“Eric has them in protective custody?” She was now a little worried about Annie, though the woman had the skillset to extract herself in most circumstances.
But Triskelion Castle, the headquarters and stronghold of the Masters’ Admiralty, was a fortified stone “manor house” on thetiny Isle of Man. The massive stone building sat behind a high wall, and looked plenty castle-like on the satellite photos they’d studied. Getting out of the castle and off the island would be difficult, even for someone like Annie.
“Colum doesn’t care,” Franco said dismissively. “I mean, of course he doesn’t. He asked if it was safe to put Deep Heat on nipples a couple hours ago, so they’re having a good time.”
Juliette sputtered out a laugh, and Devon took advantage of her distraction to pull her against him once more. She liked the closeness, liked his need to touch her.
She just wished it wasn’t a lingering symptom of trauma, from a time when they’d been prisoners and he’d been unable to reach her. Unable to stop their enemies from hurting her.
Therapy had helped, massively, and maybe this was just a behavior pattern now rather than a need. She’d have to ask at their next session. Without intense trauma therapy, Juliette didn’t know if…
She sat up again, working through the idea that had just come to her. She kept a hand on Devon’s leg so he’d know she wasn’t rejecting being close to him.
Franco’s eyes widened as he looked at his phone.
“Colum might not care, but apparently Nikolett does.” Franco held his phone up, screen turned toward Juliette and Devon. “Eric and Nikolett are having a fight about it right now.”
Juliette grabbed the phone and hit the call button. She wanted to hear this live.
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m leaving.” Nikolett stared down the fleet admiral.
“No, you’re not. Not until we catch the Spaniard.” Eric crossed his arms, his feet braced shoulder-width apart.
He was a big man. A big, stupid, stupid man who was standing between her and the stairs. Between her and escape.
“Has there been progress on that front that Grigoris hasn’t been informed of?” She resisted the urge to readjust her crutches under her arms.
“No,” Eric said through his teeth.
“Then I see no reason to stay.”
“You’ll stay because someone keeps trying to kill you.” Eric’s gaze dropped pointedly to the cast on her leg.
“They’re doing an exceptionally bad job.” It wasn’t a lie, but it minimized the terror and pain she’d suffered over the last six months. Since Amalfi.
“Then let’s make sure they don’t get a chance to keep practicing.” Eric’s tone was painfully calm, almost mild, but there was fire in his gaze.
Or maybe that was fear.
Fear for her.
“My people and I will do exactly that.” She swung the crutches forward, braced herself, and took a step with her good leg. “From my home, in my territory.”
“You’re safer here.” His voice cracked a little at that, and now, there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes.
That gold-drenched afternoon in Amalfi he’d admitted something to her.
“Late at night when I can’t fucking sleep, that’s what I see. You dead. Your body in ruins. In fucking pieces.”
Eric’s life had been cratered by pain and loss, and it both scarred and scared him. He cared for her, probably loved her, but he was convinced that any kind of relationship between them would be her downfall.
She’d held out hope for them, even after what happened in Amalfi, as stupid as it was.
Until he used his position to force her to marry someone else.
The door beside Nikolett opened, and her once-and-almost husband stuck his head out, his phone in one hand, and blinked at her from behind his glasses.
