Air Bound

by Christine Feehan

  He rapid-fired two bullets, aiming for head shots, taking out the two men on either side of Airiana. She shoved one fist in her mouth, but reached down to recover her rifle as he shot the man he was holding in the head, shoved the body away and slapped at the gun of the second attacker, knocking it away. He caught the man’s head in his bare hands, twisted as he spun his body around, lifting him over his shoulder by his head and neck. The crack was loud. He ran toward Airiana and caught her arm, taking her with him as he continued running back toward the lifeboat and his war bag.

  Blood ran down her face from a wound in her hairline. The dark scrap of shirt that had been serving as a scarf to hold her hair was gone. The blood looked obscene running down her pale face and smeared in her wild, angel hair. He wiped at it with his shirt. “Get back in there and get dressed. Put the wet suit on fast. Put the oil on your body first and stash these clothes in the war bag.”

  She shook her head but complied. He had a couple more men to secure and then the children would be safe. The chief steward and cook, the boatswain and three more seamen. They would have heard the gunshots and they’d be expecting trouble. He didn’t want Airiana anywhere on the deck when trouble came.

  He slipped carefully through the containers, allowing the air around him to guide him. Someone had climbed up above for a better view. That was easy enough. He brought in the wind, a gale force directed at the man leaping from one container to the next. The wind hit the man square in the chest while he was in the air, blowing him backward. The man screamed and flailed in the air as he was picked up and thrown overboard.

  He heard a whisper of movement coming from the stairwell. Maxim rolled from the shadows of the container to the small tucked-in alcove beside the stairs, coming up on one knee, his weapon trained on the second man coming up. The first passed him, assault rifle in hand, and the second, a dark-haired, swarthy, heavily muscled man moved stealthily into view.

  The dark-haired male suddenly turned his head alertly, shifting on the balls of his feet and launching himself at Maxim. Maxim got two shots off before he was hit hard, knocking him backward, the breath rushing from his lungs. Both bullets hit the first man, but the noise of the large man tackling him brought four others running.

  He rolled, came to his feet, and the man slammed a boot in his chest, driving him back to the stairwell. He nearly went over the railing, his weapon tangling in the metal frame. Another kick to the ribs nearly smashed his bones. His rifle stayed in the metal and he went flying.

  He palmed a throwing knife as he hit the deck, rolled and threw with deadly accuracy. The big man went down, the knife buried in his neck. A bullet smashed right over his head and Maxim dove for cover. The four men formed a semicircle, blasting the entire area, keeping him pinned and putting dozens of holes in the bodies of their shipmates.

  Behind them, he heard the sound of a gun and his heart nearly stopped. One of the men stumbled forward, went to his knees and toppled onto his face. A second did the same. He saw her then. Dressed in her wet suit, all in black, even her hair covered by the hood, she stood a distance away with the assault rifle steady in her hands.

  He fell in love right there. As the others turned toward her, he pulled his weapon free and shot them just as she did.

  “You were late,” she said. “And I got scared.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Now that it was over, her hands trembled. He took the weapon from her. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

  She was definitely pale. “Just sit down. I’ll be another minute.”

  It took a few minutes to strip, rub himself down with a little oil and slip into his scuba gear. He radioed the sub to make certain it was in position and waiting for them and then he called his brother and dumped the entire mess in his lap, making certain to give them the correct phrase so Benito wouldn’t shoot anyone. Lev didn’t sound happy, but he was cooperative, understanding, as no one else could be in the situation. He promised to get the children to safety and deal with the disaster aboard ship.

  Maxim turned his attention to giving Airiana a crash course in breathing with a tank.

  9

  AIRIANA had never been so terrified in her life. She wanted to be back on the ship, fighting a dozen armed men rather than swimming in a dark, cold ocean in the dead of night. She wasn’t a strong swimmer. She wasn’t even a swimmer at all. She didn’t go into the water. She’d never learned to swim. She might put her toes in the water, but never her face. And she didn’t breathe into tanks. She didn’t know how.

  You’re psyching yourself out again. Just breathe the way I showed you. There was a trace of amusement in his voice.

  She didn’t find anything funny about the situation at all. This is insanity.

  It’s an adventure. Just keep moving.

  She didn’t have a choice. He had tied them together, hooking a line from his belt to hers. He was a strong swimmer and was practically towing her through the water. She did her best not to panic, but every so often she couldn’t remember how to breathe and he would stop and hold her, talking softly in her mind and showing her how until the panic subsided and she could use the equipment.

  Are we almost there? She felt like a little child in the family car asking every ten minutes when they’d arrive at their cross-country destination.

  We’ve been in the water about ten minutes. You’re asking me every ninety seconds. This time there was no mistaking the laughter.

  There was no way that was true. She was certain they’d been hours in the water. She was so cold she couldn’t stop shaking. And the terror didn’t go away, it only increased the longer she was underwater.

