by Linda Grimes
As soon as she was out of earshot, Bily turned to me with the devil in his eye. “So, you sure you’re not mad I didn’t boink you
last night?”
You’d think I’d know not to expect him to remain circumspect while we were alone. He never—wel, rarely—embarrassed me
in front of other people, but it was his favorite pastime whenever it was just the two of us. I blushed, just the reaction he was going
for, I was sure.
“No, I’m not mad. I’m fine,” I said, letting my irritation at his reminder seep into the words.
He dug into his stack of pancakes. “Because,” he said between mouthfuls, “I’d be happy to oblige. Just as soon as you’re over
your crush on Mark, and I can be sure it’s me in your head as wel as your bed. I’m afraid my ego won’t have it any other way.”
I shot a quick look at the cabin door; luckily, no one was there to hear. “Do we have to discuss this now? I know I was being
pathetic last night. You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Oh, but I do. Payback for my aching blue bals.”
“I get it. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I tried to scoot away from him. He put his fork down and stopped me with a hand
on the back of my neck.
“Yes, it wil,” he said softly. “I’l see to it.”
He gave me the kiss I’d wanted a few hours earlier. It was long and slow, and maple-syrup sweet. After the first stupefying
seconds, I melted into the experience as fervently as I had attacked Laura’s breakfast. Seemed his tongue was every bit as clever,
and even more teasing, when he wasn’t using it to talk. I was quivering by the time he was done, my heart racing like I’d just run a
fifty-yard dash. I might not have bals, but something inside me sure was aching.
He nibbled his way along the side of my jaw until he got to my ear, and whispered, “Try thinking about me for a while.”
“Sorry to interrupt y’al…” Laura’s softly amused southern accent penetrated the haze surrounding my brain. I just about
choked, and scooted away from Bily as fast as I could. “… but I just saw Mark. He’l be here any second.”
Chapter 25
Laura lifted a questioning eyebrow, but didn’t say anything else. She just shrugged and left, chuckling. Bily went back to eating his
breakfast, cool as you please, while I sat there like a dummy, breathing hard and madly trying to think of something inteligent to
say. I had zip.
This was getting too damned confusing for me. I wanted my life to be simple again. I wanted to go back to the Bahamas, be
Mina and snag Trey for her. The Trey who owned an import business, not the one who was a CIA operative.
I wanted to have easy, uncomplicated-by-any-emotion-except-pure-lust sex, contractualy sanctioned by my job, without being
bombed by God. Was that so much to ask? And once my itch was scratched, I wanted to go back to being me and forget about
it al until my next job. I was sure I wouldn’t be reacting this way to Bily—Bily, for Pete’s sake!—or to Mark either if I only had
an adequate sex life of my own.
Mark came into the cabin and greeted us with a brief wave, intent upon food. Just what I needed. I could not be in the same
place as both of them at once, not before I got my feelings sorted out. But I froze.
Mark got a plate from the galey and joined us at the table, sitting on the other side of me. It was too late to move. I was
sandwiched between the Rock and the Hard Place.
I felt a little dizzy.
Mark served himself a hefty stack of the golden flapjacks, accidentaly grazing my arm with the back of his hand as he reached
for them. Goose bumps pebbled my skin; I adapted them away, but not before Bily saw. He reached for the coffeepot, brushing
the fine, dark hairs of his forearm against my bare shoulder. More goose bumps, too fast for me to get rid of before Mark noticed
them.
“Chily, Howdy? I suppose we should find you some clothes,” he said.
“Might be a good plan,” I said, studiously not looking at Bily, who was choking back a laugh behind his napkin.
Mark glanced at Bily, but driled his eyes into me. “What are you up to?”
“Me?” I squeaked. “I’m not up to anything!”
Bily took pity on me and changed the subject, asking Mark what he’d found while he was out. Mark cut me one last sideways
glance, then turned his attention to Bily.
“They’re gathering at the ship-grave site.”
“What’s that?” I asked, eager to keep the conversation on something that wasn’t me.
“The place old sailboats go to die,” Bily said, al seriousness except for his eyes. I continued to ignore him, and turned to Mark
for the real answer.
“Some Viking burial sites are made up of standing stones in the shape of a boat’s hul. Think smal-scale Stonehenge for ancient
Norse sailors. There are hundreds of them on Gotland, and one group of them in particular, near here, seems to be the focus of
neo-Viking attention. They had to leave Visby faster than planned after their little stunt with the trebuchet.”
“So they didn’t get to launch the flyers?” I was pleased to have inadvertently thrown a monkey wrench in Per’s plans.
“Nope. And, by the way, apparently there are fifty Vikings ready to swear you were a dummy.”
Bily opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a glare. “Don’t say it.”
He couldn’t suppress his grin, but he didn’t make the comment. Instead he said, “I don’t suppose Per is a happy camper right
now. What do you think he’l try next?”
Mark shrugged. “Not sure, but I’m afraid it has something to do with Trey. Swedish isn’t my best language, but from what I
could tel they do have him.”
