by Cindy Dees
“Excuse me, sir,” she murmured deferentially. “I’m looking for a ship. I was told you know everything and everyone who sails in this harbor.”
“And I’m very busy. I have an entire harbor full of ships,” he snapped. “Pick one.”
“This one is special. It’s about the size of a commercial whale fisher but not rigged for fishing, all black, narrow prow, twin propellers. Fast.”
She was sure she caught a flash of recognition in the man’s dark gaze. “What’s its name and how’s it flagged?”
“I didn’t see a name and she displayed no flag.”
“Every ship is required to have a name and a flag.”
“Well, this one didn’t.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
More like he wouldn’t help her. He knew something. At least she had a little more information than before. The ship had been here before, probably to refuel. And where a ship berthed once, it was likely to berth again.
If she hung out down here for a few days—or weeks—and kept an eye on the traffic, maybe she could spot the ship that had sunk her boat. Once she knew its name and registry, she could demand compensation from the vessel’s owners. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was better than no plan at all.
And Lord knew, it was better than spending the past two nights crying into her pillow and trying to forget her encounter with Aiden. That plan hadn’t worked at all.
She found a perch on a seawall out of the cranky harbormaster’s way but overlooking the harbor. The port was a busy place and she lost herself in its rhythms as she watched and waited for the black ship to show itself. It took a few hours, but she managed to achieve a mindless state where, as long as she didn’t think about anything specific, she also didn’t think constantly of Aiden. But the exercise left her feeling empty.
Late that afternoon, she was half dozing under an umbrella she’d bought off a kid for a dollar to ward off the sun when a strong hand grabbed her arm, startling her badly. She let out a little scream of surprise and whipped around, prepared to wield the umbrella like a sword to defend herself.
“What the hell are you doing out here all by yourself, Sunny?”
Aiden. And just like that, everything she’d been doing her darnedest to purge from her system came flooding back. Her fingers and toes tingled, and she suddenly felt alive again. He glared at her furiously. So much for Mr. Distant, apparently.
“You’re the only person who’s assaulted me and scared me half to death since I set foot onshore,” she snapped. Her heart was racing and her stomach fluttering madly. It was just the scare he’d given her. Nothing more. “You could’ve been some bad guy out to mug me or worse.”
“Exactly,” he ground out. “What were you thinking sitting here like this ignoring everything going on around you, just asking for trouble?”
She frowned. “I’m watching the harbor.”
“Why?” he asked incredulously.
“I’m looking for the ship that hit me so I can demand repayment for the loss of my boat.”
“Are you crazy? That ship’s crew will slit your throat long before they’ll cough up a cent to you.”
Her gut said he was right. But her stubborn side wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“Look, Sunny. This place is beyond dangerous. You need to get out of here. Go somewhere safe.”
“Like where?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Go home.”
She didn’t have a home. But beyond that, the words hurt. Yet again, he was trying to get rid of her. What had she done to make this man dislike her so much? He’d liked her well enough when they’d been making love….
Maybe that was it. Maybe he resented her for seducing him. Although the way she remembered it... “You kissed me first, you know,” she blurted.
“Excuse me?”
“You started it. I didn’t seduce you. You seduced me.” Although truth be told, she’d darn well been a willing participant once he got the ball rolling. But that wasn’t the point at the moment.
He looked around uncomfortably. “Do we have to talk about that here?”
“What’s wrong with here? Do you see somebody within earshot who’s going to tell all your friends that you hooked up with some penniless chick you fished out of the ocean?”
“Penniless—” he spluttered. “Like I care about that?”
“Then what is your problem with me?” She was really getting sick of his cryptic comments that made no sense at all.
“I—” He broke off. “Not here.”
Ooooh. He was so frustrating! “You don’t own me. I can do whatever I want, and what I want is to sit here until I find the boat that ran me over. In the meantime, I want you to go away.”
He looked stricken. It was there in his eyes for just a second, and then that stiff, polite look he defaulted to came over him. But a second was long enough. Remorse coursed through her. She didn’t really want him to go away. She couldn’t think about anything but him when he was gone, and when he was with her, she couldn’t look at anything or anyone else. He completely filled her senses.
He turned on his heel and took a step.
“Wait,” she cried.
He turned around to face her but didn’t take the step back toward her.
“Why did you come looking for me?” she asked.
“To—” a long pause “—apologize.” She knew as sure as he was standing there that wasn’t what he’d been about to say. He mumbled awkwardly, “You know. For not seeing you off when you left. I had business to attend to,” he added lamely.
“Oh.” He could deflate her faster than anyone she’d ever met. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
He nodded once, a small, uncomfortable jerk of his head, and turned again to walk away. This time she didn’t call him back.
She spent the next hour until sunset staring at the harbor through a watery curtain of tears. That damned black ship could’ve sailed right past her and she wouldn’t have seen it.
