My attention remains locked on Cian for a few minutes as I check him over while trying to silently assure him that I’m completely fine. As I walk forward on the strappy heels Hawk provided for me, I quickly take in the rest of the deck. There are only the three of us, plus the guard with his rifle pointed at my back, pushing me forward. The ocean around us spreads out like black ink, reflecting the crystal clear moonlight above and creating what looks like a glittering white stairway to the horizon.
I can’t see anything that resembles land in the darkness which means Hawk’s moved us far enough from shore that diving off and swimming will be impossible. Not that Cian could do that with his leg.
The barrel of the gun prods into my lower back when my steps slow and as I reach the chair at the other end of the table with my name on a placard, the guard lands his heavy hand on my shoulder and shoves me down into it.
“Geez,” I mutter. “Can’t a lady take a moment to adjust her dress before sitting?”
“I’ll adjust the dress all you want me to,” snorts the guard.
Suddenly, the pop of a gunshot rings out through the still air and the guard’s head snaps back like it was attached to a leashsuddenly drawn tight. Warm blood sprays down from above me as the guard topples backward and lands down on the deck behind me, dead.
I stare in shock as droplets from the spray begin rolling down my bare arm and neck. Turning, I glance up the table to Cian’s stunned expression and Hawk lowering the gun.
“My apologies,” Hawk says. “I did not bring you here to be disrespected.”
“Because cameras in my room are respectful?” I lock eyes with Hawk as I pick up the cotton napkin and begin wiping the blood from my neck and arm.
“Security is necessary, and cameras don’t talk back now, do they?”
Cian’s head swivels between the two of us and once the surprise passes, an angry curl settles deep into his brow. “Is this all part of your entertainment?”
“Killing my men?” Hawk scoffs lowly and spits out his toothpick. “No. I simply won’t have my guests disrespected until I’m finished with them. He overstepped and he was dealt with. Simple.”
Confusion warps Cian’s brow deeper. “You’ll kill your own men but serve us dinner?”
“Ah!” Hawk’s face lights up and he raises one hand, snapping his fingers. “Dinner.”
A surge of staff dressed in black pants and white coats pour from the closed doors around the deck and within a few minutes, the table is creaking under the weight of even more food. Something akin to a pheasant smothered in gravy with a small ball of mashis placed in front of me, and a deep red wine is poured into the glass to my right.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was at some fancy restaurant back home. The sight of the food turns my stomach, though, so as Hawk lifts his cutlery and attacks his meal like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, I catch the sleeve of one of the waiters.
“Can I have some water?”
They stare at me as if I’ve asked something terribly obscene and Hawk’s laughter drifts down the table.
“They don’t speak English,” he says around a large mouthful of food.
I repeat the question in the three other languages I know, Spanish, Russian, and Italian. The Italian brings recognition across the face of the man, and he hurries away, returning almost immediately with a bottle of water.
Thanking him, I crack it open and drink deeply. Cian keeps sneaking glances at me, and I try to meet each one to assure him that I’m okay, and relief warms my heart to see him free from any apparent injury.
“Do you really expect us to sit here and share a meal with you?” Cian asks sharply. “Aftereverything, you think I would break bread with the man who slaughtered my family? For a man who claims to be a genius, you’re fucking stupid.”
Hawk pauses his eating and stares down at his plate. “Are you vegetarian?”
“Huh?”
“I said, are you a vegetarian? Because I can accommodate that?—”
“Fuck you!” Cian swipes his arm across the table and sends his plate of food and two glasses crashing to the floor where they shatter into a hundred pieces. “Enough of these fucking games!”
“Fine.” Hawk’s pleasant expression darkens in an instant. He picks up his napkin and wipes his mouth, then he tosses it down onto his plate and picks up his wine while looking up at Cian.
“I have a proposal for you, Cian. And it’s really simple.”
“I want nothing from you,” Cian spits.
“Refuse,” Hawk says, pausing to drink, “and I’ll kill Faina and lock you up until your trauma makes you claw your fucking eyes out.”
