“You want me to just get on a plane with you—no explanation.”
“Trust me,” he says, and his voice isn’t teasing, there is no smile on his lips. It’s a request and an order.
My gaze tracks to Brock. He’s picking up my bag and walking toward us. Something serious is going down. Something big enough that Robert Maxim is evacuating this luxury hotel where he was getting somewhere with his wife for the first time. A conquest years in the making.
Robert takes my arm, holding my bicep, almost like I’m a prisoner, and turns me toward the door. Blue moves with us, Brock following behind. My heart rate picks up as we travel along the walkway to the hotel lobby.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“How far is the island?” Robert asks, ignoring my question.
“You know I can’t tell you the location,” I answer.
“Sydney,” Robert’s voice is tight. “We need to get you someplace safe.”
“Tell me what is going on,” I say, “and let go of my arm.”
He drops his hand to my lower back—a lady being directed rather than a prisoner being escorted. “There isn’t time.”
“Robert, I’m not telling you the location of the island. You know I can’t do that without discussing it with the council.”
“Fine.” He gives up way easier than I expected. Didn’t he want to point out that he has acted as an advisor to Joyful Justice, helped finance us…didn’t he want to argue with me about being stubborn or something else? Shit. What the fuck is going on?
“So where are we going?” I ask.
“We are leaving. Immediately.” Robert steers us through the lobby with its overflowing vases of tropical flowers, palm frond-inspired fans, and smiling staff, to a dock where a speedboat bobs in the gentle water. It’s white with a silver wheel, cushioned seats on the bow and a bench at the stern. An open hatch leads down into a cabin below deck.
Robert steps into the craft and holds his hand out for me. Since I’m a very well-trained martial artist and therefore extremely capable of getting into a boat all on my little own, I hesitate. Robert’s sigh comes out exasperated and I smile before taking his hand and letting him steady me as I step across the narrow gap and onto the gunwale.
I like the way my hand feels in his—like it fits just right. I like him. Shit.
Blue hops in and Brock passes my bag to Robert before untying the lines. I take a seat on the bench at the back of the cockpit. Blue sits at my feet, his gaze on Robert at the helm. The engine rumbles to life, frothing the water behind us. Brock leaps in and Robert pulls away from the dock.
Brock goes below deck and emerges moments later with two pistols. They glint silver in the bright sunlight. “Mrs. Maxim,” Brock says as he hands me one. He’s got his signature dark sunglasses on again so I can’t see his eyes.
“Sydney,” I say again. “If we are about to start shooting at people together, please don’t call me Mrs. Maxim.” I take the gun from him.
Brock smiles, and shakes his head. “Sorry, Mrs. Maxim, I just can’t do that.” He turns to Robert and hands him the other pistol. Robert takes it without a word, slipping it into the pocket of his pants, where it bulges against the linen. Brock disappears below deck again.
“Tell me what’s going on now,” I say.
Robert doesn’t answer so I stand and cross to him, holding on to the railing as we bounce over the small waves, the kind the wind produces in protected waters. The wind rushes around us, pushing Robert’s hair back and whipping mine around. I face into the wind so that our gazes are the same direction.
The water is turquoise, the sky cerulean, the sun beats down on us. “Remember my son?” Robert asks.
“I never met him,” I answer. “But I certainly remember that you have a grown son who tried to kill you. So you faked your own death, and then worked with international law enforcement agencies, including Homeland Security, to bring him down along with the criminal organizations he aligned with, in an attempt to destroy Joyful Justice. It’s what you used to trap me into marriage, remember, honey…”
He glances at me. The mirror sunglasses are back in place so my twin reflection is back too—my blonde hair streaking out behind me, my exposed eyes narrowed against the sun, my loose shirt pressed to my body by the wind. I really wish I could raise one brow. But alas, I have to be satisfied with raising both.
“His name is Fernando,” Robert says, ignoring my baiting.
“Okay,” I say. “Isn’t he in prison?”
“Yes.”
“Robert, you’re being annoying.”
Brock returns at that moment with a rifle. Long, black, and deadly with a sharpshooter scope, it distracts me from our conversation. “Are you expecting to assassinate someone?” I ask.
Brock glances at Robert and annoyance prickles over my skin. “You two better start talking or I’m going to start getting really angry.”
A ghost of a smile crosses Robert’s lips. “We will be at the ship soon. I will explain everything once we get on the helicopter.”
“What ship? What helicopter?” I ask, but my question is answered when we come around a small island and a massive yacht is revealed. Silver and black, the thing is almost as big as the atoll that was hiding it. “Fuck,” I say. My gaze returns to Robert. “Is this yours?”
He shakes his head. “A friend loaned it to me.”
“Nice friend. A Russian oligarch?”
Robert answers with a shrug. “Russian, yes.”
“Jesus,” I say, looking back at the boat. It must be 300 feet long. A helicopter perches on the back deck. And I can make out the blue of a pool just below it.
Robert circles to the stern of the ship and slows the speedboat. The sound of the wind and engine die down together. A uniformed crew member catches the rope that Brock tosses out to him, and we disembark onto the teak platform. Brock disappears below deck again, returning with two gun cases—his rifle now safely stowed in one.
Robert takes my bicep again, but I give him a look and he flashes me a grin before dropping his hand to my lower back. He navigates through the yacht as if he owns the thing…but as far as I know, we don’t own any mega yachts. Of course, it is highly likely that Robert has all sorts of assets hidden away from me.
What else is he hiding?