“Wel, why are we just sitting here? Come on—we have to do something.” I tried to stand, but didn’t get far, what with the
table in front of me and the human bookends blocking me. They each took one of my arms, and simultaneously puled me back
down.
“Calm down, Howdy. We’re going to get him.”
“I assume you are not including Ciel in that ‘we,’” Bily said.
“Of course not. She’l stay on the boat.”
“She wil not!” I said.
Mark glowered at me. “I thought we had this settled last night. If I recal, your exact words were ‘It won’t happen again.’”
I glanced at Bily, squirming as I thought of my more recent usage of that phrase, and what it had led to. He gazed back
innocently. Clearing my throat, I turned my attention back to Mark.
“That was before I knew the Vikings had Trey.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m holding you to your word. You are capable of keeping your word, aren’t you?” His eyes hardened even
more.
“Damn it, Mark. You’re not being fair. I can help—tel him, Bily.”
“She can help, Mark.”
“There, you see!”
Bily stepped on my words. “She can help by staying on the boat and watching for suspicious activity around here. Leave her a
cel phone—she can contact us if she sees anything.”
I slugged his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“That’s an excelent idea,” Mark said to Bily. “I’m sure Ciel wil like it much better than my plan to leave her in the cockpit
locker while we’re gone. If she can be trusted,” he added, with a pointed look at me.
Damn him. He knew about my claustrophobia. I didn’t like to think he’d realy do something like that, but Bily was right about
one thing—Mark could be ruthless, especialy if he thought he would be keeping me out of more trouble in the
long run. He also
wasn’t known for making idle threats.
I knew a brick wal when I was looking at it. Stubbornness on my part wouldn’t break through it, but maybe I could get around
it with reason. “Wouldn’t it be better for Laura to stay with the boat? What if, um, a storm blows in, and, uh, the hatches need to
be battened down or something? I know nothing about battening.”
“The weather is fine, Howdy. No storms on the horizon.”
“Why does Mark get to keep caling you that? You punched me in the nose the last time I did.”
“We were eight. And you caled me ‘Howdy-Doody-In-Your-Pants.’ It’s not the same thing. Now, shut up. Listen, Mark—
does Laura know about adaptors? Because if she doesn’t, it could be pretty limiting on you guys to have her along with you. I, on
the other hand, could be a big help. I can be whoever you need me to be—you name it, I’l adapt.”
“Laura knows about me,” Mark said.
Of course she does. Probably every little detail, I thought wryly. “But not Bily or me?”
“No,” he admitted. “She suspects there are others like me, but isn’t high enough up the food chain to know who they are. As
far as I’m concerned, that’s need to know only, and she doesn’t need to know.”
“Wel, see? How can she possibly help you in the field more than I can?”
“She speaks Swedish fluently. I need her ears.”
Wel, shit.
“Okay,” I conceded. “That’s probably an asset. But I stil don’t see why I should stay here. The boat wil be fine.” And then
inspiration struck. “Besides, if something does happen around the boat—say some Viking scouts decide to board and check it out
—do you realy want me in the middle of it? By myself? Using my own judgment? It might be safer al around to keep me closer
to you.”
Mark looked a trifle perturbed. “Is that a veiled threat, Ciel?”
“No, of course not,” I said, trying to copy Bily’s innocent look. Hardly veiled at al, realy.
“She has a point,” Bily said grudgingly. “Besides, if you leave her in the locker she’l throw up. You know, it might be best to
wait for the cavalry this time.”
“SÄPO wil be a while yet.”
“Who’s Seppo?” I asked.
“More of a what,” Mark explained. “It’s the Swedish National Security Service. When we realized how damn many neo-Vikings have gathered here, SÄPO decided they needed to bring more men over from the mainland. But I don’t think we can
afford to wait. After seeing what the Vikings did to Ciel, we know how far they’l go to keep somebody quiet.”
Bily nodded his understanding. I looked from one to the other. Their concern for Trey scared me. “I realy can help, you
know,” I said.
Doubtful looks from both of them. Great. Skepticism in stereo.
Okay, so that wasn’t going to work. I could lie, of course. Promise to stay on the boat, and then folow them. But I realy don’t
like to lie, and there was that whole God thing to consider.
“I don’t want to be left on the boat alone,” I finaly said, in a smal voice. True enough, though it’s possible I made it sound
more pitiful than accurately reflected my worry. Exaggeration isn’t as bad as lying, right? God might trip me or something, but He
probably wouldn’t blow me up.
Mark’s mouth tightened, but I thought I saw concern thaw his eyes ever so slightly. When he finaly gave in, I suppressed a
cheer. “But there wil be no adapting in front of anyone,” he said. “We can alter your appearance the nonadaptor way—Laura wil
help you with that—but there’s a risk the Vikings wil recognize you. I stil think you’d be better off here on the boat, but if you
can accept those conditions, you can come along.”
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, forgetting al about my discomfort with him and Bily. “You won’t be
sorry.”
“Wel, I’m sorry,” Bily said.
Mark gently disengaged himself from my embrace and said, sternly, “One more thing—you folow orders. You don’t do a thing
that hasn’t been okayed by me or Bily. You got that?”