  I don’t think you’re funny. I want to surface. She knew she had a knife strapped to her suit and she was going to find the darn thing, cut herself loose and just swim without him to the surface.

  She stopped kicking and felt her tool belt, searching for the knife. Instantly his hand clamped down on hers. She was always that little bit shocked at how strong he was. His arm circled her waist and he removed the knife from her hand.

  Two more minutes, honey. That’s it. I’m sorry I teased you. The sub’s just ahead of us.

  She clung to him for a moment, afraid she couldn’t even last two more minutes. She just wanted to go home. To be in her house. Her bed. She wasn’t the adventurous type.

  Two minutes, Airiana. I promise.

  She nodded her understanding and reluctantly let him go. He turned her in the direction they were swimming and set off again, using stronger strokes to cut through the water. She tried to do the same, mimicking his actions, struggling not to cry and to keep the air moving in her lungs. Her tendency was to try to hold her breath. It didn’t help that tears clogged her throat and burned behind her eyes.

  Can you see the lights just ahead?

  She detested being such a baby. She should have learned to swim in spite of her mother’s absolute panic every time they were near water. Marina had nearly drowned as a child and she’d never gotten over the fear. She’d never wanted Airiana to get even close to a large body of water.

  I’m sorry, Maxim. I can’t seem to overcome my fear of the water. She felt childish and silly beside a man who seemed to be able to do everything and do it well. You don’t seem to be afraid of anything.

  Of course I’m afraid. Maxim glanced at her.

  She had no idea how afraid he was—of her, of what she was, of who she was. Meeting her and spending such an intense twenty-four hours with her had bound them together when already they had a strong connection. The thought of needing her, of craving her and becoming obsessed with her, was more terrifying to him than anything else he could imagine.

  He could face anything, but caring about someone else to the extent he was beginning to care about Airiana was something so far out of his wheelhouse he wasn’t certain
what to do. She represented a home and family, and he had long ago, when he was a boy, lost those things.

  Maxim?

  Her voice was soft, brushing at the walls of his mind, finding its way into his heart. He knew weapons. He’d been shot and knifed and even tortured, but that soft voice was more powerful than any other threat he’d ever faced.

  It’s just ahead, honey. You can see the lights, he encouraged.

  She stopped swimming abruptly, staring at the small submarine. There’s no air underwater, Maxim.

  That’s not entirely true. There are gasses in the water and . . . He trailed off. She didn’t need a science lesson and probably knew more than he did. What’s wrong?

  I can see patterns in the lights. There was fear in her voice. You’re an air element, can you see them?

  He could, and it didn’t make him happy. Yes. Stick close to me once we’re on board. The sub will take us to rendezvous with a ship your father is on.

  The patterns suggest danger.

  We’re kind of used to that by now, aren’t we? He kept his voice matter-of-fact.

  He should have known that as an air element, she would catch warnings as well. It was the last thing he wanted her to see. She’d been through too much, and she still had to meet her father and listen to his proposal.

  All along Maxim had feared that Theodotus wouldn’t take no for an answer from his daughter. He might love her in theory, in his mind, but he didn’t know her, and when it came to his work, he could be utterly ruthless. Her father would have no qualms about taking her back to Russia with him. He wouldn’t even consider it a betrayal. He’d convince himself it was best for her, that he could keep her safe. In reality, he’d be using her brilliance for his own gain.

  That warning was for both of them. Keeping his promise to Airiana wasn’t going to be easy. We’ll make it through this if you trust me. No matter what I do, trust me that I have your best interests at heart and that my goal is to get you back home, if that’s your wish after speaking to your father.

  They were at the sub’s hatch. He caught her wrist, holding her to him. Waiting. Her eyes searched his, there in the strange yellowish glow of the sub, behind the face mask. She nodded, slowly, almost reluctantly.

  Maxim stayed very close to Airiana once aboard. They both stripped and he gave her the clothes he’d carried in the waterproof war bag that went with him nearly everywhere. She didn’t protest that he didn’t turn away from her as she tore the wet suit from her body. She didn’t even look at him.

  Airiana shook uncontrollably, and he took a towel and dried her body and hair as best he could before helping her into the soft sweats he’d brought along in her size, just for this purpose.

  He dried himself off and then dressed, taking his time, giving her a chance to recover a bit before they faced anyone. When he was finished, he sank down onto the small built-in bench and pulled her into his arms, trying to warm her with his body heat.

  “I’m exhausted,” she admitted, and buried her face into his neck.

  It was a sure sign of her weariness to actually allow him to hold her again. She’d been withdrawn from him ever since he’d announced what a mistake he’d made connecting them together in the Prakenskii ritual. That was sacred, something they all knew one didn’t ever do unless it was right and lasting.

  He’d carelessly marked her, not ready for such a thing himself and uncertain of what would really happen. Now he knew. He just grew more obsessed with her. That—and caring more for her. He lifted her in his arms and took her through the hatch into the narrow passageway.

  “Maxim.” One of the few men he ever acknowledged he felt friendship toward greeted him. “Is she all right?”

