Hurricane

by Cherry Adair

  Standing beside Tony Seddeth, Addison leaned against the rail watching Rydell on the dock as he greeted a dozen soldier-of-fortune-looking guys piling out of a large vehicle with black-tinted windows.

  “Impressive.” Despite his gleaming white uniform, Tony, a tall, rawboned Texan in his mid-fifties, looked as if he should be wearing a cowboy hat and a gun belt in the Old West. “They look like they can do the job.”

  They also looked as though they were enforcers for the Mafia. Lots of muscle, no visible necks, biceps the size of her thigh, and weighed down with a terrifying array of weapons in plain sight. No doubt a deterrent to anyone scouting out Tesoro Mio for later piracy.

  Addison frowned as the men unloaded incredibly heavy-looking duffel bags from a large military-style truck with the assistance of some of her crew. Wearing black cargo pants and a black muscle shirt, Rydell looked just as hard-ass and tough as the mercenaries he’d hired. But a small part of her brain knew his almost hidden tenderness, and how gentle he could be when he made love to her … Stop it!

  Rydell glanced up to see her watching him at the rail on the third deck. She deliberately turned her back to speak to the captain. “You couldn’t get another security company to send us the five men we’re short?” Those five were on another job until the end of the following week—their original departure date.

  “Not in this tight window, no. We were lucky those guys could join us. If they hadn’t, we would’ve had to wait until the date they were contracted for, a week from now. We’ll be okay. I’ve been to this rodeo before, so has Ry, and we have several crew members who are professional security.”

  Really? She raised her eyebrows. “We have security people on board? Who and for how long? How did that come about, and why wasn’t I informed?”

  Avoiding eye contact, Tony ran a hand over the back of his neck. “You’ll have to ask Rydell about that.”

  Rydell hired Tony Seddeth before her life had fallen apart. At the time, Addy had just taken possession of the ship, letting Tony hire the crew as he saw fit. Now, she realized, Rydell had kept his nose in her business even when she hadn’t been aware. “Believe me, I will.”

  It was hard to be pissed off that her ex had hired guns on board for her safety. But she was. Even when he hadn’t been around, he had people watching her. Did they report back to him? Was he aware of everything she said and did, and who her guests were?

  “But I’ll ask you again: Who?”

  “Addison—”

  He’d always called her by her first name in private, Ms. De Marco in public. She and Rydell had been divorced by the time the ship was ready to sail; the captain hadn’t known her when she’d been Mrs. Case. Now, with Rydell here, she wondered who Tony was loyal to. “Who, Tony?”

  He sighed. “Jax Han, Oscar Vaccaro, and Patrick O’Keefe. He was watching out for you, Addy.”

  Jax was second engineer, Oscar the chief steward, and of course Patrick was their chef. No matter where she went on the ship, she could be watched. “I can take care of myself, and if and when I can’t do that, I’ll hire my own security.” She pointed down to the dock with the earpiece of her sunglasses. “Just as I did for this trip though Suez.”

  Rydell had somehow managed to push through permissions from the Suez Canal Authority. She and the captain had submitted the paperwork a month ago, with the necessary letter from their flag state, Italy, endorsing the Tesoro Mio for transit. Addison wondered if the authority always worked on a dime, or if it had taken more than a dime to motivate them to push the permission through early.

  Shading her eyes, she observed the men climbing on board. “They look like they can repel just about anyone.” They wore regular clothes, but they were armed to the teeth and looked battle-ready. A shiver traveled across her skin. Going through the Suez was the most logical route to Sydney. But the chances of being attacked by multiple groups of pirates were very, very high.

  They’d go with other ships of various sizes in a convoy, and everyone should be ready, willing, and able to deter pirates en route. Addison wasn’t looking forward to any of it and had, in fact, requested that her mother meet her in Sydney instead of joining her on board. Her mother always had her own agenda, and made decisions based on God only knew what. Money for sure. Her own comfort certainly.

