Air Bound

5

THERE was a long silence. Maxim sank down onto the bed beside Airiana. He reached out and covered her nervous fingers with his palm, unable to stop himself. He knew each time his skin touched hers, he was going down a path there might not be recovery from, but he couldn’t stand the way she seemed so alone and frightened. He was systematically destroying her world.

Airiana didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she lifted her long, spiked, tear-wet lashes. “I’m crying again.”

“I know. I’m not happy about it either.”

“Neither am I,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to stop.”

He slid across the bed, his back to the wall and drew up his knees as well. He kept close, his shoulder and thigh tight against hers. “That’s all right. This one time I’ll let it go.”

“Thanks.” She turned her face toward him and rested her head on her knees. “Is Theodotus really my father?”

“I have proof.”

“I happen to know what family you come from, although I know I’m not supposed to know, and I’m certain you can manufacture proof of anything you want.”

“That’s true. I can. But I didn’t. You’re really his daughter. And you really are in danger. I give you my word, once you speak with him, I’ll take you back to your home if you really want to go back.” That was a promise he would probably regret making, but he’d keep it.

“When are we getting out of here?”

“We’ll leave the ship around three in the morning.” He felt the small shudder that ran through her body and resisted the urge to put his arm around her. The less physical contact he had with her the better.

“Don’t sharks feed at night?”

“You really do have a thing about swimming, don’t you?” He kept his voice gentle. She was holding on by a thread. The tears still streamed down her face, but she was weeping quietly.

“Yes. I know it’s weird when I live on the coast, and I actually love the sea, but I don’t even put my feet in it.”

He sighed. “Baby, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to have to hold you. That could be bad for both of us.”

She kept looking at him with her eyes that reminded him of the sky at night during a summer rain.

“All right then.” He surrendered to the inevitable. “I’m not going to be responsible for anything strange that happens between us.” He simply picked her up. She didn’t weigh much and it was easy enough to pull her onto his lap. She fit nicely into the shelter of his chest.

Airiana’s head rested against his chest, right over his heart. He was fairly certain his heart was pounding hard enough for her to hear. How the hell did a woman so small, and weepy at that, affect him the way she did? He’d shut off his emotions far too many years earlier. There was no other way to survive in his business.

“Go to sleep. At least rest. I’ll hear if anyone tries to come into the cabin,” he advised, one hand going to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging the tight muscles.

“You think someone will, don’t you?” Her lashes fluttered, dropped down, and some of the tension eased out of her under the soothing pressure.

“Prince Saeed doesn’t like to be told no. I suspect no one has ever done it before and lived. He’ll send his bodyguards.” He didn’t bother to keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

“You want him to send them.”

“He won’t have brought very many aboard ship. When you’re killing children, I don’t care how much money you have, you don’t advertise it much. He’ll keep his guards to a minimum.”

She lifted her head to look up at him. “You’re going to kill him.”

“Damn right I am.” There was no apology in his voice. He didn’t feel particularly apologetic. He’d missed the bastard twice. How many young women had suffered at the hands of a monster because he’d been unable to get the job done?

She was silent a moment. He held himself still, telling himself it didn’t matter what she thought of him. She was a package to be delivered, nothing more. Her opinion of him didn’t—couldn’t—matter. His life, from the time he was a child, had been this—killing, serving his country, removing men like Saeed from the face of the earth. She couldn’t possibly understand the filth and depravity he’d witnessed. The cruelty.

Maxim didn’t want Airiana to ever know such things. It had been bad enough that she’d seen that young girl dead in Saeed’s room while the prince had drooled over Airiana. Maxim had wanted to kill the monster right there in the passageway, even knowing his bodyguards were close. Had he actually laid his hands on Airiana, Maxim knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.

“How can I help?”

His fingers ceased giving that slow massage to her neck and shoulders. It was the last thing he expected her to say.

“Airiana, I’m going to kill him,” he repeated.

