Simply Austin

by Gina Robinson

  She stepped out of my embrace. "This is Aidan Byrne. He was brilliant. Really put Nigel in his place and made him look like a fool to Scotland Yard. With any luck, they won't be taking any further calls from him about any of this business or Austin seriously."

  Aidan shrugged. "It was an easy case."

  "Sit down and have a pint," I told him.

  Aidan was only too happy to accept my offer.

  Blair looked around the room. "This place is lovely. I'm starved."

  I pulled a chair out for her. "Tell us all about your adventures at the police station."

  "I won't do it justice." She winked. "You're better off hearing it from Aidan. He can give you all the legal fine points."

  Blair

  What a lovely contrast to my lunch with Nigel in Fowey, where I'd felt ambushed. The guys were all dressed unobtrusively in casual American tourist garb—shorts, T-shirts, and sandals or tennis shoes. Austin had made a particular point of looking as little like either Connor or Jamie as possible. And the men had chosen a private table out of the flow of traffic and limelight.

  Austin's disguise as himself seemed to be working. Except for the stares he got simply because he was a hot guy, no one recognized him. I got a lot of envious looks as I sat there with six handsome, attentive men all laughing and having a good time. But what woman wouldn't?

  With Nigel dealt with, the tension eased out of me. I was able to laugh and joke as Aidan related the story with gusto. We ordered. Big, meaty burgers for half the men. Steaks for the other half. And more traditional Irish fare for me, along with a pint.

  Austin checked his phone. "Our devious counterattack plan is working. Our arrival by yacht is already blossoming into a story. We're going viral."

  The others got their phones out and checked, while I leaned on Austin's shoulder and read over it.

  We had a pleasant meal. We were discussing how long to stay in Kinsale and whether to do some sightseeing when a commotion broke out at a nearby table. An elderly woman, who'd been coughing throughout our meal, began sputtering and gasping.

  Her elderly male companion, her husband most probably, jumped up to help her, pounding her ineffectually on the back. "Help! Somebody help. She's choking."

  I shoved back my chair and ran to her. "Her airway's blocked. We have to get the obstruction out." I looked at the man. "I'm a doctor." I turned to Austin, who was already at my elbow. "Help me get her on her feet and out of the chair."

  Jeremy jumped in to help. Austin and Jeremy grabbed the woman's chair, pulled it away from the table, and pulled her to her feet. The other guys held the curious crowd back. "She's a doctor. Give her room to work."

  As was natural, the woman was panicking and grabbing her throat, trying to cough it out as she turned bluer and bluer. Soon she'd pass out.

  As the guys held her up, I positioned myself behind her. I wrapped my arms around her and performed the Heimlich maneuver. I still wasn't back to full strength, but fortunately, driven by adrenaline, I had enough to do the job.

  She gasped. A wad of gummy bread popped out of her mouth. Bread takes a lot of saliva to swallow. It's a big choking hazard for children and the elderly. She inhaled a deep breath, turning pink with life again as the guys helped her gently back into her chair.

  I kneeled beside her and examined her as I took her hand between mine. "Choking is frightening. It's all right now. The danger is over. You can calm down. Rest easy. Breathe deeply." I used my reassuring physician voice, rubbing her hand. "How are you doing? Better?"

  She nodded.

  I handed her a glass of water. "Drink. Slowly."

  "I don't know how it happened." She frowned. "One minute I was chewing, and the next—I must have breathed in wrong—I was choking."

  The elderly man was beside himself. He just kept thanking us. The waiters surrounded us. Even the chef came from the kitchen to make sure she was all right. Someone had called the emergency services, but by the time they arrived, everything was under control.

  The elderly man wanted to buy our meal. We wouldn't let him, of course, but thanked him all the same.

  "That was brave in there," Austin said when we left. "You're giving Jeremy a run for the hero of our group."

  "It was nothing—"

  "I assure you. It was very much something to her and her husband," he said—similar to what I'd said to him when he rescued me before.

  I smiled at him. "Touché."

  "It's not easy being a humble hero, is it?" He held the door open for me.

