Suddenly the realization hit her. That was probably the point. He’d made himself appealing to her. Oh God—she’d been honeypotted! How completely humiliating. Admittedly she didn’t have that much experience with men—she’d had a couple of long-term boyfriends over the years—but she didn’t want to think of herself as being so gullible. Or worse, desperate.
Annie didn’t think she needed a man to “complete” herself, by any means, but had she unconsciously been worried? She wanted a family. A companion. Children. Here she was, twenty-six years old, finishing up grad school, and she hadn’t had a serious date since her last boyfriend . . . two years ago. She winced, realizing how long it had been.
Had it made her a little too eager? Too willing to ignore things that didn’t seem quite right?
No, she’d been perfectly happy before Julien came along. There was plenty of time for everything else.
But she couldn’t deny that it had been exciting, having someone like Julien romancing her.
Annie had begun to fear that they would never rest as they’d planned when Jean Paul finally stood up. “We should all try to get some sleep. We’ve a long night ahead of us.”
“What time are we due to arrive?” Claude asked.
“Just before dark,” Jean Paul said. “Around ten.”
In other words she had about six hours.
“We should be in the water no later than two a.m.,” Jean Paul added. He looked meaningfully at Julien. “I trust that will give you enough time to make sure everything is ready?”
Julien nodded with an anxious look in her direction. Apparently she was “everything.”
After going below, Claude and Jean Paul went into the room on the right; she and Julien went into the one across the hall on the left. As soon as Julien shut the door behind them, he tried to broach the subject. “I need to talk to you about tonight.”
It was small comfort that he looked as if he wanted to throw up.
She forced a smile to her face. “Can it wait until after we get some rest? I’m suddenly exhausted.”
He heaved a heavy sigh of relief like a man who’d just been given a stay of execution. “We are supposed to meet Jean Paul and Claude at ten, so I’ll set the alarm for nine.”
“Sounds good.”
He thought he would only need one hour to convince her? Did he think her so malleable? She was even more insulted, which under the circumstances was ridiculous. Must be some kind of gallows humor.
Annie was glad for the single berths, as she didn’t have to get into bed with him. She doubted her acting abilities would go far enough to prevent her from cringing if he tried to touch her.
Wrapping the wool blanket around her shoulders, she turned toward the wall and curled up to wait.
It didn’t take long. The dark, windowless room, the gentle lull of the ship, and the three glasses of wine soon put him in a nap-time coma.
But she forced herself to listen to his steady breathing for nearly an hour before slipping out of bed to go in search of the captain.
• • •
Normally Dean liked the time alone at the helm, staring for hours out the window, watching the mesmerizing roll of the ocean that stretched as far as the eye could see.
It was relaxing. Normally. But today there wasn’t anywhere to hide from his thoughts, and his daytime fantasies were anything but relaxing. They had his body primed in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. Not even the soothing croon of Adele’s latest was helping.
When the clouds thickened into gray mist, darkening the skies with a burgeoning storm, it only grew worse. The walls seemed to be closing in on him.
He needed to get some air.
He stood up and reached for the door just as it flew open.
Annie ran straight into his arms. At least it seemed that way at the time. But maybe it was just because he’d been thinking about her for most of the afternoon, and quite a few of those thoughts involved her showing up here, falling into his arms, and christening the wheelhouse for the rest of the day.
He’d never had sex at the helm, but he’d been imagining all kinds of creative ways to give it a try.
Reflexively his arms came around her to pull her in close. The feel of those spectacular breasts crushed against his chest and her hips pressing against the part of him that was stiff and throbbing released a little of the pressure he’d been holding in with a groan.
The sound startled her, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. Instead her eyes locked on his.
Through the haze of lust he realized something was wrong, but he couldn’t seem to see beyond her eyes—they were such an incredible shade of green—her smooth and creamy cocoa-butter skin, and her really soft-looking mouth. A mouth that was red and ripe and gently parted as if waiting to be kissed.
The urge rose inside him, powerful and overwhelming. He didn’t think anything could stop him from lowering his head and putting his mouth on hers.
“Capt—” she started. “Dan.” The sound of the false name sounded so wrong coming from her it brought him harshly back to reality.
He let her go and stepped back.
Christ, what the hell was that?
“I . . . I . . .” She blinked a few times—as if clearing her head (he knew the feeling), and then seemed to remember what she’d wanted to say. “I need to talk to you.”
Furious at himself for how he’d reacted, and how easily he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about why she was here, he found his response a little harsher than he intended. After he turned down the music, he said, “So talk.”
“Adele?”
Yeah, he liked Adele—so shoot him. Despite what most of his friends thought, there were more than two types of music: country and western.
Putting aside her surprise at his musical taste, she launched into what had brought her. “We have to do something. They are planning . . . Oh God, I don’t know what they are planning, but it isn’t good.”