Even she wasn’t suicidal enough to hang around the harbor after dark. She hurried back toward the American mercenary base as twilight fell over the city. Of course, she’d failed to take into account the Maghrib, or sunset prayer, of the Muslims who comprised most of the local population. She ended up ducking into a rug shop to wait out the nasal call to prayer that reverberated from the city’s minarets and the subsequent prayer period.
When she was able to resume walking back toward the compound, dark was falling fast. It didn’t help that she took a wrong turn somewhere. She knew the general direction she had to travel, but this neighborhood was rougher than she remembered.
Long stretches of dark shadows swallowed what sidewalks there were. She detoured into an alley to get around a stack of barrels taller than she was, and that was when the men jumped her. There were three of them. Little more than teenagers but still dangerous looking.
One of them yelled at her in what sounded like Arabic.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand you,” she tried in English. Not that she really had to understand the guy to know he wanted her valuables. She sidled back toward the street.
“Gimme moh-nee, lady,” the kid snarled in terrible English.
“Oh! You want some money,” she replied in exaggerated comprehension. A few more steps and she’d be back in sight of the street. Not that anyone would necessarily help her. But maybe someone would call an ambulance for her if this went badly.
She fumbled in her pockets. Another step.
“Stop!” the kid yelled at her. “No move.” A wicked-looking knife appeared in his hand. She froze. The other two youths flanked her from behind, closing in on her menacingly. She didn’t look back at them, but she had no doubt they were armed, as well.
And then, without warning, a flurry of movement explode
d behind her. Something big and fast-moving slammed into one of the teens. Two bodies went down, rolling in the dirt. The second teen in the rear jumped into the fray. Whoever her rescuer was, he had his hands full with holding the knife of the first attacker away from his throat while fending off the fists of the second one.
The teen who’d been yelling at her rushed past her toward the fight. She took advantage of his distraction to kick him in the privates as hard as she could as he passed her. He went down shouting and swearing in multiple languages.
She turned to run but then caught a flash of blond hair in the tangle of struggling bodies. Aiden. She raced to the fight and kicked one of the teens in the back, right over a kidney, with all her might. He writhed away from the fight, moaning and swearing as he clutched at his back.
Down to an even fight, Aiden was able to force the knife away from his face and fling the kid off him. He leaped to his feet and grabbed her by the arm. He bit out a single terse instruction. “Run.”
They fled side by side. Aiden seemed to know where he was going and guided her by the elbow as they sprinted away from the scene of the attack. Shouts followed them but faded into the distance soon enough. They ran for several more blocks, and then Aiden waved her to a walk.
Panting, she was grateful to slow down and catch her breath. A wheezing noise made her look over at Aiden in alarm. “Are you hurt?” she demanded. “Did that guy cut you?”
“No. Asthma,” he gasped.
“Do you have an inhaler?” she asked urgently. He looked ghastly. In the light spilling out of a restaurant, he looked almost gray.
He fumbled in his jacket pocket until she reached forward to help. She found the slim metal canister and plastic mouthpiece and held them to his mouth quickly.
“Long, slow breath in,” she told him. Her sister’d had asthma as a kid, but never this bad. Aiden sounded and looked on the verge of passing out. “Hold the medicine in your lungs as long as you can.”
He did as she instructed, exhaling explosively after just a few seconds. Not good.
“We’ll give that a minute to open your airways a little, and then we’ll do another puff.”
She glanced over his shoulder worriedly, on the lookout for their attackers. She thought she saw some movement a few blocks back that looked suspicious. “Can you move at all?” she whispered. “Someone’s coming.”
He straightened and assumed a defensive stance immediately. She saw the effort it cost him and heard him fighting to control his breathing, to slow it and keep it even. But it wasn’t working. He was inhaling too fast and shallow. He’d never make it through another fight. They had to hide.
She looked around fast. “This way.” She guided him into the restaurant, which was dim and mostly empty. He stumbled a little but righted himself beside her. As long as he could walk, they’d be okay. But there was no way she could bodily drag him anywhere.
She stopped in the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen and made him take another long pull on his inhaler. Thankfully, this one seemed to have more effect. A little color came back into his face and his breathing slowed slightly. He only looked half-dead now.
In a few moments, he muttered, “We’ve got to keep moving. They’re big on vengeance in this town. Those kids will call in their friends and family to hunt us.”
She nodded and followed him back outside. A trio of men was moving toward them. She looked around frantically, trying to get her bearings. They actually weren’t far from the piers. “Is the Nymph still docked?” she asked as he steered her away from the advancing men.
“Yes.”
Thank God. It was their best bet for safety.
The next hour was a nightmare. Aiden’s condition deteriorated until he was barely conscious. They couldn’t move fast or he immediately went into severe respiratory distress. Which meant they had to sneak most of the way to the docks. And she was no ninja-stealth expert.
