The Brit

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Fuck.” We immediately start to slow, and he looks over his shoulder.

  “Did that hurt?” I yell over the rush of water.

  “Yes,” he grates.

  “Good.”

  He releases the throttle and we eventually slow to nothing until we’re bobbing on the water. “Are you telling me the warrior woman is afraid of something?” he asks.

  “Are you telling me the Angel-faced Assassin just felt pain?”

  He huffs a light bubble of laughter. “You caught me by surprise.”

  “I know how that feels,” I murmur, settling into his back. “Is that why you’ve dragged me onto this stupid thing? To make a point?” So I’m not too keen on flying across the water at one hundred miles an hour. Forgive me.

  “I have no point to make, Rose.” He flexes the throttle a little. “Shall we go slow?”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t hold me so tightly. You’re more likely to fall off when I take a corner.”

  “Then don’t take a corner.”

  His laugh. Oh, his laugh. “I need to take a corner, or we’ll wind up in Cuba.”

  “Then do it slowly.”

  “I’ll do it slowly,” he confirms, his tone pacifying. “If I get too fast, pinch me.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.” I leave my hand on his thigh in readiness . . . and maybe because it feels good there. I’m thinking Danny must think so too, because he surrenders one of the handlebars and takes it, flattening my palm and holding it down. I swallow a few times and turn my face the other way, looking out to the Atlantic as we drift along at a comfortable speed.

  The water is calm, my heart is calm, my life, in this moment, feels calm. He’s weaving his fingers through mine, feeling them, twiddling with them, stroking them. I close my eyes, forsaking the incredible view, and channeling all of my energy into savoring how good it feels. To be this close. To be touching. Without being forced to. Enjoying. Without pretending. Is this what other women enjoy regularly? Would they consider this . . . romantic? I know that will never be part of my life, not permanently, but I can enjoy this glimpse . . . can’t I?

  But more importantly, should I?

  “Shit!” Danny’s hand is quickly off mine, and I startle, loosening my hold of him. I shouldn’t have. My body lurches off the back, and I’m suddenly sailing through the air, Danny’s yell traveling after me. I hit the water with a slap, sinking quickly before I register the need to kick my feet. Fucking hell. I break the surface on a gasp, my head snapping left and right, my limbs working madly, panic feeding the adrenalin.

  “Rose!”

  I blink the water from my eyes and see Danny diving off the jet ski, swimming toward me. When he makes it, he’s out of breath, his arm slipping around my waist and pulling me to his body. “What happened?” I splutter, clinging to his shoulders and naturally wrapping my legs around his waist, anything to keep afloat without draining too much more energy.

  “A log in the water,” Danny puffs, treading water calmly, keeping us both afloat. “I saw it too late. Turned too quickly.” He reaches forward and pulls my wonky sunglasses up, resting them on my head.

  “Goddamn it, Danny.” I heave against him, splattering my chest to his and letting my head flop onto his shoulder. And then I laugh, chuckling into his neck as we bob on the calm water, wrapped around each other. I see the jet ski a short distance away, rolling with the swell of the rippling waves. Neither of us make to break away from each other. One of his arms is under my ass, the other around my waist. I’m quite comfy, my heavy head settled against him, my eyes taking in the vast, still expanse of water stretched out before me. My shock has passed. That feeling is back.

  Peace.

  Calm.

  Comfort.

  “Rose?” Danny’s quiet calling of my name sounds unsure. Tentative.

  I remain where I am. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  My forehead bunches, my fingers clawing into his back. Something tells me he’s not apologizing for throwing me off the back of his jet ski. “For what?” I ask, my eyes now darting over the sparkling water.

  I feel him move, pulling out of our cozy embrace, forcing me to relinquish my resting place on his shoulder. Removing his glasses, he slides them up into his hair. And he stares at me. He doesn’t gaze. It’s not soft or uncertain. He stares. A hard stare. An angry stare. I feel my lungs slowly shrinking. He looks truly remorseful. I almost don’t want to ask. “What are you sorry for?”

