Claimed

by M. Never

  “Sealed with a kiss,” he says.

  “I have a feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of kissing Mr . . . Rivers? Is that your real last name? Would we have to use an alias?”

  “Ellie. Shhh.” He pulls me close. “Yes, it’s Rivers,” he whispers, “and I don’t know. We can use that for now.”

  Ellie Rivers. I can live with that.

  “Okay.” I yawn. “Good talk.”

  “Tired, kitten?” Kayne chuckles.

  “Yes. I’ve had a very trying night. Prosecco, foursomes, weddings. I’m pooped.”

  “So let’s go get some sleep. We have a few more days before I have to share with you with the rest of the world. I plan to take full advantage.”

  “I bet you do,” I purr as our two-story bungalow comes into view. Looking at it now, it does seem a bit ostentatious compared to all the rest.

  I fall back and melt into the mattress once inside. I lift my hand in front of my face and inspect my engagement ring, noticing how the white and pink stones glimmer even in dim light. I’ve barely had a chance to admire it with everything that went on last night.

  “It’s perfect.” Kayne lies down next to me. “It’s just like you—unique, brilliant, and strong enough to cut glass.”

  I snuggle up next to him, realizing I will be sharing a bed with this man for the rest of my life.

  Crazy.

  Our original bond was one built with bricks of deception and lies. The bond we share now is fused by love. A single strand of twine, woven together with trust, and stronger than steel.

  “I love you,” I sigh sleepily.

  Kayne moans in appreciation. “You have no idea what those words do to me. No idea how much I need to hear them. How much I need you.” He tickles kisses across my cheek.

  “You have me. Till death do us part.”

  Kayne clutches me protectively, and for a split second I think I’ve said something wrong.

  “Go to sleep, Ellie. We can talk nuptials later.” He embraces me firmly, yet tenderly, banishing everything else in my life except him.

  “Yes, Kayne,” I murmur against his lips and let slumber have me.

  I DON’T THINK ELLIE AND I have been laying down for more than five minutes when I hear my cell phone beep. Three distinct chimes that communicate a problem.

  “Kayne? What is that?” Ellie stirs.

  The chimes sound again as I grab my pants off the floor and fish my phone out of the pocket.

  “Nothing. Go to back to sleep,” I say urgently, but when I turn to look at her, she’s sitting up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Sleep doesn’t seem like much of an option at the moment.

  I stand up and dial a secure number, waiting impatiently to be connected. “Sundial enterprises,” a woman’s robotic voice answers.

  “Seven AM on the eastern shore,” I reply.

  “Pin, please.”

  “007263.”

  “Codename.”

  “Havok with a K.”

  “Password?”

  I glance back at Ellie. “Elizabeth Ann.”

  “Confirmed. Hold for patch.”

  “Kayne?” Juice’s voice comes through.

  “What’s up?”

  “We have a security breach.”

  “What kind?”

  “Someone’s hacked Endeavor’s classified server.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The identities of all operatives, handlers, informants, and analysts have been compromised.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah. The bosses are on a rampage. They’re calling in everyone that they can. They want them secure, which means your fun in the sun is over.”

  “Shit.” My heart beats riotously.

  “Sorry, man.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Be in the air within an hour. I’ll check back then.”

  “Roger.”

  The call ends.

  “Everything okay?” The voice that can cut through my darkest nightmares fills the room.

  “No. Get up. We have to go.”

  “Now?” She clutches the sheet to her chest.

  “Yes. Grab only what you need. Everything else will be packed and shipped later.”

  A moment later my phone rings again.

  “Yeah,” I snap.

  “I’ve called ahead. The plane will be ready,” Jett informs me. There are no formalities now, only protocol and procedure.

  “We’ll meet you at the boat. Ten.”

  “Roger.”

  Click.

  I rush Ellie around the room. She changes into a sundress and comfortable shoes. I throw on shorts, a hat, and a t-shirt and set up a ride to the lobby with Matias.