  Chapter 7

  Blair

  The next morning onboard the yacht, the guys were uncharacteristically sly, as if they were keeping something from me, a secret. A surprise, maybe? But it wasn't my birthday.

  I cornered Austin, literally, on the sundeck before breakfast. Which wasn't easy to do in a yacht full of circular spaces. I pressed him against the wall and took him by the shoulders. "What's up? What are the guys and you hiding from me?"

  "You're a suspicious wench." He laughed. "And don't think you're intimidating me in the slightest. If I didn't want to be between you and this wall, I wouldn't be."

  "Is that so?" I took a step into him. Up close he smelled like the morning sea breeze, and even his delicate, pale redhead complexion was getting a hint of a tan.

  He grabbed me around the waist, picked me up, and spun us around until I was the one pressed against the wall. Unless I was really intent on hurting him, it was futile to fight back or try to escape.

  Laughing, I looked him in the eye. "Point taken. You're getting a spray of freckles across your nose."

  He raised one eyebrow in that skeptical, comical way he had. "Only a spray? That's a miracle."

  How did he make me so damn happy? "You're good with the eyebrow lift. I do believe you can raise your eyebrow higher than anyone I know."

  "Now there's something to be known for." He paused. "I should be good. I've practiced this art since I was a kid." He sounded so serious, and yet it was hard to tell sometimes if he really was. He loved to pull my leg. "I have a few talents."

  "You have more than a few." I inched in for a kiss. "The eyebrow lift isn't even one of my favorites." Another inch. Our lips were separated by no more than the movement of a breath. I closed my eyes and…

  The whirr of a helicopter stopped me short. My first automatic thought after working in emergency—life bird. My eyes flew open. My doctor mode kicked in with a rush of adrenaline. I stepped back and shaded my eyes, facing the sound. "There's a helicopter coming right at us."

  Austin looked over his shoulder. "Yes, there is."

  "But what?" I frowned.

  "You'll remember—we have a helipad."

  There was an instant when a chill ran down my spine. What trouble was he in now?

  His big, beautiful, full beaming smile stopped the fear short.

  "Does Lazer have business?" I asked. It would be like him to fly someone in for a business meeting. From time to time he disappeared into his room to conduct business.

  Austin shook his head. The other guys appeared from one of the decks below and joined us as we watched the copter land on the command deck. Once it was safely down, a steward appeared and helped a woman out.

  "Beth!" I looked at Austin and the guys in amazement, eyes filling with tears of joy.

  I ran to the edge of the sundeck, jumping and waving to her, calling her name, as one steward unloaded her bags and another whisked her inside the yacht's command center. A moment later, she appeared on the sundeck. I ran to her and caught her in a hug. She felt much more substantial than I remembered, which spoke of her continuing good health and recovery.

  "Blairest!" She stroked my hair and looked at me as if she couldn't believe any of this either. She and I on a yacht in the middle of a great sea. "You look…beautiful. Happy. Alive."

  I laughed. "Alive's good."

  She studied me carefully, touching me as if she was having trouble convincing herself I was real. She hugged me close again. "
I'm not squeezing you too hard, am I?"

  "You're fine." I squeezed her back. "I'm healing quickly. Fortunately, my head took the brunt. It's a good thing I have a hard one."

  "Oh, Blair, don't joke." She brushed a lock of hair out of my face, beaming. She glanced at the guys lurking around on the periphery. "You have such good friends to bring me out here to you in the middle of the sea."

  "I do, don't I?" I hugged her. "You look good, too."

  "So do you, baby," she said. "So do you. Don't give me a scare like that again." She looked around. "Where's my future son-in-law?"

  Her question called Austin forward. They were fond of each other, had been since they first met. They hugged.

  Beth gave him her mom look and tone. "You'll take care of her? Not let that rascal Nigel near her again?"

  "You have my word on that," Austin said.

  She nodded. "Good." She broke into a beautiful grin, one full of pride. "Who knew you were such a romantic guy? That engagement video puts every other one on the planet to shame. It made me cry."

