Straight Through the Heart

by Lyn Stone

  “Are we there yet?” she asked with a saucy smile, turning down the page to mark her place and then tossing the novel aside.

  Eric glanced at the author’s name. Ian Fleming. “We will go ashore in the morning, I expect. So you are a James Bond fan?”

  “Not really. I found it in the salon.”

  He laughed. “Decadent western novels, scorning your protective attire and taking the tone of a liberated woman. What are you coming to, Aurora? Will I have to take you in hand?”

  “Have you the time for that before we disembark?” she asked playfully, all the while glancing curiously around the cabin and pointing to her ear.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “Clay swept the place. There are mikes hidden in the salon and in certain locations topside, but the cabins aren’t bugged.”

  She grimaced. “Then why are you being such a jerk when you don’t have to?”

  He grinned. “Sorry, just yanking your chain. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely,” she declared. “All this lounging around is boring as hell.”

  He lay back, linking his hands behind his head. “There’ll be more of that once we get there, at least for you. But we could have some fireworks tonight if the captain tries to unload Ressam and Clay. No doubt Quince ordered him to.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you if you were him?”

  Dawn grabbed his arm and leaned close. “You think he means to kill them in their sleep?”

  Eric grinned up at her. “The day they can’t handle one spindly-legged, fifty-year-old wannabe pirate, they’ll deserve what they get.”

  “We should keep watch or something in case they need our help.”

  “Relax. They’ll be fine.” He loved the feel of her hand on his arm, the concern he felt emanating from her in waves. She had a good heart and was a fine agent. Even though she barely knew Clay and Ressam, she would go to the mat to save them.

  Though he sensed her goodness and her worry, it was not extrasensory perception at work, only normal observation. Normal. Dawn made him feel that way, and he couldn’t help but love it. She saw him as a man, not some strange, inexplicable phenomenon. Maybe that was the reason he wanted her so much. But was that the only reason? Somehow, he didn’t think so.

  At a very young age, he had learned to brush off the awe people sometimes felt at what he could do. He did it with humor, merciless teasing and, if that didn’t work, outright avoidance. Not many bothered to get to know the real Eric Vinland. He wasn’t even certain he knew himself as well as he should.

  His life had been mostly smoke and mirrors, a series of acts to either use or to cover his powers, depending on the situation. With Dawn, he felt he could be himself, providing he could figure out just who that was.

  “I have you all figured out,” she said, jerking him to attention with her words. God, was she reading him and not realizing it? “You observe body language and expressions really well,” she continued. “Then you combine that with things you learn from your sources. For instance, you made a good guess that I lost my ring in a pool somewhere. How could I ever prove or disprove that?”

  “Find the ring, maybe?”

  She scoffed. “The pool is probably no longer there.”

  “Ah. So I’m like the fakers who wow folks at carnivals, huh? Or maybe a con artist on the psychic hotlines?”

  She shrugged.

  “I get that you don’t believe me,” he said.

  Her expression was kind. “I believe that you believe it, like celebrities who begin to believe their own press. It could be dangerous, this overestimating what you can do, Eric.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly, now a little miffed that she thought he was so self-delusional that he would risk their lives.

  “Hey, don’t be mad. I’m trying to help.”

  Eric rolled over, giving her his back. “Okay, thanks. Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day for both of us.”

  “C’mon,” she urged. “Don’t pout. You’re ruining your image. Or have you suddenly run out of jokes?” Her hand closed over his shoulder.

  It was too much. Entirely too much to tolerate when he was already hyped up to kiss her. One kiss. That’s all he’d do, to shut that smart little mouth of hers.

  He rolled back to her and sealed his lips to hers. Only hers were open in surprise, giving him full access, tempting him to explore her fully while teaching her a lesson in tact.

  Tact went right out the window, along with any subtle punishment he’d intended. How sweet she was, and how perfectly fitted to him. He embraced her full length, planning to enjoy every second until she cried wolf.

