He was in trouble.So much trouble.
This dire realization was interrupted when he registered movement near the salon.Hanna stepped onto the deck.Idris followed close behind, his phone pressed to his ear, gesturing sharply as he spoke rapid Arabic.
Omar’s Arabic was more than passable—it was fluent, despite Jake’s backhanded compliment—and he caught enough of the conversation to understand Idris was arguing with someone about shipping schedules and customs documentation.Nothing obviously suspicious, but worth filing away.
Hanna’s eyes found Marielle’s across the deck, and she took a tentative step toward them.Then Idris finished his call, snaked an arm around her waist, and pulled her back to his side.Hanna turned up the corners of her mouth in a practiced smile.
Idris’s grip on her waist was tight.A bit too tight.Omar had seen that particular hold plenty of times—in trafficking cases, in domestic violence case, and even in the occasional hostage situation.The message was clear:You belong to me.
His jaw clenched involuntarily, and he worked it in an effort to loosening.
“Good morning,” Hanna said as the couple approached.Her voice was soft, musical, carefully modulated.“I hope you’re all enjoying breakfast.”
“It’s amazing,” Marielle said warmly.“Are you going to join us?”
Idris answered before her.“We’ve already eaten.We’re going to take the jet skis out.”His smile was cold.“You’re welcome to join us if you’re up for it.”
The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.Idris was wealthy, entitled, constantly measuring himself against other men.He wanted to prove something, to establish dominance—probably because his father dominated him.Was it a cliche?Yes.Was it a cliche for a reason?Also yes.
That was fine by Omar.Let him work out his daddy issues.Let him think he was winning.
Brad perked up immediately.“Hell yeah.Let’s do it.”
“I don’t know,” Marielle said, uncertainty creeping into her voice.“I’ve never?—”
Omar stood, pulling her up with him.“We’ll try anything once.Right,mon coeur?”
“Right,” she parroted.“Anything once.”
Twenty minutes later,Omar was running through a mental safety checklist while simultaneously trying not to think about Marielle’s half-naked body pressed against his back.
They’d changed into swimwear.He wore board shorts and a rash guard; she wore a sporty two-piece that somehow managed to be both practical and distracting.She’d pulled her hair into a high ponytail that made her look fresh-faced and fierce at the same time.
She clung to him as their jet ski idled in the water, her arms wrapped around his waist, her thighs bracketing his hips.
A crew member had brought them down to the deck where the water toys were stored.Four jet skis hung in their mounts, keys dangling from hooks on a nearby board.A rigid inflatable boat sat ready for launch.Through an open hatch, Omar spotted paddle boards, snorkel equipment, and diving gear.
Always know your exits, always catalog your assets.The jet skis could do forty, maybe fifty, miles per hour.The yacht was maybe five nautical miles from the coast.He committed this information to memory in case things went sideways and they needed to evacuate quickly.
“You sure about this?”he asked over his shoulder.
“Too late to back out now,” she said, but he could hear the nervous edge in her voice.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.And he meant it.Mission parameters be damned—if it came down to recovering the intel or keeping Marielle safe, there was no question which he’d choose.Sorry, Jake.
Ahead of them, Brad and Poppy’s jet ski roared to life, shooting forward in a spray of white water.Brad was whooping, Poppy was screaming, and the Secret Service agents on the chase boat behind them were unamused.
To their left, Idris revved his engine, showing off.Hanna sat behind him, her face expressionless, her arms around his waist.
“You ready?”Omar called back to Marielle.
“Ready!”
He opened the throttle gradually, letting her adjust to the sensation of speed and spray and the motion of the jet ski bouncing over waves.After a few minutes, she relaxed against him, and tight grip loosened.
“Faster!”she shouted in his ear.
He grinned and gave her faster.
