Page 70 of Hook

It’s clear that my husband has a lot of things to hide, and annoyingly, that makes me want to know why he’s hiding them.

“Fine,” I say, digging into my lobster as an uncomfortable silence falls between us. What has been a nice day exploring the island is turning awkward.

Cillian makes me feel so many conflicting feelings. One minute he makes me want to murder him, then he makes me want to find out more about him, and when he kisses me... I’ve never felt more wanted in my life.

And I have to remind myself who he is.

My father’s enemy. My fiancé’s enemy.

A man who stalked me, stole me, and then forced me down the aisle.

How is it that all of those terrible things fade into the background the moment his lips are on mine?

24

CILLIAN

An alarm rings, breaking me out of a hazy sleep.

I sit straight, realizing it’s the radar alert on the boat. Jumping to my feet, I rush out of the bedroom toward the helm. The damn thing shouldn’t be going off, not when we’re anchored so close to shore, unless some idiot is heading straight for us.

Once I get to the helm, I find it is indeed another yacht heading straight toward us.

“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Quickly, I turn over the engine and rush out onto the deck to get the electric winch to haul the anchor off the seabed, tapping my foot impatiently.

Too many idiots drive boats out here, so it was stupid to leave Poison anchored where someone could easily hit us.

“What’s going on?”

I turn to see Gwen is standing in a sheer nightgown, her nipples rock hard and peaked through the fabric, and almost forget the urgency of the situation. My cock instantly turning hard. Shaking my head, I nod toward the lights of the boat in the distance. “Someone is on a collision course with us. We need to move. Come on.”

I walk back to the helm of the yacht and steer her away, heading toward San Diego.

Gwen follows me inside. She stands with her arms across her stomach as if they’re a defense. I drag her toward me and trap her between me and the steering wheel, pressing my lips to her neck. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll get us home safe.”

I don’t miss the way she shudders, her body reacting to my touch. As I force the yacht to speed toward San Diego, I find it odd that the yacht behind us has also sped up and is closing the distance between us. It’s smaller and faster than Poison.

“What the fuck?” I murmur.

Gwen leans back against me. “What’s wrong?”

“The yacht is gaining on us.”

Gwen tenses . “It couldn’t be one of your enemies, could it?”

I pause, wondering someone has sold me out. The dockmaster would have seen me take the boat, and what if... I move Gwen away from the helm and rummage under the GPS location system. When my fingers snag on the small device fitted to the bottom, rage burts to life inside me. I yank it out and throw it on the floor, stamping on it.

A tracker.

“Motherfuckers.” I ramp the engine of the boat into the highest speed, truly testing the work they did on it. “Gwen, hold on,” I say, as the yacht jerks to life in an attempt to escape the pursuing boat.

I’ve been so fucking distracted by the woman before me that I didn’t check the boat for tampering. Something I would do normally.

“What’s that?” she asks, looking at the little broken device.

“A tracker. Someone must have planted it when the work was being done on the boat.” I run a hand across the back of my neck, wondering why I didn’t do a sweep before taking her out. “I should have checked.”

Gwen’s expression turns curious as she glances behind at the boat in pursuit. “Who do you think it is?” There’s hope in her voice.

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