  But Dawn didn’t cry wolf. She didn’t push back, and she didn’t protest in any other way. Instead, she shifted against him, stoking his need even higher and harder. Damn, he wished she would hurry up and learn her lesson, give him a hard smack on the head or something, because he couldn’t seem to stop himself as long as she was cooperating.

  The little groan she made reverberated through him like a plucked string. An electric, erotic note, one that played over and over in his head, drumming out coherence, vibrating, sending all the blood in his brain to parts of him that never thought for themselves.

  Her hands grasped his shoulders, slid down his back, firmly gripped his butt and urged him closer. She wants this. She really, really wants this, cried that devil fighting his conscience. And he wanted it even more than she did, too keenly to resist.

  He slid a hand beneath her blouse and found bare skin, firm and welcoming, burning with the same fever that gripped him. He felt the budding of her nipples, caressed them with eager fingers and both heard and felt his reward in her response.

  She was so damned responsive it blew him away. He had to taste her, touch her everywhere, inhale her, be a part of her in every way possible. This intense need for total possession shocked him. He had never wanted to own a partner before, but Dawn was not just a partner. This was not just sex. This was everything at the moment, everything he had ever wanted or would ever want. No, he knew it was not a momentary thing at all. He might never recover and be what he had been, but he didn’t care.

  Dawn filled him up somehow, occupied all those vacant places he never realized existed in him. This phenomenon had been at work for days now, about to culminate in this unstoppable act. The sheer power of his feelings and this new vulnerability scared the hell out of him, but he knew he had no defense. Didn’t even want one. He only wanted her.

  “Mine now,” he murmured against her mouth.

  Hardly breaking the kiss, they tore off clothes and came together in a rush of heat. No way to stop, no way. Fractured thoughts tried to intrude, but he drowned them out with a growl of pleasure so intense it nearly hurt. She met his every move, urging him on, banishing any coherent thought he had left.

  Her soft exclamation rushed out against his neck when he thrust inside her and took her with all the finesse of a novice.

  Regret wouldn’t register. He didn’t care about technique, about anything but becoming one with Dawn, living, breathing, being a part of her. And he was. For a few minutes, it seemed as if her every feeling rushed into him and expanded his own.

  Faster and higher, keener and sharper, the ecstasy mounted until they exploded together in a cry of completion.

  But once he withdrew, Eric realized he was no longer complete. Something would always be missing unless he held her as close as could be, unless he was part of her and she a part of him.

  Breathless and confused, he couldn’t seem to let her go, to give her space to recover. Instead, he pressed her closer and buried his face in her neck, reluctant to discuss what had happened.

  “Now I can sleep,” she murmured, placing a soft kiss on his temple. “Don’t talk.”

  Well, damn. What kind of woman was she that she didn’t want to dissect what had happened and ruin the magic?

  Eric smiled and caressed
her naked back with his hand, letting go just a little, certain that he could get the magic back again once they had rested. Dawn amazed him. She just amazed the hell out of him.

  Drifting into oblivion was the last thing he wanted to do. She had gone there before him, her breathing already becoming even and her heartbeat calm. His one thought was of how happy he was. For the first time in memory, truly happy. How rare was that, to experience it and know it as it was happening?

  Happiness made little sense, knowing what they might face in the morning, how they might not survive if Stefan Cydonia, the indomitable Quince, guessed who they really were. Eric could die a happy man if he expired right now, but he wasn’t ready to go just yet. And he could never let any harm come to Dawn.

  Things had to go perfectly. Had he considered and prepared for every eventuality, every contingency? God, he hoped so. He prayed so.

  In the aftermath of their lovemaking, Dawn feigned sleep. It was too soon to talk about what had happened between them. Maybe she wouldn’t discuss it at all. If she could pass it off as an impulse, that would be best. People in dangerous situations often did reckless things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. But if she were completely honest with herself, Dawn had to admit she might have done it under any circumstances.

