by Rachel Grant
The Navy was serious about protecting their investment in her, and twice as serious about making sure the technology didn’t fall into enemy hands. She couldn’t store CAM in a vault—even if there was one she had access to in Palau—because she needed access to the system twenty-four seven to crunch the data and refine the system. The biometric security codes and a built-in tracking beacon had been her solution to the problem. Plus only she could work CAM, and until the news article had been published three days ago, no one had known she was in Palau with her high-tech masterpiece.
Throughout the procedure, Jack didn’t say a word. It took her less than five minutes to inspect all six boxes, but her work wasn’t done. Moving quickly, she dumped her clothes into a backpack and grabbed the toiletries from the bathroom.
She faced Jack, a man she’d just met and knew little about except that he had a boat and had managed to beat the hell out of three armed Avengers.
In this moment, there was no one else to turn to, and she had everything to fear from staying at the hotel. “Can you take me somewhere safe? Now?”
Chapter Three
He’d be thankful for his amazing luck, except, given Ivy’s bruises, it wasn’t luck that had brought them here. It was a brutal assault that left her shaking even as she ensured her equipment was secure.
“I live on my boat,” he said, his voice guarded even while his mind raced, considering how to reply. If he overplayed this opportunity, she’d bolt.
“I figured.” She glanced down at her mud-coated skin. “Just promise me it has a shower.”
The rank slime from the swamp had begun to dry. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was, even coated in mangrove mud, but mostly he was surprised by how rationally she responded to what must have been the most terrifying experience of her life.
“It has two,” he said. He’d liberated Liberty—originally owned by the Pakhan of a Russian Bratva organization—from Indonesia, neatly providing himself with both housing and a job that had been the perfect cover for his search.
She arranged the aluminum boxes, locking them together in two stacks of three and extended a luggage handle from the bottom case, which had wheels. She slipped her backpack over her shoulders, then draped a purse across her chest and grabbed the handles for both stacks of equipment and headed for the door.
When he didn’t follow, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him.
This was a delicate game. If he came across as too eager, it would raise alarm bells. “I don’t know, Ivy, I—”
“Please?” She shook her head, clearly realizing she’d forgotten both her manners and to wait for his affirmative response. “I can pay you. Just for one night. I need to contact the FBI and explain the situation, but first, I need to protect CAM.”
He gave a sharp nod. “One night.” He reached for one of the luggage handles. “Let me help you with that.”
She jerked back from him. “No. Only I touch the equipment.”
He raised his hands and backed away. “Suit yourself, but you’re going to find the stairs difficult. If we take the elevator, you’ll be seen in the lobby. The cops will detain you and everyone will see us together. My boat won’t be safe then.”
“It’s a good thing I know how to find the service elevator, then.”
He smiled, liking this woman’s cool wits in the face of terror. He’d have to remember that she didn’t give in to hysterics. When she learned what he was, she’d be a cunning adversary.
Ivy’s cell phone rang on the drive to Jack’s boat. She glanced at the screen. Her boss’s name lit on the display. Shit. She should have called Mara the moment she and the equipment were safely tucked into the vehicle, but the first priority had been to call the police and tell them about Spiderman and Thor. She’d completed that call and had yet to catch her breath.
She pressed the phone to her ear. “Hey, Mara, I take it the party has made headlines.”
“Thank God you’re safe!” Mara paused. “Wait, are you safe?”
“Yes. And so is the equipment.” She glanced sideways at Jack, then said in a soft voice that he’d hear no matter what, “I triggered the transponder. Can you make sure it’s working?” Knowing the US Navy could track CAM’s location was the only reason she felt safe taking off with a virtual stranger, even if she had been ogling him for the better part of a week. No way could Jack possibly know how to interrupt the embedded signal.
“Cressida opened the direct link.” Mara projected her voice away from the phone. “Do you have CAM on the map?”
Ivy heard a muffled response before Mara said, “You’re nearing the bridge to Koror.”
A glance at the road ahead showed signs for the bridge. “Yep. I planned to report what happened once CAM and I are settled in a safe place.” She then explained to Mara what happened in the swamp. “I need to talk to Aurora Ames,” she added, naming the US attorney for the District of Columbia, who was personally handling Patrick’s prosecution. “She can add selling CAM to the charges.”
“I’ll brief Curt. He’ll want to send out a team of FBI investigators, but it will probably take a few days to get them out there.” Curt was US Attorney General Curt Dominick, Mara’s husband. If anyone could get the FBI to respond quickly, it was the head of the Justice Department. Ivy had been battling panic from the moment she heard the soft curse in the swamp. This reminder that she had powerful allies led to her first deep breath in what felt like hours.
“We need to consider bringing you home,” Mara said.
Dread settled in her gut. The test of CAM was going so well. “I understand. I don’t want to leave. But I understand.”
“If we could ensure your security, you could complete the project, but I doubt the Navy will be willing to send a team. It’s too expensive.” After a pause, Mara added, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Mara. Did you have a chance to see the upload I did today?” Because of the scheduled party, she’d worked in her hotel room all day, giving Ulai the day off. She’d used her direct satellite link to upload the latest data, which she’d already compiled into GIS layers.
