Page 28 of Secret Mission

He reaches under the console, pretending to fiddle with something, his breath angrily snorting out of him.

My heart goes into a seizure, and I almost wet my pants, only I don’t have any pants on because he took them off of me.

His eyes are snapping, the cords in his neck straining.

Talking over his shoulder as he pretends to work, he says,

“When I rented something cheap, I didn’t expect the fucking steering linkage to be falling apart all the time.”

As he fake-fixes the boat, he shoves the knife toward me. Other than carefully picking it up, I don’t breathe, move any unnecessary muscles, or even bat an eyelash.

Muttered, salty curse words float around me, until he’s satisfied with his performance.

When he stands up, he dusts off his hands on his sarong. “Gonna ask for some of my money back. Anyway… Good day, gentlemen. Good luck in your search and happy reading!”

Without giving them time to say anything else, he presses the throttle, and we take off.

I stay crouched in the little console area for a long time with my hands shaking and my stomach tied into a pretzel.

Chapter Eight

Sweat rolls down my forehead, dropping along the side of my face. Cold sweat.

Whew.

That was jacked.

It takes a good ten minutes for my muscles to unwind—to ease the clench they’ve got on my skeleton. When I can finally take a decent inhale, I slow the boat to an idle and step back to let Ally out of the hiding spot. “Get up here, hot mess.”

She scrambles away from me like she’s been shot out of a cannon. But there’s only so far she can go, and she bangs into the bed.

“Ouch!” she hisses loudly and almost drops my knife again.

“Good god, give me that before you stab yourself in the foot.”

She shrugs and passes my knife back to me…sharp end first.

Jesus.

I reach around and grab the handle. “Where is your brain?”

She blinks her hurt at me before she lets out a little growl. “Be nice.”

Well, fuck. Here I am being an asshole SEAL again.

I grunt and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sorry. I’m no good at this.”

Whateverthisis.

I don’t even know how to be with a woman. Not now anyway. Once upon a time I think I did, but so much of me died when Hope did.

That depressing thought settles into my stomach with the weight of a concrete block.

With a questioning expression, Ally folds her arms. “I’m out of sorts, okay? That was scary!”

Every cell inside of me is drawn toward her, compelled by the need to wrap her up and comfort that hurt, angry, fearful pain out of her.

But I stay frozen, and she hugs herself tighter.

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