  The pirate situation was so bad that leading think tanks had called for worldwide efforts to tackle it. Modern pirates were a far cry from movie stereotypes. Seaborne terrorism was now funded by millions and millions of dollars from ransoms and expensive cargoes. From what Addison had read when she planned this trip—most of the reading material unread, because she’d thought she had more time to bone up on it—she knew they were violent, efficient, and well stocked with fast boarding craft, GPS technology, and the latest weapons. They were a force to be reckoned with. And every one of the professional guns for hire was worth his exorbitant price to ensure the safety of the ship and everyone on board.

  “They came highly recommended.” The captain cast a critical eye over the battle-ready men. “I’d advise you to stay clear of them. Their reputation for violence is well documented. Good if we’re threatened, but not good if they become bored and start looking for ways to entertain themselves. You’re the only woman on board.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She’d read reports from various other ships’ captains who’d used this same security firm. Former US Navy SEALs and special forces operatives not necessarily honorably discharged. The men were said to be well trained and lawless, but damn good at what they did.

  Rydell talked to two men, who were clearly in charge, as the others went back and forth carrying their equipment, then returned for heavy sandbags, which they slung over their shoulders.

  “What are those for?”

  “They’ll strategically line the railings so we can take cover behind them.”

  “God—” It looked as though they were preparing for war. And, she thought with a creepy sensation in her stomach, in a way they were. For fifteen hours they’d be braced for attack, Tesoro Mio a fat sitting duck ready for the plucking as she traveled slowly down the narrow canal. Even in convoy, pirates were known to lie in wait along the banks to attack from all sides as the ships passed.

  The broiling sun shone on Rydell’s uncovered head, making his dark hair shine as the long strands danced around his face and shoulders. She might hate him in the daylight hours, but her subconscious ached for him in her dreams. Hell, in her dreams anything was possible. And then she had to wake up and face the reality of what her perfect life had become.

  Tony looked as though he was visually weighing the new additions for their worthiness. “They better be good as advertised. The best at what they do. We’re going through Suez. Not safe by any stretch of the imagination. Pirates are thick on the ground. Professional security is a necessity, not a whim. You know our insurance company will fine us if we don’t have additional security through the canal. Nevertheless, I’ll take her through as quickly as they’ll allow us. The lead ship sets the pace.”

  “We should be safe enough inside the convoy, right? We don’t have anything valuable aboard.” She realized as soon as the words came out of her mouth how naive she sounded. Hostages. A multimillion-dollar luxury vessel. Why wouldn’t they try to take the ship and everyone on board? “Never mind. That was a ridiculous statement.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced over at her. “Not that I want to get rid of you, but would you consider joining us in India?”

  An argument Rydell had presented as they’d passed in the hall this morning. “I’m staying.” And why did he have to park his ass in the cabin right next to hers?

  The captain frowned and looked no happier than Ry had when she’d told him the same thing. No doubt seeing the pack of muscle-bound, well-armed security men brought home the reality of just how dangerous the situation was. “Then arm yourself and stay sharp. The concept of a citadel is out unless we’re fortunate enough to transit between two warships w
ho’d protect us and engage the pirates quickly. But since we can’t ensure that, the security people are our best bet.”

  Addison didn’t like the idea of a citadel to protect passengers and crew anyway. The idea of being enclosed somewhere—however safe it might be—didn’t sit well with her. She’d read last year about pirates who had set a ship on fire to smoke out the wealthy passengers enclosed in a citadel. She didn’t want to be trapped on board, with no way out.

  “The pirates don’t care about the ship or anything else if they grab a high-profile hostage for ransom.”

  She was also aware that pirates had very little to lose, and would do whatever it took to capture wealthy passengers for ransom and, if they could, hijack the ship.

  She waited until Rydell and the men disappeared inside before turning back to the captain. “I changed my mind about the trip into town. I’ll be in my cabin if you need me.” Which he wouldn’t, because as soon as Rydell boarded Tony was his captain again, not hers. It wasn’t fair. But then what in life was?

