Thea
It took Pierce approximately two minutes to grab a black duffel and lock down his house in a way that told me he wouldn’t be returning. It took me much longer to pee, grab my still fully packed suitcase, and reapply deodorant.
“About time,” he mutters when I step out of the bathroom.
“Not very patient, are you?”
“Not when people are after us.”
I step forward, enough to infiltrate his space. “Just how often are you in this kind of trouble?”
“Never.” I study his guarded expression and notice a hesitancy in him. He’s holding himself back. From what? “If I can help it.”
“Yet you have a go-bag.”
“Everyone should.”
“Does it scare you when you aren’t in control?”
His green eyes bore into mine, and I’m drawn toward him. “Don’t you ever tire of trying to fix people?”
“I enjoy trying to read closed books.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It can be.”
“Maybe…” He leans closer, his jaw brushing my temple. “You should give up reading altogether.”
Message received.
He snatches my suitcase, sprinting out of the house, barely waiting for me to exit before locking up.
He haphazardly tosses my suitcase in the back of his truck, and I cringe, hoping he didn’t break something.
Or worse, damage my pristine copy of Aunt Megan’s book.
There is no greater crime on earth. Well, except for murder, and shooting at people, and… nevermind.
He doesn’t say a word as I get in the passenger seat and buckle up. He resumes his crazy driving. I fear I’m going to be sick again, but my stomach is empty.
“How are we going to get back to the States?” I ask after several silent minutes. “I don’t have a passport; I can’t get on a plane.”
“I’ve taken care of it.”
That’s so annoyingly vague and honestly… annoying. How did he come up with a plan in the three minutes I was in the bathroom?
He continues driving in his stomach-rolling way, and I vow never to enter another car with this man after I make it home.
I brace my head and close my eyes, counting the long seconds.
Finally—finally—the vehicle slows to a stop. I shove my door open, stumbling into the scorching sun. “I survived!”
I nearly drop to the ground to kiss it until I see the people. Lots of them. Staring at me.
“Poor girl gets carsick,” Pierce says loud enough to be heard by the onlookers. “We’re here now, love.” I think that part was aimed at me, but I can’t be too sure. Not until his arm comes around my waist, and he pinches my side softly.
How hard did I hit my head earlier?
No way is he saying that to me.
“What’s happening?” I blink up at him. “Is this some alternate reality or a waking dream?”
Did I get drugged again?
“Do you dream about me calling you love?” His lips quirk in a grin, and I’m momentarily distracted by it.
“Considering I only met you yesterday… not yet.”
“Good. That would make things awkward.” The crowd moves on, and Pierce releases my waist. I didn’t realize how much he was holding me up, and I sway into the open door, banging my hip bone. Ouch.
“Where are we?” I ask, noticing for the first time that we are at the ocean. To the left there’s a long stretch of beach, and to the right are the docks, crowded with big boats and ships. “You told me you didn’t have a boat.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
“Would you believe me if I said beach day?” He retrieves my luggage from the back of the truck. Is he leaving me here? He wouldn’t, would he? Maybe he has some sketchy friends, and he’s sending me home with one on a dilapidated fishing boat because he’s sick of me ruining spy mission.
“Let’s think this through.” I hold both hands up in front of my face. “I know I can be frustrating, but let’s not make any rash decisions.”
He raises a brow. “What exactly do you think is about to happen?”
“You’re… not selling me off to a creepy fisherman with one eye?”
He grabs his bag from the truck, then turns without answering.
“Would you stop walking away? I’d like to know what we’re doing,” I holler after him. I hate being left in the dark; that’s essentially all my brain is right now. One giant, gaping black hole. I want to know what I’m getting into.
He stops, his shoulders sagging dramatically. “I’m taking you home on that ship right there.” He points straight ahead.
“That’s a cruise ship.” Is he stealing it? He’s already proven quite proficient at the sport.
“There was an unexpected opening,” he says, by way of explanation.
“What does that mean?” I close the distance between us.
“If anyone asks, your name is Jennie Larsen. And I’m Brad Larsen.”
Jennie Larsen? “Are we stealing someone’s place on the ship?” I hiss, careful not to be heard by any of the people who look like they are heading back to the ship after a long day exploring and not onto the ship for the first time.
“Let’s just say Mr. and Mrs. Larsen found a different way home.”
My throat tightens. Did something terrible happen to them while they were out exploring? This can be a very dangerous place. “Oh my gosh, did they… are they dead?”
“Of course not.” He frowns. “Do you think I had them killed or something?”
I wasn’t… “Why would you put that thought in my head?” I smack his arm, and he looks at me like I’m a fly who just tried to take him down. “Aren’t people going to notice we don’t look like them?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I can see him going through the motions of calming himself. What if this plan backfires? Getting on this ship could be a huge mistake.
“There are almost three thousand passengers on this ship. No one will remember them after one night at sea. I also hacked into the cruise site and replaced their pictures with ours.”
“What about their information? What if she’s sixty-four with a skin disorder or something? I can’t pass for that.”