  Valentin Blatov was older than Maxim by a few years and he’d tried to look out for the younger boys in the training school. Maxim had learned to distrust anyone friendly very early on, but Valentin had proved to be the real thing, a rarity among those teaching or the older boys who were given orders to make the younger boys stronger.

  “She doesn’t swim, Valentin,” Maxim admitted. “She needs a warm bed and maybe something hot to drink. A little food. She’ll be good.”

  “We’ll get under way immediately. Any trouble?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He liked Valentin, but that didn’t mean he would trust those children to him—or to anyone else but his brothers.

  Valentin took the war bag from his hand and led the way a short distance to another hatch. “It’s as comfortable as we could make it. Quarters are small. We don’t have much room.”

  “This is fine,” Maxim said, and ducked a little to take Airiana inside. She hadn’t lifted her head from where it was buried in his neck. He reached for the bag, blocking the hatch so Valentin couldn’t step inside. “Thanks. If you could send us some hot drinks, Val, I’d really appreciate it.”

  Valentin nodded and turned to leave. Maxim closed the hatch and carried Airiana to the small bed. He only had to take three short steps. “Val wasn’t kidding when he said there was little room. I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

  She sighed and lifted her head reluctantly. “If I am, I’ll never admit it, not after you having to haul me through the water, with me forgetting how to use a tank every few minutes.”

  “You didn’t forget, you panicked,” he corrected.

  “Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out. You don’t have to be so literal.” She scooted across the bed to the wall, drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, a position he was coming to know was comforting to her. She rested her chin on top of her knees and regarded him with her blue eyes.

  “This can’t be easy for you.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t want her sympathy. He was the one who had kidnapped her from her home and taken her on a rather harrowing journey. He’d killed people in front of her and exposed her to a ruthless human trafficking ring. He’d even made her swim underwater when she was terrified.

  “It’s a job, Airiana. It’s what I do.”

  “Quite frankly, Maxim, your job sucks.” She kept her eyes glued to his. “Do you like what you do?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that?” he snapped. He wanted to turn away, but it was impossible, he was already falling into all that blue.

  “Aren’t people supposed to like what they do?” She shrugged. “Is it so difficult to answer? You’ve obviously been doing this kind of work a long time, you’re good at it, but is it what you want to do?”

  “It’s what I’m trained for. I’m more than good at it.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question,” she persisted.

  “Damn it, Airiana, I don’t have a choice. I’m not like other people, who can choose what they want to do. I was taken from my home as a child and trained to be a covert operative. I assassinate drug lords, heads of state, anyone my government wants out of their way. I kill people for a living. I seduce women and torture men. I climb into bed with the worst kind of depraved human beings in order to get close to my target. I turn a blind eye to victims, and when set on a path I don’t stop until the job is done. That’s my job, it’s what I do, and it’s who I am.”

  “Actually, it’s not,” Airiana said.

  She didn’t look in the least bit disturbed by his outburst. His voice had been low, but it was a whiplash, designed to stop all conversation. He couldn’t believe he’d even admitted such things to her. By rights he should kill her and throw her in the sea to protect himself, his identity and his remaining brothers, who were still at risk.

  She patted the spot on the bed beside her, those clear blue eyes beckoning him. “You’re tired, Maxim. You may not recognize that you are, but I can see it. Come sit down and stop prowling like a caged tiger.”

  “You do realize that I kill people, Airiana. Being in the same room with me and baiting me isn’t a very smart move.”

  Sh
e patted the bed again. “You’re no danger to me and we both know it. Now you’re the one being silly. Come sit down.” She flashed a small, wan smile. “I won’t bite you.”

  No, but she could see right through him, and that was far more dangerous than a bite. Fortunately someone banged on the hatch. He sent her one quelling look and pulled a pistol from his war bag. Standing to one side, he slowly opened the hatch, ready for anything.

  “Don’t shoot me, Max,” Valentin said, and slowly stuck his head inside the cabin.

  They had a code they always used. If they were alone and all was well, Maxim was “Max” and Valentin was “Val.” Still, Maxim always remained cautious—and suspicious—it was what kept him alive.

  Get the coffee, honey, and leave me a clear shot, just to be safe.

  Airiana stood up without protest and took the two mugs of hot coffee from Valentin. “Thank you, I really need this,” she said.

  Valentin smiled at her and gave a small bow. “I’m Val, an old friend of Max’s.”

  “Airiana,” she said, and offered her hand.

  Maxim’s breath hissed out between his teeth. Never let someone touch you like that. He could pull you into him and use you as a shield, he reprimanded, his voice harsher than he intended. He’d forgotten how charming Valentin could be around women.

  Valentin merely took Airiana’s hand and raised it to his mouth. Maxim resisted pulling the trigger.

  “You can leave any time, old friend,” he snapped at Valentin.

  The man grinned at him and held Airiana’s hand a little bit too long—deliberately now that he knew he was getting to Maxim.