Page 71 of Enemy of the State

It’s the closest I’ve ever come to telling someone I love them.My chest burns, but it doesn’t hurt; instead, it feels like someone ignited my heart, lighting up the darkness that’s resided there for so long.

He sets his Glock in a small cubby to the right of the wheel before reaching out and cupping my cheek. With his skin against mine, the gesture feels like everything wholesome and right in this world. I swear I can hear our breaths over the breaking of the surf and the howling of the stormy wind, and I know that my heart is hammering faster than the rain pelting down around us. When I obliterate the miniscule distance, I snake a hand around the back of his neck as our lips crash like the waves around us.

His soft lips feel like home, like safety and warmth. I deepen the kiss, parting for him to gain access to my mouth, desperate for more of him. When his tongue sweeps inside, he tastes like deliverance, and I indulge in that delicious freedom like fine wine.

He feeds me his proclamation from earlier, love now dancing on my tongue as his hand glides down my back, welding us together.

I’ve never coveted love before, but now that I have Sean’s, I’ve been transformed, irrevocably changed. Or perhaps that’s simply because I might love him, too.

Right there in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, on the run, standing on a stolen boat with a man who lied, disobeyed, and killed for me, I feel more at ease than I’ve felt in the whole of my life.

There’s no escaping this connection.

There’s no escapinghim.

His kiss communicates everything his words don’t, and I let the moment cocoon me in its warmth, basking in its heated glow.

When our lips finally part, he dips his head once more, connecting our lips in a gentle, chaste kiss before murmuring, “So perfect.”

My heart soars, and I smile when he pulls away, a genuine display of joy and comfort written on my face as I tumble into the chair next to him.

Silence falls between us as I look around at the vast open ocean.The hum of a motor cuts into the dreary night and with another sigh, I get to my feet, stalking back to where I left the rifle at the rear of the boat. Sinking down, I look through the scope and call out to Sean what I see. “Two boats gaining on us.”

He guns it, and the adrenaline from a few hours ago is waning, leaving only ire in its wake to fuel me. Real freedom is so close, and the idea of losing the fight fills me with anger.

Remembering a story of mythology my father once told me, I find myself wishing that I could summon Syöjätär to fight our enemies, but the Finnish mythological goddess of snakes isn’t here. She’s not sitting on a rock in the middle of this ocean combing through her hair, waiting to be summoned to go to war for us. She’s not turning her snakes upon the men after us. But I’m not Louhi, the Finnish goddess of death, calling upon her daughter for aid. I’m only Louhi Koskinen, mortal woman and assassin. There’s only me out here and the fiery rage coiled inside me. Well, and Sean.

As soon as the first boat is within range, I fire a shot and a soldier in the boat drops. I pick off a second, third, and fourth. Two more men remain, the rocking of the boat making this more challenging than it would be otherwise.

There aren’t many things I enjoy more than pulling triggers, except for sleeping withmypillow andmaybecreating a unique death for someone. As I slip a new magazine into the rifle, I take a breath and zero in on my next target.

I finally get another shot off and when only the boat’s captain is left, I leave him for Sean. When the other boat is finally within view, I begin the process anew. Bullets whizz past me, some lodging themselves in the side of the boat, one landing in the cushion by my calf, but I ignore them all as I pull the trigger again and again.

After what feels like forever, one boat retreats while the other is left floating without anyone living to man it.

“How much farther to the mainland?” I inquire over the patter of rain.

“About one hundred and seventy-five miles.”

Bringing the rifle with me, I make my way back to the seat next to Sean and get comfortable.

“You’re pretty good with that thing,” Sean remarks, nodding to the rifle at my side.

“I’ve been a sharpshooter since I was eighteen.”

Folding my legs underneath me, I survey the dark open water surrounding us. “If you could choose a single weapon in the world, what would you pick?”

His head slides toward me and his eyebrow cocks. “Seriously,that’swhat you want to talk about right now?”

I lift a shoulder. “Why not? It’s not as if we have anything better to talk about. Call it getting to know each other.”

He rolls his eyes, which makes me smile, but he answers, “Handgun, if I have unlimited ammo. If not, then I guess my utility knife.”

“Your Glock or something else?”

“Probably a Glock. They’re simple and reliable.”

He’s right about that. They’re made of far fewer pieces, making them easier to disassemble and reassemble. But like most things, if you treat them right, they’ll do right by you.

---