He looks me over. “Don’t sell yourself short; you can be whatever you want to be.”
I can’t decide if his comment was meant to be insulting. “When did you even have the time to do this?”
“I made the plan this morning while you were in the shower. Then put it into action while you were in the bathroom gathering your things. Has anyone ever told you that you spend an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom?”
“It was like five minutes, max!”
He looks at me, his expression saying exactly. “Just stop with all the questions. I found you a way home without a passport, and that’s all you need to know. We will be in San Diego in two days.”
Fair. But… “Forgive me for not wanting to walk the plank when we are caught in this little scheme you concocted.”
He purses his lips. “I wonder if they have a plank.”
“That’s it. I’m going to hide in the room until we get back to the States.”
“Sure, do that.” He no longer waits for me as he heads toward the dock where the ship awaits.
He’s so infuriating. Some people need time to process these kinds of life-impacting decisions. Like the fact that I’m relying on a complete, albeit generous, stranger to get me home.
But I trust him, and I have to keep trusting him. Pierce is my best bet for both safety and returning home. Like a dog with a bone, I’ve attached myself to him, for better or worse. And no, I’m not going to dissect which one of us is the dog and which is the bone.
I sprint to catch up with him. “Wait up, Mr. Larsen. This is our honeymoon after all, and you’re not being very chivalrous.” I say the second part louder to draw attention.
“What are you doing?” Pierce asks through clenched teeth.
“I’m making the most of this, babe.” Then I do something terrible. Something truly horrific that will haunt me until the day I die.
I slap his butt.
Pierce halts.
Utter humiliation burns every pore on my skin. What brain malfunction possessed me to do that? I try to continue past him, but he snatches my arm, holding me firmly in place. We are two statues in the middle of a dock. I wait for a pigeon to claim us and solidify this excruciating moment.
“Would you like to explain yourself, young lady?” I refuse to look at him, but I can tell he’s smirking, and my embarrassment is ready to risk it for a chance to see it.
“Who are you? My father?”
“Well, that would certainly make this situation less weird,” he says, the sarcasm causing my skin to burn again. “Is that how you act with your father? That raises some serious red flags.”
“No!” I look at his ridiculous grin and hiss, “I was just trying to sell our farce.”
“So…” His lips twitch a dangerous gleam growing in his eyes. “You’re saying that in this fake situation of ours, spanking is appropriate”—he lifts a finger—“nay, even encouraged? Here I thought I was making the rules, but I suppose I can abide by a few of yours.”
I swallow the air that feels extra thick in my throat. I never realized how dangerous words could be. This playful flirtation of his is making my body burn hotter than the sun.
Pierce mad at me, frustrated with me, I can handle, but teasing and flirting with me? Maybe I should take my chances with the sharks and swim home.
I shuffle back a step. “Okay, ha ha.” I avoid the heat in his gaze threatening to start a fire. “It was a mistake, and you should just forget it ever happened.” I wave my hand between us, trying to shoo him and this uncomfortable moment away.
My foot slips off the dock, and he snatches my hand before I fall into the water.
I grab onto his bicep, holding onto his strength for dear life.
Even his large, calloused hands around my waist scream I’ll protect you.
It’s been a long time since someone took care of me, and it stirs a wanting deep inside me.
I suck in a breath. It’s just the rescuer effect.
He saved me, therefore I find him insanely attractive and want to make out with him.
But it’s not real. When this is all over, I’ll look back and realize how silly I was.
“Fortunately,” Pierce says, pulling me out of my thoughts, “I have a wonderful memory, which means it will live on. Which begs the next question: where do you draw the line? Hand-holding, cheek kisses, full on make outs, a little—”
“Would you please shut up?” I rasp, twisting out of his arms to put some much needed space between us.
“I can’t, because now you’ve got me worried about the validity of our cover story.” He places his hand over mine on the suitcase handle. “How far should we go to sell this charade?”
I regret everything about the last five minutes. This scheme is never going to work. But worse? What if it does? It might ruin me in the process.
“We should probably lay out some more rules, so you don’t do something inappropriate in the company of others,” he annoyingly continues. “Like, no sticking your tongue down my throat at the dinner table should be number one… in case you eat shellfish; I’m highly allergic.”
I nearly laugh at the absurdity of it. He’s a big, strong man, a spy, a rescuer of damsels in distress, but one tiny ocean creature could take him down. His snickers make me want to shove him off the dock to the killer creatures below.
I fist his shirt in both hands tugging him down to my level.
“We are grown adults running for our lives. I’m not going to take advantage of you. But if I do something inappropriate, it’s because I’m scared we’re going to be caught. You better deal with it since you seem more than capable of rolling with the punches.”
His smirk slips a bit, something like respect growing in his eyes. “Got it.” He snatches my hands before I can break free. “Let’s just assume the same if I do something inappropriate.”
He releases my hand and slips around me, leaving me stunned and speechless. He’ll possibly touch me. On purpose. Out of nowhere. I should be terrified—I am terrified—but also… dying with anticipation.