“I’m scared, Maxim, not hard of hearing.” There was resolution in her voice. “He tortured and killed that girl, and he’s probably doing the same to another one right now. I sat here thinking that could have been me, or Lexi. It could be any child he takes a fancy to. I don’t want to give him that chance, not ever again. Maybe it’s wrong, but I don’t care if it is. She was like a broken toy to him, nothing at all. He’d already dismissed her and was looking for the next one.”

He allowed himself a breath. A deep inhale, taking her scent into his lungs, feeling it fill him, spread through his system, penetrating every cell in his body. He was making the effort to console her, and in some strange way, she was comforting him.

She’d found a way of getting inside of him. She’d slipped in when he wasn’t prepared, breaching his every defense before he knew he even had chinks in his armor. He hadn’t realized he was vulnerable. She actually made him feel naked, completely exposed. It was an uncomfortable feeling and one he didn’t like.

“Killing someone isn’t easy, Airiana.” His voice was gruff. Harsh, even.

“I can’t imagine it would be, nor is it supposed to be.”

She lifted her head to look him directly in the eyes and he felt the jerk of his heart in response. Her tears were gone. Her eyes were dark blue now, like a midnight sky. Steady. Soft. She turned him inside out with that look of complete understanding.

He damned well didn’t need her understanding—or approval. Still, there was no getting away from her eyes. He’d lost his soul a long time ago, forgotten he even had one, but she found it there inside of him, the last little piece he’d thought long gone and she’d claimed it for her own. Somehow, those blue eyes in her perfect face looked right inside of him and found—Maxim Prakenskii.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

She blinked. Frowned. “Why?”

“Because I need to, and the first time I was just being a bastard. I am, you know. A complete and utter bastard with no redeeming qualities.”

She smiled a slow, beautiful smile that could steal a man’s breath. “I think you have a few, Maxim. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re capable of ridding the world of a monster like the prince. I’d say that was a redeeming quality right there.”

He framed her face with both hands and leaned down to take possession of her mouth. She should have pulled away from him. Didn’t the woman have a single ounce of self-preservation? More to the point, didn’t he?

Her lips were just as soft as he remembered. Angel lips. So perfect they couldn’t be human. He wanted to feel something real. Just for a moment—for this small stolen instance of time they shared.

Kissing her was absolutely inexcusable and inappropriate. He was taking advantage of her vulnerability, but damn it all, once wasn’t enough. He hadn’t kissed her properly. Or nearly long enough. He had every intention of rectifying that situation.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entrance, and she opened her mouth for him. His breath moved through her, through him as his tongue swept inside to taste her. To claim her. Or was she claiming him? He felt himself falling into her.

Her kiss swept him away, far away from his past. From himself. From the ugliness of his life. She took him to a place that he’d never even imagined or fantasized about. One touch. So tentative, her tongue tangling with his.

He hadn’t known he could be gentle. Not like this. Not bordering on tender. He was a rough man, so much so that he’d never really been asked to seduce a woman, when he knew every trick there was.

Emotion burst through him, as if somewhere deep inside a dam had burst. She was small, inexperienced, yet he felt as if she’d taken a battering ram to his heart. He was actually shaken by her touch. In that moment, with his mouth devouring hers, he felt as if no one in the world could possibly feel such intensity of emotion as he did. She was building a firestorm in him—and that was dangerous to both of them.

Reluctantly he lifted his head, knowing he had to stop. He stared down into her face for a long time, fighting to find that place of stillness in him. His heart raced. His breathing was ragged. She affected him as no one else had ever done—or could ever do. He was certain of that.

“Why did you let me kiss you?” he asked, still shaken.

A small, mischievous smile curved her lower lip, the one he was far too intrigued with. Her blue eyes had gone smoky. Sexy. A little glazed from his kisses.

