Chapter 7 #2
She and Skeet followed at a distance as their targets made their way onto the resort’s elevated walkways.
Teak boardwalks lit by soft lanterns connected the villas through the treetops.
The night sounds of the jungle—insects chirping, leaves rustling, the distant crash of waves—muffled the sound of their footsteps.
Volkov’s villa rose from the forest, larger than theirs. Through gaps in the foliage, lights blazed inside. Shadows moved behind curtained windows.
“Can you hear anything?” she whispered.
Skeet shook his head. “Too much ambient noise. We need to—”
A twig snapped.
Volkov was walking back toward them, his silhouette unmistakable in the lantern light. In seconds, he would see them standing on the pathway.
She turned to Skeet just as his hand cupped her face.
Then his lips were on hers.
Soft at first, almost hesitant, because it was just an act.
But it should at least look real, right?
Maybe Skeet thought that too, because when she didn’t pull away, it deepened. His thumb traced her cheekbone while his other hand settled at the small of her back, drawing her closer, deepening his kiss. He tasted like wine and the exotic tropical night.
And she was all in, losing herself in the moment, the pretend. For the cause.
But this man—oh, he was adventure and yet safety, the perfect mix of charming and bossy.
And shoot, she liked kissing him. Really liked it.
He kissed like a man who knew how to make a woman feel wanted.
Not pushy, but just enough desire to spark something inside her. Trust, maybe. Or even . . . longing.
And just like that, Chloe forgot about the mission. Forgot about Volkov walking toward them. Forgot about everything except the warmth spreading through her chest and the way her hands fisted in his shirt and drew him closer.
He groaned softly, maybe by accident, but she didn’t care. It only caused her to wind her arms around his neck and step into the pocket of his embrace. He settled his arms around her and slowed his kiss into a long, languid moment.
Volkov’s footsteps approached.
Skeet kept kissing her, turning her away from Volkov, his back to the man. Maybe just lost in the kiss, but she had a feeling it had to do more with her protection.
Skeet braced his arm over her head on one of the tall pillars holding up the boardwalk, the other arm around her waist, and tucked her into him.
And never broke the kiss.
The footsteps disappeared into the tropical sounds.
Skeet lifted his head, met her eyes. Her heart thundered in her ears.
“He bought it.” Skeet’s voice was quiet. He didn’t step away.
“Good.” Her voice came out husky. “Good thinking.”
“Chloe . . .” He searched her eyes in the lantern light.
And right then, oh—Chloe, get your head back in the game! He was handsome and brave and yes, right now her partner, but they lived very different lives.
The kind of different lives that didn’t make for happily ever after.
And what had he said about getting too emotionally involved? The kind of involved that caused him to make bad decisions? Like following her into trouble . . .
She probably needed to save the man from herself before both of them got hurt.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed. “We should head back.”
He nodded and tried to take her hand, but she folded her arms, still trembling a little.
Pull yourself together, woman!
They walked toward their villa in silence. When they reached their deck, Skeet sank onto one of the loungers, staring out at the moonlight dancing on the water.
She needed a swim. Something to cool her off. Disappearing into the villa, she donned her swimsuit—a simple black one-piece she’d bought with the dress. The pool beckoned like liquid moonlight. She slipped into the cool water.
When she surfaced and looked around, Skeet’s gaze was on her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I just . . .”
He came over to the side of the pool and dipped his legs into the water. “It’s going to be okay.”
She came over to the side, near him, folded her arms on the deck to hold herself up. “Sometimes . . .” She grimaced and set her chin on her arms. “Sometimes I think I try too hard.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re just figuring that out now?”
She splashed him, and the water landed on his white shirt, soaked it.
“Ham is always quoting Bible verses. He loves the forty-sixth psalm. Something about God being our help and refuge when the mountains fall into the sea and the oceans roar . . . Whatever. But it ends with ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’”
She looked at him. “From the guy who’s still trying to figure out faith.”
“From the guy who can’t seem to shake free of . . .” He lifted a shoulder.
“Regrets.”
He nodded.
“Be still.” She turned to face him. “I don’t think I know how to do that. I just . . . maybe I just don’t want to slow down. It might all catch up to me.”
They sat in silence. The sea breeze stirred the curtains behind them.
For the first time in months, the knot of anxiety in Chloe’s chest began to loosen.
