Chapter Four The Crossing #2
Naomi rested her head against Lucas’s shoulder.
“Maybe that’s what I have to do with Dad.”
Lucas kissed her curls.
“Maybe.”
Dinner aboard the Blue Heron was louder than Naomi expected.
The crew numbered fourteen, though only five knew their passengers’ real identities. Most believed Naomi was a textile conservation specialist studying historic maritime clothing, while Lucas had somehow become a heritage architect interested in coastal structures.
Anthony had no cover identity.
Apparently everyone simply accepted that princes sometimes appeared on research vessels without explanation.
Naomi sat beside Helena while a marine archaeologist named Stefan explained an upcoming expedition to locate a seventeenth-century merchant ship.
“You design clothing?” Stefan asked.
Naomi nodded.
“Primarily.”
“Then why textile conservation?”
She glanced toward Anthony.
He took an innocent sip of wine.
Naomi improvised.
“Construction techniques survive through fabric in ways written records miss.”
Stefan brightened.
“Exactly.”
Naomi continued before she realized she actually believed what she was saying.
“Seams reveal how people moved. Repairs reveal what they valued. Wear patterns tell you which parts of a garment endured daily life.”
Helena smiled.
“You may be more qualified for this cover than Anthony expected.”
Naomi looked toward him.
“He expected nothing.”
“Rude.”
Lucas leaned closer.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“Should I be jealous of maritime archaeology?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether they have scallops.”
Lucas nearly choked on his drink.
Anthony looked confused.
Naomi laughed.
The memory of their first dinner returned so suddenly she could almost smell Daniel Marlow’s restaurant.
One meal.
No promises.
That seemed like another lifetime.
Lucas’s hand found hers beneath the table.
Naomi squeezed.
Neither needed to explain.
After dinner, Anthony disappeared with Helena to review route security. Ross remained in the operations room.
Naomi and Lucas returned to their cabin.
The sea had grown rougher.
Naomi stood near the porthole removing her earrings while Lucas locked the cabin door.
“You know,” he said, “this technically qualifies as the first trip we’ve taken together that isn’t immediately following an attack.”
Naomi turned.
“We’re traveling secretly across Europe because multiple criminal organizations may be tracking us.”
“Yes.”
“And you call that progress?”
“Massive progress.”
She laughed.
Lucas approached.
His hands settled at her waist.
“I’m serious.”
“You rarely are when you start sentences like that.”
“This is the first time we’ve had hours where nobody can easily reach us.”
Naomi looked up.
“Is that what you think?”
Lucas’s smile faded slightly.
“You don’t?”
She glanced toward the porthole.
“The ocean makes me feel exposed.”
He followed her gaze.
“Nothing for miles.”
“Exactly.”
“No alleys.”
“No rooftops.”
“No easy escape either.”
Lucas studied her.
“You’re still waiting for something to happen.”
Naomi nodded.
“I don’t know how to stop.”
He moved behind her.
His arms wrapped around her.
“Then don’t force it.”
Naomi leaned into him.
Lucas kissed her shoulder.
“One day we’ll have boring problems.”
“What kind?”
“Mortgage paperwork.”
“We are not getting a mortgage on a Taylor penthouse.”
“Fine. Plumbing.”
“I can hire someone.”
“Terrible neighbors.”
“You are British royalty-adjacent. Your neighbors probably own castles.”
He laughed against her neck.
“Children arguing about bedtime.”
Naomi went still.
Lucas felt it.
He lifted his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
She turned within his arms.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I don’t know whether you want children.”
“I do.”
The answer came quickly.
Lucas’s expression changed.
“You do?”
Naomi smiled.
“Yes.”
He looked almost surprised by his own happiness.
“How many?”
“Slow down.”
“You introduced the subject.”
“You said children.”
“Plural.”
Naomi laughed.
“One day.”
“One day.”
His hands tightened around her waist.
“You'd be an extraordinary mother.”
The compliment reached somewhere deep.
Naomi looked away.
“My biological mother spent thirty years watching me through photographs.”
“That does not define motherhood.”
“No.”
She returned her eyes to him.
“My mother raised me.”
“Yes.”
“And Amara gave me away to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe both loved me differently.”
Lucas nodded.
“Maybe.”
Naomi touched his face.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What kind of father would you be?”
His expression changed.
Fear.
Not panic.
Something older.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve thought about it.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I’m afraid I’d hear Hudson’s voice come out of my mouth.”
Naomi’s heart softened.
She took his face in both hands.
“Then listen for your own.”
Lucas closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, emotion had softened his gaze.
“You make everything sound possible.”
“No.”
Naomi leaned closer.
“I make you work.”
“Relentlessly.”
She kissed him.
Lucas’s hands moved to the middle of her back, drawing her closer.
The kiss deepened slowly.
Not because danger had forced them toward one another.
Because there was nowhere else either wanted to be.