“Well, we’re probably going to die trying to kill Saeed and his friends. Or if we make it off the ship and into the ocean, the sharks will finish us off. Even if you survive, my chances are fairly slim. I’m sure you noticed I don’t have a lot of experience, in fact, you’re the first man to ever kiss me, so since we’re going to die, it just seemed like a good idea.”

He stared down into the amusement in her amazing blue eyes. He found himself smiling with her. “I’m your first?”

She nodded. “Yep. Probably my last as well. As kisses go, it rocked. Just in case you wanted to know.” She pulled back, slipping off his lap, hugging her knees to her again, back against the wall. “I suppose if I have to die, at least I can check that off my list.”

His eyebrow shot up. “What else can I help you with on that list? Surely a kiss isn’t the only thing you’re looking forward to doing before you die.”

A small laugh escaped her throat. Soft. Amused. A thread of sound, no more, but his insides did a crazy slow somersault and his palm itched like hell. She was killing him without trying. For a moment he entertained the idea that she was the enemy agent trained in the art of seduction, because he was the one being seduced.

“I think we’ll leave it at a kiss.”

“Have you forgotten those sharks? Great whites feed here.”

“Really? I thought they fed in coastal waters mainly. We’re far from coastal waters and moving fast.”

He sighed. He had to do something about that. He glanced at his watch, surprised Saeed hadn’t made his move yet. The man had been furious that Maxim, a lowly arms dealer, would dare deny him a woman he wanted. “They’ll be along any minute. They’ll be coming in hard and fast, trying to kill me to take you. I’m going to give you a rifle, an MP-5. It’s a semiautomatic and shoots nine millimeter cartridges so it has a low recoil. That means you’re going to fire one round at a time if necessary to save your life. Only if absolutely necessary. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves and bring the crew down here. The magazine has the standard thirty rounds, but if we need it, we have more.”

“I’m familiar with the weapon,” Airiana said. “I’ve been working with various firearms. Thomas and Levi, my brothers-in-law, have insisted all of us know how to shoot. I’m fairly decent.” She tried to look innocent and wide-eyed when she mentioned his brothers.

He ignored the reference. “Aim for the middle of the body if you’re a fairly decent shot. Don’t get creative and go for the head shot. You don’t want to miss. Remember, shooting at a human being is different than shooting a target and you can’t hesitate.”

Airiana nodded, watching as Maxim opened a locker and pulled out a fairly large war bag. He handed her a small stack of neatly folded clothes. She took them reluctantly. They were all black, thin, but warm. A turtleneck, long sleeve sweater, as well as form-fitting pants. “These are my size. I suppose you went shopping?”

“You’ll need to change right now,” he instructed, his voice once more brisk and impersonal, as if he still wasn’t reeling from his close contact with her. He kept his back to her. He didn’t need to see bare skin—and he wasn’t about to answer her loaded question. “I’ve got soft-soled shoes for you and a wet suit. You won’t need the wet suit until later, but get changed.”

He could hear the whisper of clothing and was grateful she didn’t argue with him. She was aware of the danger and definitely had made up her mind to aid him. Maybe the fact that she knew he was a Prakenskii was an advantage. She seemed to accept her two brothers-in-law. He did have to consider her family, the only thing he was truly loyal to and fiercely protective of, so his behavior couldn’t possibly be as bizarre as he first thought.

“Okay,” she said softly, “you can turn around now.”

He took her folded clothes from her hand, resisting the urge to inhale their scent, and stowed them in his waterproof bag. He’d noticed the old sweater seemed to mean a lot to her. He exchanged the clothes for new shoes. Her combat boots would be too loud, too heavy and clumsy where they were going.

He didn’t dare leave her behind in their room while he took care of Saeed as he’d intended. It was too risky. He’d seen the way Cyreck had looked at her and knew it was only a matter of time before the man got stupid and came demanding he get his turn. In any case, he doubted if Airiana would have been satisfied being left behind now that she’d thrown her lot in with his.

