Читать книгу Under the Surface - Kira Sinclair - Страница 13

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“WHAT THE HELL was that?”

Jackson spun on his heel and looked toward the stern.

“What was what?” Asher asked in his ear.

“I have to call you back. I think someone’s on the ship.”

“God, I hope so, Jack. We have several crew.”

“I sent them in to town for a last hurrah before I crack the whip.”

“So, one of the guys struck out and came back early.”

“Maybe.” But something was off. Jackson’s senses were tingling. He hadn’t heard anyone approach.

“You’re not in a war zone anymore, man. Time to let that shit go.”

He wanted to argue the point, but Jackson had bigger things to deal with, so let his friend’s comment slide.

Asher might be a prick on occasion, but there was no one Jackson would rather have at his back in a shit storm. They’d been assigned to the same platoon when he’d first come out of BUD/S training with the SEALs. Asher had taken a bullet for him. That was a debt not easily or quickly repaid.

“Whatever. I’ll check in tomorrow.” Jackson didn’t bother saying goodbye before ending the call and pocketing his cell.

He was already striding across the deck on feet that didn’t make a single sound. His body was tense, prepared for whatever might spring out at him.

What he wasn’t prepared for was finding Loralei Lancaster crouched down beside the railing, her fingers gripping the metal so hard the veins across the back of her hands threatened to pop through the skin.

He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.

Arms crossed over his chest, Jackson changed his stride, no longer concerned with concealing his approach. The soles of his shoes squeaked across the deck, but she didn’t flinch. Her gaze, trained on the water, never wavered.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She didn’t respond.

Her breath was quick and shallow, probably a reaction to being caught in the act.

Reaching down, he grasped her arms and hauled her up. Her fingers released the railing and clamped on him, digging into his chest. Finally, she looked up at him. Shadows melted across her face, shielding her eyes and preventing him from reading her expression.

“Why are you on my ship, Loralei?”

She shook her head, moving it back and forth as if in slow motion.

“Hoping to get your hands on the information your daddy missed? Well, too bad, princess. I’ve been more careful in the last few months. There’s nothing useful for you to find.”

A spark kindled in her eyes. He watched her chest rise and hold on a deep breath that she finally released with a whoosh of words. “Let me go.”

“Why should I do that? I think contacting the authorities is a better option.”

Her spine snapped straight. “And tell them what? You found me on the deck of your ship? I came here looking for you so I could talk. Clear up whatever misunderstanding you’re laboring beneath.”

He scoffed. “Why were you huddled in the shadows, then? Sell the lie to someone who might believe it.”

Her gaze slipped sideways before quickly jerking back to his. “I dropped something.”

“What? The hammer you were hoping to brain me with? Or maybe you’re a knife kind of girl, look straight into someone’s eyes as you slip the blade between their ribs.”

She gasped, her eyes going wide before narrowing down to slits.

“What the hell are you talking about? I have no desire to hurt you.”

“Sure, that’s what they all say. I’ve seen plenty of bloodthirsty people in my life—women included—perfectly capable of killing with whatever was handy. Bomb, gun, bare hands. When you’ve watched a ten-year-old boy blow himself up because someone told him to, you learn not to underestimate anyone’s capacity to cause physical harm.”

She blinked at him, her mouth going slack for several moments.

“That’s...awful.”

“Tell me about it.”

Her fingers, which were still dug deep into his chest, uncurled, but she didn’t remove them. Instead, she spread them wide, pressing the warmth of her palm hard against him.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were soft. For the briefest moment, he wanted to believe them.

And then he remembered who she was and why she was standing on the deck of his ship.

The anger he’d been suppressing for months—ever since realizing her father had broken in and stolen his work—roared to life.

Bending, he swept her into his arms.

She was lighter than she looked. Not that she appeared heavy, but she was tall.

“What are you doing?”

“Providing you a quick exit. I hope you aren’t particularly attached to those shoes, princess.”

Turning, Jackson swept the water below them to make sure there was nothing she could hurt herself on. He was happy to provide a quick dunking as a lesson, but he didn’t want her to get injured.

He knew the moment she realized just what he intended because suddenly she grew about three extra arms.

She began squealing, begging, yelling. Her claws dug into his chest again. He managed to pry off one and then the other, holding both wrists tight in a single hand.

“Stop struggling and take your punishment like a good little thief.”

“Jackson, seriously,” she panted. “This is barbaric.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hazing, princess. We’ll call this immersion therapy so maybe the next time you’ll think twice about breaking and entering.”

Holding her out from his body, Jackson let her hover above the water. Her gaze darted beneath her. She sucked in a hard breath. And then she looked at him with imploring eyes.

