But never had it been full frontal while sitting toe to toe in a leather-upholstered luxury helicopter. Whatever Zoe thought was wrong, he couldn’t find a thing. Nikita Hayward in a sports bra was a vision. Add that to the memory of her kiss and he was a very happy man at the moment.
Nikita took one look at him and heaved her t-shirt into his face.
He handed over his dress shirt with a formal courtesy and couldn’t wait to see her in it. He tugged on her t-shirt. Between her strength, his leanness, and their similar height, it wasn’t a bad fit. A little tight, but hopefully that made him look more muscular than he actually was. It was warm with her scent. Maybe he’d never give it back, or wash it.
Nikita started to pull on his dress shirt.
“No. Lose the sports bra.” At Nikita’s fulminating look and Altman’s even darker one, Drake wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“He’s right,” Zoe agreed. “It will give you the devil-may-care attitude to make up for—” she waved her hand at the rest of Nikita’s outfit in disgust.
Nikita and Altman shifted their scowl to Zoe, which was a relief, but it didn’t fluster Zoe for a second. She had more spine than he’d expected, facing down a pair of DEVGRU operators.
“Do it!” He’d never have thought that Zoe had a fierce mode, but she did and it was formidable.
Nikita snarled at Zoe, who continued to be unflappable. Then she turned to face him and Altman, “Both of you close your goddamned eyes.”
As much as he hated to, he did.
“Cover them!” It was a DEVGRU death-threat tone not to be argued with.
Then there was a movement of fabric just barely loud enough to hear above the rotor’s beat and the engines’ muted roar.
“Wow, you’ve got great breasts.”
Zoe’s exclamation almost had Drake uncovering his eyes to see but he caught himself in time. Then cursed silently, wishing he hadn’t restrained himself.
“Seriously, Nikita. What I wouldn’t give to have grown a pair like that.” Zoe was lean all the way down. It looked very good on her. Why didn’t women get that sometimes lean looked awesome?
To distract himself he tried to imagine Zoe with breasts more on the scale of Nikita’s, which actually wasn’t distracting him at all.
“No, like this,” more fabric sounds before Zoe announced it was okay to open their eyes.
Her transformation was so dramatic that Drake almost didn’t recognize the woman across from him. She’d let her hair down. It fell neatly to the open collar of his shirt—open far enough down to reveal a very nice cleavage.
Not the serious kind, like Sugar’s, pressed together and ready to burst forth at a moment’s notice.
Instead, Nikita’s cleavage revealed two soft swells of flesh that invited the eyes to linger and—that’s exactly what he couldn’t do. The shirttails were tied together above her flat stomach, offering more to admire. And she’d rolled up the skirt’s waistband until the bottom of the hem barely reached mid-thigh.
Zoe had produced a filmy yellow scarf from somewhere in her outfit and tied it as a decorative sash to hide the roll-up of the skirt. It emphasized Nikita’s narrow waist and made it look like she had even more womanly hips than he already knew she did.
Again, he’d admired her legs plenty of times in workout shorts and running shoes. But in the helicopter—with his shoes only inches from her sandals—her legs were astonishing.
“Roman,” Nikita’s voice was a threat that he was spending too long checking her out, but he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“I can also open the door and drop you into the Gulf of Mexico from five thousand feet.” The bad-ass version of flattery gets you anywhere.
“Better than a mangrove swamp,” he glanced outside to see that they were just skirting the Florida Gulf Coast as they headed south and if she threw him out it could go either way. “I’ve never been a fan of mangrove swamps. They’re snarly and smell awful.”
“Dead man,” she left the threat clear in the cabin.
He made a point of scanning her body and outfit one last time, “Totally worth the price of admission.” Even if he never got to touch her again, the way she looked was a memory worth keeping.
Chapter Six
Nikita still wasn’t sure what to do about Drake as they slid to a hover above the vast white ship. He gave no indication to Altman that they had kissed, which she was thankful for. He was doing a less than thorough job of not staring at her. Every time she turned from whatever merry chatter Zoe was carrying on, his eyes were riveted on her.
