Lonnie had wantedto surprise us when he greeted us in person. At least, that's what he said when we finally got the airlock and bay doors open, and he helped us onto the prettiest boat on the ocean, my 17-foot speedboat with a 450-horsepower in-board motor and green shadow flames licking the gold flake paint.
Lonnie was a monster of a man at six-feet-four and three hundred pounds. He'd slimmed down from his linebacker days, but I still preferred to have him at my back rather than a hired bodyguard. His long black hair was pulled back into a braided ponytail, and his thick black beard hid the dimpled chin and chiseled jawline of the preppy gym rat I first met.
"This is my boat," I said in the sternest voice I could muster. Lonnie had strict orders to leave her at home after he almost beached her on a coral reef. I patted the warm vinyl seat as I slid over to give Gunnar room beside me. "It's okay, baby," I whispered to the boat. "We'll get you home soon."
"It's faster than your yacht," Lonnie said.
Gunnar turned to me with a look of betrayal.
"I don't have a yacht," I lied.
Lonnie returned to his place at the wheel. "I wasn't joking about that aircraft carrier turning on a dime. It's headed this way. Your dad has higher connections than I thought."
"He wants his shuttle back. It'll take them a few minutes to figure out how to tow it." We'd left the airlocks open with the waves lapping at her sides. It was only a matter of time before a wave caught the opening just right and she took on water.
Gunnar sat on the bench seat beside me. In the shuttle, I'd had my seatbelts to keep me in line, but here, I draped my arm over his shoulders and pulled him against me. He fit perfectly under my arm, though his glare from so close made me regret my life decisions almost immediately.
"What are you doing?" He pushed off my chest, stiff-arming me until he was on the opposite end, where only my fingertips could brush his shoulder.
"You're my mate," I whispered so only he could hear me over the engine's roar and the waves splashing against the side of the boat as Lonnie picked up speed.
"Maybe when we're wolves, but when we're human … we don't fit."
"I think we fit together pretty well," I said, remembering how wonderful he felt against my side.
He shook his head and turned his attention to the spray of water arcing alongside the boat. This time, he laughed when I scooted closer and pulled him against me again.
"You don't take a hint, do you."
I nosed along his neck and up the close-shaved part of his scalp. He smelled divine, even after a week without a real shower. "I want to lick you."
"Please don't."
"Port's busy today." Lonnie pointed, but he was still revving the engine so high, I saw nothing but sky out the windshield. I kissed Gunnar's temple, which earned me a swat on the chest before I ventured against gravity to the front passenger seat opposite Lonnie.
"Holy shit, you don't say." My resort had its own dock three miles north of Kailua Bay. I was thankful for it today. "Did Dad offer a reward for information on our whereabouts or something?" I could see a few news cameras setting up on the boardwalk, and several fishing vessels prepared to set sail.
"You're lucky you left the shuttle," Lonnie said. "That would have been a dead giveaway."
"This is my boat," I reminded him. A few of the younger folks on the dock had already turned their phones toward us. "He already knows we're here."
"You'll be in the air in less than a half-hour," my best friend in the world reassured me. "Meanwhile, he'll think you and your new boyfriend are at the Vegas suite for the next week."
I blinked at the title. The Vegas suite was the perfect ruse, but Gunnar was so much more than my boyfriend.
"Where are you headed?" Lonnie asked. "Wait. Don't tell me. Plausible deniability. Tell your pilot when you're in the air."
He knew me too well. "One day, you're coming with me."
"Munich," he reminded me. "October 30th. Don't forget."
"I won't," I promised. It would take a natural disaster or prison time to keep me from spending my bestie's birthday with him.
The resort's boat had just returned from a snorkeling trip, judging by the guests' gear. Lonnie surprised me by skipping the dock and pulling around to the boat house instead. We pulled alongside the 75-foot offshore yacht I kept there when I wasn't using it.
"No yacht?" Gunnar pointed at her hull, where her name,Moonrise,glittered in the same gold flake paint outlined in black.
"That's the resort's ship."
