“Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll make sure we’re still breathing when the sun comes up.” But she was right about the pain, and there was only one way to stop his hunger. Besides, she’d kissed him first. “But just in case…”
He clutched the back of her head, twisting his fingers through her hair, and tilted her face toward his, lowering his mouth. Her lips parted, and she let him in. He went slow…gentle. Then, like a man gasping for oxygen, he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She tasted so good. Good he didn’t deserve. Good he couldn’t have.
He regained control and pulled his mouth away then clicked the Q40’s throttle into high gear. The Q40 jolted forward, faster and faster and faster.
He’d just made one giant size mistake. One he hadn’t made before. One he wouldn’t make again.
Still, what was it about her? What?
Chapter Eight
For the past couple of hours, Mitch had steered the Q40 northwest across the Gulf of Mexico, focused on not becoming mesmerized by the tunnel vision aspect. Even in the dark, he had to continually keep his eyes moving and his reflexes alert. Of course, Liz’s tiny movements against his chest every so often had more than kept him alert.
Her tucked against him had felt natural. Like she’d been part of him forever.
He’d told her to get some rest. Evidently, she trusted him enough to do just that. The few times he’d stretched his legs or shifted on the seat had disturbed her enough to elicit soft moans of annoyance as she moved in return. Hopefully that would be enough to keep her blood flowing and nerves active, instead of cramping her movements by staying in one position too long.
Each time she’d settled back against him, she felt warm and inviting. Sure, he’d woken up next to a lot of women in his lifetime, even let himself care for one once. Their life together had lasted six months before she gave him an ultimatum—her or OPAQUE. She couldn’t take the hours, the danger, the unknown. He’d thrown his toothbrush in a bag, wished her well, walked out the door, and never looked back.
Swerving to avoid another small pod of dolphins, or whatever else lurked beneath the surface, was just what he needed to push himself back into assignment mode. An occasional spray of water droplets provided enough cooling to keep him awake. Thankfully, the Q40 had cruise control.
He replayed their escape from Captiva. One move at a time. Was there anything he could have done different? Anything?
The sound of gunshots from the beach house, coupled with the explosion on the horizon, meant a well-planned attack had been underway from Coercion Ten. How? How had they zeroed in on the Captiva safe house so quick? How had they even known about the place? Hopefully, his team had been able to hold them off until the FBI arrived. The sirens meant local police had been involved, also.
He focused on the Q40’s dash screen. Nothing there but the dull green glow; not even the wave symbol appeared in the upper corner. OPAQUE had to be tracking them, keeping the info encrypted so others on the water couldn’t decipher any messages they might intercept. His last message had stated Drake was still in charge of the overall case. Reese Trenton had been added to Mitch’s team.
Tired didn’t begin to explain the ache in Mitch’s muscles. OPAQUE would have counted on him holing up somewhere, which would give them time to get in place for a rendezvous. But by now there should be some contact. If he didn’t hear anything in the next few hours, he’d make his own plans.
He dragged his foot in the water, deliberately spraying the wave against his body once again. Liz was tucked against his chest and sleeping, covered beneath the solar vest. She’d stay dry. He’d stay awake.
Keeping his mind moving, he went through everything that had happened since he walked into the Mariner’s bar back in Fort Myers. Trying to find minute details that might hint at why Coercion Ten had Liz and her father in their crosshairs. He searched for any clue somebody had said in passing. Anything Liz had told him. Nothing.
Leaving his team behind had been hard. But escape had been the only way to keep her alive.
After leaving home at sixteen, he hated abandoning anyone. But life, Drake, and assignments had had a way of drilling other undeniable facts into his thinking. What bothered him most was that this was the first time he’d had to leave his team behind when he was the leader.
Usually, he stayed. He covered everyone’s rear. He fought to find a way out after everyone else was safe.
The idea that sometimes the only way to save others was to leave tasted bitter on his tongue. He hadn’t liked hearing his team battle the enemy as he fled. Still, he’d done what had to be done.
Briefly, he laid his cheek against the top of her head. Her hair tickled against him in the breeze. He jerked his head and emotions back, focusing instead on the dash screen’s sonar images. Nothing mattered right now but staying alive. And, staying out of Coercion Ten’s reaches.
Surely, Drake and the rest of the OPAQUE group had zeroed in on what was going on. Following the trail backward sometimes yielded results, but at the moment, there wasn’t much trail to even speculate.
However, one possibility gnawed at his what-if mind. What if this case wasn’t actually about Liz and her dad? What if the true target had been—
The sonar screen flashed from green to blue. The words “hot meal straight ahead” scrolled across the bottom of the screen a couple of times, then the blue background changed to green.
He breathed a sigh of relief—the cavalry had arrived. Finally.
Right on cue, the wave in the right-hand corner appeared, and he tapped the screen in response.
“Liz.” He gently nudged her arm, hoping to wake her up without putting her into panic mode. “Liz…wake up.”
She stretched her neck sideways, sighing as the palms of her hands brushed across his chest. She stopped. Eyes wide open, she gasped and started to push at him, wrestling to get out of the solar vest, clawing at his chest with a force to make an enemy shove her aside.
He wasn’t her enemy, but at the moment he felt like chucking her in the water. She’d pinched the skin beneath his arm with one hand. Latched onto his chest with the other, scraping her fingernails across his abs, into his side.