  His hands move from my waist and crawl onto my face. “This.” His mouth finds mine . . . and I’m gone. Lost. Consumed. Overwhelmed with every feeling imaginable.

  Anger for loving it.

  Hurt for feeling it.

  Guilt for not stopping it.

  Pain for the aftermath.

  My mission is suddenly all I can think of. My imminent betrayal. “Danny.”

  “Shut up, Rose.” His palms press down on the side of my face, his wet mouth working over mine like he’s been there a million times and knows it like the back of his hand. I stop myself from opening up to him for only a second. But then his tongue slips past my lips, and I’m quickly past the point of return. My arms cage him in, my thighs tighten around him. His mouth is salty but wonderful, his lips soft but firm. His hand moves to my hair and clasps my ponytail, fisting it hard, but our kiss remains controlled, our tongues moving smoothly and steadily. Never in my life have I been taken away from the cruelty of my existence. Never have I been swallowed whole by passion. I’m drowning. Struggling for air. Fighting to keep my head my own. Our moans are mingling, loud and gratifying, and Danny consistently nips at my bottom lip, pulling away from my mouth long enough for me to find more air before he finds my lips again and explores every bit of my mouth.

  I find his hair and grip it, pushing him closer to me. Something tells me this is it. He’s lost his battle to resist me. I’ve won.

  Or have I lost?

  “Have you ever imagined how amazing something would be?” He talks around my lips, unwilling to give them up, devouring me between each word.

  “Only once,” I admit, and he breaks our kiss but keeps our faces close, our fingers still knotted in each other’s hair. Now, he’s gazing at me. Truly gazing, eyes full of awe that I’m feeling myself. This hard, evil killing machine makes me melt. He’s discovered emotions and feelings deep within me. Not lost feelings. They were never there in the first place to be lost. These are new feelings. Alien feelings. My body seems to know how to deal with them even if my brain does not.

  “Only once?” he counters, scanning my face. “Now?”

  I nod, just a fraction, probably not enough to be seen. But with his hands in my hair, he feels it.

  He looks sad for a split second, his chest compressing against mine as he breathes in. “I have to get you in my bed.” His mouth falls to mine again, his tongue lapping slowly.

  “Worried you’ll change your mind?”

  “No.” One hand leaves my hair and finds my breast, his touch molding me through my wetsuit. “We need to continue this somewhere private.”

  “I don’t see anyone,” I tease, feeling him smile around my lips as he starts to swim back to the jet ski, me still attached to his front. I’m not letting go. Of him, or his mouth.

  “Me either. But I haven’t seen anyone else since I laid eyes on—”

  Boom!

  I’m thrown skyward on a scream, the force carrying me high, the sky illuminated with red and orange. The heat radiating through my body is instant, my ears pierced painfully by the unbearable sharp sound. Disorientation and shock render me incapable of figuring out what’s happened as I’m thrown like a rag doll, landing in the water with a silent splash, all sound drowned out by the echoing roar of noise.

  I plunge deep into the water and start kicking my legs wildly, but I just keep sinking deeper and deeper. I can’t breathe. Can’t see. My lungs fight against my instinct to draw air, but my desperation to breathe wins. I inhale and
choke on salty water, every part of my body and head in a panic, my limbs flailing to get me out of the water, my mind battling to find instruction.

  I’m going to drown.

  A strange peace comes over me, my fight to survive leaving me for the first time in my life. I feel weightless. I’ve never felt so light before. Giving in to the pull of the current and letting gravity do what it will, I let it drag me down, everything in me settling. Accepting. If I’m dead, they can’t threaten him anymore. He won’t be at risk. He’ll be left to live his life, to be happy. Not that he knows it, but he won’t be living on the edge of evil anymore. They’ll have forgotten him sooner than I’m dragged out of the sea. He will be of no use to them anymore. I die. But he gets to live.

  I close my eyes and let my arms float out to my sides, my panic now gone, acceptance replacing it.

