by Susan Grant
“It makes no difference, Bree. Ahmed won’t turn us away. Not with an open blood debt.” An obligation on which she knew he would never have tried to collect if it weren’t for his desire to keep her safe. “He already knows everything you just mentioned.”
“How?”
“The Interweb. Even in this far-flung region, they have access to it. They would have learned about you, the Voice of Freedom—all of it. If they’re inviting us aboard, it’s because they want to. And we have nowhere else to go.”
His expression was so to-the-point, so frank and penetrating, that it emptied the air from her argument in one fell swoop. Frowning, she turned away, reaching for her travel pack. Ty snatched her back. “Wait a second, Sleeping Beauty. What about our promise?”
Sleeping Beauty—it was his nickname for her, and the very first thing he’d said to her, ever, when he woke her in the cave. Caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere, she would have smiled if she were a little bit more confident about his question. “I don’t recall any promise.”
“ ‘No more secrets.’ Does that ring a bell?”
“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “That one.”
“Yeah, that one.” His mouth twitched with exasperation and amusement. “Something was eating you, and I had to spend the last twenty minutes digging it out of you.”
Blushing, she regarded him with a caught-with-her-hand-in-the-cookie-jar feeling.
“I can’t believe you didn’t remember that conversation.”
“I did remember.”
“I had to remind you.”
“I just . . . well, I forgot. Damn it, Ty. You know I’m better at flying than I am at long-term relationships.”
Instantly the curve of his mouth softened. “Ah. So you admit this is a long-term relationship.”
Her cheeks grew hotter. “Isn’t it?”
“I asked you first, Maguire.” A mix of amusement and emotional intensity glowed in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
She pushed her fists against his solid chest. He grabbed her hands and held them there. His heart thumped powerfully under the heels of her palms. “Yes, Ty, we’re in a relationship. Me and you. A big, fat relationship with a capital R. How’s that? Clear enough?”
Ty threw his head back and laughed. Then he swept her close. “Long-term?” he asked against her mouth.
“Long-term,” she mumbled back.
Ty made a gruff, satisfied sound, teasing her with small, nipping kisses until she wound her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. His lips were warm, his mouth moist and hot as his tongue found hers. Her knees went weak with a rush of desire. Ty’s kiss was fierce and possessive, tender and loving at the same time. No one made her respond like Ty did. He’d spoiled her for anyone else.
“A relationship,” he murmured, lifting his head. “Heaven help us.”
“It had better,” she whispered back. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
They shared a look that in its tenderness bared all they’d been through together.
“Just think,” she said in a lighter tone, “tonight we’re going to have a real bed to sleep in.” After weeks on a small boat, fleeing their attackers across the southern reaches of Asia and the Indian Ocean—a grueling journey by anyone’s standards—having Ty between the sheets on a real mattress was what she looked forward to the most.
The press of warm lips to the side of her throat sent a shiver of anticipation straight to her belly. “I have quite a few plans for that bed,” he said. “None involve sleeping.”
She laughed; she couldn’t help it. He could make her smile when happiness seemed farthest from her mind.
She pulled back to gaze up at him, as if trying to remember his face for all eternity. The setting sun had turned his suntanned skin a deeper bronze. Amber light glinted on the prickles of his beard and the ends of his brown hair. The wind whipped around them, carrying smells from the raft that brought back memories of tidal pools and shell hunting—childhood vacations to the beach and all the happiness associated with those days. The familiar smells, the good memories, the “rightness” of this man; it was as if her past and her future had come together.
If she indeed had a future . . .
She met Ty’s clear blue eyes with an odd sense of hyperawareness that the moment was a turning point she’d remember the rest of her life. For what reason, exactly, she didn’t know. A shower of tingles made her shiver. Not the good kind this time. It was a scaredshitless shiver—fear of losing someone who had become so important to her only months after finding out that everyone else who’d ever mattered was gone forever. “Just don’t ever die on me, Tyler Armstrong.”