Was she so transformed? It was just clothes. Zoe had tried to apply lipstick and other makeup, but Nikita was having none of that no matter how Zoe alternately whined and cajoled.
At first, the direction of his attention had been thoroughly predictable. But as the flight continued, he’d taken to watching her face. He spoke almost as rarely as Altman and she couldn’t read what he was thinking.
Or was Drake still thinking about that same splendid kiss that she was?
She welcomed the distraction of their arrival and stared down at the ship. She’d trained on everything from a five-meter rubber boat to an aircraft carrier, but none of that had prepared her for boarding a cruise ship as an elite passenger.
The Oceanwide Whisperer cruise ship was halfway between an Arleigh Burke destroyer and a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier in length, but it rose for eight full decks above its tall freeboard. In a space that would house four thousand navy personnel, there would be six hundred passengers and four hundred crew to take care of their every whim. The minimum stateroom aboard would probably bunk four to six swabbies. By the degree of Zoe’s excitement about their suite, it was probably bigger than the admiral’s quarters on a carrier group.
“How is this real?”
From above she could see a small swimming pool that had an oversized circular hot tub off each corner. There was lounge seating, shuffleboard, and a miniature golf course all surrounded by a running track. The wood-planked bow of the ship, several stories lower, had been cleared and Rafe and Julian settled the Bell 429 into the relatively tiny space.
A line of people were waiting for them. Four stewards, two male and two female, in natty white uniforms, and a fifth, clearly in the lead, dressed in dark blue.
“Remember,” Zoe said just before she opened the door. “It’s all in the attitude. Drake, you’re in charge, flaunt it. Nikita, you’re his gal—you’re the most desirable woman around. Luke is the muscle. Sorry, that’s just the stereotype looks we have and when they’re expecting a cliché, I figure what the hell, let’s give it to them.”
“And what are you?” Altman grumbled at her, truly living his role.
“Me? I’m just the hanger-on, slave-to-fashion, good-time gal. Maybe if she’s lucky, moll to Mr. Senior Hunk Bodyguard Luke,” she teased Altman.
Nikita had never in her three years serving with Altman seen a woman tease him. By the surprise on his face, it was something he’d never seen either.
“Four stripes on her epaulettes,” Zoe whispered as the ship’s officer came over to greet them. “It means she’s one of the top people on the ship. We’ve done good.”
A customs official barely glanced at their passports, then left as the officer stepped in to greet them just past the edge of the slowing blades. She was a tall, handsome woman with neatly short blond hair.
“I am Norma, the hotel manager. Please allow me to welcome you aboard the Oceanwide Whisperer. I’m so glad that we were able to accommodate your late reservation changes.”
By the woman’s partially masked grimace, Nikita would guess that the former head of GSI may not have been the most welcome of guests.
“I don’t think that you’ll have any problems of that nature in the future,” Drake had picked up on the cues as well, but he shouldn’t be too polite. The team needed him to be the arrogant military contractor.
Out of sight, Nikita slipped a hand do
wn onto his butt and pinched him hard.
He reached back and snagged her hand, “It seems that someone is eager to get to our suite after the long flight. If we may?” He made the statement appropriately lascivious, but he also kept her hand tightly clenched in his so that she couldn’t attack him again.
The stewards and luggage were already gone.
Over the side of the boat, Nikita could see the long lines of people just now working their way from dock to ship up a pair of ramps. Some simply walked aboard, others gawked and looked terribly like first timers (a good lesson for her in what not to do), and several strode up the ramp as if they owned the ship. However, she noticed that even they glanced up with curiosity as the helicopter climbed back aloft. Then their gazes slid to her and she stepped back so that the tall railing would block their sightlines.