  My body meets something. The seabed. And then I’m moving, feeling like I’m being pulled. My eyes open, and through the murky water, I just see his eyes before he pushes me up from beneath and I’m quickly shooting up through the water toward the surface. The sight of him brings me back to life. My legs start kicking, my arms working against the force of the water, my lungs screaming.

  I break the surface on a rush of air and immediately bring up water, coughing as my lungs squeeze. My head feels like it could burst from the pressure of my heaves, my body out of control. It could be daylight. The space before me is illuminated, bright and clear. Then I hear the roaring sound.

  I turn in the water, coming face to face with a ball of fire, the flames red-hot and wild, touching the sky. “Oh my God.” I circle, searching the glowing water for him. “Danny!” I yell, feeling frantic and panicked. More alien feelings, and I can’t stop them. I can’t see him. “Danny!” I hold my breath and immerse my face, trying to see beneath the surface. My lungs are shot. I can’t hold my breath for long enough to find him, and I resurface, my head snapping back and forth, looking for him. He didn’t come up. After he made sure I made it to the surface, he didn’t come up. “Danny!” I scream over the sound of the raging flames, spinning when I hear something, another roar, except this one is from a boat. A speed boat. I throw my arms into the air, seeing Brad and Ringo on board. They spot me, both of their faces riddled with worry, with shock.

  “Rose,” Brad yells. “Stay there.” He shuts the engine off when they’re a good ten feet away and start floating toward me steadily. He leans over, ready to pull me up.

  “I can’t find him.” My voice breaks. I feel like I’ve swallowed something large and hard and it’s trapped in my throat. “I can’t find Danny.”

  “Fuck,” Brad curses, leaning out as far as he can, stretching his arm for me. “Take my hand.”

  Just as our fingers brush, I hear something behind me. I abandon Brad’s hand and fly around, my eyes darting across the water wildly. I see his eyes before I see anything else. I hear my heart pounding its thanks before I hear his coughs and splutters, followed by a curse. His hands go through his hair, pushing it back, and he searches the water. Something inside me bucks. Something profound and demanding. Something that will not go ignored. And then our eyes meet, and I realize in this moment . . .

  I’m in more trouble than I ever comprehended.

  Trouble that scares me more than death. More than Nox, but not more than what I know he can do to me. Yet . . . will that stop me from being so reckless?

  My arms and legs start moving of their own volition, taking me to him, rather than accepting Brad’s hand and going to safety. I’m swimming toward him. Toward the flames. Toward the heat.

  Toward the danger.

  Danny starts swimming too, and when I make it to him, our bodies crash together, and I curl every limb around him, hiding my face in his neck, feeling like I’m drowning all over again. “You’re okay,” he says against my throat, holding me tightly as the fire continues to blaze just a stone’s throw away. “You’re okay.”

  Tears come. More feelings, more emotions, more madness. He saved my life. He’s the only person who has ever deemed me worthy of being saved.

  I hear Brad yelling in the distance, calling for us to swim to him. “We should go,” Danny encourages me from his arms, but stops me before I can turn my face away. He says nothing as he takes me in. Just gently wipes under my eyes. I don’t bother telling him that it’s sea water. He knows. The warrior has had her armor destroyed.

  I’m suddenly exhausted, all of my adrenalin gone, so Danny has to hold me while he swims us to the edge of the boat where Brad is waiting, his face grave. He takes my hand and pulls as Danny pushes me up, and I’m caught on the other side by Ringo. He gathers my wet body into his arms and puts me on the soft bench, and I start to shake, not that I’m cold or anything. I’m just . . .

  “Shock,” Ringo grunts, taking a fleece blanket and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Have some water.” A bottle is thrust into my hand before he joins Brad and helps get Danny up, and once he’s in the boat, the three men stand and look out to sea, watching the fire blazing.

  “Another life down,” Danny quips, looking at Brad. “Someone really wants me dead.”