  Making sure we both have all the essentials, we vacate the bungalow and our private escape.

  “Kayne?” Ellie asks worried as we walk outside. I know she’s scared and confused and wants answers, but I just can’t give her any at the moment.

  “Not now, okay?” I squeeze her hand. “We’ll talk about everything later.”

  She nods as we climb into the golf cart.

  “Book it. We have a plane to catch,” I tell Matias, and he takes off, flooring the cart as fast as it can go. I think the thing only tops out at fifteen miles per hour.

  Almost exactly ten minutes later to the second, we pull up to the lobby and the long dock housing multiple white boats. I spot Jett readying one near the end.

  “I’m sorry your stay had to end so abruptly,” Matias says to us once we’re out of the cart.

  “Yes. It is disappointing.” I quickly pull out a wad of cash. “Your service was impeccable.” I hand it to him.

  “Thank you, Monsieur.”

  “De rien.”

  You’re welcome.

  I glance around us as I lead Ellie to the boat. She hasn’t stopped crushing my hand since we left.

  The speedboat looks to be a thirty-footer with a dark-blue canopy. It’s nothing flashy but will fit the four of us comfortably.

  I help Ellie onto the boat then jump in after her, still keeping a sharp eye on our surroundings.

  “Ready?” Jett turns on the ignition and the engine purrs.

  “Yup.” I untie the two ropes anchoring us to the dock and push off.

  “Hang on. This is going to be a quick ride,” Jett says as we get out into open water. Then he pulls the throttle and the boat speeds through the glassy water, throwing Ellie and London back in their chairs and jolting me on my feet.

  I hear a groan and look over to see London with her head on Ellie’s lap.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask as Ellie strokes her hair.

  “She’s hung over. Hasn’t stopped puking all morning,” Jett informs me.

  That sucks.

  “There’s ginger ale on the plane,” I tell her, like that’s supposed to help.

  She makes a face. “I don’t think I can even keep liquids down. I am never drinking again.”

  “I think I’ve heard you say that three times on this trip.” Jett laughs behind the wheel. He’s wearing a baseball cap, mirrored sunglasses and looks like he’s a born captain in boat shoes and chino shorts.

  “That’s because I’ve been sick almost every morning that I’ve been here. You’re trying to kill me,” she accuses him.

  “Oh, that’s right, blame me.” Jett laughs. “I was the one pouring martinis down your throat.”

  “I hate you sometimes.” She snuggles closer to Ellie.

  “I love you all the time,” he replies.

  Ellie and I smirk at each other during London and Jett’s little exchange. Of all the women I’ve seen Jett with—and it’s been a lot—he’s never had a rapport with any of them like he does with London.

  We dock the boat and hurry the girls along.

  “Ellie, this way,” I tug on her hand when she veers toward the main entrance of Motu Mute airport. We enter through a side service door in order to lay low, and then walk straight out onto the runway.

  “
Don’t we need tickets?” she asks confused.

  “Not this time, baby.” Our private jet is already waiting with the doors open.

  “This yours?”

  “Mine and Jett’s. It’s smaller than our old one but it gets the job done.”

  “Old one?” She raises her eyebrows.

  I nod. “Liquidated.”

  “Oh.” She then understands. We had to get rid of everything that tied us to our undercover op, including the G600 I loved.

  “Mr. Andrews. Mr. Collins,” the captain greets us once were safely inside.

  “Henry.” He’s an older man with gray hair and a crisp white uniform. He’s also an ex-fighter pilot and employed by Endeavor.

  “Please sit down and buckle up. The runway is clear, I plan to have us in the air in ten minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” Jett and I both shake his hand.

  “Also, comms are set up in the back.”

  “Very good.” We take our seats. I strap Ellie in next to me. Jett does the same to a sickly looking London. I wonder idly if she’s going to throw up during takeoff.

  I watch a curious Ellie inspect the interior of the plane decorated in a cool beige and glossy wooden accents.

