Laughter broke through the storm clouds. "Nice retraction. Can we get out of here now before something else happens? I have this really awful feeling and I don't think I can take any more killing. Or drugging. It's one thing to read about all these awful people in the news; it's another to actually deal with them in person."
"Why is it that every time you shift position you wince?"
"Gorya knew some monkey form of martial arts and kicked the crap out of me," she admitted. "There isn't a place on my body that doesn't hurt. My eye is throbbing and my feet feel like they're on fire."
His heart skipped a beat. Gorya could have killed her. She hadn't said anything to him, or cried out for help. She'd just railed at the fact that she had a difficult time darting the steward. He resisted the urge to shake her. There it was, that anger welling up because he could have lost her. She had no business being in danger. "You're a mess."
She bit his chin again, this time a little harder.
"What was that for?"
"For what you were just thinking."
"You can't possibly know what I was thinking. I have a stone face. No one reads me."
"I can read you, so stop thinking idiotic thoughts. You kidnapped me and brought me into danger. Had it not been for you, I'd be safe at home."
"I saved you from Evan's men," he said. "That should count for something."
"Well, it doesn't. I've seen what you can do. If you'd wanted, you could have wiped up the floor with Evan's men and none of this would have happened. You were too busy taking me to meet dear old Dad, and to be honest, I wasn't all that thrilled with him."
He nodded solemnly. "That could have been a mistake on my part."
"You liked him, didn't you?"
"Yes," he conceded a bit grudgingly. "As far as I ever like anyone. He seemed genuinely interested in you and excited to meet you."
"I'm certain that he was--but for all the wrong reasons."
"Do you think you can stand up on your own?" he asked.
"I've been giving that some thought," she replied. "It depends on what we do next."
"I thought we might take this yacht in close to shore and get the hell off of it."
Her eyebrow shot up. "Off of it. That part sounds good, but close to shore is not so good. That requires getting in the water again. I have cuts on my feet, and there are sharks in the water."
"You're a little obsessed with sharks."
"I'm a little obsessed with not getting eaten by one," she corrected. She sighed, the amusement fading. She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper against him. "Do you ever get to sleep, Maxim? Because I think I could sleep for a week."
He wanted to tell her it was all right, but like Airiana, he felt alarms were going off. He held her tighter, while he went still, listening to the wind, feeling the air around them. The yacht moved slowly through the water on autopilot, allowing him to get a good feel for everything around them. Out in the distance there was a boat, but it was small and didn't appear to be following them. Still . . . something wasn't quite right.
He rubbed his chin over the top of her head, trying to give her a few minutes. He knew he was going to ask her to get back in the water--the one thing she was most terrified of. His every instinct was to shield her, to protect her, yet, he was going to force her back into the sea at night.
Strands of her hair caught in the rough shadow on his jaw, weaving them together. Earlier, it would have bothered him, the need to find things that would hold her to him, but right now, when he was trying to comfort her, he found the little things like those threads binding them comforted him as well.
"Thanks for listening to me, baby. I know I'm not the easiest man in the world to understand. Hell. I don't understand myself, but at least you give it a try."
"You're not that bad, Maxim," she replied without opening her eyes. "You're just a little mixed up right now. I am too. We need a minute to just stay still. Maybe if we don't move, nothing bad will happen."
He knew it didn't work like that. His alarms were beginning to affect his gut, tying him up in knots, always a bad sign. He took a breath and let it out. "I'm going to put you on the lounger and gather our things for a quick exit. I'd like to take us as close to shore as possible."
"We're really going to have to swim again, aren't we?" she asked.
He thought it significant that she didn't open her eyes or protest. She was too damned tired. "I'd give anything to keep us from having to make the swim, but it isn't safe to stay aboard too much longer. The captain had to have reported to Sorbacov, and he'll have people waiting in every harbor."
He hoped that was his greatest worry, but he feared it was Evan Shackler-Gratsos. The shipping magnate had plenty of time to send his mercenaries after them. He was certain his gut wouldn't be acting the way it was if they weren't close.
"I'm going to sleep until you say it's time to go," she announced.
He stood up in one swift move, cradling her in his arms. "I have to take a look at you. I need to know if anything is broken or cracked. The closer we get to shore, the harder it can be."
"I doubt if anything's broken, but I can't honestly say for sure," she admitted. "I really hurt."
She didn't even sound as if she was complaining. He had to admit to himself that was one of the things he found endearing about her. She could have been a pain in the ass. He'd kidnapped her and exposed her to danger, to killing, to a human trafficking ring, even forcing her to face her worst fear--swimming in the ocean--but she didn't complain. She used humor to get her through.
He placed her gently on the lounger, not liking the rush of air escapin
g her lungs when he put her down, but she didn't cry out. "I'll be right back. I don't want any unexpected surprises from our captain."
"What about the other crew members?"
"I took care of them. Even the chef. No more delicious meals." He went back to slip zip ties on the captain and Boris in the event that either woke up while he was examining Airiana. Neither man appeared as if he would be waking up any time soon. She'd darted them more than once.
Maxim stood looking down at her. Her face was swollen on one side, her eye purple now from her encounter with one of Sorbacov's assassins. He found it particularly disturbing to see the bruises on her face. She looked fragile, delicate, far too innocent to be involved in such a mess.
He crouched down beside her. Her feet were bandaged but there was no more blood leaking through the gauze. He knew she was awake by her breathing, but she didn't lift her lashes. He brushed back the hair tumbling around her face with a gentle hand.
"You're almost home, baby. We're close."
She smiled without opening her eyes. "I know. I'm just resting, Maxim. I'm all right. More upset over Gorya than anything else."
"I'm going to touch you, honey, I have to get under your clothes."
She did open her eyes then, all that glorious blue hitting him hard. The impact was felt in the region of his heart. "I trust you, Maxim. You don't have to tell me that."
He pushed her shirt up over her flat belly and narrow rib cage. Already he could see the bruises coming up. The one along her left side was enormous and ugly. He felt carefully with his fingers, looking for evidence that her ribs were broken.
"I was moving when he kicked me. I didn't take the full impact," she assured.
His expression must have been frightening. Had Gorya been standing in front of him, Maxim might have beaten him to death. "I don't think your ribs are broken, you wouldn't be able to take a full breath. Still, this is going to hurt worse tomorrow."
He pulled her shirt down and opened her jeans to slide them over her slender hips. His breath caught in his throat. There was more bruising along her hip and thigh. No wonder she wasn't walking.
"I should have come here first, Airiana. I'm sorry. They came at me in force and I didn't think they would try to hurt you."