Fuck, no.
Fuck, yes.She was a formidable adversary, lover, ghost.One glimpse of her in tight jeans and that goddamn baseball cap turned him into a weapon with the safety off.
He resented the hell out of the way she made him feel, his skin prickling as if she were already touching him.Resented how his hands remembered the exact weight of her hips and how his mouth knew the taste of her throat when she came undone.Resented that his body didn’t give a damn that she’d put him through a living funeral?—
A discreet knock on the door jolted him back to the present.
“Sir?”
He drew a breath and forced his shoulders to relax.“Send her in.”
His erection throbbed in brutal agreement.
No one knew better than he that emotion was a liability.Being dumped in a shop doorway as a child might have something to do with that.Foster homes only cemented his belief that nothing lasted and no one could be trusted.Sable had proved it when she disappeared without a word.
He’d trusted only two women.The first was Mara, a young girl a couple of years older than him who had shielded him in one of the worst hellholes he’d ever encountered.Starvation and beatings had been the least of it.Fending off the sickening attention from both “mother” and “father” in that foster home had kept him pretty busy too.
Sable also had a rough history, most of which she kept back, he suspected, but that early pain was the glue that brought them together.Whatever her past, Sable had managed to find the bright side of life.She made him feel things he’d never experienced: fun, laughter, and light in the dark place they both inhabited.
That made her betrayal doubly inexcusable.
Enough reminiscing.It was time to interrogate the disruptor-in-chief.
* * *
TheSeraphimwas breathtaking.Her first impression was luxury taken to the nth degree, but the tingle down her spine suggested this was misleading.It was Elijah’s vessel, after all.
Light poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing pale oak, brushed steel, and low, sculptural furniture in muted grays and creams.Gorgeous.And this was just the entrance.Low sofas dressed in linen and cashmere were in the best possible taste.A faint scent of cedar and the ocean pervaded the air.Everything was high-end, classy, and understated.
On closer inspection, she spotted hidden seams and invisible hinges?—
“Ms.Alexandrovna”
“My apologies.”There was just enough time to assess a series of panels too perfectly aligned to be mere decoration.She’d have given anything to know what lay beneath.Best guess?They concealed the vessel’s true nature.
Best guess?Reinforced compartments housing tactical equipment.TheSeraphimmight be a sanctuary on the surface: calming, elegant, and exquisitely refined, but beneath the pale wood and quiet beauty throbbed the hull-deep hum of a battleship.
“The Grand Salon.”
Her escort had paused to make the announcement.No wonder he felt he had to comment.The space was incredible.Turning slowly, she took in the soft cream kidskin seating, black marble surfaces, and the abundance of crystal goblets, safely stored in secure glass cabinets above the bar.The Grand Salon was designed to impress.It was easy to picture heads of state, oligarchs, and other mysterious clients with deep pockets and deeper problems standing exactly where she stood now.She’d still bet her life that theSeraphim’s deadliest fangs remained hidden.
The escort cleared his throat.
Taking the hint, she followed him to a lower deck, where luxury gave way to silence.The layout was sparser and more practical.The only sound was the faint hum of the engines.No crew was visible, yet the prickling awareness of surveillance suggested she was being watched.
Cameras everywhere, she reminded herself.And, somewhere close by, a control room where her every move would be monitored.
Elijah’s army was probably cleaning rifles, studying maps and satellite images, or running drills behind armored doors.Brushing her hand across the wall’s smooth, cool surface, she could only guess at the number of sensors and bulletproof tech beneath.
Elijah left nothing to chance.
TheSeraphimwas an iceberg, glittering and showy above the waterline, but with a lethal killer instinct beneath.
Determination surged through her as she pictured the captives in their cells.How different life was for them.Chains chafing their skin as they endured stench and terror, with no guarantee of a better future.She would remain on Elijah’s yacht until she had his firm commitment to undertake the mission.He’d have to set aside whatever he thought of her.Too many innocent lives were at stake.
They entered another, more populated part of the ship where tough-looking individuals in black tactical gear ignored them.
The closer she came to Elijah, the more apparent theSeraphim’s true purpose became.His floating fortress was a perfect representation of one man’s indomitable will.Complex and highly intelligent, who else could rise from squalor to create such a formidable force?And then, to help as many people as possible, present theSeraphim, his most powerful weapon, as a spoiled billionaire’s playground.