Naomi’s fingers slid into his hair.
Lucas kissed her with a tenderness that gradually warmed into something stronger. He lifted his head only when they both needed air.
“Are you tired?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to let you sleep?”
“No.”
His smile returned.
“That answer I understood.”
Naomi kissed him again.
The ship rolled gently beneath them.
Outside, the ocean stretched black beneath moonlight.
Inside, they allowed themselves another piece of the future they had been discussing.
No speeches.
No promises made from fear.
Only intimacy, trust, and the quiet certainty that whatever waited in Spain would not be allowed to steal every beautiful moment before they reached it.
Later, Naomi fell asleep with her head against Lucas’s chest.
His hand rested over hers.
Her engagement ring pressed lightly against his skin.
At 2:06 a.m., the Blue Heron changed course.
Naomi did not feel it.
Lucas did.
He opened his eyes.
The engine pitch had shifted.
Years of sailing with Arthur had taught him enough to recognize a hard directional turn.
He carefully moved Naomi’s hand and reached for the intercom beside the bed.
Before he could press it, the cabin lights changed from white to red.
Emergency illumination.
Then came Helena’s voice over the speaker.
“All cleared personnel report to operations.”
Lucas sat up.
Naomi awakened.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
The ship rolled again.
Harder.
Lucas dressed quickly.
Naomi pulled on trousers and a sweater.
By the time they reached operations, Commander Ross stood beside Helena staring at a radar screen.
Anthony appeared moments later.
“What?”
Helena pointed.
“We were approached twenty minutes ago.”
“By what?” Naomi asked.
“A vessel running without identification.”
Lucas looked toward the radar.
One moving marker trailed them several nautical miles away.
Ross folded her arms.
“It matched speed every time we adjusted.”
Anthony leaned toward the screen.
“Pirates?”
Helena shook her head.
“Not this far north.”
“Then who?”
“No radio response.”
Naomi looked toward Ross.
“Mercer?”
“Possibly.”
“Serrano?”
“Also possible.”
Lucas studied the radar.
“Why change course?”
Helena enlarged the map.
“We’re heading toward a naval exercise area.”
“If they keep following, they'll attract attention.”
“Exactly.”
The unidentified vessel maintained distance.
For five minutes.
Ten.
Then suddenly turned away.
Anthony exhaled.
“They gave up.”
Ross didn’t look convinced.
“No.”
Naomi watched the marker disappear.
“They found what they needed.”
Lucas looked toward her.
“What?”
“They confirmed we’re aboard.”
Helena’s face hardened.
Naomi looked around the operations room.
“How many people knew the actual departure time?”
“Seven,” Ross said.
“How many knew the route?”
“Five.”
“Then someone leaked.”
Anthony frowned.
“Or the vessel was tagged.”
Helena ordered a hull and equipment sweep.
The crew moved immediately.
Naomi looked toward Lucas.
“We said everyone expected us to go to Spain.”
He nodded.
“Knowing we’re taking the sea route narrows where we’ll arrive.”
“Bilbao.”
Ross shook her head.
“We change destination.”
“To where?”
Helena studied the nautical chart.
“Santander.”
Anthony leaned forward.
“That moves us east.”
“And keeps us away from the expected dock.”
Ross nodded.
“Do it.”
The Blue Heron altered course again.
Naomi stared at the radar.
The mystery ship was gone.
But the feeling of exposure remained.
Someone had known.
At dawn, a crewman found the tracker.
It had been hidden inside one of Naomi’s luggage tags.
She stared at the small device inside an evidence bag.
“That bag never left the penthouse after we packed.”
Commander Ross looked toward Lucas.
“Who handled it?”
“Building staff brought luggage to the vehicle.”
“Which staff?”
“Two security-cleared employees.”
Ross immediately began checking names.
Anthony entered with another discovery.
“This wasn’t the only thing.”
He placed a folded note on the table.
Naomi stared.
“Where was it?”
“Inside the lining of your coat.”
Her skin turned cold.
“I wore that coat yesterday.”
Lucas’s face hardened.
“Someone got close enough to put something inside Naomi’s clothing?”
Ross opened the note.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Only one sentence.
You are sailing toward a house that already belongs to you.
Beneath it sat a symbol.
Not the Bluebird.
Not the Taylor crest.
A black circle divided by a single silver line.
Rose entered the operations room through a video call seconds later.
Commander Ross had contacted her after photographing the symbol.
The moment Rose saw it, her face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Naomi held the note toward the camera.
“It was sewn into my coat.”
Rose became visibly frightened.
“I told you to stay away from Spain.”
Naomi frowned.
“No, Amara told me to go.”
Rose shook her head.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Rose looked toward someone beyond her camera.
“Not over this line.”
Commander Ross stepped forward.
“This is encrypted.”
“So were Serrano’s.”
“Rose.”
She looked directly at Naomi.