“Why did you just call me that?” he demanded as the two men who’d stormed into the room with him started forward. One looked like he belonged as an extra in the movieDanceswithWolves. And the other should be sporting a leotard and slamming chairs over other men’s backs. She’d swear on a stack of bibles his thighs were the size of the trunks on the camphor trees growing in her backyard. Or, as her daddy would say, he wasbigenoughtohuntabearwithaswitch.
“I—” she began, but stopped and gulped when theDanceswithWolvesextra came at her with a knife. Thankfully, he only attacked the zip ties at her ankles and wrists before moving on to Harry—who had collapsed into the captain’s chair, his eyes glued to the body of the man whose brains were now outside his skull and all over the bridge’s window.
Don’t look, Maddy, she told herself as she pushed into a seated position, her fingers and toes coming alive in a rush of pins and needles. She didn’t keep her gaze averted because she thought Lead A-hole didn’t deserve what he’d gotten. She’d seen that…thing…move behind his eyes when the door burst open, and she’d known he was going to kill her if she didn’t do something quick; hence the head-butting. But she’d gone nearly thirty years without suffering night terrors that starred near-headless corpses, and she’d like to keep it that way,thankyouverymuch.
Suddenly, Mr. Swoon-Worthy-on-Any-Other-Day was stalking toward her, the machine gun he’d used to bring down Lead A-hole now strapped to his back. And when she pictured CIA agents, they were smooth-talking, martini-drinking, 007 types. Definitely nothing like the three scruffy, tattooed men who surrounded her.
“Whydo you think I’m CIA?” he demanded again, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and pulling her to her feet, notun-gently. Still, there was no mistaking the strength of his grip. She sucked in a breath and was pleased to discover he smelled like salt water and good, healthy American male. A welcome reprieve from Lead A-hole and the stank-ass of his odor-whelming cohorts.
“I say,” Captain Harry blustered, “unhand her.” He tried to push up from the chair, but Mr. Swoon-Worthy-on-Any-Other-Day’s friends each slapped a hand on his shoulder, keeping him firmly seated.
“I’m all right,” she assured the captain.
“Yeah,” the guy manhandling her said. “She’s fine. As long as she tells me why she thinks I’m CIA.”
He was like a dog with a bone. “Oh, for the love of— Becausehethought y’all were CIA,” she said, waving in the general direction of Lead A-hole’s body. Was his hand twitching? No. No, it most certainly was not. That would be too awful and…gulp.“And then when he sank your ship with rocket launchers and I watched you come after his men in a dinghy with guns a-blazin’ Yosemite Sam-style, that pretty much sealed the deal for me.”
She addressed her answer to the hollow of his throat, where his strong, steady pulse beat heavily. But she was fairly sure his gaze was drilling a hole into the top of her head, so she chanced a glance into his eyes. Instantly, she forgot about the body and twitching hand. Because this guy’s eyes were…well…pretty. With very girly-looking lashes. Promptly she decided to shorten his name.Mr. Swoon-Worthy, it is.
“Why?” she demanded. “Are younotCIA?”
“Not by a long shot,” he told her just as the back door to the bridge banged open, admitting a wild-eyed woman holding yetanothermachine gun.Sweetblueblazes! Did I stumble into World War III?And if these folks weren’t with the Central Intelligence Agency, then just who the heckfirewerethey? DEA? NSA? Definitely not Coast Guard…
“Damnit, Olivia!” the big, golden god who shouldered his way into the bridge behind the woman bellowed. “I told you to let me go first!”
The lady, Olivia apparently, quickly took in the scene and lowered her weapon once she realized Mr. Swoon-Worthy had already neutralized the threat.
“And I toldyouI’m not one of your men to go following your orders,” she replied with a huff. “I’m anasset.Which you’dknowif you pulled your head out of your ass and stopped with the high-and-mighty this-is-men’s-work-so-why-don’t-you-go-paint-your-fingernails-darlin’ bullshit.”
Golden God rolled in his lips as if fighting a smile. And even though Maddy hadn’t a clue what was going on, and even though her heart was still racing a million miles a minute, she found herself feeling an instant kinship with this Olivia woman. She considered any chick who wasn’t afraid to stand up to men twice her size to be a sister from another mister.
“Gentlemen”—Olivia turned away from the dripping-wet Golden God to address the others on the bridge—“I take it the yacht has been secured?”
“We haven’t checked belowdecks yet,” Mr. Swoon-Worthy said. “But one of the two dudes trussed up on the main deck said he counted—”
“You spoke to Nigel and Bruce?” Maddy interrupted, her galloping heart tripping over itself.Lord, she’d been worried sick about them. “Are they all right?”
Swoon-Worthy glanced down at her. Once again, she was struck by those eyes. Brown. So heavily lashed it looked like he was wearing eyeliner and mascara.Warm.The light in them certainly didn’t say coldhearted killer, but there was a body on the floor to prove that wrong. A body she continued to studiously ignore because thatwasn’tliquid and solid matter she heard dripping off the window and onto the floor. Nope. Nah. It surely wasn’t.
“If you call being sunburned and dehydrated all right,” he said, “then, roger that, they’re fine. Although, come to think of it, I can’t really vouch for the one with the foul mouth. He strikes me as a guy suffering from asshole-itis.”
Foul mouth? He had to be talking about Bruce. Maddy had noticed the engineer used “bloody” every other word. But if he was strong enough to curse, that meant he was okay. She blew out a relieved breath. No one had died or been seriously injured by her decision to approach that dinghy full of strangers—well…except for the strangers themselves—and for that she sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
“As I was saying,” Swoon-Worthy continued, “Nigel said he counted seven tangos. Given the six in the dinghy we took out, and this one here, we may’ve got them all, and—”
“Tangos?” Maddy interrupted again. “That’s what the military calls terrorists, isn’t it?” So she’d been right all along. She reallyhadbeen hijacked by a group of radicals.GoodGodalmighty!It was one thing tosuspect, another thing entirely toknow. Her knees threatened to give out on her. Good thing Swoon-Worthy still held her in a firm grip. She could feel the heat of his wide palm all the way through the terrycloth of her robe.
“What do you know about what the military calls things?” He scowled heavily. A lesser woman might have shrunk away from that look. But growing up in a house filled with males meant she was immune to testosterone-laden facial threats.
“I watchedCaptainPhillips. The Navy SEALs in the movie called the bad guys ‘tangos’ and…” It suddenly hit her. These rough-and-tumble men lookedalotlike the ones portrayed in the film. “Are y’all SEALs?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Dances with Wolves and Sir Lifts-Weights-a-Lot. Both of their eyes rounded, and she turned back to tilt her chin back,wayback—being five feet tall had its disadvantages—to search Swoon-Worthy’s face.
“We’re not—” he began, then shook his head. Once again little drops of water showered from the thick strands of his hair. A few landed on her face. For some odd reason, she didn’t brush them away. They grounded her. Gave her something to concentrate on besides her somersaulting insides and spinning head, not to mention they distracted her from that hand thatwasn’ttwitching and those sounds thatweren’tbiological matter splatting onto the floor.
“It’s not—” She lifted a brow when he stopped again. “We’rethe ones asking the questions here!”
“Well, there’s no need to get your boxers in a twist about it,” she scolded him.
He blinked down at her, his expression one she’d seen plenty of times on the faces of the men in her life. It was a mixture of exasperation and bewilderment. “Can you believe the balls on this one?” He posed the question to the people in the room while pointing a finger at her.