  Without delay, the jet roars to life and the interior lights flash.

  “Stand by for taxi.” Henry’s voice comes on over the loudspeaker.

  Ellie grabs my hand. “Are you afraid of flying?” I ask her.

  “Only when under duress.”

  “It’ll be fine.” I try to assure her. “The safest place is in the air.”

  “If you say so.” The plane begins to roll.

  After we are at thirty thousand feet, Jett and I leave the girls up front and head to the back of the plane where a laptop is all set up for use.

  With one hit of a button, we’re connected to Juice.

  “Yo.” His face pops up on the screen.

  “Yo, yourself. Any updates?” Jett asks him.

  “Nada. Endeavor is working to find out who the hacker is, but nothing yet.”

  “Do you think this has any connection with our visitors on Oahu?” I question.

  “There has been no identifiable connection.” He swivels in his chair, “But I don’t think they’re ruling anything out.”

  “Fuckin’ great.” I run my hand through my hair. I glance up and see Ellie and London sitting together. London’s head resting on Ellie’s shoulder; it seems they’ve become quite comfortable with each other.

  “I’ll check in if anything changes. For now, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the friendly skies,” Juice says, tossing a small basketball up over his head like he’s pretending to shoot.

  “Roger that.” I snap the laptop closed and suck in a breath. Relax? Yeah, right. It feels like the universe is out to get me. Not one hiccup in twelve months, then BAM—this happens. Just when my life feels like it’s finally coming together.

  “I’m going to check on London. I’ll send Ellie back.” Jett taps my shoulder as he stands.

  I nod, sliding down a black hole of despair.

  “Kayne?” I hear Ellie’s concerned voice and look up. “Where were you?”

  I just shake my head. “Someplace you don’t need to worry about.” I put my hand out to her. She takes it and slips onto my lap, curling up like the kitten she is.

  “You’re tense,” she says concerned.

  “I call it more alert,” I clarify.

  “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “No, not entirely. Not yet.”

  “Will you have to go away once you do?” She looks up at me with troubled green eyes.

  I want to tell her no, that I’ll never leave her side, but I can’t guarantee that. At the moment, I can’t guarantee anything, and it sucks.

  “I don’t know, Ellie.”

  She hugs me securely. “All that time I was with you, do you know when I was most scared?”

  “No.”

  “When Javier had that gun to your head. I just remember thinking this man is going to take you away and destroy me right on the spot.”

  “Ellie, stop—”

  “I know this is your job,” she keeps speaking despite my protest, “and that you’re proud of what you do. I just want you to know I’m proud of you, too. No matter what happens. I’m proud to love you.”

  “Ellie,” my voice wavers, and my chest aches.

  “I just wanted you to know.” She rubs her nose against my chin. “I wouldn’t change one second of our past. It helped shape who we are. And I really love us.”

  “I really love us, too.” I bury my face in her neck and crush her against me.

  I hold Ellie in my arms until her eyes close and she’s breathing heavily. It’s no wonder she crashed hard. The last forty-eight hours have been demanding, so to speak. Yet, in true Ellie fashion, she surprises me with her fearlessness, her resilience, and her buoyancy. Now more than ever, I’m convinced this woman was made specifically for me.

  She’s my sanity, and my reason, and my glue. I’m seven broken pieces of a fucked up man, held together solely because of her.

  “Sleep, baby.” I kiss her forehead, preparing for whatever danger may come my way.

  “WHERE ARE WE GOING?” ELLIE asks as we drive down Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki. The day, like always, is perfect. Tourists fill the streets, the beach is crowded with sunbathers, and the water active with surfers.

  “Home. As soon as possible.” A disgusted—not to mention shirtless—Jett answers.

  “I said I was sorry,” London grumbles in the fetal position next to him. “The landing was bumpy.”

  “The landing wasn’t that bumpy. And I know you’re sorry. It’s not your fault.” Jett pets her head.

