Page 7 of Helsing: Demon Slayer
Ryan’s piercing gaze settled on her. He shook his head. “I’m not here with my girlfriend. I’m working actually.”
Working? What did that mean?
Dianne frowned and waited while the server set their drinks on the low coffee table in front of them before saying, “How can you be working on a cruise? I’ve seen you on all the same excursions and at the same shows. You don’t seem to be having much fun, but you also don’t appear to be doing anything different from me.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he leaned closer. His heat and scent enveloped her, drugging her senses.
Until his next words threw cold water on her.
“That’s because you’re my job.” He paused, gaze sweeping over her like a battlefield assessment. “Your sister sent me to protect you.”
Three
Ryanwatchedasshockdisplaced confusion on Dianne Markham’s irritatingly beautiful face, followed rapidly by disbelief and then anger. He wondered if she’d get up and leave as she’d done earlier with the guy her friend Germaine had recruited.
Remembering the insolent bastard’s sulky expression after Dianne walked away made Ryan’s fingers tighten on the glass of his drink. When the bottom-feeder tried to tail Dianne, Ryan made sure he rethought that move. That was when he knew that he had to engage Dianne more directly. She’d just made the approach unnecessary.
Dianne didn’t get up to leave now. That was good. Ryan didn’t feel like going after her.
“What do you mean Olivia sent you to protect me? Protect me from what?” Before Ryan could respond, however, she continued. “Why you? How do you know Olivia? I thought she ran an Albanian company that makes and exports herbal spa products.” She glared at him as if he’d told her that Olivia was really a black-market gunrunner, and he one of her lowlife enforcers.
Ryan waited for Dianne’s barrage of questions to stop. “Are you done?” he asked when nothing else came out of her, not hiding his impatience. “I’m not here to explain your sister’s business, and I sure as hell can’t explain what she wants to protect you from. As for why Olivia sent me?” Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m the Kastriotis’ chief of security. It would have been more appropriate to send someone under my command, but I don’t think Olivia trusted anyone else with your safety. You can ask her when we get to Fushë-Arrëz.”
Dianne’s jaw dropped as Ryan spoke. “What?” she asked. Her voice rose to a squeak. Her cheeks pinkened, but this time Ryan knew that the beautiful young blonde’s heightened color conveyed anger, not budding passion.
He shoved his disappointment down deep. Only the mission mattered.
“Olivia sent me to escort you at the end of the cruise to the Kastrioti estate.”
Dianne’s eyes widened. Then she blinked, her blue-gray gaze snapping. She sat up, her spine infused with steel he didn’t know she had. For the first time, Ryan got a hint of her older sister, the formidable former CIA operative, in the woman across from him.
When she spoke, her voice had hardened. “I’m not going anywhere with you, even if my sister were the Queen of England handing out tiaras.”
Ryan sighed. So much for being honest and direct. All the women in his life now—well, except perhaps Stasia Kos, whose sparkling eyes seemed to find Ryan infinitely amusing—appreciated that approach. He’d forgotten how much finesse civilian women, especially Americans, required in conversation. He hadn’t worked on that verbal skill since Arly.
“Look, I know I’m not handling this well, but my lady has a sixth sense for bad things on the horizon. If she thinks you’re in some kind of danger, you are.” He paused, frustration mounting at the incredulous look on Dianne’s face. “You can call her tomorrow when we’re in port.”
“‘My lady’?” asked Dianne. “What does that mean? It sounds positively medieval.”
Ryan felt his own cheeks grow warm. He’d slipped and referred to Olivia by her honorific.
Damn, but this was getting harder by the second. If he continued to screw up, he’d have to kidnap Olivia’s little sister in order to get her back to the Kastrioti estate.
Ignoring Dianne’s comment, he leaned forward. “Olivia warned me about approaching you. She said you do everything the opposite of her.”
Dianne, who’d started to interrupt, sat back, blinking. What was that about?
Just then Dianne’s friends, including her cabinmate Germaine, appeared in the Mainsail Lounge from the far entrance and began scanning the patrons scattered around the space. Ryan sat back, preparing for an incoming invasion.
A moment later, Jasmyn shrieked, “Girlfriend! There you are! We’ve been looking all over the ship for you!”
The other four women turned to look where Jasmyn pointed, and then they all headed toward Ryan and Dianne like a buzzing swarm of bees.
Jasmyn plopped down next to Dianne on the long sofa while Tessa sat on the other side of Jasmyn. Mercedes and Caroline hung back, both wearing unhappy expressions. Germaine stood on the other side of Dianne with a small smirk playing about her mouth.
“Damn, girl! We thought you were sulking alone in a bar,” said Tessa, who then shot a sidelong glance at Ryan. “Instead, you’re sipping some extra hot tea.”
Jasmyn leaned around Dianne to get a better look at him. “Hey! I recognize you from the library. You’re the gym bro who kissed our girl like she was the last woman on earth.”