Knowing that the cargo vessel was really part of the Gratsos floating sex trade made his mission far more encompassing then he’d first thought. He had to make certain what was on the ship came to light.

“We’re going to have to do something about your hair. It’s too—blond.” The color was highly unusual. “Does it glow in the dark?”

“Ha, ha, and I’m not dyeing my hair black.”

She looked a little hurt, although he’d been attempting a joke. She was frightened, but standing with him, giving her his trust when he hadn’t really earned it, and that nearly broke him right there. He wasn’t a man anyone trusted. He caught strands of her wild, bedroom hair in between his fingers. Pure silk. “A man would give his life to feel your hair on his body, moving over his chest and thighs. It’s beautiful. Truly beautiful. But we’ll have to cover it up so you’re safer.”

She blinked at him, a little shocked, but she nodded.

He hadn’t really intended to say what was in his mind, but it was there, a little bit of the erotic fantasy already playing in his head when he didn’t have such things. “A hat. A scarf. Something,” he added briskly. He ripped a piece from a dark shirt from his pack and handed it to her. “Do that thing women do when they want to cover their hair.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but obediently tied back her hair and wrapped it with the strip of material. “Seriously, do you know how chauvinistic you can sound?”

“Yes.” He made up a small pack for her, with a knife and extra ammo, just in case, before handing her the rifle. “Don’t be tempted to shoot me.”

“You’ll have to take it back before we enter the water,” she cautioned, her smile tight. Frightened. Not lighting her incredible eyes. “That’s the only way you’ll really be safe.”

He shook his head, wanting to smile when he could feel his muscles beginning to grow loose and relaxed, while deep inside he coiled tighter and tighter like a snake, just waiting. His alarm system had begun shrieking at him and there was no time left. He caught her hand and tugged her toward the locker.

“Get behind my bag and lay on the floor of the locker just in case they come in with guns blazing.” He kept his voice a thread of sound between them, allowing the air to create their own private communication system. “I doubt they’ll do that because they won’t want any undue attention drawn to them any more than we do.”

Airiana glanced at the locker. It was very small. She could fit, but she didn’t much care for closed-in spaces. “Where will you be?”

“Where I can see them coming at us, but they can’t see me,” he said. “No matter what happens, Airiana, you can’t make a sound. Do you understand?”

“How will I know it’s you when I hear someone trying to open the locker door?”

The fearful note in her voice turned his heart over. “You’ll know it’s me.” He reached out his hand to her. “Get in now.” Instincts were kicking in, his radar warning him the enemy was close.

“If you really stop them from taking me,” Airiana ventured, “won’t the crew try to kill you as well? And if they think you’ll tell someone about what really happens aboard this vessel, won’t they just kill the women and children immediately?”

He cursed her intelligence under his breath, but he wasn’t going to lie about it. There were too many other things he had to lie—or at least mislead her—about. “Yes.” His voice was grim. “Now get in the damned locker.”

She placed her hand in his. Small. Soft. Not the hand of a woman used to fighting for her life—or the lives of others. She looked him straight in the eye. There it was again. That trust. To a man like him that was pure gold. A treasure beyond any price. She had no idea what she was gifting him with, and that made it all the sweeter.

He kept his eyes on hers, holding her gaze captive while she stepped inside. Her face was stark white, and her mouth trembled, but she slowly knelt and then lay behind his heavy, waterproof bag.

“They’re coming.” He kept the thread of his voice between them. “Don’t make a sound.”

She nodded, and he closed the locker door, muffling the sound so the men sneaking down the passageway couldn’t possibly hear. Opening the grate over the window, he called in the fog, beckoning long gray fingers toward the ship and into the small cabin before leaping up to catch the ventilation screen above his head. He lowered the metal grate carefully and swung into the small space.