“I think I’ve convinced myself that helping means never stopping, never resting.
Like if I just stay busy enough, work hard enough, I can find . . .”
“Find what?”
“I don’t know. Peace, maybe? Or proof that I’m strong enough to handle whatever life throws at me?”
“I get that.” His voice emerged a little rough. “I keep telling myself that if I can control everything, I can see the trouble coming.” He glanced at her. “Although sometimes it sneaks up on you in the middle of a Myanmarese forest.”
“Hello, you snuck up on me.”
He grinned, and it sent electricity through her heart.
“What if we’re both wrong?” she asked softly. “What if strength isn’t about handling everything alone and protection isn’t about perfect control?”
“Then we’re in trouble.” His smile was wry. “Because those are the only strategies I know.”
Right.
She pushed away from the edge, turned, and dove down into the middle of the pool. Quiet here. Cool. Peaceful.
Be still. She could almost hear Selah in her head.
When she surfaced, Skeet was gone.
She looked around. “Skeet?”
No answer. She got out and grabbed a towel, then her robe. Went into the villa.
Empty.
Where would he go at this hour?
And more important, why hadn’t he said anything before disappearing into the night?
This he needed to do alone.
The memory of their kiss burned through Skeet’s chest as he crept through the jungle darkness toward Volkov’s villa. The way Chloe had melted against him. The sweet taste of trust on her lips. That moment when everything between them had blurred from professional to personal.
That’s when he’d known he couldn’t let her get hurt. That and the fact that he got it—she couldn’t let go of needing to fix everything, just like he couldn’t stop trying to control, and frankly, they might be oil and water and headed for disaster.
Especially given what he needed to do next.
So when she’d disappeared under the water, he’d slipped away.
Get into the villa, get the intel, get out before Volkov returns.
And keep Chloe safe from the kind of danger that could get them both killed.
He moved through the shadows between massive teak trees, his footsteps light, avoiding the fallen branches that could snap and give him away.
The scent of night-blooming jasmine mixed with the earthy smell of decomposing leaves.
Somewhere in the canopy above, a gecko clicked its territorial warning.
Volkov’s villa loomed ahead. The two-level structure perched among the trees like a giant cocoon, connected to the resort’s walkway system by a private bridge. Tall windows revealed glimpses of the same interior as their villa, with the exception of the upper floor.
Skeet pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to Coco.
Skeet
Need remote access. Villa 7. Ten minutes.
He’d already contacted her with his plan to sneak and peek, maybe grab intel—after the restaurant, while waiting for Chloe to change.
The response came back immediately.
Coco
Ready when you are. Don’t get caught.
All he needed was physical access to Volkov’s computer for sixty seconds, and Coco would do the rest.
He’d almost reached the villa’s lower deck when footsteps rustled behind him.
“Going somewhere without me?” a voice whispered.
Skeet spun around. His stomach dropped.
Chloe emerged from the shadows, still wearing the black swimsuit from earlier but now with dark shorts and a tank top thrown over it, water leeching through, her blonde hair tousled. Blue eyes flashed with irritation. She held her new burner phone, picked up at the airport earlier today.
“What are you doing here?” He kept his voice low, but it emerged as a growl.
“Following my partner, who decided to go on a solo mission without telling me.” She crossed her arms. “What did you think I was going to do when I got out of the pool and found you gone?”
“Stay safe. Stay in the villa. Stay out of trouble.” The words came out in a whisper harsher than he intended.
“Wow. Three for three on things I’m terrible at.” She moved closer. He caught the scent of salt water from the pool. “So what’s the plan, partner?”
“There is no plan for you. I’m handling this.” He glanced back toward Volkov’s villa, where lights still blazed in the upper windows. Volkov’s companion lay on a lounge chair on the deck by the pool on the first floor. “This won’t take long. I just need to get in and out before he gets back.”
“Right. I’m pretty sure I remember you using the word together earlier.”
“This is different.”
“Is it? Or are you just so terrified of failing again that you’d rather shut me out than risk having help?”
Wow. He turned to face her. Jaw tight. Fine, if that’s how she wanted it. “I’m terrified of getting you killed.”
“Yeah? Ditto. Let’s do this.” She gestured toward the villa.
Skeet closed his eyes. Breathed. Opened them again to find her watching him.