His jaw moved. “I’ll do my best. You do the same.”
“Fine. I will.”
The morbid humor seemed to defuse the emotional intensity of the moment. If she wasn’t mistaken, Ty appeared as relieved as she was.
“Ahoy!”
She lifted her head, then used the boat’s viewer to zoom in on who’d called down. A number of men were high above, leaning over the edge of the raft. Big, tough, scruffy-looking men. They looked like a gang of bikers. Bree couldn’t be happier. If anyone came searching for her, she had the feeling Ahmed and this gang of rough-if-not-merry men could defend themselves. “Ahoy?” She smiled. “Do people actually still use that word?”
“These pirates do.”
Getting into the spirit, she waved back. “Ahoy!”
Someone threw a rope ladder over the side; it slapped against the mussel- and seaweed-encrusted pontoon as it unrolled. Then a man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down, “Armstrong—send your woman up first! Then, if she falls, you will be able to grab her before the sharks do.”
“I guess I’m your woman now,” Bree said out the corner of her mouth.
Ty hauled her toward him and brought his mouth to her ear. “You sure as hell are.” His breath was hot, his voice low.
They’d barely begun to kiss when reality intruded in the form of wolf whistles from the raft above.
They jumped apart. After so long alone, it was easy to forget they had an audience.
Ty lifted his eyes to the laughing men on top of the raft, but his hands were slow in leaving her waist. At that, the pirates exchanged amused glances. “She’s on her way!” he shouted up to them.
Bree used the viewer again to focus on the top of the raft. Deftly, she zoomed in. As pirates went—not that she’d ever met any in person—their leader Ahmed’s appearance was both expected and not. A neatly trimmed goatee was a striking contrast to his head of long and wild black hair, which he wore knotted with shells and what Bree was sure were bones. Human or animal? Maybe it was better not to ask the question and to accept the refuge he offered.
Ahmed cupped his hands around his mouth. “It’s about time, Armstrong! Not that I expected any less from the UCE’s most famous lover.”
“ Former most famous lover,” Ty bellowed back. He appeared to take his fabricated reputation as a playboy bachelor in stride. In reality he was a private man, a dedicated, decorated military officer who got his thrills from participating in extreme sports, not hopping from bed to bed, as the UCE media seemed to want to believe in their relentless quest to solidify the more sensational reputation they’d assigned to him.
It also explained why so few knew that over the years, Ty had become a respected figure in treasure-hunting circles. Well, they’d all know now, she thought. When he’d come in search of her, it was as a tomb raider inspired by a too-short biography buried in a military history text; a mention of her disappearance, along with her wingmate.
“You’re freedom and democracy, Uncle Sam and apple pie,” he’d told her much later, after they’d escaped from Kyber’s palace. “You’re everything lost when the USA became part of the UCE.”
He’d wanted to bring her back to the UCE in hopes that her presence would replace something intangible that he felt
his country now lacked. His intentions were above reproach; unfortunately, when he’d tried to spirit her out of the Kingdom of Asia, not only was he violating nearly every international law still on record, he’d earned Prince Kyber’s wrath. Justifiably furious, the prince had thrown Ty in prison and staked his claim on Bree. The tug-of-war had been going on ever since.
Ty twisted Bree’s ponytail around his finger. “Playboy no longer,” he shouted up to Ahmed. “This one’s for keeps.”
“I can well see why!” The pirate lord grinned, binoculars held to his eyes as he evidently inspected her.
Bree made a noise in her throat. She didn’t know if she wanted to sink into the ocean or kiss the daylights out of Ty, whose eyes danced with mischief. She had never seen him this lighthearted. Was it because they’d just lifted their relationship to the next level? Or was he simply happy to be disembarking onto something resembling dry land? Regardless, she decided to take his cheerfulness as a good sign. If he didn’t feel they were out of harm’s way, he wouldn’t be goofing around. And if he thought they were safe, then maybe she could convince herself, too.
