“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I think I’ve got it under control. It really is very similar to the McKayDay.”
Those comforting fingers continued to wind around her shoulder as he tugged her back against his chest for a quick hug.
“I’m betting he would be damn proud of you right now,” he said softly.
Livvy tucked her head down afraid to reveal the sheen in her eyes. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
The blare of Jack’s cell phone caused them to jolt apart. Instinctively, she eyed both sides of the channel, gauging their progress towards open water.
Behind her, Jack barked, “What?”
Livvy guided the Odyssey out into the bay and consulted the GPS signals. That flashing blip seemed so far away, but she calculated that they could reach it by early afternoon.
Focusing on the controls, she eyed the inlet for traffic, skeptical of monitors that she was unfamiliar with. Preoccupied, she nonetheless hung onto Jack’s every word.
“I don’t think you get it,” he barked. “I don’t know you. Therefore I am no more trustful of you than anyone I have met or am about to meet. Your assurances have no credibility.”
A pause, and she could see his jaw muscle pump. “Well, yes, he probably did save my life, but if what he said about your bullet rule is true, then this is only a setback. People are still after us. Maybe you and I have the same endgame—to find my uncle—but that is all we have in common.”
Another pause in which Livvy was unable to hear the person on the other end.
“I’m kind of busy right now, so I must cut this short.”
There was an apparent last attempt at dialogue, but Jack’s head jerked in denial. He slid his finger across the screen and jammed the phone in his back pocket. Livvy followed the curve of his rear, discovering the bulge of his gun. She swallowed. Twice.
“Who was that?” she asked hoarsely.
“That British woman again. She vouches for the guy we just saw on the pier. She maintains that he was sent to help us and that we should double back and take him onboard.”
Wrapping her hands tightly around the wheel, Livvy asked, “And what are your thoughts on that?”
Sharp gray eyes met hers. “Can you blame me if I’m not big on trust right now?”
All she could do was snort. “Hell no. I’m amazed you’re allowing me on this boat with you.”
“Well, you did come in handy,” he winked. “And you are kinda cute.”
Gone was the stern facade—at least for a moment. It was enough to goad a smile out of her, not to mention the reaction the kinda cute comment elicited. The levity was short-lived as her attention quickly returned to the chop that jostled the Odyssey. It caused her little concern, though. It was like slicing through an ice cream cake with a heated knife.
“You handle her well.”
She could feel his body move in beside her. It warded off the draft that seeped into the cracks of the wheelhouse. In her periphery she studied him as he adjusted a monitor and stretched his arms to reach for the binoculars hanging overhead. The cotton material of his shirt stretched tight across those flexing muscles as he pulled the binoculars down and peered through them.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked in a tight voice.
His shrug brushed against her shoulder. “I left my jacket in my office.”
Livvy scanned the overhead controls.
“Here−” He leaned before her, his shoulder brushing the side of her breast. “The thermostat is here.”
As he spun the dial a raucous metal churning announced that the heat turned on. Her hair rippled under the vent. Initially a burst of cold air shot out at her, but it gradually warmed.
When the shoreline turned into a narrow strip and the seagulls tapered off, she breathed a little easier. But the pulsing red light on the far monitor kept them both on edge. It was a constant reminder that either danger or bad news faced them in the rough waters ahead.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Radar will alert us of an approach by water,” he uttered, the binoculars still raised to his eyes, “but I don’t trust the air.”
On cue, Livvy glanced up at the gloomy sky. If someone wanted to discover how many shades of gray there were, just take a peek at this atmosphere. Straight above, was a blinding layer of silver as the sun hid behind a thin veil. Further out, the clouds resembled pockets of wet cement. And the horizon−well, the horizon looked like it had been etched with a charcoal pencil. It was a color similar to the core of Jack Morell’s eyes as they turned to her.
“We’ve still got some time. You should eat something.”
“I had a donut.” She tried for a wink, but it probably resembled a seizure.
Any attempted mirth vanished when his warm hand curled around her cheek and the pad of his thumb brushed her flesh. His eyes were so intense she left the Odyssey to fend for itself for several precious seconds. No nautical feat could wrench her free from this gaze.
They stood so close−close enough that she was overwhelmed with the urge to lean into him−to feel those powerful arms circle around her and draw her head to his chest where the rhythmic lull of his heartbeat could force hers to match pace.
“What are you thinking there, Rocky?” His voice was warm and enticing.
“Rocky?” She frowned. “You should see the other guy.”
“No doubt,” he chuckled.
Jack’s wide hand reached above hers and gripped the wheel.
“Why don’t you take a little break?” He shifted closer to the command post.
Holding her ground, aware that his body draped across her, Livvy said, “I can handle this part. I’ll leave the security up to the master.”
As she felt his body withdraw she mentally scolded herself for shooing him away. Brilliant, McKay!
“You never explained how a guy with a degree in marine science ends up as head of security.”
The question stalled his retreat as she had hoped. For a moment his brooding profile studied the sea. There was depth to this man. Layers. Each layer etched a tiny line at the corner of his eye. Peel those layers away and eventually you would find the young man he once was.