Drake’s tug on her hand led her through a hatchway and into a narrow corridor. It was nicely appointed, the rug a pattern of a Victorian drawing room instead of the more expected nautical theme. The walls were actually wallpapered, not painted. It would have been homey if the hall hadn’t stretched apparently on to infinity. She suddenly had the creepy suspicion that she’d just stepped onto the hotel carpeting in The Shining and that a pair of identical twin ghost girls would appear at any moment farther along the corridor.
She didn’t hear a word that the hotel manager said, but she figured that was appropriate for her role. Zoe was right. Their method of arrival had sold them as worthy of the hotel manager’s—Nikita supposed that a floating luxury hotel was an apt description of the ship—direct attention in the middle of a busy boarding process.
Nikita started feeling less like a woman lost in a whirlwind of changes she couldn’t keep up with and more like a SEAL. DEVGRU operators were like the Bruce Lee quote: The superior warrior is a normal person, with a laser-like focus. This role was no different. They were—
She caught a glimpse of herself in a tinted mirror in the elevator lobby. Nikita did a double-take—what the hell had happened to her?
“I know,” Drake leaned in and kissed her lightly, then brushed his fingers through her hair. “I dragged you off your favorite beach on no notice. You can fix yourself up once we’re in our suite.”
Fix herself up? She’d never been a dress-up kind of girl. Not as co-captain of the volleyball team and captain of the decathlon team in high school, definitely not while working for the bastards at Curtis Contracting, and there’d never been a call for fancy attire as a SEAL.
But the woman in the elevator lobby mirror, with her tousled hair, bare midriff, and long legs, was positively stylish.
In the elevator, as they were whisked upward, her instincts checked for lines of attack or escape. Mirrored access panel directly overhead—hard to spot the seam unless you were looking for it. How open was the elevator shaft on a cruise ship and what places could it be used to access if clandestine motion was needed? Then she focused on what was reflected in the panel—a clear view down her own cleavage practically to her belly button. This shirt didn’t hide anyth—
“Here we go,” Norma announced as the doors whisked open.
Nikita tried to clamp Drake’s loose shirt to her chest, but he still held her hand. She went to clench the shirt closed with her other hand, but Zoe slapped it aside.
Altman held a palm across the gap, holding the elevator doors open to let her go first. He’d never done that for her. He’d always treated her as just another SEAL, except for when an assignment called for an undercover approach; then he treated her like just another female SEAL. Now he was standing all formally, waiting for her.
—Until Zoe pinched him!
Altman jolted, glared at her.
Nikita was hard-pressed to hide her laugh. Zoe winked at her.
“Check it out,” Drake snapped at Altman.
The lieutenant commander didn’t appear to appreciate being reminded of his role as bodyguard—especially not with a hard pinch to his butt. He stepped first out of the elevator and made a show of scanning up and down the hallways before signaling that it was okay to leave the elevator.
Drake was having fun with the role of chief mercenary. For one thing he got to order around a DEVGRU lieutenant commander like a hired gun. Wasn’t a merc in the world who could command that kind of clout. It also gave him an excuse to hang on to Nikita’s hand even when she kept trying to extract it. The arrogant merc is in control.
“Oh yes, this will do nicely.” He been on a couple of cruises with his family, but they were definitely on the inside stateroom budget. This suite would do more than nicely, it would do better than any hotel room he’d ever been in.
Coral and crystal motif—the suite wrapped around the front corner of one of the decks high above the bow. It offered a trio of floor-to-ceiling windows with views both forward and to the port side off their private verandah. He was definitely going to be spending time in those loungers. Inside, leather chairs clustered about a dining table. Another seating group included a couch and offered fine views of both the outdoors and the big screen television. A small marble service bar completed the scene.
Through one door was a connecting suite with bed, bath, and a small seating area. Through the other was a master bedroom en suite with its own access to the verandah, a writing nook, a bathroom to die for, and a big walk-in.
The air was pleasantly cool despite the hot, muggy Miami afternoon.