  "Tears of joy, I hope," he said.

  "Joy. Renewed hope. Love." She blinked as if even now she was on the verge of tears. "You'll fit right into the family. I'm an old romantic, too."

  "Well," he said, "I had a good crew." He waved the guys over.

  They stepped up to greet her and tell her how happy they were that she was joining us.

  "None happier than I am," I said. "I could use another woman around to help tame the testosterone of this group."

  Lazer stepped up. "Speaking of that—I've given you my stateroom. It's the only one on the upper deck. I'm moving down to the empty stateroom on the main deck with this bunch. Someone has to keep an eye on them. Better me than you. I don't want you playing house mom this vacation."

  Beth hugged him and thanked him just as a steward arrived to announce breakfast.

  "You're just in time," I told Beth. "I hope you brought your appetite with you. They overfeed us here. Do you want to freshen up first?"

  "I'm fine. And hungry."

  We caught up over breakfast, which was a loud, happy meal, all of us talking over the each other, each trying to outdo the other with the stories we were telling her. Beth was the center of attention, eating it all up.

  I saw a side of her I rarely saw—a woman in her element, mothering a group of guys, patiently listening to them, praising them, teasing them. I could picture her with a large brood of her own sons. She knew how to deal with boys—men—and was in her element surrounded by them. It was too bad she'd never have her own. Austin would have to do.

  When the meal was over, the guys, including Austin, left us alone while they were off to take the wave runners out.

  I gave Beth a tour of the yacht. She couldn't stop marveling. When you were used to ordinary middle-class life, it was hard to take in the glory of it.

  "I don't have to ask if you're happy," she said as we strolled the main deck. "That's clear enough." She paused and looked at me seriously. "I was worried about you. It was dicey there for a while. I thought I'd lost you to Nigel."

  I shook my head. "Yeah. In retrospect, that was very scary. I wasn't myself." I hesitated. "Or maybe I was myself—my old self. I'm much happier with the person I am around Austin." I showed her to the spiral staircase.

  We toured the upper deck and peeked in on her stateroom, then on to the sundeck, waving to the men and laughing at their antics.

  Down one level to the owner's deck, where she marveled anew at the luxury of my stateroom. "And I thought my stateroom was luxurious."

  We ended our tour back at her stateroom. She took in the beauty of it. "I've seen enough wonders today to last a lifetime. How do people live like this?"

  "You get used to it," I said. "Surprisingly quickly."

  Her bags were neatly stowed in the closet. She pulled the sewing bag out. "We have yet to talk wedding plans." Her eyes sparkled. "It may be presumptuous of me, but I'm still designing and sewing your dress, right? Like we've talked about since you were a little girl?"

  "Absolutely." I paused, carefully choosing my words. "I hate to disappoint, but my wedding plans are somewhat simpler than my girlhood fantasies."

  "What!" she said with mock horror. "No fantastic princess dresses? In pink?"

  "Uh, yeah. I'm back to wanting the more traditional white," I said. Pink had been popular for a while when I was young. "Something simple. Elegant and romantic. We're getting married in a blacksmith shop, after all."

  She shook her head and looked around her. "All this grandeur we could never have imagined in a thousand lifetimes, and you tell me to design something simple."

  I laughed. "Yeah. It's ironic, isn't it?" I patted her hand. "Beth, I really am happier than I've ever been. As long as I end up married to Austin, I don't care how I get there. I leave the dress completely in your competent hands."

  "Well, we'll get you there—prettily." She took my hand and squeezed it. "I promise you that much."

  That afternoon, Beth went out on the wave runners. She loved the water. She looked so much younger and freer. This vacation would be good for her.

  That night we had a celebration dinner. Every meal was pretty much a celebration.

  We spent three more heavenly days aboard the yacht, cruising the Irish Sea and enjoying summer and the isolation. Killing time. Wasting some of those twenty-nine days until I married Austin.

  It was easy to see why the rich and famous loved their yachts—the privacy was as much a luxury as the accommodations. And cruising with a full crew was certainly no hardship. Everything we could want was at our disposal.