“I am, and always will be a research technician at PMSC,” he proclaimed throatily. “I −well, my parents weren’t around much when I was young. They were archeologists, and I was−an accident apparently.”
Livvy sucked in her breath. Had his parents told him that? In one sentence she heard pain, anger and disillusion.
“I spent a lot of time in boarding schools growing up. But, for the summers and holidays I was shipped off to live with my uncle.”
The mention of the man had Jack scanning the GPS coordinates again. He tapped the monitor and she was surprised when he continued. “My parents sent me to the Marine Criminal Justice Academy. It would teach me discipline and how to take care of myself.”
Tempted to touch his shoulder, instead she patiently waited for him to continue.
“Once I was through with that I confessed to Warren that I wanted to be like him.” He chuckled. “Do you know he’s the one who asked that I call him, Warren? He said that the uncle title made him feel old.” Jack shook his head. “I wanted to spend my life researching what the ocean had to offer−not the ancient history that it hid. Warren convinced me to apply to the School Of Marine Sciences at the University of Maine, where I eventually focused on Benthic Oceanography.”
“Those funny looking creatures, right?” she offered with a grin to break his somber expression.
It worked. He smiled and her heart took on a thunderous beat.
“Right,” he smirked. “We had a good thing going, Warren and I. And then came Deep Weather. The show drew a lot of fans, but a few can get a bit impassioned. There was a group of activists convinced that some of the work inside PMSC was harming marine life. That was just ignorance on their part, but you can’t fight ignorance.”
“Eventually, there became more and more of a need f
or a sophisticated security presence at PMSC. I called on a couple of old classmates who had gone on to design complex security systems, and together we mapped out the surveillance system you witnessed.”
Jack shook his head. “As Warren said, why get outsiders involved when I have a graduate from the Criminal Justice Academy?”
“He never approved of the way his brother shipped me off to school.” A poignant smile touched his lips. “And I−well, I felt I owed Warren the world. I was fanatical about keeping PMSC safe—about keeping him safe.”
The smirk faded. “And I failed.”
Livvy released the wheel and curled an adamant grip around his arm. “No. You are wrong. Because if you’re right, then I failed too. I failed to protect my family. I failed to find them.”
Before he could protest, she added, “That self-condemnation is pointless, and you know it.”
Dark lashes fell as he stared at the fingers on his arm. Beneath that touch she felt a muscle pump. He reached up and engulfed her hand in his. He didn’t speak. He just held onto her hand.
“I wish I had met you under different circumstances.”
The roughness of his voice tickled her lungs.
“If I was a random tourist and had taken a tour of the Science Center, would you have even noticed me?”
A spark flashed in his eyes. “Oh, hell yeah.”
Livvy could feel a blush steal over her body, and it had nothing to do with the vent blowing overhead. If only she had met Jack in that manner. Heck, this man had never seen her without a black eye, and still he seemed attracted to her.
“We’re getting close.” Jack cleared his throat and raised the binoculars again.
Right. It was safer to avoid the fantasy. It was pointless to indulge in it. She focused on maintaining the Odyssey’s course.
“There’s something out there,” he announced tensely.
Livvy squinted and felt the spoke of the wheel jab her stomach as she leaned forward. The horizon looked grim and barren to the naked eye, but the blip on the screen indicated otherwise.
The Odyssey rocked in a dance with the ocean. Livvy scanned the ubiquitous clouds but felt they held no threat. They were not heavy with unleashed rain. Fall clouds, she referred to them as.
“I see it!” Jack hollered.
Launching out the door, he balanced his hips against the railing as he leaned forward.
A chill possessed Livvy, but it wasn’t the air that poured through the open doorway. It was the hulking figure that came into view as if the ocean churned with the mist to spin this gothic vessel.
What did they call it? The sense that someone had just walked over your grave?
It truly did look like a ghost ship. It rolled lifelessly with the swells of the sea, the behemoth creature wrapped in daunting silence. Usually on approach to such a vessel you would hear its discord. A choppy symphony of motors−deckhand calls−and the raucous cry of seagulls. But here there was nothing. Not even a hungry bird.
Jack stuck his head back in the bridge. His dark hair was moistened from the short spell outside.
“I’m going to release the sea anchor. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” Livvy scanned the panels and nodded. “You need help, don’t you?”
She had never had an occasion to use a sea anchor before. The cumbersome parachute-like device wasn’t meant to accommodate smaller boats, and she never needed to stay stationary in the open sea where a conventional anchor was useless. If she ever wanted to keep her lobster boat in a certain area she just used her drogue and shut the engine off.
“No, I’m going to need you up here to stall into the wind and then back it off a bit. I’ll call up to you over the intercom.”
“Okay.” Livvy checked the wind, plotting out his instructions. “Be careful!” she yelled as she glimpsed his dampened shoulders disappearing down the metal stairs.
While waiting on his call she studied the sleek sophistication of the Algonquin fifty yards off the starboard side. Its size only magnified its desolation.
The Odyssey jolted seconds before Jack’s voice came through the intercom. Maneuvering the ship she felt the bite of the parachute and knew it successfully held them steady. Cutting off the motors she waited with her hands clasped tightly around the wheel.
