Chapter 6
RAFE
I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, sleep eluding me once again.
My mind replayed the party, my eyes constantly following George as he made his way round to my guests. Self-assured and charming in his way, he didn’t seem to be aware or didn’t care about the blatant once-overs from my friends or their flirtatious banter.
When I saw Decker blow him that kiss, a wild eruption burst through me, but I refused to give it power. Being possessive about anyone was so out of character for me that I dismissed the crazy emotion before it had a chance to fully form.
George skillfully avoided me for the rest of the night, but he had my complete attention.
And my curiosity about him continued to grow after our conversation.
For once, I kept my nosy questions to myself and decided that I would take a careful approach.
Despite our bickering, I wanted to gain his trust and, dare I say, friendship?
And maybe… no. I refused to let my dick get involved simply because I found the silver fox intriguing.
And sexy as fuck.
I had a job to focus on and that was that. A friend, I could use. A lover, especially one that I couldn’t escape for the next two months—and one that worked for my brother—I didn’t need.
Shaking lose any remaining thoughts about the quiet captain, I stared out the window and enjoyed the soft, steady patter of the rain. Snaps of lightning lit up the room, echoing my inner restlessness.
Instead of lying around waiting for sleep, I got up and threw on my jeans. A snack and some herbal tea were in order.
I padded down the stairs and passed the wood-paneled hallway to the galley kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I spotted leftovers from the party and decided not to let them go to waste.
I grabbed the platter of charcuterie and made myself a cup of peppermint tea.
With snacks in hand, I headed back down the hallway until I hear a loud bang.
Probably lightning hitting the water, I mused.
I kept walking until I heard it again, but this time louder, and with the echo of raised voices.
What the bloody hell was going on? I thought everyone had gone to bed an hour ago.
Being the nosy git that I am, I followed the sound and peered around the corner to the lounge and holy fuck!
The patio door was a spiderweb of shattered glass.
Through the cracked kaleidoscope, I spotted two figures on the deck outside.
The overhead lights outlined their form as they struggled to break the glass completely and open the door.
The ship was being breached and I was a first-hand witness.
Dropping the tray and cup, I ran up the stairs, two at a time, as fast as I could. Hands trembling, heart racing, I reached the wheelhouse and George’s private quarters, knocking on the door repeatedly until I heard his voice on the other side.
Immediate relief flooded my system.
“This better be an emergency,” George grumbled as he threw open the door, the hinges creaking with the force.
With his hair stuck at all angles, and his green eyes blinking furiously, he looked like a sleepy, albeit grumpy, bear. Much as I wanted to get a better look at his tight body in nothing but black briefs, I forced my eyes up since I had more pressing matters to deal with.
Ah yes, the intruders.
“Two people…on the bridge deck aft…they’re trying to break the door. We’re about to be robbed,” I managed to croak out as my body shook with the reality of the situation.
“Stay here,” George whispered.
He grabbed a pair of jeans from a nearby chair and pulled them on, then walked over to his nightstand. He grabbed his mobile and tapped quickly. A few seconds later—it felt like minutes—he spoke.
“This is Captain Bernard from Now, Voyager , Dock 3, Rivergate Marina. I need the police. Our vessel has been breached. I repeat, our vessel has been breached. There are two intruders. I’m heading down to investigate.
” He paused and I heard the faint echo of a voice on the other end of the line, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. “No,” he responded. “Right. Thank you.”
He hung up, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out a handgun.
“Are you licenced for that thing?” I hissed, pointing at the offending piece of metal in his hand.
I’d grown up in London and rarely had I seen a gun. Not until I moved to Miami. Just the sight made me queasy; I hated violence of any kind.
George ignored me and walked into the wheelhouse.
He withdrew a black flashlight from under the counter, and quickly tapped on the controls.
“Why didn’t the security sensors go off?
” he muttered out loud. “It’s too fucking late.
Stay here,” he repeated as he checked the gun and headed for the stairs.