  The guys worked out in the onboard gym daily, doing the routines our Seattle trainer, Stryker, had designed for them. I joined them. It felt good to be exercising and getting in shape again. But it was disappointing how much ground I'd lost since the accident. Before that, I'd been in the best shape of my life.

  Sam, the actress who played Elinor, was slim and toned. If I was going to look like her, I had to work at it. Lazer arranged for a Skype workout for me with Stryker, who developed a new plan for me that took into consideration my new circumstances and recovery.

  During the day, we took the wave runners out and played in the water. Beth and I talked dresses and wedding outfits, with Austin chiming in and naming his desires for his bride's dress. At night, we gamed and played poker in the salon. I should have warned the guys—Beth was the poker queen. She cleaned their clocks.

  We hung out in the hot tub and planned the wedding, which I wanted very simple and straightforward. The only real question was whether we should write our own vows.

  We stopped at the Isle of Man to sightsee and visit the castles. But we could only delay so long. Finally, we had to leave the sea and carefree days behind and head across the Firth of Clyde and up the River Clyde to Glasgow. Real life and commitments awaited us. You can only escape for so long.

  Austin

  The battle, the separate, yet intertwined, wars with Nigel and Randy raged on while we were at sea. The guys and I kept them from Blair and Beth. Let them enjoy themselves. Hell, we were enjoying ourselves too. But between storming castles as sightseers and hot-dogging on wave runners, we were working. Putting up the defenses. Maintaining them.

  I had a fear that Randy would come up with a way to break into our bank accounts and drain them. Just wipe everything out. Find a backdoor in, like he had with my engagement video. His petty vengeance of releasing our engagement video and getting the cash—a nice pile in the six-figure range—was nothing compared to the damage he could do if he got access to our finances.

  He'd been my boss. The guys and I had worked with him over the years. He'd had access to our private information—Social Security numbers, birthdates, mothers' maiden names. Things that could be used to steal identities. Hell, we all had security clearances. Those required a boatload of personal data to get.

  Now that Randy was on the run, he was more dangerous than ever. Would he use that inf
ormation to impersonate us? Worse, he had that chunk of change from selling the video that he could use to hire someone with the potential skills to hack us. Ransomware. I wouldn't put anything beyond him. A man with nothing to lose is the most dangerous kind of enemy.

  Maybe I should have felt sorry for him. Nah. He'd done this to himself. I wanted him caught. The authorities wanted him almost as much. The guys and I wondered if there was a way to set a trap for him. I'd caught him once with my software traps. Which was why he was running.

  We were talking about a different kind of trap—one with bait and a lure. We quickly decided it wasn't worth the risk. Let him hang himself. In the meantime, we were watching our backside, our front side, and every side in between. He could hit us from anywhere. And although he wasn't a great coder, he knew enough to be dangerous. Enough to direct someone else and guide them to produce what he wanted. He'd worked with us enough to know our minds, our thought processes, and our method of coding.

  All expert coders have little eccentricities that are as unique as fingerprints, if you know what you're looking for. He'd had access to ours. He knew our coding weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Where we most often made our mistakes. And where to look to make a breach. He wasn't capable of making the breach himself, but now that he had funds to pay some Russian hacker to do it? Or some cheap labor hacker in China or Thailand? It was like having a nuclear bomb in the hands of a despotic dictator with visions of grandeur and a small dick.

  Randy was at his most dangerous now. And we, all the guys, had plenty to lose. It was time to think out of the box. Think unlike ourselves. Make a mishmash out of our collective mindset, a tangle he couldn't follow. Forge our code so that the strength of one covered the weakness of another.

  But how to do that? How do you circumvent your training and the natural bent of your mind? Coding is a way of thinking. A way of tackling a problem. A way of using logic. Give a programming problem to ten coders and you'll get ten different solutions. Ten different pieces of code. All of them will do the job, but the method they use to get there is different. That's why commenting your code is hammered into you in school, so someone else can follow your logic. It's like giving a writing prompt to an English class. You give the prompt. You get back ten different stories.