But eventually, she peered across the street and spotted the sleek outline of the Sea Nymph. And a more beautiful sight she’d never seen. “Almost there,” she encouraged Aiden.
He nodded wearily. She felt him gather himself to move one last time. She had to give him credit for determination and self-discipline. In spite of her fear of overdosing him, she’d had to give him two more puffs of his inhaler to keep him conscious. But he’d fought for all his worth to stay with her.
“Put your arm across my shoulders,” she instructed. Their height difference made the position reasonably comfortable, but as his weight rested more and more upon her, she became vividly aware of just what a large man he was. His lean swimmer’s physique and perfect proportions tricked the eye into not noticing the volume of muscle he carried.
“A few more steps,” she grunted.
And then they were there. A guard on the deck of the Nymph spotted them and immediately spoke into his collar. In a few seconds, a pair of sailors were quickly extending the gangplank to them. The men rushed forward and took Aiden out of her grasp and half carried him aboard.
All of a sudden she was alone on the dock, unsure of what to do. No one had given her permission to board the Nymph. But she didn’t relish making her way across the city to her room by herself after the scary attack.
A struggle broke out on the Nymph as Aiden wrestled free of the men supporting him. “What are you waiting for?” he threw at her. “Come aboard so the ship can be secured.” And on that note, he passed out. The sailors caught his body as it collapsed toward the deck.
Not a ringingly warm invitation, but she wasn’t about to turn it down. Her worry for him overrode all of her stubborn and argumentative urges. She hurried aboard the Nymph and followed the crewmen as they carried him down to the infirmary. Gemma slapped a nebulizer over Aiden’s face with terse observations that he was a fool and that he would be fine. Sunny could definitely agree with the doctor on the first score.
The crew, consummate professionals that they were, treated her as politely as ever. She sensed no judgment or derision as they showed her to her old room and, yet again, supplied her with pajamas and a toothbrush. She had to quit coming aboard this ship with nothing but the clothes on her back. But she had to admit its luxurious embrace made her feel safe like she hadn’t felt since she’d left the vessel.
She spent another restless night, but this one wasn’t punctuated by tears. Only worry for Aiden’s health. The next morning found her on the sundeck under a striped umbrella sipping hot, black coffee and nibbling at a croissant. Steig joined her.
“How’s Aiden?” she asked immediately.
“About usual after one of his bad attacks. Gemma dosed him up on medications and he slept through the night. He woke this morning without any ill aftereffects.”
“Does he have asthma attacks often?” she asked curiously. “Maybe he should change medications if his episodes aren’t under better control.”
Steig grinned widely. “I’ll mention it to Doctor Jones.”
“Not that I’m criticizing her,” Sunny added hastily. “I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”
“There are none better,” Steig agreed, still smiling.
Sunny got the feeling she was missing something here. What was the big joke about Aiden’s health problems? Asthma had the potential to be a dangerous and even deadly disease.
But before she could question the Swede further, a shadow fell across the table. Without a word, Steig stood and melted away into the recesses of the ship. She supposed she didn’t have to turn around and see who was standing behind her.
She murmured into her coffee mug, “Good morning, Aiden. How are you feeling?”
He sat down across from her at the small table and answered formally, “Fine, thank you.”
Frustration soared through her. “Oh, could you just drop the whole mysterious-and-inscrutable thing already?”
<
br /> “Excuse me?” He looked shocked.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “It’s not polite to act like that.”
“I’m always polite,” he flared up.
She grinned cheekily. “Better.”
He reached for a croissant, scowling.
“I was talking to Steig about your breathing issues.”
Aiden looked up quickly. “Oh?” he asked noncommittally.
“How is it you can hold your breath forever underwater, but as soon as you’re on dry land you have this terrible, uncontrollable asthma?”
“What makes you think it’s uncontrollable? I’m fine today.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t last night. I thought you might die before I got you back here to Gemma.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “Thank you for bringing me back,” he said soberly. “I guess that makes us even. I saved your life, and now you’ve saved mine.”
He looked away from her, gazing out at the open ocean beyond the harbor. His withdrawal was a tangible thing, and it cut like a knife.
“So that’s it?” she asked. “We’re all square now, so you can shut me out and walk away?”
His gaze snapped back to her. “As I recall, you’re the one who walked away from me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You left the Nymph.”
“It’s not my boat. I can’t just move in and make myself at home.”
“It’s a yacht,” he corrected absently.
“Yacht, schmact. Don’t change the subject.”
“Djibouti City is too dangerous a place for a woman alone, particularly one as attractive as you.”
He thought she was attractive? Warmth filled her. But then reality came crashing back. “I lost nearly everything I owned when the New Dawn sank. And what little I do still have is across town in some mercenary compound. Where do you expect me to go, and how exactly do you expect me to get there, Aiden? I’ve got to start somewhere. And this town is where I happen to have landed. I’m stuck here until I marshal some funds.”
