Page 112 of Dangerous

“Dammit! Will you help me, Bouchard?” Jibril cursed as one of Mia’s flailing feet caught him somewhere soft.

“What? Can’t you handle one small woman?” Bouchard taunted, wading through knee-deep water as he spoke and plucking her bodily from her son. His hand came close enough to Mia’s mouth for her to catch it between her teeth.

The Frenchman screamed.

A cool voice cut through Bouchard’s cursing. “I do wish you’d stop manhandling my wife, Bouchard.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Neither Ramsay nor Bouchard wanted to linger in the waters around Oran and they set a grueling pace to reach the British-controlled city of Gibraltar.

The atmosphere on the Scythe was tense and alert and not conducive to rest. It was clear there would be no relaxing until they were well out of Assad’s reach.

Adam was more than a little concerned for Mia, who looked ready to collapse from the stress and strain of the prior weeks.

“Won’t you get some sleep, darling?” They’d just eaten a hot meal and were alone in Bouchard’s cabin. Jibril had shuffled off to the small medical bay, where he’d collapsed in his cot and commenced to snore. Adam had finally convinced Mia to rest on the bed and he was sitting beside her.

She looked up, dark smudges beneath her green eyes. “I can’t, Adam. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream. You and Jibril will still be gone, and I’ll be trapped in this cabin.”

He brushed a stray curl off her brow. “I’m sorry I had to leave you.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m so sorry for the horrid things I said.”

“Shhhh, darling.”

She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth. “No, it was dreadful. I was dreadful.”

“Yes, you were.”

She gave a tired gurgle of laughter and closed her eyes.

“Adam?” she said a few minutes later, just when he’d hoped she’d fallen asleep.

“Mmm?”

“Why did you let Assad live?”

He’d wondered the same thing himself. Should he have killed the man? It would certainly have opened the way to leaving Jibril in charge. But in charge of what? Adam could not believe it would make either Mia or Jibril happy if the boy had stayed in Oran.

“For two reasons,” he finally said. “One, whatever he has done, Assad is Jibril’s brother.”

Mia squeezed his hand and smiled. “What is the other reason?”

He shrugged. “If I killed him, Jibril would have stayed. You would have hated that.”

“Oh, Adam.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

He leaned down to kiss them away. “Why are you crying now, you little termagant?”

“You are so good to me.”

“I know,” he agreed.

She chuckled. “How can I ever repay you for all you’ve done for me and my son?”

“He is our son now, Mia.”

Her smile illuminated the cabin and her grip tightened on his hands. “Just like your daughters are also mine. I grieve for what you’ve suffered, Adam, but I am here to help shoulder your worries now.”