  She couldn’t bring herself to regret it, not when her body still glowed with pleasure. There was another feeling as well, the sublime comfort of truly connecting with another person.

  She and Eric were special together, even though she knew in her heart that it was only temporary. Eric Vinland wasn’t the type for a girl to pin any long-term hopes on, but that was all right with her. Nope, no regrets at all, she decided.

  What if they had never found another chance? They certainly wouldn’t on that island, where they would surely be under constant surveillance. And after the mission was over, assuming they survived it, they would go back to their respective jobs and probably never see each other again.

  He was not the marrying kind, and Dawn knew it. Not that she had even entertained the thought of that. Not seriously, anyway. It was just that she had experienced something, however brief, with him that she never expected. That feeling of belonging, of being part of another.

  She sighed and snuggled against him, still pretending to be asleep. Maybe it was only great sex that made her feel this way. That was something she hadn’t experienced before, either. All her adult life, she had wondered what the fuss was all about. Well, now she knew.

  For the rest of tonight, she planned to luxuriate in the pleasure of being her own well-satisfied self, lying beside her evanescent lover and partner. Tomorrow, she must become Aurora again, a completely cloaked shadow in the wake of the great Jarad Al-Dayal.

  Eric sat straight up out of a sound sleep. Whether a sound or a premonition had awakened him, he couldn’t tell. He placed a hand on Dawn’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Wake up. Something’s going down.”

  He hurriedly yanked on his loose trousers and crept barefoot through the salon, sensing Dawn right behind him. He hurried across the salon to the other sleeping quarters.

  The aft cabin door stood open. Clay rushed out, glanced around the salon, then pointed to the deck. When they were topside, Clay leaned close and spoke. “I killed the captain. I couldn’t avoid it.”

  “What happened?” Dawn asked.

  “Ressam, since he’s smaller, hid in the salon. We figured the captain would come after us, so we made a plan. Ressam would grab him from behind when he started for our cabin. I’d be inside, ready to assist. But the door opened and I saw a blade coming at me. I kicked him in the chest. Then he just fell across the bunk, dead to the world. No pulse.”

  “You tried to revive him?”

  Clay nodded. “The kick must have stopped his heart and I couldn’t start him up again. We need to find Ressam.”

  The clouds had passed and the moon beamed down on them, throwing an eerie blue cast over everything on the deck. The scene looked surreal.

  The three of them searched. Ressam was missing, but there was blood on the deck, a trail of it leading to the side of the deck. Eric looked down into the water. Though there was nothing to see but black waves calmly sloshing against the side of the Angeline, he knew. “Ressam’s dead.”

  “The phone in the salon’s ringing,” Dawn said.

  Eric strode past her and went inside. Dawn and Clay remained on deck.

  He picked up the receiver and listened. “Kerosian?” a low-pitched voice asked. “Are you there?”

  Eric took a deep breath. “This is Jarad Al-Dayal. Are you Quince?”

  “Put Kerosian on.”

  “He is no longer with us,” Eric admitted. “The poor fellow suffered heart failure and expired despite our attempts at resuscitation.”

  A long silence ensued before the voice spoke again. “Then you must complete his task.”

  “I am no sailor and have no idea where we are at the moment. I was seriously contemplating ringing up the authorities to come and rescue us.”

  Bitter laughter sounded on the other end.

  “Unless you have a better suggestion,” Eric said, using his most condescending tone.

  “You can guess what must be done, so do the deed yourself, Al-Dayal. No one else must be privy to this arrangement. Dispose of your remaining watchdog. After you are finished, weight the body down and put it over the side. I have infrared and will be observing. And listening.”

  Eric pretended to consider it. “And if I refuse? He is a loyal retainer and can be trusted.”

  “Not by me. I shall terminate the plans for your visit and you will have no need of sailing experience when you depart. And with regard to your wife…”

  “She knows nothing,” Eric assured him, “and will do as I command.”