“It’s amazing,” Mara said, her voice full of awe. “I can’t believe how detailed the map is of the submerged Zero. And I could swear you found a tunnel in the Peleliu jungle.”
“Me too. I planned to go out there in a few days, to confirm.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It would be a win for Patrick if I had to run home and hide.”
“I know, Ivy,” Mara said. “And I know what CAM means to you. I’ll do what I can on my end. In the meantime, promise me that if you’re in distress, you’ll lock CAM down.”
Lockdown would mean full abort of the project. Her stomach clenched at the thought. “I promise.”
She’d initiated CAM’s tracking signal. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. No doubt she had a direct satellite uplink. He didn’t have the skills to block it.
Just the idea that she’d been on the phone with Curt Dominick’s wife… It brought both a shiver of fear and…hope. The man could be an ally, but given his straight-arrow reputation, he was more likely a foe.
It was absolutely vital for him to earn Ivy’s trust, or the game was over. For him and for Ivy.
Even after the assault in the swamp, she probably didn’t realize exactly how much danger she was in, because she had no idea what the stakes were. He was the only one who knew.
So far she trusted him. But then, he’d been trained to be a charmer. A seducer. Part of the job description.
He wanted to believe he was a good guy, but all evidence pointed to the contrary, even if none of it was his choice.
Free will. A key trait of humanity, and the one thing he’d always lacked. He had more in common with Ivy’s mapping drone than anyone knew. The day he achieved control over his choices was the day he’d both enter and leave the human race.
Ivy MacLeod was his ticket to humanity. His liberation. And eventually, his death senten
ce.
He couldn’t fuck this up. More than his and Ivy’s lives hung in the balance. The sister he hadn’t seen in years and the nephew he’d never met were vulnerable. Freedom waited for them if he pulled this assignment off.
“What branch of the military were you in that you learned to fight like that?” she asked. “Were you special forces?”
The reckless side of him wanted to tell the truth, just to see her reaction. But he’d learned to curb that impulse after a few lessons at the end of a hockey stick reinforced the message of control at all times. “Major Jack Keaton, US Air Force, retired.”
She glanced at him askance. “You’re a little young to be retired.”
“Medical retirement.”
“I’d have guessed you were more the Green Beret type. Aren’t they all about the hand-to-hand combat?”
“Sometimes pilots have to bail in enemy territory. It’s important to know how to fight.” He’d been assured Jack Keaton’s military records would hold up. All he had to do was say the right thing.
He pulled into the marina parking lot. She had to let him help unload the cases from the backseat of the truck cab. “Sorry I was difficult at the hotel. You were being so great and helping me. I shouldn’t have… I—I’m a bit mother-bearish about CAM.”
He draped an arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips to her temple. “I get it. We’re cool.”
She leaned against him, and he felt her tremble. She was running on fumes.
He’d found her attractive from the first time he saw her photo, and his ego had enjoyed the way she’d stared at him when he brazenly swabbed the deck shirtless to snare her attention. But he’d never expected to actually like her.
However, from the moment he’d overheard her call Shiro Kimura on his bullshit—in two languages the man could understand—something had shifted.
She was obviously smart as hell, given that she’d designed, built, and coded equipment that could be a game changer in surveillance and search technology. But in the wake of the assault, he saw the strength that had carried her when her life and work had become tabloid fodder.
She’d been attacked and nearly kidnapped, and yet she’d held herself together with a razor-sharp focus on protecting her invention. It demonstrated in stark relief what her priorities were—which would be a problem down the road. But for now, he was impressed. It didn’t help that he found her beautiful in spite of her exhaustion and mud coating.
It was the imperfections of her features that caught his attention. The sharpness of her chin, the slight crook in her nose. She was tall, voluptuous, and unique.
Lying to her left a bad taste in his mouth, which was odd. He’d been lying for so long, what were a few dozen more?
But the one truth she’d never believe once the bigger lies were exposed was he’d never hurt her. No matter what happened, she was safe with him. He’d protect her—and CAM—with his life. And he had no doubt she needed his protection now.
His path had been forced upon him, and Ivy was the key to getting out of this mess, but he wouldn’t sacrifice her for this assignment.
She’d already been used by one spy. Being used by a second might break her magnificent inner strength.
Chapter Four
Exhaustion had settled in on the drive. Ivy faced the dock to Liberty as if it were telescoping before her.
“I’d offer to carry you, but someone needs to carry CAM, and I can’t do both,” Jack said.
She cast him a wry smile. Given the impressive muscles he’d displayed, she had no doubt he could carry her the distance, and given her height and healthy appetite, she was no featherweight. “Another time, maybe.”
He leaned close and said, “Count on it.”
The flirtation in his tone gave her a shot of energy. Enough to push forward to Liberty’s slip, anyway. At last they were aboard, and Jack made a beeline for a control panel in the salon. He typed on a keypad and stared at the screen.