  Addison took her time going downstairs, but she ran into the men in the salon anyway.

  In days of old Rydell would’ve wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in tight against his hip. Now he left his hands in his pockets as he introduced her to the group. “My wife, Addison.” His expression told her not to correct him, and in this case she didn’t. No one shook hands, and they didn’t introduce themselves beyond a short nod. “We’re having drills twice a day until we’re clear,” Rydell told her shortly. “I’ve already spoken to Anthony. No one is exempt.”

  Rydell was many things, but he wasn’t an alarmist. “Believe me, I’m hearing every word.”

  “Good. The canal is narrow—under three hundred meters at some points. Places where we’ll have less than a hundred fifty meters on each side of us. Well within the range of any weapon they choose to use. They can take potshots at us from a lawn chair on the bank. The narrowness means one-way traffic only for most of the transit. Two convoys going south, one going north. Which is why we’re going in the second of the southbound convoys.”

  “There’s a ninety percent chance they’ll target this fancy ship of yours.” Crew-cut, earring, no neck, six six if he was an inch: Addison wouldn’t like to meet this guy in a dark ally. The guy’s eyes were hard and shifted constantly, as if he was waiting for attack from any quarter. Not jumpy, but on high alert. “The ship’s worth a shitload, you and Case here are worth a hell of a lot more.”

  Rydell laughed, and Addison sent him a frowning glance. “Mayhem and worse isn’t funny.”

  Rydell shrugged. “Too bad perceptions don’t match reality.”

  “They’ll try to help themselves to all of it. We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Good,” Addison said briskly. “I’ll have someone take your things to cabins—”

  “No cabins, and no sleeping for the duration. We’ll spell each other when we can, but we’re on watch twenty-four seven starting now. I’d suggest you change into dark clothing and stuff that hair under a ball cap if you venture on deck. Better yet, stay below and keep your door locked until we’re though.”

  Rydell walked with her through the living room. “You don’t like him.”

  Ry had always been able to read her. Before, it had been sweet and romantic; now it annoyed her that she was still so damn easy to peg. “I don’t have to like him, or even see him. He’s here to do his job.” She was quite happy to lock herself in her cabin for the twenty-four hours it would take to clear Suez Canal. It would keep Rydell away from her as well.

  Rydell took her elbow. Electricity sparked up her arm and suffused her skin with prickly heat. “I don’t suppose you’d reconsider and fly out? You could meet the ship in Mangalore when I pick up the dive team.”

  “I’m not flying anywhere.”

  He dragged in a breath. “Don’t take any of this lightly, Addy. Not for a second. The threat is very clear and present. Chaos in Somalia has kept that country ungovernable. Al-Qaeda-allied insurgents, spearheaded by the Taliban-style Islamic courts—”

  Shaking off his hand, she took a step back. “I get it, Rydell. I’m not an idiot. I’ve read the official briefs.” Certainly enough to know the gist, and to be suitably scared. “I’ll stay in my cabin until we’re given the all-clear. Believe me, I’m not the stupid girl who goes down to the basement to investigate a suspicious noise—I have my Glock and know how to use it.” Thanks to Ry and his numerous lessons, which had usually turned into makeout sessions.

  His darkening pupils told her he remembered, too. “Keep it with you at all times. Even going into the head. But frankly, if you need it, it’ll be too late. If they board, we’re screwed. They have faster boats, sniper rifles, rocket launchers, and more men. They know the area like the back of their hands, and they’re determined. The convoys are scheduled, and they know when and who’s in them because they’re computerized. They know exactly where each ship will pass, and they’ll lie in wait. Stay in your cabin for the duration.”

  “Fair enough.” She curled her fingers over the satin-smooth teak railing leading down to the cabins. “Do we have our position in line yet?”

  “Yeah. Dead fucking last.”

  The worst position to be in. Blocked by the ships proceeding them, and with no room to turn around in the narrow channel, they’d be sitting ducks should pirates come knocking.