Anger and embarrassment took a backseat when he realized how upset she was, but he was having a hard time following her. “Slow down, take a breath, and tell me what happened.”
His voice seemed to calm her. She looked up at him almost gratefully, nodded, and took that deep breath before continuing. “I wasn’t completely honest with you about what we were planning to do. It wasn’t just a dive or to make a film.”
He finished for her. “You are going to try to board the drillship and stage some kind of sit-in.”
She didn’t seem all that surprised that he’d guessed. “That’s what I thought, but then you gave me that look, and I heard Julien and Jean Paul talking about something, and I decided to become a superspy—more like Pandora actually.”
She was losing him again. What look? He had no idea what she was talking about, but whatever the hell it was, it was serious. “Just tell me what the problem is, Annie. I assume you aren’t just now realizing how out-of-your-mind dangerous it is to board a ship in the middle of the ocean or that you would be arrested.”
She gave him a glare that would have curdled milk. “Of course I knew that, but those were risks I was willing to take if it meant someone would finally listen to what we were saying and put an end to the exploratory drilling.”
“So your little illegal publicity stunt is okay because you have good intentions? A pirate isn’t a pirate as long as he has convictions—is that it?”
“Pirate?” She looked horrified by the comparison. But that was exactly what they would be doing. “We aren’t hurting anyone.”
“What about all the time and resources that go into getting you off that damned boat safely? Not to mention the men who risk their lives to do so. I hate to break it to you, but causing problems and putting others in danger isn’t the way to convince people to see your side.”
“I . . . God, why are we arguing about this? That is
n’t the problem. I went into the storage room where the cases are being stored while the others were eating lunch. In one of them, I found something that looks like explosives.”
Dean’s demeanor changed in an instant. He got real serious, real quick. He took her arm and drew her closer to him, forcing her to look at him. “What the hell do you mean, it looks like explosives? What did you see?”
She described—a little hesitantly, given the change that had come over him—the plastic-wrapped cylinders that looked like cookie dough, taped together with black-and-yellow cording, which presumably was the det cord to set off the blasting cap.
Dean swore, and let her go. He returned to his instruments and charts, making sure he had their position fixed before turning on the autopilot.
“What are you doing?” Annie asked, her voice anxious. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
Dean turned to her, barely able to contain his rage. It was mostly directed at himself, but she was wrapped up in there as well. “I heard what you said. I’m making sure we don’t crash while you take me down and show me what you found.”
They took the forward stairs from the deck so they didn’t have to go by the sleeping quarters, approaching the storage room from the door that linked the hall to the engine room. His quarters were tucked in between.
“I didn’t realize it was all connected down here like this,” Annie said.
Dean didn’t say anything. He was too furious. But it was far worse a few moments later when he was staring down at enough C4 to blow this ship to fucking kingdom come. He was apoplectic.
He’d known this job was a mistake. He should have listened to his instincts. But his damned hero complex had gotten in the way. He’d suspected that Annie was in some kind of trouble and hadn’t been able to walk away. And now what she was telling him could ruin everything and put lives at stake—the least being his own.
Lie low. Keep your head down.
Becoming involved in an ecoterrorist plot was about as far from that as he could have managed. The authorities would be all over this. His cover was good, but not that good.
Damn it, why the hell hadn’t he followed orders? He’d screwed up big-time. Again. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Brian’s face flashed before him, and Dean’s self-directed anger only grew worse. He should have listened to the LC, but he had to go rushing in. Forward was the only direction he knew.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Annie asked. “Is it bad?”
Somehow he held on to the last thread long enough before snapping to drag her into the engine room, where they wouldn’t be heard. “What the hell do you think? Yes, it’s bad. Your little friends have enough explosives in there to blow up a couple ships, killing God knows how many people, and putting all our lives in jeopardy.”
And so much more.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wringing her hands anxiously. “I didn’t know. I didn’t have any idea what they planned. I would never have gotten involved with them if I had.”
“No, you were too busy running around saving the world to actually stop and think about what you were doing. Do-gooders like you are so damned naive. You sit in your idealistic ivory tower bubble, pontificating and passing judgment with no conception of how the real world operates. Well, this is the real world, Annie. It’s full of horrible people like your friends out there who are waiting to take advantage of you. But your heart was too busy bleeding to see what was right in front of you. And then when the shit inevitably hits the fan, you expect someone to be there to come to the rescue and clean up your fucking mess.”
She didn’t shrink from his anger—or from his tirade. It was almost as if she’d heard it before. “You sound just like my father. But what’s the alternative? Not caring? Should I sit aside and let all these beautiful islands be destroyed by corporate greed for something we need to be trying to conserve, not keep drilling for more? Maybe I was naive and got involved with the wrong people, but I won’t apologize for standing up for what I believe in whether you think it’s worthwhile or not.” She stopped and suddenly seemed to realize something. Her eyes shot to his. “You have an accent! You aren’t Canadian—you’re American.” Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “Texan if I’m hearing it right. God, that’s perfect!”