“We’re clear. You can sleep easy,” he said. “This boat is rigged with the best security available. The previous owner was…probably not on the up and up. Every window, door, and hatch is wired and monitored. No one comes in or out without me knowing about it. No one boarded while I was out tonight.”
That was a relief. She’d been counting on Patrick’s buddies not knowing where she’d fled to; it was good to know that if they found her, Jack would be alerted.
He led her to the guest stateroom in the bow, then showed her how to convert the head into a shower stall. “There’s plenty of hot water while we’re at the dock. Take as long a shower as you need.”
As exhausted and dirty as she was, she wasn’t ready for that. She had no doubt she’d collapse in the bunk the moment she was clean, but she needed to decompress first, or her sleep would be far from restful.
“I’ve imposed enough on you already, but…you wouldn’t happen to have any booze would you? I wouldn’t mind sitting on the deck for a bit to get my bearing.”
He smiled. “Sure. I’ll join you.”
He opened the liquor cabinet in the galley. “I keep a stocked bar for charter clients. What would you like?”
She studied the selection. “Vodka if you have something fruity to mix with. Otherwise, gin and tonic.”
He made them both drinks with an assortment of tropical fruit juices. The end result was the color of a sunset, and when she finally settled by his side on a bench seat on the upper deck, she discovered it tasted heavenly.
“How long did you say you’ve lived in Palau?” she asked.
“Since December.”
“Not long, then. You planning on staying?” Her feet ached from running barefoot through muck. She toed off the tennis shoes she’d donned in her hotel room and tucked her feet beneath her on the bench. The position had her leaning toward him. She stiffened as if hitting an invisible barrier.
“Not sure.” He smiled and draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his side.
She relaxed into him. Frankly, she could use the comfort, and it was nice of him to offer it considering she smelled like mangrove swamp. But then, she’d seen the blood splatters on his shirt. He wasn’t exactly pristine either.
His arm tightened around her. “I love Palau, but the US is my home.”
His voice was a low rumble against her ear, deep and masculine. She closed her eyes and could see the fight in her mind, the brutal beauty of it.
Jack Keaton was nothing like Patrick. Nothing like any man she’d ever dated. That was probably why he’d managed to wake a part of her she’d been certain was dead.
“You falling asleep on me, Ivy?”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. His mouth was just above hers. She could so easily kiss him. “Maybe.” She dropped her gaze and took a sip of the drink she held loosely in one hand. She smiled into the glass. “This is delicious.” She pushed away from his side and sat straight. “I needed this. Thank you.”
“I needed it too.” He rolled his shoulders. “The adrenaline after a fight like that… I needed to come down.”
She gazed up at the starry sky to avoid seeing the blood on his shirt. His swollen knuckles. The darkening bruise by his right eye. They were quite a pair, battered as they were and sitting on a boat a mere seven degrees above the equator.
It was a sultry, beautiful, clear night, and the stars were a map across the sky. Grandpa Cam had taught her how to navigate by the stars when she was in elementary school. For many years, she’d believed she’d study astrophysics and still harbored a crush on Neil deGrasse Tyson. But then the siren call of GIS and Lidar had caught her at the age of seventeen and she’d gone into the family business after all.
The star map here was so very different from the sky in DC, but the North Star was still there, sitting on the horizon, barely visible above a finger of Babeldaob Island that jutted into the Pacific to the north. She had her compass. Her bearing.
She took another sip of the fruity drink. As long as she had north,
she could find her way.
The night had been a trial, but north remained true. She finished her drink and stood. “I think I’m ready for that shower now.”
He followed her down the ladder and reset the security system while she filled her glass with water in the galley. In spite of the humid night, her throat was dry, and she downed the liquid in one long drink, then set the rubber-based container on the counter and stared out the window, seeing nothing, not even her reflection on the glass, as exhaustion won at last.
Sounds behind her told her that Jack had entered the room, but she was frozen in place, unable to even pour a glass of water for him.
An arm slid along her waist, and she felt his warm chest at her back. “C’mon, Poison. You need your shower.”
She smiled instead of protesting the silly, obvious nickname. Only fair that he’d dubbed her Poison when she’d been mentally calling him Death Valley for days.
He was right about the shower. Her skin itched with dried mud, and her back ached where the machete had struck her.
“I’d blame the vodka, but I’m not usually such a lightweight.”
“Adrenaline crash. I expected this twenty minutes ago. The fruit juice bought you time.”
She leaned against him, looking up. He was taller than her by at least five inches, which she found comforting in her exhausted state. She remembered the feel of his smooth skin against hers when he’d kissed her, and she reached up and stroked his jaw.
Too bad that kiss hadn’t been real. He was good at it, and she could use a kiss right now. That fake kiss was her first since the divorce. She missed kissing.
She missed sex too, she realized. That was new. She hadn’t really missed it before. Aloud, she said, “The mud itches.” She wasn’t so far gone she lacked a verbal filter.
He nodded and steered her across the galley to the head next to her stateroom. He released her and lifted the hatch in the floor to open the shower drain and pulled the curtain that would prevent the spray from hitting the toilet and the counter, then he turned on the water, leaving his hand in the spray to check the temperature.