“Honey,” he pulled Nikita in and kissed her quickly, though not too quickly. It was a fine balance between playing the part and having Nikita or Altman pummel him to the thick mocha carpet. “I know I didn’t give you time to pack properly. Why don’t you run down to the boutique and get a couple of nice outfits?”
“Excuse me, Mr. Roman,” Norma the hotel manager was still with them. “The shops do not open until we are at sea.”
Drake blessed his habit of keeping a couple hundred dollars in his wallet emergency fund ever since he got stranded in Poughkeepsie, New York, once when a broken ATM machine had come between him and the last train out for the night. He drew them out hoping that Norma couldn’t see that smaller bills made up the rest of his cash.
“I’m sure you can fix that for a special guest like my Nikita,” he passed off the money in what he hoped was a properly discreet handshake.
The manager attempted to demur, but finally accepted that the problem could be solved.
“We simply won’t charge your account until we’re at sea, Mr. Roman.” Norma handed them each their boarding passes. “Use these to charge anything to your room. And you’ll need them to register your departure and return through security at any port, if you choose to leave the ship.”
Drake was impressed that they bore their names and likenesses though he’d only transferred the reservations five hours ago.
“Fine. Fine. Now go, honey. And get something filmy for…later. You know what I like.”
Nikita’s warm brown eyes were almost jet black in warning about exactly what line he was on the verge of crossing.
“And take Zoe with you,” because she was clearly enjoying the whole scene as much as he was. Drake slapped Nikita’s behind lightly, because he felt it was in character. It was only as his hand landed there that he remembered how it had felt to hold her last night, however briefly. His mouth went dry at the memory.
The three women exited the suite.
“Well,” he watched the door close. “That went better than I—”
A powerful hand grabbed him by the back of the neck. A moment later he was slammed face-first into the wall. The coral wallpaper didn’t look nearly as nice from a half inch away.
His “bodyguard” spun Drake around and pressed his forearm hard enough against Drake’s throat that he couldn’t speak. It was probably a few careful ounces from the pressure needed to crush his windpipe. He tried to swallow, but there was no getting his Adam’s apple past Altman’s forearm.
“What the fuck are you playing at, flyboy?” Altman’s face was only inc
hes from his own and he looked beyond pissed.
Drake tried to breathe in but only managed a lame squeak.
Altman eased of a fraction of an inch.
“She kissed me,” he sounded like Elmer Fudd, or maybe Bruce Springsteen after a hard night of drinking. Either way it hurt like hell to manage the three words.
Altman blinked at him twice, then backed off enough that Drake slid down the wall until his feet hit the floor. It was such a surprise, his knees almost went out from under him as well. He hadn’t even known that Altman had lifted him up as easily as Perseus lifting up the Medusa’s head after chopping it off. For once Drake could sympathize with the mythic monster—it must have hurt even worse than this.
“Try explaining that one again,” Altman was still only inches away.
Drake wrapped his hand around his throat, impressed to find it wasn’t, in truth, severed. He didn’t risk the pain of repeating himself.
“When?”
“Last night,” maybe he sounded more like a frog. One that had been the subject of a roadkill accident. “This morning. Whatever it was when I helped her to bed after the meeting. She was too exhausted to even walk.”
Altman’s fists bunched hard and Drake wondered if he was about to die.
“And you—” Altman ground to halt. He looked even more dangerous than Major Pete Napier when he was angry, and that was saying something—the commander of the 5E didn’t take shit from anyone. “You kissed her back.”
“I’m not an idiot, Altman. A woman like that kisses me, damn straight I’m gonna kiss her back.” Now that his own expiration didn’t appear to be imminent, he was starting to get pissed. “What? Am I treading on ground you want for yourself and she won’t give you?”
Altman’s growl said that maybe confrontation wasn’t the best tactic to take with a DEVGRU SEAL. But…in for a penny, in for a pound.
“By the way, I don’t give a good goddamn what you think. If Nikita lets me, I’ll damned well kiss her again. Up to her, not you or me.”
Target of Mine: The Night Stalkers 5E (Titan World Book 2) Page 6