For a big man, he was flexible and used to closed-in compartments. He was also very patient and could remain still for hours if necessary. He didn’t know about Airiana. She had looked very fragile and vulnerable as she slipped behind his war bag. The damned thing was bigger than she was.

The hatch swung open abruptly and four men spilled inside. He recognized them. Prince Saeed didn’t go far without them. Conley and Shamar Dover were brothers, mercenaries with a sizable reputation. Saeed considered them the best in the business. Maxim had run across many others far better. They were loyal to Saeed because he paid them massive amounts of money and kept them supplied with women and all the weapons they could possibly want to play with.

Yosuf and Jamel had grown up with Prince Saeed and entertained him as boys. They were used to his savage, brutal need for blood and death. He enjoyed hurting others, and they had learned if they didn’t want to be one of his victims, they had to continue supplying him with warm bodies. Over the years they had become accustomed to disposing of the dead and covering for him. He compensated them and considered them true friends.

Yosuf approached the locker, reaching a hand to open it. Before he could touch it, Maxim slammed the heavy metal grate into his head, driving him back into Jamel. Both men staggered, Jamel trying to catch Yosuf before he fell. Blood streamed down Yosuf’s face from the wicked cut to his temple.

Maxim swung down from the small, cramped space in the ceiling, using his momentum to kick Conley with both boots right in the face. He dropped in front of Shamar, his knife slicing deep into the inner thigh, up high to sever the artery. He turned and threw the knife at Jamel, the blade sinking deep into the carotid in his neck. As Jamel fell, Maxim caught Shamar’s wrist with biting fingers, digging deep into the pressure point to open his fist and remove the bodyguard’s knife.

Jamel was dead, and Shamar wasn’t far behind him. Maxim threw himself forward onto the floor, using a scissor kick to weave his legs between Yosuf’s legs as the bodyguard came at him. He rolled, taking Yosuf hard to the floor. Slamming Shamar’s knife into Yosuf’s throat hard, he kicked the body off of him and rose, facing Conley.

Conley spat blood and teeth onto the floor. He brought his knife in close, protecting his possession of it. Maxim pulled another knife from the sheath at the small of his back. They stared at each another, two warriors who had performed this dance too many times.

“You son of a bitch, you killed my brother,” Conley hissed between his broken teeth. His eyes glittered with anger and the need for revenge.

“He was a first-class, pompous asshole and a rapist and murderer. No one’s going to miss him much.” Maxim kept his voice pleasant. “Your own mother put out a hit on the two of you. She knew you were scum.”

He had no idea if the woman kept in contact with her sons, but she’d certainly come under investigation and she seemed decent enough. Conley had a temper. He liked to beat his opponents to death with his hands. He held a couple of boxing titles and had competed in martial art events when he was young. Riling him up shouldn’t be too difficult.

Conley spat more blood on the floor, aiming for the toe of Maxim’s boots. “I’m going to cut you into little pieces and feed you to the sharks,” he snapped.

The bodyguard followed his threat with action, coming in hard and fast. He was good with a knife, but not nearly as fast as his brother had been. Maxim had disposed of the most dangerous threats as quickly as possible. Maxim met Conley halfway, their hands moving with blurring speed. Deliberately Maxim blocked several attacks and cut small slices into Conley’s arms and chest.

Swearing, Conley kept coming. “You always did think you were better than us.”

“I’ve always known it,” Maxim replied softly.

He sidestepped the bodyguard, shoving at the man as he went past. The hard push sent Conley stumbling, and Maxim was on him like a large jungle cat, thrusting his knife deep into the right kidney and twisting to get the maximum damage possible as he pulled out to do the same to the left kidney.

Conley dropped hard, choking. Maxim kicked the knife out of the fallen man’s hand and crouched down beside him. “Go to hell, Conley. It’s where the two of you belong.” He cut the man’s throat.

Shamar held up his hand as Maxim approached. “Just let me die in peace.”