Jack appeared in the doorway, his hair wet and mussed. His white shirt was plastered to his body, revealing muscles and contours that deserved to be navigated like the sea. The sight made her throat constrict.
“She’s secure enough that I can come with you,” she offered in a husky voice. “Even if the Odyssey drifts, it won’t be far enough that we can’t get back to it with the dingy.”
“Absolutely not.” He extracted the gun from beneath his jacket and gave a quick inspection before returning it.
“And you are absolutely not going on that ship alone,” she demanded. “Don’t you find it the least bit odd that we have discovered the Algonquin and not the Coast Guard? Doesn’t this feel like a setup?”
Jack’s head snapped up, a mixture of anger and amusement toying with his features. Intense eyes incited goosebumps all over her. “You’ve been watching too many movies.” That penetrating gaze never let up. “Remember, only we had the GPS signal tracker back at PMSC. The signal had been dark for the past three days and just started up today. Power had to have been restored to some part of that ship.” Glancing back over his shoulder at the topic of their debate, he added, “But, you’re right. We have no idea what or who is on board. That is why I will go by myself. If I run into problems I’ll text you to get the hell out of here and call in the authorities.”
“And if you can’t text me?” she challenged. “What then?”
“You call for help.”
“Jack—”
“Olivia—” Implacable eyes cut her off. “Trust me. I have mixed emotions. Part of me wants you at my side where I can protect you. Part of me feels your safest when you’re far away from me.”
Livvy’s mouth opened like a guppy but she snapped it shut as Jack stepped outside.
A shard of sun poked through the clouds, illuminating the ghost ship that sat before her like a nuclear plant after a catastrophic fallout. Everything was pristine. No rust. The sophisticated satellite and radar atop the lofty bridge rooted east, forever locked under its last command. A large globe dissected by the silhouette of a ship was painted on the stark white stern. The same logo was on the trunk that started this whole nightmare.
Just outside the window, Jack worked the davits to lower the dinghy down to the water. For a moment she was riveted with the flow of muscles rippling beneath his shirt. Wind toyed with his dark hair, carving treks through it.
Casting a glimpse around the wheelhouse she noticed a cabinet tucked in the corner. Squatting down to open it, she fell back on her heels as a stack of orange life vests spilled onto the floor. Bingo! Tucked beneath them in the cabinet were two folded rain slickers.
As she rose she heard the grating swing of the fiberglass boat being lowered into the ocean. Had she been commanding her own trawler Livvy was confident that she could pull up alongside the Algonquin—close enough that Jack could reach out and grab the Jacob’s ladder on the stern. He wouldn’t need the dinghy.
Truth be told, she was damn worried about this man−this stranger who had declared that he wanted to kiss her. The notion made her body hum, but the portent of danger set her trembling.
The object of her introspection stuck his head in the sliding door. Sober eyes met hers. It felt like goodbye.
“Jack—”
He took two strides and wrenched a hand under her hair, tipping her head back as his lips came down on hers. His kiss was hot. Covetous. It staked a claim and left its mark. No matter what her future held—this moment—this kiss—would forever be trapped in her mind, replayed during every latent instant of her life. Before she fell asleep−as she paced the beach−even as she tossed a trap into the ocean—this kiss would be there.
When it
was apparent he wasn’t going to stop she reached up and curled her hands over his shoulders. They were wet and broad, and she latched onto them as her lips parted. There was a soft gasp from him, but he did not stop. He kissed her again, wind-chapped lips causing an erotic friction. He tasted of the sea. Salt. Wind. Infinity.
Gradually the feverish brushes tapered. With aching lethargy his mouth withdrew. She refused to open her eyes and allow reality to intervene. If she held him tighter, perhaps she could remain trapped in this moment.
His throaty voice broke through her defiance.
“So help me God, I don’t regret that,” he uttered hoarsely. “That is going to keep me going. That will give me good luck.”
Still clutching his shoulders, she was close enough to feel her breasts scrape his chest with each gulp of air.
“If that kiss was for good luck,” she looked into his eyes, “then you’ll most likely discover your uncle sitting atop a boatload of gold and diamonds.”
Just the mention of his uncle’s name sobered them both. She dropped her hands and tried to step back. He wouldn’t let her go.
“That kiss was more than good luck.” His voice was husky.
“It−it−” Her eyes landed on his mouth.
Again, she demanded mutely. Kiss me again. “It was something to motivate you to return to this ship safely.”
A crack in those full lips revealed white teeth, and a slow-to-emerge smile.
“That’ll definitely motivate me, Olivia.” He leaned in and dusted his mouth over the sore arch of her cheekbone. “Definitely,” he whispered. “Because I want more.”
For a moment they delved into each other’s eyes. Promise and passion lurked in the shadows of a gaze that mirrored the overcast sky. She wanted more too. This stranger had blown in from the sea and dove into her soul, wrapping around it with unexplored temptation.
Breaking that connection, he turned to reach for the door. Livvy hugged herself against the sudden assault of cold air. She heard the door slide open, and then he was gone. Gone! Snapping out of her stupor, she charged out onto the deck just in time to watch him climbing down to the dinghy.
Mist Page 12