It obviously wasn’t. What did she have against the Lone Star State? The best state in the damned country?
But Dean didn’t say anything. Forgetting to cover up his accent was the least of his worries right now.
His biggest was figuring out how to get out of this mess without bringing half of Scotland’s police force down on top of him. No one could know he’d survived the blast—no one. Not until he figured out how the Russians knew they were coming, and why they’d been set up—if that was indeed what had happened.
If anyone found out that not all the platoon had perished in that explosion, they—whoever they were—would come after him. He was a loose end.
And if there was one survivor, they might ask if there were others. He didn’t need any more deaths on his conscience.
Dean swore, knowing exactly what he had to do. He had to get the hell off this boat.
He started toward his cabin, putting Annie out of his mind—or trying to—until she latched hold of his arm. “Wait. Why did you lie to me? Who are you?”
“No one you want to know. So if I were you, I’d stay the hell out of my way.”
Annie dropped his arm, obviously startled by his tone. Later maybe he’d feel guilty for taking his anger out on her, but not right now. Right now he was too pissed. Pandora, all right. She had no fucking idea of the potential shit storm she’d just opened.
He went into his room, threw a few things in a backpack, and looped it over his shoulders before moving back into the engine room. He looked around at the pipes, hoses, and vents stacked around twin diesel engines. On the far wall, he flipped a few safety switches and removed a cover to undo a few thick red wires, before replacing it. That should do it. As soon as he cut the engine, it wouldn’t be starting again anytime soon. Not without someone who knew what they were doing—and the Euro trio didn’t strike him as the mechanical types.
“Is that the ignition system? Why are you disabling the starter?” Annie asked with all that accusation he’d been trying to avoid.
Apparently she was the mechanical type. For some reason that didn’t surprise him. First diving, now boats? If she wasn’t tossing back all that granola, he might be in love.
He was aware that she’d been shadowing him, but he’d been trying not to notice. Right.
“I’m getting out of here, and I don’t want anyone following me.”
Ignoring the Bambi “you killed my mother” eyes that were now widening with shock and dawning understanding, he made his way up to the wheelhouse before they could turn accusing. He grabbed the emergency handheld marine radio, a few navigation maps, and a heavy-duty Mag flashlight before cutting the engine and letting the anchor drop. For good measure he flipped the kill switch.
He didn’t meet Annie’s gaze as he walked past her out the door and back down the ladder, and made his way aft along the deck to the inflatable. He went to work lowering it with the dinghy crane. He could use another set of hands to keep the inflatable steady with the ropes, but he wasn’t too worried about scratching the sides of the tug. As long as it didn’t flip, he’d be fine.
“Wait,” Annie said with all the accusation he hadn’t wanted to see. “You can’t mean to leave me here with them.”
“That’s exactly what I mean to do.” She’d gotten herself into this mess; she could get herself out. Where was that feminist ideology of hers now?
He made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. He might as well have just shot her puppy. She looked at him as if he were the worst kind of ogre. Guilt began to worm its way into his consciousness.
He wasn’t an asshole—not usually, at least. �
�Look,” he said in a more reassuring voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll radio the coast guard as soon as I’m clear to explain what’s going on.”
The inflatable splashed as it hit the water. All he had to do now was climb in and release the rope harness.
But she wasn’t letting him go. Her hand on his arm was proving to be a pretty strong tether. “What about the explosives?”
“They won’t be able to use them if the ship can’t go anywhere. But if it makes you feel better, there’s a key to the storage room in the top drawer of the table by my bed. Lock the door and toss the key in the ocean. It’s a steel door. They won’t break it down before the coast guard arrives.”
He tried to tell himself she didn’t look panicked. It wasn’t working. But he forced himself over the side anyway.
He was halfway down the ladder to the boat when she said the one thing he couldn’t ignore. The one thing guaranteed to stop him. The one thing that tapped right into all that can’t-look-away shit.
“What if they’re dangerous?”
Nine
Annie couldn’t believe he was just going to leave her.
Who was this guy, and what was he hiding? Clearly the captain didn’t want to risk a run-in with the police. Was he on the run? Some kind of criminal?
She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t exactly batting a thousand right now when it came to stellar judgment on men.
One thing was for sure: she didn’t want to be here alone with only Julien between her and Jean Paul when he learned that she’d found the explosives and the coast guard had been alerted.
No, the better of the two evils was definitely the captain. She’d just have to hope he wasn’t some psychopathic murderer. Although psychopathic murderers didn’t have a conscience, and he seemed to be struggling with his. Which was good. He should be.
Hoping to push him over the edge, she added, “What if they try to hurt me?”
Going Dark Page 10