  Addison felt chilly fingers on the back of her neck and held Ry’s gaze. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  For a moment it looked as though he was about to reach up to touch her; then he shoved that hand into his front pocket. “Stay below.”

  “Not a problem.” Addy took two steps down, then turned. Rydell, standing at the top of the stairs, hadn’t moved. She hated him, but she didn’t want him hurt physically. “Be careful, ’kay?”

  “Wow. I’m touched. I thought you wanted me dead.”

  “Not necessarily,” she told him sweetly. “Just in excruciating pain.” But when Addison resumed walking downstairs, she knew that wasn’t true. Unless she was the one inflicting the pain, she hated the thought of Rydell Case injured by exterior forces.

  She went to her cabin to check how many clips she had for her Glock.

  Five

  Holding a small tray on one hand, Ry walked unerringly to the bed, despite the stygian darkness of Addy’s cabin. The heady fragrance of skin-warmed gardenias almost brought him to his knees. Locking them to prevent him from falling on her like a starving wolf, he said quietly, “Addy, it’s six a.m. Wake up.”

  Ry was adrift without her. Divorce hadn’t made him any less insanely in love with her. His fucking stupid, refusing-to-take-a-hint heart physically hurt with loss as he longed for the achingly familiar taste of her. Silky fragrant skin and mouthwatering womanly musk. If only—

  Her movement under the satin sheet sounded like the susurrus of an ocean breeze whispering over a calm sea. “Are we moving?” she murmured, voice thick with sleep. God, he loved her like this. Soft and vulnerable as she woke slowly. When she had loved him, morning sex with her in this half-awake, half-dream state had been one of the wonders of his world.

  It always took her a good ten minutes to be fully awake, but they didn’t have the luxury this morning. At least she wasn’t attacking him for coming into her cabin unannounced. That was something. He felt for the lamp switch, and the room was instantly bathed with warm, dim lighting.

  Today her sheets were leopard print. Ry knew how much she loved the feel of silk against her skin. Her long hair, more a deep, streaky blond than red in this light, spread across the pillow in a wild tumble of glossy marmalade-colored strands.

  Ah, hell, she still slept naked. He would’ve put money on Addy wearing body armor because he was on board.

  She was covered to her lightly tanned shoulders with the luxurious leopard-print sheet. The light followed the hills and valley of her body, spread out like a tormenting feast to his senses. The fragra
nce of her sleep-warmed skin intensified when she moved.

  “Yeah, we departed an hour ago,” he told her, wrenching his attention away from temptation. He walked over to place the tray on the desk across the room, noticed she had closed the drapes tightly, then returned to her bedside. He took several deep breaths to center himself and get his mind back to the impending situation as they transited the canal.

  “Get up and dressed.” His voice was thick, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “I want you awake and on high alert for the duration.” The throb of the powerful engines vibrated through the soles of his deck shoes. The sheet, draped over her shoulder and hip, shimmered with the vibrations, looking like water flowing over her nude body.

  She pulled the sheet up over her shoulder as if realizing that even that small curve of nakedness would have his heart thumping and his dick stirring. Addy knew him well.

  She always woke up looking fresh and alert—but it took a few minutes to get her brain there. And it was those few minutes first thing in the morning, when she was soft and welcoming, that Ry missed most.

  She gave him a cool look as he opened the drawer in her bedside table. “I don’t give a flying crap what you want. I had my alarm set. I’ll be ready in five minutes. You can go now.”

  Bitchy when cornered or afraid. He knew her well. He wanted to see her up, armed, and secure behind a locked, heavy, watertight door. He handed her the Glock, then kneed the drawer closed. “Take this, keep it with you at all times, and do not leave the cabin until I come for you.”

  Freeing one arm, she took the gun and held it beside her hip on the lustrous sheets. “Already loaded and ready to use. Feel free to get the hell out of my cabin, Rydell.”

  She knew how to use the gun; he’d taught her himself. It was always wise to have a weapon on board, and the knowledge to use it. Addy had a steady hand and a sharp eye. He had to be content with that right now.