“Number Six London Street.” Ace nodded.
“Home sweet home.”
The two men eyed each other for just a second too long. Chelsea lifted a brow when Ace turned away, a slight blush on his cheeks.
Well, what do you know.
Clearing his throat, Rusty once again looked toward the shore. “There’s food in the fridge, dry clothes in the closet upstairs if you need some, and if you hang your wet things over the radiators, they’ll be dry in a couple of hours. I’ll meet you back there this evening.”
“Thank you, Rusty.” Emily laid a hand atop Rusty’s rubber boot.
If Chelsea wasn’t mistaken, Christian cursed under his breath. She felt like whacking him upside the head and telling him to open his dadgummed eyes. He was a covert operator trained in the fine art of observation. Or at least he wassupposedto be.
“My pleasure,” Rusty told her. “Been a while since I’ve had this much excitement. Now get moving. All of you.”
Dagan was still wearing that look Chelsea couldn’t quite read. When he searched her face, she hoped she was doing a good job of hiding the dread and fear in her eyes. She realized shewasn’twhen he placed a comforting hand at the small of her back and leaned in to whisper, “You got this.”
“Of course I do.” She gnawed worriedly at her bottom lip.
His eyes focused on her mouth, and memories of all they’d done in the catamaran’s hold filled the space between them. Even beneath the harbor arm, the wind played with Dagan’s hair, tousling it around his head. It might have made him look boyish. You know, if it weren’t for the Beard.
That thing wasallman. All rough and tumble and deliciously abrasive when he kissed her lips and nuzzled her cheeks.
How good would it feel brushing against the insides of my thighs?
As soon as she had the thought, she willfully beat it back.
Fixing her mind on the task at hand, she scooted to the edge of the catamaran and poked her head between the rails. Below, the silvery waves lapped hungrily at the hull of the boat. Soon, they would be lapping hungrily at her.
She had the distinct urge to kick herself for not letting Dagan have his way with her earlier. Death from multiple screaming orgasms sounded so much nicer than death by drowning in the friggin’ English Channel.
Chapter 17
Dagan thought he heard Chelsea mumble something that sounded like,Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuitwhen a larger-than-usual wave momentarily tipped the catamaran at a precarious angle. He loved it when she got allSouthern-fried, as she called it, on him. But even in the gloom, he could see her face had been leached of color. There was a slight tremor in her fingers where they wrapped tightly around the boat’s railing.
He would give his left nut if there was a way to save her from having to make this swim. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of another option that would allow them to evade the Border Agency ship and avoid getting caught by Roper fuckin’ Morrison.
“This is one of those good ol’-fashioned gut-it-out situations,” he told her, hoping to convey comfort with his tone.
Her throat worked over a hard swallow. “Like Rusty said, piece of cake.” He could tell she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince him, and his heart swelled with pride for her. Then she snapped her fingers and said, “Lordy. I almost forgot.”
Pulling off her glasses, she handed them to him so he could add them to the waterproof bag. After he did, she smiled her thanks. Just at that moment, the sun peeked out, throwing rays over the waves at the edge of the pier, which in turn reflected up to cast a golden glow over her pretty face. It made her look so…unguarded. And vulnerable. And not at all cut out for this kind of shit.
He was a second away from telling Rusty they needed to come up with a new plan when Ace slipped over the side of the catamaran into the choppy water. The former Navy flyboy came up gasping, squeegeeing the water from his eyes and shaking his head.
With one of his mercurial facial expressions, all laughing eyes and perpetually smiling mouth, Ace looked to Dagan as if he was on the verge of telling a joke. Admittedly, most times hewas. So Dagan wasn’t surprised when Ace grinned up at them and said, “Come on in! The water’s so fine it’ll blow your dick off!”
Christian’s mouth quirked before he also slid quietly overboard. He dragged the waterproof bag with him, and it hit the water next to the boat with a gentlesploosh. The thing was buoyant. But just barely. A scant inch of the army-green material showed above the waves. Dagan didnotlook forward to dragging his own packed bag through thirty yards of surf.
Never one to be outdone, Emily took a deep breath and pitched herself over the side of the catamaran. She hit the water with all the grace of a buffalo and came up squawking.
“How bad is it?” Chelsea asked.
“Colder than a w-witch’s t-tit in a brass b-bra.” Emily’s teeth chattered. She wasted no time turning to tread water toward shore.
And then there were two.
“Let me go first,” Dagan told Chelsea when he saw her gather herself to take the plunge. He wanted her in the water for the shortest time possible. Blowing out two big breaths and steeling himself, he said, “Screw it. Here goes,” and shoved overboard.
