Page 63 of Savior

Luca didn’t giveme a gun. He did, however, laugh in an understated, totally endearing and equally demeaning way before declining my request with a subtle apology.

“You’re too volatile at the moment,” he’d said. “And it will ruin this tough-guy thing I’ve got going if a woman under my protection starts fighting her own battles.”

He’d meant the latter as a joke.

I didn’t find it funny.

But he, along with Hunter and Torian, listened in silence as I talked them through my rough sketch of the house and yard. I told them where I thought the guards might be—inside and out—and gave them my knowledge of the weapons they should be holding—a rifle and knife—along with my assumption of any training they may have had—limited to none.

I was treated like an integral part of the team. They asked innumerable questions, ran through strategies, and made me eat to increase my energy levels while we came up with different plans of action, each option having multiple contingencies.

By the time they were ready to make a move, night had fallen, and Tobias had claimed a few hours of awake time to become marginally settled in Keira’s presence.

She was good with him. Too good. Which pissed me off. His naive kiddo brain took in every kind word she said like a sponge. He gobbled up her kindness and generosity as if it were edible gold. So now I like her even less.

Their incremental bond wasn’t enough to make me feel comfortable leaving him on the island, but their connection appeased me to the point where I could step onto the boat knowing he was safer with Keira than he’d be back at home.

Then there’s my brother, the man who no longer tries to meet my gaze. The one whose aura seeps with such deep sorrow as we race over the moonlit water I can’t stop my breath from catching whenever I look his way.

“Are you warm enough?” Luca settles next to me on the boat’s bench seat, his attention on the goosebumps along my arms.

“I’m good.” The sea breeze makes my loose shirt billow at the hem, the sweep of mother nature’s kiss the only comforting sensation out here in solitude. It’s the beauty before the approaching storm, but I refuse to let the thought of what’s to come send me into a spiral.

I need to stop thinking about the possibility of the guards not acting according to how I anticipate. Or that my sisters could already be dead. The unknowns try to haunt me like a conniving devil on my shoulder. I can’t give in to the darkness. Not yet.

“You nervous?” Luca’s voice is barely audible over the rush of water against the hull.

Hemakes me nervous.

Returning to the only home I’ve known for the last eighteen-plus months seems more natural in comparison. At least I can predict what will happen inside those walls. The suffocating fear of what comes next is almost a comfort because of its familiarity. It’s what I’m used to. What I know.

With Luca, I’m in unchartered territory.

“I’m cautious,” I admit. “I don’t hold the same confidence you all have.”

“You’re our main priority. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

His protection attempts to seep into me, the wisps of kindness brushing over my extremities. I’d love for the effects to sink deeper. To penetrate. If only my self-preservation didn’t see his ability to soften me as a threat.

“You all seem to know exactly what you’re doing,” I murmur. “How can you have confidence when you’re going into a situation where you know you’ll be outnumbered more than two to one?”

He grips the bench seat on either side of his thighs and ponders his answer for longer than necessary. He opens his mouth, only to close it, then glances away.

“You’re faking the confidence, aren’t you?” I try to read him. To see what he’s attempting to hide. “This is all a huge risk.”

“Of course it’s a risk. Doesn’t mean I’m not confident. I know what I’m doing.”

“How? This situation can’t be a common occurrence.”

He pauses, his gaze gentle. “I’ve had training.”

“Training? How can you train for—”

“I was a SEAL, Penny.”

I pull back an inch, my surprise hitting me hard as he glances away. He seems embarrassed by his honorable past.

“I don’t understand.” I lean to the side, reclaiming his gaze. “Why did you—”

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