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“Are the pills helping any? I have more.”
Chase shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Let me get you an ice pack or a bag of frozen peas or something. That should help with any swelling and numb it at least a little.”
Chase grunted and lowered his foot back to the floor. “I’m fine, Melissa. Really.”
I stuck out my lower lip and crossed my arms. “Chase…”
“Go get some sleep,” he said, his tone quiet but firm.
“I’m not going anywhere. Do you really think I could sleep right now anyway?” I flung my hands into the air. “Just to recap, for those playing at home, you came into my room in the middle of the night, told me a pack of crazy assassins from my ever-so-loving husband were on the way to get us, we ran like hell through the night to get away, and just as we’re about to go, you take off with hardly a wisp of an explanation, and the next thing I know, the fucking boat next door explodes and you’re nowhere to be seen!”
Chase didn’t look amused by my dramatic retelling. “Seems to me you should be exhausted. Sleep would be a gift.”
I stared him down, absolutely baffled by the man sitting before me. Where was the sweet, humorous protector who had started this journey with me?
“Yeah, you know what, you’re right. I am exhausted. I’m tired of running for my life, tired of living in fear, and right now, I’m really fucking tired of talking to you!” I stalked from the room.
“Melissa!”
“Fuck you!”
18
Chase
“Fuck.”
Everything ached. My head rang with the aftermath of the explosives. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d nearly been blown to bits, but I’d obviously blocked out the absolute agony. The entire scene played back through my head like a slow-motion movie scene. The man with the gun had been easy enough to take out. With him out of my way, I bolted down the narrow hall, clotheslined another thug, and dove over the side just as the explosion ripped the bridge apart. My leg was in the worst shape, as pieces of the boat ripped through my cargo pants and tore into my skin. Melissa had done her best to patch me up, but the pain pills weren’t even scratching the surface.
And now, on top of everything else, she was pissed off at me.
Great.
Not that I could blame her. I’d been an asshole. Between my throbbing headache, the aftermath of the adrenaline crash, and the cuts up my leg, I was in no mood for company. Even hers. Hopefully, she could forgive me.
I shook my head to myself and forced myself to focus on my job. That’s what this was. A job. Melissa was not my lover or my friend. She was my job. Protecting her and Jackson was all that mattered. I reminded myself of that cold hard fact and pushed the throttle to drive us forward—and farther away from the shore—as quickly as humanly possible.
All of our lives depended on it.
One nagging thought ricocheted back to me in the relative silence of the bridge as I pushed us farther away from the shore. Luckily, everyone at the dock was consumed with getting the fire put out and no one had come after us. If we kept going, and kept a decent pace, we’d be far enough away by morning that no one would ever know we’d been in Cabo in the first place.
And with O’Keefe’s men dead…or at the least, incapacitated…we should be in the clear. Replaying it all brought back the question that wouldn’t leave me alone. How the hell had O’Keefe’s men found us in Cabo? We were so careful back in California. I’d found the tracker in the money bag she’d been carting around and I’d made sure every device with any kind of GPS stayed with the vehicle. Hell, I’d even gone so far as to make Jackson leave behind his iPad in case there was some way to track it. Paranoid? Sure. But that was why I’d never lost a client before.
So, how? How the freak did O’Keefe’s men track us?
It didn’t make any sense to me, and my head was ringing and pounding too much to concentrate on figuring it out.
The first aid kit was sitting on the co-captain’s chair and I dug around until I found two more painkillers. I downed them just like the first pair, and then set the boat on cruise control so I could go down and get a bottle of water from the kitchen. If I was going to be able to stay up all night, I needed something in my system. Sheer will and determination weren’t going to get me through the night all by themselves.
Melissa was standing in the kitchen, wearing a long t-shirt, and I stopped in my tracks. She turned her head at the sound of my footsteps on the stairs. I forced my eyes to stay on her face and not linger on the curves of her breasts and soft flare of her hips.
