Ivan’s arm tightened around me, the muscles of his chest and abdomen tensing beneath my fingertips. His protectiveinstinct radiated from him like heat, his body positioning subtly to shield me from Marcus’s view.
I forced myself to breathe, to focus on the steady rise and fall of Ivan’s chest rather than the memories Uncle Marcus’s voice threatened to unlock. He didn’t deserve my reaction. And I wouldn’t give him that power.
Through the sheets of rain, a distant shape caught my eye—another boat cutting through the waves.
“Ivan—” I started, pointing toward the fleeing vessel.
Grey’s boat. It had to be.
I braced myself for what would come next—Ivan turning our boat to pursue them. I mentally prepared to be set aside, to watch his focus shift away from me toward vengeance. It would make sense. After everything Grey had done to him, to all of us…
To my surprise, Ivan merely lifted his hand while he never loosened the hold of his arm around me.
“Hawk, target vessel heading southwest. Approximately two miles from our position.”
He adjusted our course—more firmly toward shore, not toward Grey’s escaping boat, and didn’t even spare them another glance.
“But shouldn’t we try to catch them?” I asked, confusion evident in my voice.
Ivan’s eyes remained on the treacherous waters ahead, his hands steady on the controls. “Cristo and Anton will get them. I’ve got my hands full with you.” He pulled me closer against him, his grip tightening as we navigated through a particularly violent wave. Water crashed overthe bow, drenching us further, but I barely noticed the cold.
He chose me over Grey. Me over everything else. Again.
The realization hit me harder than the waves battering our small boat. I clung to him and studied his profile. His wet hair was slicked back, his jaw remained tight, his eyes focused on getting us safely to shore, but there was something else there—a softness around his mouth I hadn’t noticed before, or maybe it hadn’t existed.
He glanced down at me and gave me a smile, and I watched the seamless transition from the stone-cold, dangerous, calculating killer to this almost tender man who held me and looked at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world.
If he was so good at compartmentalizing, most likely his distance after our night together hadn’t been rejection after all.
The hesitation I’d seen when he chose to send Cristo and Anton after Grey instead of pursuing him himself—that hadn’t been doubt. It had been the moment a man who had spent his entire adult life being single-mindedly goal-oriented, cold, and lethal decided to put something—someone—else first.
Had anyone ever done that for me before? Put me before their wants, their goals, their duty?
Had I ever been more important than anything else to anyone?
The realization created a warm glow in my chest that spread outward, melting the last of my resistance. Iallowed myself to believe in his choice—in my choice—to believe that I had fallen in love with the right man.
I focused back on Grey’s boat, barely visible between the towers of waves, then I spotted the helicopter drop down through the rain, until it hovered directly above Grey’s boat.
I tapped Ivan, who followed my gaze. “They’ve got them.”
I watched anxiously, silently praying for Cara’s safety. The rain made it difficult to see clearly, but the helicopter’s searchlight illuminated Grey’s boat.
Suddenly, there was movement—a small figure appeared to stand at the edge of the boat. Even from this distance, I could tell it was Cara.
And then she hurled herself over the side and disappeared into the churning water.
I straightened. “Oh my God,” I gasped, trying to get off of Ivan’s lap.
His arm tightened around me like steel.
“She can’t swim!” I cried out, remembering her confession at the pier about her fear of water, about nearly drowning as a child. “She can’t swim, Ivan!”
Ivan immediately spoke into his comms again. “Cara went overboard!”
A figure plunged from the helicopter into the water where Cara had disappeared.
I clutched him tighter, horrified yet impressed by Cara’s desperate courage. She’d chosen the storm-tossed sea overwhatever awaited her with Grey—the same water she feared more than anything.
