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Chapter Eleven
Noah
The first fingers of dawn are tickling the sky when I wake with a jolt. There’s someone on board. I don’t hear anything but the gentle lap of the waves against the boat, but I’ve spent too many years in war zones and dangerous situations to ignore the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. My instincts are always right.
I carefully untangle myself from McKenzie. She stirs and opens her eyes. I put a finger over her lips. “There’s someone on the boat. Listen to me carefully.”
Her eyes widen but she nods. I slip out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and grabbing my gun that is never out of arm’s length.
I glance back at McKenzie. I don’t want to endanger her by taking her with me, but I can’t leave her down here unarmed. I quickly yank open the safe that’s cleverly concealed under the bed and pull out a Glock, checking to make sure the chamber is full before handing it to her.
“You know how to shoot?”
She shakes her head wildly.
I tilt her chin up with my finger until her eyes meet mine. “You’ve got this. This is nothing compared to jumping off a waterfall. Just point and squeeze the trigger if anyone comes down those stairs except me. Got it?”
A little calmer now, she nods.
“Stay here no matter what, even if you hear shooting. Especially if you hear shooting. I’ll come get you when it’s clear.” I don’t intend to die, but if there’s anything I’ve learned in the last five years, it’s that there are no guarantees, and I need to make sure she stays safe and knows what to do in any eventuality. “If I don’t come back, stay here for as long as you can, but not so long that it gets dark again. If you haven’t seen anyone or heard anything by say, fifteen hundred hours, go up to the deck carefully, just in case someone is still on board. If they are, shoot first and ask questions later. Then get in the kayak and go to the mainland. We’re close enough to shore that you should be able to easily make it.”
“Where are you going to be?” Her face is pale in the moonlight.
“I’m planning to be right here.” I lean forward, kiss her hard on the lips, and wink. “If anyone’s going to tie you up and have their way with you, it’s going to be me.”
I climb the stairs stealthily, my gun cocked. I see the dark figure standing in the shadows, but he doesn’t see me. His back is to me, and he’s going through McKenzie’s small bag that she abandoned on the seat last night when we got back from the bar, both mindless with lust. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I don’t intend to give him a chance to explain.
I’m not afraid to use my gun, but I don’t feel like scrubbing blood off the deck if I don’t have to. I have size and the element of surprise on my side, so I creep up behind him and aim a clean hit to the back of the head that should level him. Unfortunately, he’s got intuition and quick reflexes and he turns at the last minute and lurches to the side so my blow lands slightly off target. He strikes back and I take him to the ground as we tussle on the deck, each of us trying to get the upper hand.
The boat is dark and I can’t see him, but he’s about my size, although less muscular. He’s a decent fighter, but no match for a Navy SEAL. He seems to realize it, too, and as soon as he gets a good hit in—an elbow to my groin that temporarily blindsides me—he scrambles to his feet and jumps over the side, the telltale splash confirming his retreat. Grabbing the flashlight I keep on deck, I scan the water, looking for a boat or someone below in the inky ocean. Nothing. I would have completely missed the small bangka moving farther and farther away in the distance if it weren’t for the five seconds that the boat quickly crosses the swath of moonlight reflecting off the water. I watch until it’s completely out of sight.
Satisfied that he’s not coming back, I make a quick sweep of the boat, but other than the contents of McKenzie’s bag strewn across the cushioned seat, there’s no proof that anyone has been here at all. What the hell had he been looking for? I assumed the interloper was probably part of the notorious Abu Sayyaf, a disgruntled splinter group of Islamic terrorists who patrol the waters of the Sulu Sea, and whose interests primarily lie in human trafficking and smuggling. But this guy seemed to be looking for something specific. Money? The list? Something else? I rifle through the contents of McKenzie’s bag, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary—an inhaler, a towel, sunglasses, the sunscreen she’d swiped from the deck, her wallet with plenty of American dollars still in it, and her passport. I hastily shove everything back into it and go downstairs.
She’s standing at the end of the bed with wild hair, wearing nothing but my T-shirt, revealing her long, tanned legs, the gun trained on the doorway.
“Don’t shoot, baby. It’s me.”
She lowers the gun, hesitates for a few seconds, and then hurls herself into my arms.
“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you.”
She’s shaking as she presses her face into my shoulder. I hold her against my chest, smoothing her hair gently. After a few minutes, she says, “Are they gone?” Her voice is muffled by my chest, and I rub her back briskly before pulling back a little to cup her chin in my hand.
“Yes. You okay?”
She nods. “Who was it?” Her voice is tremulous, and it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the world.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just one guy. He was going through your bag. He either didn’t find what he was looking for or didn’t think it was worth risking his life for, because as soon as he could get away from me, he jumped overboard. I saw him row away in his bangka. Still, I’d rather not spend any more time docked here, just in case he has friends and decides to come back. I’m going to go pull anchor, even though it’s still dark. You stay here and try to get some sleep.”
“No!” Her eyes are wide with fear. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
With a sigh, I take her hand and we go up to the deck. She stays close by me as I ready the boat to sail, and I finally put her to work helping me to distract her. Once we’ve put some miles between us and I feel comfortable we’re not being followed, I convince her to go shower, knowing it will make her feel better, while I make breakfast. When she returns about twenty minutes later, looking more relaxed, we sit in the early morning sun and eat the egg sandwiches I’ve made.
I watch her, amazed at how different she is from that nervous girl on the dock in Coron, how much more like that confident sex siren in Vegas. In just three days, McKenzie’s normally pale skin has turned the color of latte, and her already blonde hair is shot through with lighter streaks. But her demeanor is what has changed the most. Judging by what I’ve heard and seen of her so far, a few weeks ago, handing her a loaded gun and telling her to shoot first and ask questions later should have sent her looking for a paper bag. Instead, she stepped up like a trooper.
She catches me looking at her and smiles, and something unfamiliar catches somewhere in me. I tell myself it’s just my dick’s natural reaction whenever she’s around, but I have the uncomfortable suspicion it has nothing to do with that.
“Any idea who was on your boat?” she asks.
