Chapter Thirteen
Isla
With his gun holstered at the small of his back, his biceps bulging and his muscular shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, the SEAL-slash-captain extended an overhead rail type system out of the side of the boat.
As if this was a construction site, he plucked what had to be at least a twenty-five-foot speedboat right out of the ocean, its engine still running.
Before the black-hulled powerboat was pulled all the way inside and settled on blocks perfectly designed to cradle it, the man who’d jumped from the helicopter had cut the speedboat’s motor and was angling out of the smaller boat.
Rifle in hand, looking more pissed off than before, he came right at me. “Who was the sniper?” he demanded.
“Helios,” the SEAL warned before glancing at the other man who’d been in the helicopter. “Ares, secure the tender.”
The man he’d called Ares said, “Roger that,” the same time the asshole he’d called Helios said, “Fuck that.”
The winglike door started to close, and the asshole Helios drew on me. “I said, who the fuck was the sniper?”
Like it always did if you watched for it, opportunity showed her hand.
Ares tapped Helios’s shoulder in silent warning to lower his aim, and I saw it.
Moving quickly like I’d been trained to do, I seized the split-second opening and yanked the knife from Ares’s front pants pocket. Flicking open the switchblade, I pressed it against Ares’s neck because he was closest.
Then I raised my voice at the asshole still aiming at me. “Who the hell are you?” Because he didn’t seem like any SEAL I’d ever met. In fact, neither did the quiet one I was holding a knife to.
I didn’t get an answer.
As fast as I’d moved, a green-eyed SEAL was faster.
Before I’d gotten the last word out, his heat and the clean, masculine scent I’d briefly smelled earlier hit my back, his arm shot out, and he gripped my wrist with punishing strength.
Then he plucked the knife from me with his other hand, flipped it around, and held it out to Ares while he calmly spoke so close to my ear, I could feel his breath on my bare shoulder. “Answer the question, Isla.”
Ares silently pocketed his switchblade. Still aiming at me, Helios glared, and the SEAL lowered my arm but didn’t let go of my wrist or step away.
Caged in by a warfighter, glaring right back at Helios, I lied. “I have no idea.”
“You turned right fucking towards him,” the asshole accused. “You know who the fuck he is. Don’t goddamn bullshit us.”
“Like you’re bullshitting me with that SR-25? If you pulled the trigger, the round would go through me and hit your SEAL boss. But go ahead, take your best shot. Even you should be able to hit a target at this close range.”
His glare amped up into a sneer, but his gaze never left mine as he addressed the SEAL-slash-captain still holding my wrist. “Two inches to the right, Nix. Move and I’ll have a clean shot.”
Nix.
Before I could contemplate how the name didn’t fit the man, he was issuing orders.
“Helios, Ares—bridge.”
Ares wordlessly secured one more strap on the boat they’d brought aboard, effectively tying it down to the floor, then he walked out of what Nix had called the garage.
Helios, on the other hand, didn’t do as ordered. He didn’t lower his aim, and he didn’t take his eyes off me. He warned the SEAL at my back. “Bad fucking move, Nix, even for you.”
“Bridge,” Nix repeated, brooking no argument. “Bring us up to cruising speed. Heading’s set.”
“I know where the fuck we’re heading.” The asshole shifted his glare to the SEAL behind me. “Do you?”
When no answer came, Helios snorted out a sound of disgust and dropped his aim before reaching into the speedboat and coming away with my backpack.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Making a rookie move, I lunged for it.
An arm made of solid muscle hooked around my waist so fast, it caught even me off guard. As I was pulled against a wall of SEAL, the breath pushed from my lungs, and my feet left the ground.
I sucked in air to let loose with a verbal assault, and it happened.
I inhaled pure, raw dominance.
Dry, earthy, crisp—nothing like the ocean—he smelled as powerful as he felt, holding my body to his like I was nothing more than air and attitude.
Then he issued orders to the asshole, and I felt every word. “Take her pack. Upper deck cabin.”
The sound waves resonating from his chest hummed across the bare skin of my back like foreplay, and suddenly, I wished for the last thing I should.
Throwing one last glare at me, Helios shouldered my backpack and walked out of the garage, slamming the door behind him.
My feet touched the floor, the heat left my entire backside, and his arm dropped away from my waist a heartbeat before the warning landed. “Don’t provoke him.”
I wasn’t fearless, and I definitely wasn’t unaffected by the gunfight back at the estate or everything that had happened since. I wasn’t used to anything like this.
But I’d been around military men my whole life.
I knew warfighters.
The second they smelled fear, you lost. Whether it was the upper hand, your endgame, or an agenda, it didn’t matter. Fear was weakness, and they fed off it.
I turned to face the warfighter. “Or what, Nix the SEAL?” I challenged. “Your friend Helios will kill you while trying to shoot me?”
His calculating green-eyed stare met mine. Then he dropped little pieces of information like a predator planting a trail of crumbs. “It’s Phoenix. I’m no longer active duty, and Helios isn’t my friend.”
“Okay, Phoenix no last name, no friends, and former active-duty SEAL, why am I on your mega yacht?”
“Phoenix Erikson,” he amended, not elaborating on the other two points I’d mentioned before he threw out a repeat of his earlier question in rapid-fire succession. “Why were you on my estate?”
I told him the truth. “It was pretty, unoccupied, and those loungers under the cabana were the perfect place to fall asleep while I watched the stars. The outside kitchen, abundant garden, and dock to fish from were a nice bonus.”
His gaze held mine just long enough to make any normal person uncomfortable. “And the security cameras?”
“Saw them.” I shrugged. “Avoided them.”
No change in his unflappable expression, he studied my face. “Do you usually do that?”
Besides the fact that I’d been trained since I was old enough to hold a gun to avoid a lot of things, combined with the way I lived, it was definitely in my best interest to pay attention to security cameras.
It was also prudent to pay attention to dangerous men who were interrogating me while I was a couple miles offshore.
“Do you usually kidnap women?” I needed to find the fear in that question.
Except even now as I argued with him, the awareness of his presence was crawling across my body like a new kind of need I’d never experienced.
All I wanted was for him to touch me again.
I wanted it so bad, it was eclipsing every other survival instinct when I should’ve been solely focused on situational awareness.
But I wasn’t.
I was telling myself it was enough that I’d watched how he’d operated the crane, and how the wing door had been closed.
I was rationalizing that I could get one of those Jet Skis in the water by myself.
But most of all, I was banking on the fact that I could still see the shoreline and I was a strong swimmer.
If sharks or currents didn’t get me, if I kept a good pace, I could still swim to shore if I had to.
But that window was quickly closing.
Especially once the boat sped up.
“No,” he clipped.
Just as he’d watched me, I studied him when he gave me the single-word answer. His eyes didn’t shift, none of the tiny little muscles in his face moved, and his stance remained fluid while he stood perfectly still.
I actually believed him.
Pasting on a smile from one of my personality flavors that was all attitude, I reached for disinterest. “I guess that makes me special.”
I couldn’t see this man making any woman feel special.
He lived, breathed, and ate the mission—whatever his personal mission was.
Mercenary, if I had to bet. But whoever he was, he wasn’t a human trafficker.
Unfortunately, I’d encountered some of them over the years.
Fortunately, I’d had the upbringing I did, and I’d avoided them.
Not that any of it mattered in the here and now.
Unaware of my thoughts, Nix-slash-Phoenix Erikson didn’t seem impressed with my resourcefulness. “It makes you a trespasser.”
That too. But I didn’t have time to agree.
Already striding toward a door on the other side of the garage, his intoxicating masculine scent lingering, he tossed an order over his shoulder. “Follow.”