“I can’t swim.”

Something in her gaze almost made him believe her. Or maybe that was just his dick trying to influence him— Mr. Happy wanted her pressed against his body again.

Either way... “Lies aren’t going to save you this time, princess.”

* * *

GOD, SHE WAS going to drown. She’d always known it. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she’d known this was her destiny.

Just like it had been her mother’s.

Although, unlike her, her mom had loved the water. Had resented giving up her transient life on a ship to take care of a daughter she’d never really wanted.

What irony that on one of the few chances she’d had to go back to it, the water had killed her.

And now it was going to take Loralei.

She stared into Jackson’s eyes. They reminded her of the sky at home, bright and blue after a strong summer storm.

But it was clear he didn’t believe her. Thought she was lying to save herself a dunking. Well, it wouldn’t take him long to realize she was telling the truth. Unfortunately, it would probably be too late.

Jackson swung her body, counted to three as if they were at some frat pool party, and let her go. Air rushed up beside her, the roar filling her ears.

She sucked in a huge breath. The action was automatic. Her eyes clamped closed. It pissed her off that the image tattooed on the back of her lids was of Jackson as he’d sat next to her at the table earlier, looking at her with lust in his eyes and a wicked grin curling his lips.

She was now regretting not letting him take her upstairs and follow through on the promise there.

What kind of screwed up, mixed emotions was she harboring for her murderer?

Her body hit the water ass first, her arms and legs folding up with the pressure of impact. Part of her expected the water to be cold, but it wasn’t. It was pleasantly warm, almost soothing.

Her limbs flailed as she sank. Her lungs heaved, bubbles escaping through her nose to drift upward with her descent.

She watched the hull of the ship slip past, just out of reach. Darkness and water closed around her, narrowing her world to the few feet right in front of her.

How long had she been under? It didn’t matter.

Her butt hit something solid. Sand clouded up around her, obstructing her vision even more.

Her body lurched. Her lungs burned with the demand to breathe, but somehow she managed to quell the instinct that would have allowed water to fill her lungs.

Dark spots dotted her vision, followed by bright bursts of color.

Something swam in front of her. It would be her luck if it was a shark looking for a quick dinner. Would it be worse to die from drowning or being ripped apart by sharp teeth?

A face appeared in front of her. Jackson. His soft blond hair floated up in a riot, like a lion’s mane. His gaze bored into her. He was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about what it was. A heavy peace settled over her. For the first time she realized just how quiet it was beneath the water. Nothing else mattered.

Was this what her mom had felt right before the end?

She hoped so. So much better than the nightmares she’d been plagued with for years, images of her mom desperate, fighting and in pain.

Something hard wrapped around her chest and she started moving. The darkness began to fade. In some dim corner of her mind, Loralei realized Jackson was towing her to the surface.

Unfortunately, she was afraid it was too late.

Unable to resist the compulsion to breathe any longer, she opened her mouth, searching for air and finding nothing but water.

* * *

HOLY HELL, she hadn’t been lying.

What on God’s green earth was she doing heading up a dive team if she couldn’t swim?

Jackson was used to compartmentalizing responses in order to tackle the priorities in front of him. Getting her out of the water was his first point of action. Making sure she was still breathing his second. After that he could decide whether or not to verbally take a strip from her hide.

Later, someone else could take the pound of flesh from his ass for what he’d done.

It had taken him about thirty seconds to realize she wasn’t coming up. A few more to convince himself she wasn’t playing him for a fool. Another thirty to rocket down to her, snatch her around the waist and start hauling her up to the surface.

Plenty of time. She would be fine.

Because he couldn’t live with himself if she actually drowned.

The minx was a thorn in his side, but she didn’t deserve to die for that.

Breaking the surface, Jackson shoved her up onto the dock. It was not a good sign that her limbs flopped around uselessly. If she’d passed out, water was definitely in her lungs.

Hauling himself up after her, Jackson rolled her head sideways to clear the water from her mouth and nose. Then he sealed his lips to hers and started mouth-to-mouth. Within a few breaths her chest heaved and she started coughing, water sputtering out. Jackson rolled her, pounded on her back to help get out whatever was left in her lungs.

Her body convulsed with the force of her need to expel the seawater. After several moments, she quieted. Her forehead rested on the rough surface of the dock. Her hand spread out beside her head, hair tangled through her fingers. Her legs were twisted together, as if she didn’t have the energy to move a single muscle.

Jackson stopped pounding on her back, instead rubbing up and down in a slow, soothing gesture. He wanted to offer her comfort. But he also kept touching her to reassure himself that she was really breathing.