“Like all those children you let your boss rape and murder? Did they die in peace?” Maxim asked, his voice low, keeping the words between them. “What’s his body count, Shamar? Five hundred? More? He’s been raping and killing for years. Little children, and you helped him. You’re just as guilty as he is.”

“So just let me die. What difference does it make?”

Maxim’s radar went off. He forced a smile. “Stall tactics and not very good ones at that.”

He watched Shamar’s eyes, and sure enough the “tell” was there. A small narrowing, just enough to let Maxim know he was right in his assumption that the four men hadn’t come alone. Shamar didn’t want to die in peace, he wanted to make certain the bastard who killed him died as well. There was at least one other in the passageway waiting to ambush Maxim should he come out alive.

He cut Shamar’s throat without another word. Very carefully he moved toward the hatch, blowing softly into the middle of the room so that more fog began to swirl around. He took up a position just to the side of the hatch, staying low, prepared to wait while the fog built in density.

He pressed his thumb into the very center of his palm where it itched. He knew the meaning, and knew what he had to do to give himself some relief, but if he put his mark on Airiana, his claim bound him just as it did her.

That face. Those eyes. The trust she’d given him when he’d ruthlessly taken her from the sanctuary of her home. He didn’t know women like Airiana existed. Certainly they didn’t in his world. She didn’t belong with him, no matter what his body or his head said. It would be impossible.

Men like him didn’t have wives or families. Loved ones were liabilities and could be used against him. He’d learned that rule when he’d been a boy and his parents had been murdered in front of him.

He directed the fog in small tiny fingers to slip through the slightly open door, just a touch, enough to pique the curiosity of whoever waited for him. Into the silence, he “threw” Shamar’s voice. “You weren’t so tough after all, were you?”

Out in the passageway, someone heavy moved. A second pair of footsteps, much lighter than the first, moved closer to the cabin. The heavier man took the left side of the hatch while the lighter man took the right.

“We’re clear,” Maxim called out, sounding annoyed, his voice the exact pitch of Shamar’s. “He hid the girl.”

“He can’t have hidden her too well,” the heavier man began, walking into the cabin. He halted when he saw the density of the fog. “What the hell is this?”

“He had the vent to the outside open,” Shamar’s voice came from across the room. “I think he pushed her into the cubbyhole up above. She could fit there.”

Maxim waited for the man with the lighter footsteps to enter, but he didn’t even come to the hatch. If anything, he’d shifted away from the cabin. Maxim didn’t wait. If this man’s partner was becoming suspicious, he needed to kill them both and be done with it.

He came up behind the heavyset man fast, his arm locking around his throat, his knife stabbing him deep in the chest, right in the heart. He used the same twisting motion as he withdrew, the one ensuring as much damage as possible, but just for good measure, he lowered the body silently to the floor and cut his throat.

Using the fog to guide him, he somersaulted out of the room right to the feet of the last bodyguard, slashing across his thighs fast and deep, coming to his feet as he slammed his knife under the man’s arm then he brought his weapon up high to slash down across his neck.

The bodyguard staggered back, gurgled and toppled before Maxim could catch him. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to come down to the cabin and discover a pool of blood—not before he was ready for them.

He dragged the fallen man into his cabin and hurried to the locker. “Airiana, don’t shoot. And don’t look. Just stand up and look only at me.” He pulled the door open, blocking the view in the room with his body and the fog.

“How many?” she asked.

“Saeed sent six. He meant business,” Maxim said, reaching for his bag. He shouldered it easily and then caught her up with one hand, swinging her around to his back. “Hang on. And close your eyes until we’re out of here.”

Airiana clung to him, burying her face against his back. He was grateful she didn’t struggle. He stepped over two of the bodies and skirted a third. He felt her sudden inhale, a kind of gasping shock, and knew she had seen the two bodies nearest the hatch.

“I said not to look,” he snapped. “Just do as I say. You need to obey me when I tell you to do something. I don’t just say it to hear myself talk.”