  Like a volcano, realization erupts, and my shakes take on new levels. As Danny turns toward me, taking in my vibrating frame, I look away, shame eating away at my trembling flesh. All I can see in my head, glowing and bright on the screen of the cell phone, is my text message to Nox. I close my eyes and feel Danny settle beside me, his arm coming around my body and hugging me close. I don’t deserve his comfort. This is my fault. I told Nox he would be here. He just didn’t expect me to be too. “You’re cold,” Danny murmurs, and I nod into his chest, because I can’t possibly speak until I’ve found air to simply breathe. “Rose?”

  I can’t look at him. Can’t face him knowing it’s me who nearly got him killed. Taking my chin lightly, he applies only a little pressure, not forcing me to look at him, but making it clear that he wants me to. When I find his soft eyes, my guilt triples. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.

  I can only shake my head, hoping he translates that to “Don’t be.” This is all on me, though I could never confess that. Danny saved me. He thinks I’m sitting here shaking like a leaf because I’m shocked and terrified. I’m both of those things, but not for the reasons he believes. He smiles and rests his chin on top of my head, cuddling me into his solid side. “We’d better go before the Coast Guard shows up,” he says. “And when the police come knocking, we tell them the jet ski was stolen.”

  The engine of the boat kicks in, and I’m forced into Danny’s side more when Brad gets us moving. And I stare at the fire until it is a mere dot on the horizon.

  Today, Danny Black saved my life.

  Today, he discovered the life that was there to be saved.

  Today, he also signed my death sentence.

  Chapter 15

  DANNY

  * * *

  I can see Brad is itching to launch into a verbal tirade on our way back from the boatyard, the tightness of his jaw evidence of how hard he’s biting his tongue. I get it. My mind is reeling too, but for the most part, I’m watching Rose stare blankly ahead at the back of Ringo’s seat, her shakes getting worse the closer we get to my home. I pull her close, try to hold her tight to stem her trembles. She doesn’t even cast me a look. From the second I met Rose Lillian Cassidy, I wanted to pierce her defenses. Hurt her, if only to prove to myself that she could be hurt. And perhaps find some comfort in that. Seeing her like this has had a profound impact on me. This wasn’t my fault. But I still hate myself.

  We’re still in our wetsuits after having made a speedy departure from the boatyard, and when we pull up outside my mansion, I’m forced to gently coax Rose from the car when she shows no signs of moving, lost in her trance. I guide her up the steps, rearranging the blanket around her shoulders as we enter. Esther is waiting in the entrance hall, and her face falls into a frown the moment she catches sight of us.

  “I’ve got it,” I say, passing her with Rose’
s shoulders in my palms, directing her up the stairs. She’s like a zombie. I’m pretty sure she’d drop like a rock if I let go of her.

  “Danny?” Brad calls, and I look back, seeing his hands palm-up, facing the ceiling. “Shouldn’t we be getting our asses in the office to discuss?” He’s desperate to offload the fucks he’s held back in the car. He’ll have to wait. I’m cutting him short at every turn recently. The state of my arm, my bruised nose. He’s not got anything out of me, and it’s seriously pissing him off.

  I give him a death stare. “Have a drink ready for me.” I keep moving, just catching the shake of his head as I turn. Fuck him. I couldn’t leave her if I wanted to.

  I don’t question why I stop short of her suite. One whole room short. I open my bedroom door and negotiate her inside, kicking the door closed behind me before walking her to the bed. I strip her out of the wetsuit until she stands only in her underwear, her back to me, and then remove my own, watching her motionless body as I do. I frown when I turn her around to find glassy, empty eyes. I miss the fire in them already. Cupping her cheeks with my hands, I pull her face up to mine. She looks straight through me.

  “Rose?” I jiggle her, starting to worry. Should I call a doctor and have her checked out? It’s like shock has paralyzed her. I get no response, the pupils of her eyes huge. I just need her to tell me she’s okay. Desperation has my lips falling to hers, my kiss firm but chaste. I pull away and see it. The spark of life in her eyes. So I kiss her again. Once more, firm and chaste, pulling away to search out the flames. They’re there, burning in the back of her blue stare.