Page 5 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

The men rowed away from the beach. It was too dark to see their faces.

Marco stopped when the waves licked his calves, his shoes sunk into the sand. “Sasha!” He called out before I could reach him.

The head of the man in question shot up, and her anger trembled through me. She wasn’t happy that Marco had identified her.

I stopped at the edge of the wet sand, out of breath and out of time. He had his hand on his key. “Fuck. It’s too far for me to use my gift.”

Marco’s gift was slowing time for a few minutes. A few lifesaving minutes I had personally experienced on several previous travels.

Frustration, worry, and something like excited butterflies hit me in the chest. For the first time, I wished I couldn’t read Marco.

We watched the men row toward the ship until they disappeared, all except for a small dot of light from their lantern bobbing across the inky darkness. The lantern light climbed up the side of the ship and vanished.

Marco sloshed out of the water and back to where I stood speechless on the beach. “She’s gone.”

My stomach gave that little flip that it does when the moon cycle is getting near its end. “Looks like we’re going to have to research this in our time because the moon cycle is closing. Let’s go.” I tugged Marco’s sleeve, urging him to walk back to the small patch of woods where we had arrived in this rugged place.

He didn’t budge.

The sea breeze blew my hair, and I could taste its salt on my tongue. I was ready to go home. My nails, in need of a manicure, clamped down on Marco’s arm. I had to convince him to leave. “It would be much easier if you would return to the present. We can do the research and come back next month.”

Marco stared out at the harbor. “If Sasha finds what she’s looking for, and I’m assuming since Mortas is here, it’s a key, she’ll have the King’s eye and a new key.”

“Are you sure it’s the King’s eye that you’re staying for and not something else?”

“Why else would I stay?” He tried to sound casual, but didn’t fool me.

“Your feelings for her could put you in danger.”

He huffed. “I’m in charge of this mission, I know how to do my job. I’ll say if I stay or if I go, and I’m staying.”

I didn’t want to stay. “What should I tell your family? What about Angel? Your parents? And what do I tell Jake?”

Our boss, CIA agent Jake McCoy, wouldn’t approve of Marco staying behind.

He stepped away from me, breaking our contact. “I’m starting test trials next month. I don’t have to be anywhere until after the next moon cycle. Tell them I’m taking a sabbatical. Tell them I’m turning off my cell phone. Tell them I’m on a beach having some me time.”

“You want me to lie for you?”

“It’s not lying. My cell phone is off.”

“Just taking a sabbatical on a beach in 1718.” I clasped my hands together in awkward prayer hands. “I’m begging you to come with me.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “Begging, huh? Not sure you’ve ever begged before.” He held up a finger. “I take that back. There was that one time on theTitanic.”

“Due to one too many Gin Rickeys.” And I thought maybe it was a shame we didn’t hook up then. Maybe his attention wouldn’t be on Sasha now if we had. Maybe it would be on me. Of course, that would be a problem because my attention should be focused on Caiyan.

“I’ve got to get on that ship.” Marco pointed at the boat in the distance. Only a few dots of light could be seen through open portholes moving around inside the wooden vessel. “It’s dark. They’re not going to set sail tonight. The captain’s just prepping, getting his crew out of the beds of the prostitutes and back on board.”

“It’s not her.” I fidgeted with my dress sleeve. “I probably had a false read.”

“It’s her. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

Marco had a point. The size was right. The way the man carried himself was right. And the unmistakable anger that almost knocked me out of my shoes was right. I wished it was wrong. All of it.

“If she’s going on board as a man, she’ll need to do better than that.” Marco placed his hands on his hips. “I could tell she was female from a distance.”

I wondered how much experience Sasha had at pretending to be a man. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. On a prior jump, I’d pretended to be a Confederate officer in the American Civil War, and it was more difficult than putting on a pair of slacks and occasionally adjusting the jewels.

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