I ignored him, grabbed the heavy flashlight he’d left, and followed behind him.
He turned as we were halfway down the stairs and motioned for me to go back, but I shook my head in refusal.
No way was I letting him go down there by himself, two against one.
I gripped the flashlight in both hands and held it over my shoulder like a cricket bat.
Doubtful I could do much damage with a three-pound object, but I had adrenaline on my side.
We reached the main level and George and I peered round the corner. The glass door was completely cracked, but it wasn’t broken. I didn’t see or hear anyone outside. They must’ve grown frustrated at not being able to break down the door and scampered off like the cockroaches they were.
“Thank fuck for the security of three-plane bulletproof glass,” George muttered as he turned on the lights and we moved slowly into the lounge. A movement on my periphery had me raising the flashlight over my head until I realized it was Charlie.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the crap out of me!” I yelled as I dropped the flashlight on the coffee table and fell back onto the couch.
Tremors racked my body.
“I heard a racket and wondered what the hell was going on. Holy shit!” Charlie exclaimed as walked over to the door and surveyed the damage.
“Failed intruders. The police are on their way,” George replied. “Can you turn on all the outdoor lights?”
“On it,” Charlie replied and slipped out of the room.
I was still sitting on the couch, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal.
Not sure that would be happening any time soon.
The rapid swoosh of my pulse kept reverberating in my ears, one wave after another, faster and faster.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, trying to calm the dizziness that suddenly overtook me.
Then I heard the faint echo of sirens in the distance, which gave me measured relief.
George crouched down in front of me and took my hands in his, gripping them tightly, securely.
I couldn’t help but enjoy his warmth, the rough calluses catching on my chilled skin.
He had a few notable scars on his knuckles, but they did nothing to detract from how strong, how beautiful, his hands were.
It was discomforting to feel how perfectly mine fit in his.
“Are you all right?” George asked as he gave my hands a gentle squeeze.
I looked up to find his face close to mine, closer than he’d ever been. My heart continued to race for a different, but no less dangerous, reason.
“It’s all right, Rafe. They’re gone. We’re safe,” he assured me as he smiled.
It was not his usual polite grin, but a genuine unfolding. Fuck me, his face came to life. He must have registered my shock because his expression transformed in a flash, back to the austere captain I recognized.
I resisted the fierce urge to lean forward and kiss his pursed lips. I wanted to feel their softness. I wanted to taste his secrets.
I was having a total meltdown.
“I know. I need a nip of scotch and a warm bath, and all will be right again,” I quipped, lightening the mood.
No matter the situation, I could always be counted on to deliver a joke instead of facing whatever emotion I was feeling. And being turned on by a man who barely tolerated me was discomforting to say the least.
It’s just lust. George was a handsome man and I’d been celibate for a while now. Simple chemistry. Only, that didn’t explain why holding hands with him made a strange kind of ache settle in my chest.
Enough.
I leaned back, pulling my hands away. The lack of contact made me shiver again.
Thankfully the police arrived, so I didn’t have time to think about my reaction to George’s touch.
The next hour was a haze of repeated questions, answers, and paperwork. The door was dusted for fingerprints and photographed, and then finally Charlie and I were allowed to cover it with tape. It was just after four in the morning when I finally headed back upstairs to my bedroom.
I flopped down on the duvet like a starfish and didn’t move.
The next thing I knew, bright sunlight was burning my eyelids. I turned over and glanced at my phone.
“It’s eleven! Fuck.”
I never slept that late. Well, not for the past year anyway. I rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. After a quick shower, I went through my usual motions—serum, moisturizer, sunscreen. My scruff needed a shave, but I couldn’t be bothered. Maybe I’d leave it and grow a beard.
I leaned closer to the mirror and as I did, I flashed back to last night, when George had taken my hands in his.
No. No way was I going to think about how tempted I was to tilt my head and bend closer…
Just…no.