She pressed her face into his back without speaking, and he found himself sighing softly. Once into the corridor he closed the hatch, took her a few more feet away from the blood splatter and set her down.

“Are you all right?”

She didn’t look at him. “Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t try to look, not like you think. I wasn’t curious, it was more confirmation.”

It cost her to admit the truth. She needed to see a body to know he had actually fought off Saeed’s men and it wasn’t some kind of elaborate game he was playing with her. She was actually embarrassed that she had doubted him for a moment.

“No harm done. I would have done the same thing.” Of course, he was a skeptical man and didn’t believe a third of what anyone said to him.

“The weird thing is, I trust you. And that scares me. I don’t trust so easily and it’s hard for me to get to know anyone or even talk very much to outsiders, but the more I’m in your company, the more I feel comfortable and that’s just so strange.”

He saw that she kept a grip on her assault rifle. “I understand. I’m having those same strange feelings. It’s the situation. We only have one another to rely on.” Which was a great line of bullshit, but he delivered it in a reasonable tone.

Some of the panic left her eyes, and she nodded. “I guess you’re right. The situation certainly is unusual and very intense. Where are we going now?”

“I’m killing Saeed. I’ve been after him for over five years and I’ve never had a better chance. I’m not missing the opportunity.” He’d be damned if he made apologies either. She said she wanted to help him, but she’d seen the blood on the floor and bodies lying in the cabin.

“Are there others on board? Others like Saeed?” She stayed right behind him as they moved toward the stairs.

“I studied the layout before coming aboard. There are seven luxury cabins, so potentially, that could be six other sexual predators aboard. They will all have bodyguards, although I suspect not quite as many as Saeed.”

“Did you know this was a floating human trafficking vessel?”

“I suspected. There was no way to know until I actually got aboard ship. I wasn’t told about any special passengers, only that sometimes the rich and famous are bored enough to pay lots of money for the privilege of traveling on a cargo vessel.”

They kept their voices projecting only to each other, that thin thread of sound that connected them. He found he wanted that connection with her, even there, in the middle of a very dangerous situation.

“How many crew?”

“Including the cooks, twenty-one, and there is a security force that Evan keeps aboard. There’re eight of them.”

“Great. We might be a little outnumbered.”

“No problem, baby, that’s my specialty.”

She touched the back of his shirt. He knew she didn’t mean for him to feel the barely there brush of her fingers, but he did. He felt the impact all the way to his bones. She was seeking reassurance, that was all, nothing more, but he felt as if she belonged to him. She had been under his protection for her father’s sake, but he knew that was no longer the reason he watched over her. Selfishly, he wanted her alive in the same world with him.

“I wish I could be more of a help to you,” Airiana said. “This isn’t my specialty, but I’m good at following orders.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised.

“When I want to,” Airiana corrected.

He put his hand on the railing of the stairs. “We go up slow and easy. Stay directly behind me and try to step where I step. Don’t make a sound.”

Airiana twisted her fingers into his shirt, bunching the material into her fist. He wanted to give her that much. It would be a small comfort, but he knew he had to be able to move fast when necessary.

“Honey, you’re going to have to let go. I’ll watch out for you. I will, but . . .”

She dropped her hand away as if he’d slapped her. He cursed under his breath in his own language. He wasn’t suave or sophisticated. All the training, all the beatings had never made him into someone different. He could pass himself off as those things, but he was a rough, dominant man whose every instinct was that of a killer.

Airiana needed reassurance, and he found himself baffled by her. She followed him closely, but she didn’t touch him again. Her shoes whispered on the metal stairs, but she contained the sound, every bit as adept in that gift as he was.

It didn’t surprise him that no one came to challenge them—this was Saeed’s luxury cabin and as paranoid as he was, he wouldn’t want anyone, not even a crew member, disturbing him. He brought his own security with him and they would keep everyone away.

He signaled to Airiana to move up to his side.