wanted to know what it was like to be wanted for herself, not her position. She had a feeling that Hawkins didn’t care if she was a princess or a beggar.
His eyes widened. “You have lost your mind.”
She scowled. “That’s not what a lady expects to hear from her chosen beau.”
“This ain’t a cotillion, Princess.” He sneered.
This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “No, it certainly isn’t.” She pursed her lips and decided to appeal to his logic. “But my brother is going to have a hard time marrying me off if I’m not a virgin, isn’t he?”
“That’s still a thing?” He wrinkled his nose.
Still a thing. Damara closed her eyes for a second as the emotion threatened to overwhelm her. The whole of her self-worth had been wrapped up in the slight veil of flesh. It had been drilled into her head that it belonged to her country and she owed it to her people to keep herself chaste until she was married. But now, getting rid of it seemed like only way to give them and herself some measure of protection until Abele was captured and tried for treason.
Of course, this soldier wouldn’t understand. She knew that. It was part of why she’d chosen him. So she couldn’t be angry at him or hurt that he didn’t understand. His culture was different.
She took a deep breath. “It’s very much still a thing in Castallegna and in many parts of the world. I was under armed guard for most of my life. If I’m worthless to him, maybe he’ll stop killing people to get to me.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t know if anyone told you, but he could lie.”
She swallowed. “He could, but the kind of men he wants an alliance with would demand an examination before we were married.”
“How about I just kill him for you?” Hawkins said as if he were asking her permission to do something as mundane as trimming the hedges below her window. Hope surged in her chest for all of a single millisecond. Life would be so much easier. So many people would be saved. One life for many—one of the founding principles on which she was raised. His death would mean she’d be free to dissolve the monarchy, to bring true democracy to Castallegna, just as her father had always dreamed.
But she couldn’t do it on the back of an assassination.
“I can’t ask you to do that.” She swallowed the hope that had turned to bile in her throat.
“You’re not asking. I offered. See, like I said, killing is what I’m good at.”
She wet her lips, as if that would help ease her next words into the world. Damara may not have been experienced in the ways of the flesh, but she did know people. Politics and manipulation had been part of her extensive education, as well. “So are you saying that you’re not good at making love?”
“Fucking, little girl. It’s called fucking,” he snarled.
Damara found it so telling that he could speak of killing—of death—without blinking an eye, but when the discussion turned toward softer things, it made him angry and defensive. At first she’d thought intimacy was the problem, but it didn’t get much more intimate than taking a life.
A million retorts came to mind. She wanted to tell him she was no little girl, she was a grown woman, but she didn’t need his validation to know that. It didn’t matter if he wanted to use those words to push her away, to keep her from whatever it was he didn’t want her to see.
“You still didn’t answer the question.” Damara was proud of how steady her voice was, how she met his regard with unflinching resolve.
“I’m warning you, Princess. Steer clear of this and me.” His eyes raked over her with an intensity that made her feel exposed, naked.
He didn’t have to answer the question. She sensed that if he touched her, she’d never be the same.
But she supposed that would be true of experiencing this with anyone. Maybe it was because he seemed reluctant that she wanted it to be him so very badly. Men always wanted something from her, and this one didn’t want anything. How perverse of her.
She responded before she had time to think it through. “Steer clear of you or what? You’ll do what I’ve asked? What exactly do you think is going to happen to me? Do you have some hideous disease? Are you malformed?”
“I am formed very well, and clean, thank you,” he growled. “How do you propose we do this, Highness? Hmm? Here in the boat? With no condom?”
She blushed.