They gathered their meager possessions and slung their travel packs over their shoulders. Thunder boomed. Lightning sparked. The seas were getting rougher, making it hard to keep her footing. Ty hustled her onto the ladder. “It’s going to rain, and Ahmed’s getting impatient.”
Bree let her gaze travel up the swinging ladder. It seemed a long climb to the top. The sight made her blood rush crazily. Making the haul wouldn’t be as much of a kick as flying an F-16, but it’d be fun nonetheless.
“Go on,” Ty coaxed. “Ahmed won’t bite.”
“Yeah, but I might.” To the sound of Ty’s laughter, she grabbed hold of the swaying ladder, took a breath, and pushed away from the speedboat.
The huge raft rose and fell on the swells, movement that hadn’t been so apparent from the speedboat. Bree’s stomach flipped with each pitch of the structure. For a second or two she felt as if she were losing her grip; then she started climbing, rung by rung. There was a clicking noise, a faint hiss. Then the entire ladder jerked upward.
Ah! Shock made her hands clamp closed. She swore, barely holding on as the contraption flew upward. The barnacles on the surface of the pontoon sped by so fast that they blurred. The thing was motorized! And whether she liked it or not, she was on a light-speed, oneway trip to the top.
Chapter Three
“Whoo!” Bree whooped as the ocean fell away from her. By the time she reached the top of the raft, her heart was racing and she tingled all over.
The ladder stopped, jerked, nearly threw her off. Before she did fall, someone reached for her hands and pulled her onto the raft proper. Her boots thudded onto . . . grass? Bree straightened, then froze in wonder at the scene spread out before her. It was a tropical paradise. An Eden.
A sweep of manicured lawn studded with palms and mangoes led to a grand estate, a mansion surrounded by more gardens and groves of trees. Flamingos struck poses in a pond shot through with fountains ejecting water high into the air; monkeys chattered in the tops of the trees, noisy but unseen, unlike the parrots that swooped low, preparing to roost with the coming darkness and thunder. The sight was a visual feast for her starving eyes, almost blocking her feelings of unease. Almost, but not quite.
“It is beautiful, yes?”
Breathless, Bree whirled on the pirate she’d almost forgotten was standing next to her, the man she’d decided was Ahmed. “Yes, it is. It’s an amazing place.”
The man’s teeth were white and straight. A diamond glinted in his left canine. A pierced tooth. She gathered her wits and stuck out her hand in greeting. “Pirate lord Ahmed, I presume.”
“At your service.” He bowed low, his braids making tinkling noises. “Welcome, Banzai Maguire.”
“So, you do know who I am.” She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, either.
“Who doesn’t know of you—the figurehead of the upcoming Central revolt? Or of your crimes against the Kingdom of Asia.”
Bree made an exasperated sound. “Yeah, yeah. Evasion and escape. Intimidation with a deadly weapon. Knocking an emperor on his ass.”
Ahmed laughed with hearty delight, and with no small amount of respect.
A whizzing noise cut short their conversation: the mechanical ladder. Ty landed on the raft next. Ahmed barreled toward him. “At long last—the commander returns!” After a moment of back pounding and general embracing, the men stood, gripping each other at arm’s length. In their eyes were a thousand memories, most of them brutal, Bree was sure.
The spray-laden wind whipped her hair across her eyes. She pushed the strands aside to find the several dozen sweaty, brawny pirates not quite leering at her but staring pretty hard. “Yo,” she said under her breath, waving.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but now they stared even harder. “Back to work!” someone shouted at them. “The sooner the goods are unloaded, the sooner you’ll get your money.” Grumbling, the men dispersed to their duties.
“Cino, my new second-in-command,” Ahmed explained. A lean, hard-looking soul paused in his ordering the others around to acknowledge Bree and Ty with a crisp nod.
Several manservants arrived to take Bree’s and Ty’s travel bags. The weapons, though, they were allowed to keep. The days of walking around unarmed were gone. Ahmed, of course, recognized that. It showed just how much he trusted them to let them hold on to their arsenal.