“What about Laura?”
“Or Laura. You are low man on the totem pole. The best thing you can do is stay out of our way, and don’t get into any
trouble.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” I saluted, grinning. I couldn’t believe how easy that had been.
He pinched his eyes closed between thumb and forefinger, giving a single what-have-I-agreed-to shake of his head.
Bily gripped the back of my neck, making me shiver with a sneaky caress behind my ear. “Not to worry. I’l watch her.”
Mark looked at him sharply. He didn’t seem al that reassured.
*
Laura decided to get Bily’s transformation started first, in case Mark needed him sooner rather than later. She gave no indication
she’d seen anything amiss earlier. Discreet of her. Mark asked me to come up on deck with him, probably to continue his lecture
on the proper behavior of me. Wel, he’d said I could go with them and I wasn’t going to let him back out, no matter what kind of
guilt trip he laid on me.
Ours was the only boat moored at the dock of the fishermen’s enclave. Rows of dark-roofed, mostly barn-red cabins were
evidence of human habitation, but no one was in sight at the moment. The morning was a smidge on the cool side, but puffy white
clouds and a gentle breeze hinted at warmer temps to come. Mark went to the front of the boat, scanning both land and sea for
anything out of the ordinary. I folowed him forward.
“Go ahead. Lay it on me,” I said, steeling myself for more admonitions and orders.
A short, dry laugh escaped him. “I’ve been hard on you, haven’t I, Howdy?”
He was admitting it? “Wel … yeah. I guess. Kind of.”
He checked the rope anchoring us to the dock. Apparently it passed his inspection. “I have to be. Thomas would have my bals
for breakfast if I let anything else happen to you.”
Now, there was an image. I snorted, but of course in a ladylike way. “Thomas needs to cut the big brother strings. Maybe if
he’d get married and have some kids of his own, he’d let up on me. He’s worse than any parent.”
“He’l settle down eventualy. In the meantime, you’l just have to put up with him. And me.”
Great. Remote nannying. “What are you, his surrogate?”
He acknowledged his role with a slight smile. “Something like that. Which brings me to what I’m going to ask you.”
I set my shoulders and nodded, resigned to hearing yet another request that I behave myself and stay out of trouble, yadda-yadda-yadda. Instead, he looked me right in the eye and said, “What’s going on between you and Bily?”
I stiffened. Okay, that threw me. Had Laura said something to him? Was she a great big tattletale? “Huh?” was the most
inteligent response I could come up with on the spur of the moment.
“Ciel,” he said after gauging my reaction, “you know I think Bily is a great guy. I rely on him—my job would be a hel of a lot
harder without him. He’s as much like a brother to me as Thomas is. But … wel, he’s not a man I’d want my kid sister involved
with, if I had a kid sister of my own.”
I felt my face go pink, but was too flustered to camouflage it. “Whatever Laura told you—”
“Laura? What does she have to do with this?”
Oops. Guess she hadn’t said anything. “Uh, nothing. Nothing at al. I just thought … I mean … look, Bily’s just a tease, always
has been,” I finished lamely.
“There’s teasin
g, and then there’s teasing. Bily is an expert at both. I have a feeling he’s shifted direction with you since he
saw you kissing me on my boat.”
That startled me. “You knew he was watching?”
He shrugged. “You made some noise when you tripped. He would’ve checked.”
Yeah. It hadn’t exactly been my most graceful moment.
“I don’t think he much liked seeing me in the sleeping bag with you either,” Mark added, as if the reminder of my clumsiness
hadn’t been enough to embarrass me.
“So why aren’t you talking to him about it? Why me?” I said, a little grumpily.
“And what do you think Bily would do if I told him to mind his manners around you?”
My lips twitched at the thought. “He’d tel you to shove it.”
“Precisely. That’s why I’m talking to you.”
“What if I tel you to shove it, too?” Because I kind of felt like it.
His smile was broader this time, meant to engage cooperation. “I’m hoping you have more sense.”
I reserved comment on that. “So, you’re saying you think Bily would hurt me? I can’t believe that.”
“No, he wouldn’t, not deliberately. But he is who he is, and he doesn’t have a good track record with women. Or maybe too
good a track record, I suppose, depending on your point of view,” he said, with an attempt at humor.
I narrowed my eyes and stared him down. “First of al, I am not ‘women.’ Don’t mistake me for one of Bily’s bimbos. Second
of al, it’s not like that.” Much. Yet. Whatever.
He looked skeptical, but moved on. “It’s not only the women. Bily’s reckless. You know he’s been involved in some pretty
dubious operations. I keep him as busy as I can helping me, but he refuses to give up his own business interests entirely. He’s
going to trip up one day, and I don’t want him taking you down with him when it happens.”
“He would never…” I stopped, since we both knew he might. Bily had always fluctuated between tempting me into trouble
and pushing me back to safety. It was like he needed to know I’d folow him, but then didn’t want to worry about me. I was used
to being the yo-yo companion for his shenanigans. I just didn’t like to think he’d play with my feelings the same way.