  I feel sorry for London; she’s miserable. But I wish I had a camera when she threw up on Jett. His face was priceless. I would have blown it up and stuck it on a billboard.

  “Where is home, anyway?” Ellie asks with a raised eyebrow.

  I lean over her and point out the window to a high rise. “The tallest one.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” she quips.

  I grin duplicitously. “Part appearance, part necessity, part selfish desire.”

  Ellie rolls her eyes at me. “Is that your excuse for everything?”

  “I find it covers all bases,” I reply as we pull onto a side road, and then into an underground garage.

  “Good thing we live someplace tropical,” Jett comments as he helps London out of the limousine.

  The air is cooler in the garage, but still comfortable enough to get away with limited clothing.

  The four of us step into the marble elevator, and I hit the code for PH36. We’re then whooshed up thirty-six floors to the penthouse Jett and I share.

  The doors open to a large foyer with colored orchids etched on the mirrors and a light wooden floor. Jett exits with London first and unlocks the front door.

  Ellie and I follow close behind.

  “Oh.” Ellie does a slow pirouette as we walk through the apartment. “This is . . .” she seems to be at a loss for words.

  “Nice?” I answer for her.

  “Very.”

  The condominium is a split-level with an open floor plan and one hundred, eighty-degree views of Diamond Head, Koolau Mountains, and the Pacific Ocean. Cherry wood frames the two-story French windows encasing the ultra-modern decor. Clean lines and dark accents make it a vast contradiction to the mansion we lived in on the East Coast.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house later. We need to check in first.” I take her hand and lead her through the kitchen.

  “Bye, Ellie,” London croaks behind us.

  “Feel better,” Ellie replies as Jett helps London climb miserably up the stairs.

  “I’ll be right there,” Jett tells me.

  “I really feel bad for her,” Ellie pouts. “Maybe she has food poisoning?”

  “Maybe? I’m sure if she doesn’t start feeling better, Jett will take her to
the doctor. He isn’t one to make a woman suffer. At least not in the sickly way.” I wink.

  “Seriously, the two of you.”

  “The two of us, what?” I ask defensively.

  “Are terrible.”

  “So terrible both you and London are madly in love with us?”

  “Brainwashed is more like it.” She teases.

  I shrug. “Whatever works.” I drop a kiss on her lips then place all five of my fingertips on a mirror hanging on the back wall of the condo. A moment later a pair of pocket doors slide open.

  Ellie’s gasp is all I need to hear to know I’ve made an impression.

  “You have an arsenal in your apartment,” she says as we walk into the secret room. Every wall is decorated with some kind of specialized firearm—submachine guns, assault rifles, breaching shotguns, sniper rifles.

  “We like to call it the Toy Box.” Juice spins in his chair and stands up. “Welcome home,” he shakes my hand.

  “Thanks. Wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “You? I know you.” Ellie interrupts us, examining Juice closely.

  “Ma’am,” he says with a smile, which sparks her recognition.

  “The driver?” She looks up at me.

  “Well, I couldn’t just send anyone to pick up my precious cargo.”

  “You work for him?” she asks Juice.

  He laughs boastfully. “I work with him,” he corrects her. “And I’m CJ, by the way.” He puts his hand out.

  Ellie takes it graciously. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

  “You, too.”

  A moment later the door opens and Jett appears. “Did I miss anything?” He walks in donning a new shirt.

  “Just introductions,” I tell him.

  “How is London feeling?” Ellie asks him.

  “Still not great, but she’s resting.”

  “Good.”

  “Maybe you can go keep her company,” I suggest, glancing at Jett, “while we work.”

  Ellie catches on immediately. “Oh. Yes. Of course. I need to charge my phone anyway. I have a bunch of calls to make.” She starts backing up.

  “Who do you have to call?” I follow her, opening the door so she can get back into the apartment.

  “My mom. My sister. Mark. Michael.”

  “Michael?” I step out after her, possessiveness flaring.

  “Yeah. I just picked up and left. I sort of owe him an explanation.”