“Come, come,” Ahmed said, ushering them along. “A feast awaits us.”
Bree felt a surge of gratitude. “You know we’ll never be able to properly repay you.”
“Repay me? Bah! Your man saved my life when he had every reason to take it. I tried to give him my eldest daughter in thanks, but he refused me.”
“Tactfully,” Ty put in, grinning.
“Tactfully, yes,” Ahmed agreed, with a hint of grudging disappointment. “But firmly. The bachelor was not yet interested in settling down. But now, it seems, he is! Let us celebrate that as well as your arrival. Come!”
Ty gave Bree a smug smile and took her hand. “Capital R,” he reminded her under his breath, and gave her fingers a squeeze.
Under a billowing red-and-white-striped awning, five women sat around a table, waiting for them: two older women, two more in their very young twenties, and one teenager. “My wives and daughters,” Ahmed announced with pride.
Bree’s heart hit her stomach. Wives? Daughters? “He has his family here?” she whispered out the side of her mouth to Ty. “And he’s invited fugitives marked for death aboard?” Was he insane? Bree’s stomach knotted up, a feeling she hated, but with which she was very familiar.
Ty took her hand, but she could tell that he, too, was surprised to see Ahmed’s family. The women called out greetings, but Bree could barely acknowledge them, she was so shaken by their presence. The wind brought their perfume to her nose as Ty pulled out her chair. Sandalwood and jasmine, she thought, sitting down.
Conversation whirled around her as the women began passing around platters of food that must have taken all day to prepare. By Ahmed’s cooks, Bree assumed. These women looked calm and rested, not like they’d been slaving all day over boiling pots.
Ahmed’s second-in-command sat on one side of the women, and Ahmed on the other. With a nervous tic in his cheek at odds with his mean features, Cino appeared wary, watchful, much more so than Ahmed. His suspicion undoubtedly stemmed from not being able to convince his boss not to honor this crazy thing called a blood debt, and the risk that posed to his family.
Anger hammered at Bree, making her head hurt. She reached for a goblet of ale someone had set in front of her, and took a healthy swallow. It was pirate’s brew, sharp, but good. A couple more deep swallows and she’d gained enough buzz to soothe her frayed nerve endings the way an electrician’s plastic caps sealed off hot wires. Then she shoved the goblet away. More ale and she’d lose her edge. She had to stay sharp. Just in case.
Thunder rumbled. The awnings rippled in the breeze. The rain was getting closer; she could smell it. Something else was coming closer, too, but she didn’t know what it was.
A shiver of fear and dread raced along her spine.
Screw staying sharp. The idea of numbness was sounding better and better. “I’ll make you a deal, Ahmed. I’ll watch out for your ale if you watch out for my enemies.”
The conversation died down. Ty turned to her, frowning.
She frowned back. “I have to be honest, Ty. His family is here,” she said, as if Ahmed and crew weren’t listening to every word she said. Or perhaps because they were. No one seemed to be taking their danger seriously. “His wives and daughters. You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t know!”
She turned to Ahmed. “We appreciate all you’ve done for us—you can’t imagine how much—but we can’t stay here. After dinner, we have to go.”
“Go?” the pirate all but bellowed. “But why? Is it my food? My hospitality?” He lifted the hand of the wife to his right and brought her palm to his mouth, kissing it. “Surely it cannot be the beautiful women at this table. You are one of them, Bree Maguire.” His dark, sparkling gaze challenged her to defy him.
The guy was a charmer for sure. “Ahmed,” she tried again. He knew her situation, but, “I have enemies. . . .”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I’m worried that mine will come here. And you know there might not only be UCE forces, but possibly Han troops, too.”
Ahmed bristled. “Yes, yes. Let them come! Let all of them find their way to my raft. They will not survive the day!” Lifting his goblet of ale, he sang out, “To our enemies and all their minions! How lonely our lives would be without them!”
A chorus of something resembling “hear, hear,” went around the table, and everyone tossed back the contents of their glasses.