Finally, Loralei glanced over her shoulder at him. He expected her to yell. He deserved it. Wanted it, so he could find an outlet for the guilt filling his own chest.

What he wasn’t prepared for was her sea-roughened voice whispering, “Thank you.”

Shit.

“I nearly killed you and you’re thanking me?”

“You saved me.”

“I threw you in.”

Her lips twisted in a half grimace, half smile. “Okay, screw you, asshole. And thanks for saving my life. Feel better now?”

Not particularly. But for some reason he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he lifted her into his arms, heedless of the water that streamed off both of them.

Striding down the dock, he carried her back onto his ship. She stirred, murmured what he knew was going to be the start of a protest, but he cut her off before it could begin.

“Don’t bother. You need a shower to warm up. There’s still a chance you could go into shock. And I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know you’re not going to develop complications from having your lungs full of water.”

He probably should take her to the hospital, but for some reason what he’d said was the truth. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight long enough to let anyone else tend to her.

He felt responsible; that was all.

He’d had plenty of experience with water and a few close calls with drowning. If he hadn’t felt equipped to recognize a potential problem soon enough to call in reinforcements, he wouldn’t be walking her onto his ship.

Apparently, she recognized his resolve because her mouth snapped shut without uttering a single sound.

Carrying her to his stateroom, Jackson moved straight for the tiny attached bathroom. Several of the guys shared one, but as owner, he rated the best room complete with a private bath. Not that it was much. Just a toilet, sink and shower barely big enough to fit his shoulders through.

Shifting her, Jackson let her body slide down his until her feet touched the floor. Water pooled beneath them, but he ignored it.

With one arm still around her waist to steady her, Jackson reached inside the shower and flipped on the faucet to let the water warm.

Drawing back, he stared into her upturned face. Her pale green eyes were a little wary, a little grateful and a lot scared.

Why hadn’t he seen that before?

Because he hadn’t wanted to believe her.

After pushing back the tangle of black hair from her face, Jackson found himself saying, “I’m sorry,” in a gruff voice he barely recognized.

“So am I. I shouldn’t have been here. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t intend to sneak aboard. Really.”

Guilt and uncertainty mixed together in his blood. He wanted to believe her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not even after almost drowning her.

She’d been telling the truth about not being able to swim, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t lie about anything else.

Why did the thought of her doing that hurt?

It shouldn’t matter.

This woman was nothing to him. Nothing more than a business rival and the daughter of a man who’d done everything he could to hurt Jackson and his business.

The only thing he could do was shake his head. “It doesn’t matter. At least not right now.”

Loralei dropped her gaze to the floor between their feet. Her shoulders rose and fell on a deep sigh that he felt more than heard.

She took a half step backward—about as much room as she could force between them—and dropped her hands from their resting place against his chest.

Steam began to fill the tiny room, billowing out around the glass shower enclosure. It turned the air around them muggy and heavy.

Without raising her gaze, Loralei reached for the buttons on her shirt. Until that moment he hadn’t noticed just how thin and clingy it was. Earlier, it had looked big and breezy, swirling around her body and hiding the curves he’d instinctively known were beneath it.

Now, those curves were seriously on display. The gauzy material was plastered to her body and practically see-through.

“Go away, Jackson, so I can take my shower, get off this boat and back to my hotel.”

She popped a single button, but he didn’t move.

“Ship. She’s a ship.”

Another one went. “Whatever.”

It wasn’t as if she was revealing anything he couldn’t already almost see. But Jackson couldn’t tear away his gaze as she slowly, meticulously revealed each inch of golden skin. He stayed where he was until she reached her breasts, which swelled round and inviting over the edge of white lace.

Spinning on his heel, Jackson bolted for the bedroom, his own lungs heaving as if he’d been the one to cough up a gallon of seawater.

He raked his fingers through his hair, shook off the water that still clung to him, not caring what got wet in the process. Behind him, the bathroom door closed with a quiet click.

The barrier didn’t help. He could hear her moving around in the small space. Imagine her standing in his shower, using his shampoo and running her soap-covered hands over her naked body.

After yanking off his own wet clothes, he donned dry ones and pulled out an old T-shirt and gym shorts for her.

He wanted to escape above deck before he did something stupid. Such as tear the bathroom door off its hinges so he could help her rinse away the suds. He even started to leave, but he couldn’t make himself go. Not until he knew she was actually okay.

So instead he began to prowl the small space, an uncomfortable sensation tingling at the back of his neck. The longer Loralei stayed in that room, the worse it became. He started worrying, remembering how she’d looked lying on the dock, eerily still and lifeless.

Break in the door or wait?

He’d never been one for indecision, but tonight he couldn’t make up his mind.

Which only frustrated him more.