  “Your Aurora is of little consequence other than as a beautiful asset, I know. But I would like her involved in this bit of business on the yacht. If she could be implicated in getting rid of your bodyguard, then she is less likely to report the tale to anyone later, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Leave her out of this. What can a mere woman do anyway?”

  “As you said, whatever you order her to. I will ring you again when I see you have done as instructed. You and the woman will take the inflatable and come ashore. If there is evidence of life on board the Angeline after you leave it, you will never return to it or to the mainland. Are we understood?”

  Eric hesitated a minute for effect, then agreed. “It shall be done.”

  He replaced the receiver and went topside to rejoin Dawn and Clay. “Adil, prepare the inflatable for us and load our bags into it,” he ordered Clay. “We are to go ashore soon.”

  Dawn looked at him curiously. He wished he had time to tell her what was to happen, but maybe her natural reaction to it would satisfy Quince. Then Eric wondered if he would actually get the response from her that a woman such as Aurora might give.

  To insure that, he muttered to her as he passed her on deck. “Trust what I’m about to do. He has a night scope trained on our every move. Act appropriately.”

  Eric stood idly by and watched as Clay prepared the small boat as ordered. Then his friend retrieved their bags from their cabin and put them aboard. “Ready to go,” Clay told him.

  Eric beckoned him back on board, then glanced out over the water to the blue-gray island, now barely visible on the horizon. He pulled the nine millimeter out of his belt and aimed.

  Clay nodded once, holding up his hands as if pleading for his life. Eric fired, one miss, one hit.

  Dawn screamed. “What have you done?” She ran toward the fallen body.

  Eric grabbed her arm. “Get something heavy to weight him down!” he shouted.

  “No!” she screamed, batting at him with her hands and arms.

  Eric shook her and pretended a slap. She recoiled, went reeling like a practiced stunt woman and screamed again. That one would surely reach the mikes, Eric figured. It probably reached the mainland without a micro
phone. His ears certainly were ringing.

  He leaned forward to help her to her feet and murmured low, as his head neared hers, “Scuba gear’s in that hold over there.” He guided her with a look. “Go in and grab a bedsheet first to disguise the tank. Put on your garb while you’re in there.”

  She nodded, then scurried back inside.

  Meanwhile, Eric had noted that Clay was not moving. He rushed over to make sure the bullet hadn’t penetrated the vest Clay always wore. “You okay?”

  Clay cursed, still not moving. “I hate this job.”

  Eric snickered, keeping his voice low. “Quit bellyaching, you’re on vacation in Greece, dude. How’s your Houdini act?”

  “Rusty. Don’t do the knots too tight or you’ll damn well be on your own.”

  “You aren’t bleeding anywhere, are you? Hate to give the sharks a snack.”

  “Had to mention them, didn’t you?”

  “Hang on to the inflatable and we’ll tow you as far as we can. I’ll veer right as a signal for you to let go. Sun’s about to come up. Great timing. Quince’s infrared will be practically useless in this much light, but it’s still dark enough that a telescope won’t show details. Let’s get you outfitted.”

  Dawn returned, properly covered in a dark blue robe and matching head-covering. She deposited the air tank nearby and began to help Eric buckle Clay’s motionless body into it. He was well over six feet tall and as heavy as lead. Eric wondered how the two of them would heft him over the side.

  “Catch you later,” Eric said as they managed to drag Clay upright and bend him forward over the rail. Then Eric stepped back and motioned imperiously for Dawn to tip up Clay’s legs and send him into the drink. She grunted with the effort, but performed admirably, he thought.

  With a satisfied nod, he guided her down into the inflatable Zodiac. Three bumps on the rubber side of the boat and the appearance of air bubbles told him Clay was good to go. “Let’s do this,” he snapped, and they were off for the island.

  Several hundred yards offshore, Eric turned right, ostensibly to approach a better section of the small beach. Less drag on the boat told him Clay was now operating on his own.