Chapter Thirty
Isla
I didn’t know if he knocked.
Lost in the thrashing sea of fear in my own head and the storm raging outside, I didn’t hear him until he was standing over me like the sentry of death.
“Don’t even try it,” I warned, huddled on the floor and wedged in a corner between the nightstand and the bed while I tried not to vomit up all that expensive seafood I’d put in the cioppino.
“Try what?”
My mantra and my bravery had fled when I’d been thrown off the bed in a violent pitch a half hour ago, and I hated his calm voice.
“Tell me you’re prepared for this, that the boat can handle it, that there’s nothing to worry about.
” I hated being nauseous. It was a trigger and why I cooked my own food.
“I am prepared.”
“I don’t care how well trained you are or how much experience you have, no one’s ever fully prepared.” For anything. “You can plan all you want, but birth, death, and insane weather events are all alike. They come at you full force, and you just have to ride the wave.”
Shockingly not contradicting my spur-of-the-moment theory—one that was no less apt, considering the circumstances—as another wave plowed into the boat, the SEAL sat in one of the plush lounge chairs that was appropriately fixed to the floor.
Because this was what boats did. They bounced all over the waves.
Or cut through them in calmer seas.
But this wasn’t calm, and neither was the man sitting across from me.
With his legs apart, his forearms resting on his knees, he laced his fingers.
I’d bet my journal that he never laced his fingers.
“What?” I didn’t ask the question. I tossed it out like the accusation it was, and I had no intention of elaborating, because not only did I stupidly want to see what he would do with my attitude, I wanted to be angry.
I wanted to be so angry—at him, at the storm, at the situation. At myself.
Except safe-harboring anger was as dangerous as courting it.
The volatile emotion bred like wildfire and made you make stupid decisions—like traipsing across a yacht in a towel. I didn’t want the anger or all the other emotions trailing behind it like leeches.
I wanted to excise them.
I wanted to excise him.
The calm, collected, dominant SEAL who stole my barrette and who was slowly stealing my reason—I wanted to scratch him out of my mind.
I also wanted to erase that ghost of a caress down my back, not know what he smelled like, and unsee that moment on the deck when he’d looked into my eyes and shown me his raw sexual power.
Now I regretted as much as I missed every second that I’d spent on that vacant terrace overlooking the Mediterranean with my only company an enticing pool, lush gardens, and fragrant breezes.
That life had been simple.
This man in front of me was not.
Sizing me up like he could read my spiraling thoughts, seemingly oblivious to every sway of the boat, he used his stare and his silence as a weapon.
Telling myself I had a bulletproof shield against intimidation and a master’s degree in interrogation, I foolishly thought whatever came next couldn’t possibly be a surprise.
“Your brother,” he stated succinctly.
All right, so I was wrong.
And maybe Nix truly knew I had a brother.
Maybe there were records out there somewhere.
Maybe you couldn’t completely wipe someone’s existence even when you’d grown up as we had, and lived how Wolf had.
He wasn’t a complete ghost. He’d found me today.
Or yesterday. I didn’t know what time it was.
Not that it mattered. I was just going to follow my own edict.
Ride the wave.
Not responding, hoping he couldn’t discern my facial expression in the dark any more than I could his, I held as still as one possibly could on an involuntary carnival ride.
Another wave, another jolt to my body, and another question from the SEAL all came at once. “What was your brother doing in Cap d’Antibes?”
Besides being overprotective and invasive? I had no idea. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Sniper system. Barrett M107 semiautomatic. Leupold Mark 5HD scope.”
That about summed it up. “That sounds like an impressive setup. Do you always talk weapons when you’re being cryptic?”
“Yes.”
“Must be tiresome.” I was tired of this storm. Especially the one inside this cabin.
“What was your brother doing in France, Isla?”
“I don’t have a brother.” Wolf was more like a self-appointed father figure.
“Evidence suggests otherwise.”
Shit. So he did have proof? Should I tell him my brother was dead? That he had been for a long time—at least on paper and in cyberspace, where I tried to never go.
Before I could think it through, the SEAL asked the last question I was expecting. “Are you in danger?”
“From you or the storm?” Because I’d underestimated both. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
“A ghost operator tracked you to my estate, attempted an extraction, then left you in a firefight.” He paused just long enough to give his next words weight. “He left you in my hands.”
Well, that was definitely more specific, I’d give Nix that.
Curating my reply, I gave it equal weight, but for a wholly different reason. “I’m not in danger.” Unless Nix came closer or I didn’t get in touch with Wolf soon.
Then I’d be in trouble.
So would this SEAL.
But I refused to take that on. Nix had created the current situation.
I didn’t ask for him to rescue me from something I’d never needed saving from.
And I definitely wasn’t about to tell him his definition of attempted was off.
So far off that I was now wondering if Wolf had been there for me at all.
“You’re lying,” Nix stated with absolute authority.
“For what purpose?” Nix seemed to do just fine hacking into my and Wolf’s backgrounds. He could answer his own questions.
“Concealing SOF operators’ identities is standard operating procedure.”
I didn’t need to conceal anything. Wolf did that all on his own. I just made sure not to talk to anyone about him. And if this maddening SEAL truly knew of Wolf’s existence, then my brother had allowed it to happen. “Good to know.”
“Operational security is tantamount to protecting missions and safeguarding individuals.” He somehow managed to lean closer without moving. “Safeguarding family.”
The boat rocked hard, and I fought to stay wedged in my protective corner.
But gravity pushed me closer to a dangerous SEAL who smelled like the storm outside, and suddenly I wanted out of this cabin.
“I thought Helios was rerouting. I want to talk to him. Go get Helios. Or take me to him. I need Helios.”
As if I’d inadvertently flipped a switch, Nix’s entire demeanor instantly went from controlled interrogator to lethal operator as he leaned closer.
So close that I could feel his warm breath on my skin and his cold fury in my soul.
Then he issued a deadly command. “Say his name again.”