Chapter Eleven

The problem with being at sea in the open ocean was the roar of the engine would cover the sound of Dimitri sneaking up on Ivy, should he decide to put the boat in cruise control and step away from the bridge.

No good captain would leave the helm while a boat was underway, but she had no way of knowing if Dimitri Veselov was a good captain or not.

She had no choice. This could well be her only opportunity to have unfettered communication with Mara. She settled on Dimitri’s bed, facing the stateroom door with her cell phone in her hands. He hadn’t confiscated her cell—why bother when there were no cell towers for at least fifty nautical miles?

Her satellite uplink had safeguards to prevent cell phones from connecting to the signal, but Ivy knew the hack for that. Linking an unsecure phone to the military’s ultra-encoded system would get her fired, but committing treason would send her to prison.

Sometimes in life, you have to make hard choices, but this wasn’t one of them.

In less than ten minutes, she was in. Her cell phone was live. She sent a text to Mara, as that would be least likely to be detected and trigger a shutdown of her hacked link.

Did you get the photo?

A reply came a minute later.

Curt here. Photo received. Do you know who he is?

She didn’t know why she hesitated for a moment before responding. She owed Dimitri no loyalty. He was a good lay. Nothing more.

Ivy: Yes. Dimitri Veselov, Russian. Says he’s former GRU.

Curt: Has he hurt you?

Ivy: Nothing but my pride. Didn’t suspect. Feel like a fool.

Curt: You aren’t the first to be fooled by him.

Ivy: You know of him?

Curt: I knew him under another name. Will pass Veselov identity to CIA and DIA. Has he told you what he wants?

Ivy: He’s looking for something in the Rock Islands.

Curt: Confirmed. Has he told you who he’s working for?

Ivy: No. He said he’s freelancing now. Wouldn’t name his employer. He’s forcing me to help him. Said he’d drop CAM in the sea and abandon me on an island if I don’t cooperate.

There was a long break between messages. Was Curt disappointed in her for not fighting back? Should she have chosen that fate and hoped she’d be found? Should she feel bad for cooperating? For not wanting to see the first CAM prototype destroyed?

Finally, her phone chimed again.

Curt: Do you believe you’re in physical danger? Beyond his threat to leave you stranded?

She paused and considered the question for a long moment. Curt needed an honest assessment of her situation.

Ivy: I don’t think he would hurt me.

Two minutes passed before she received a response.

Curt: I want you to help him find what he’s looking for.

She stared at her phone in shock. It took her a full minute to come up with a reply.

Ivy: This is a direct order from US Attorney General Curt Dominick? You want me to cooperate with a Russian spy? To give Dimitri Veselov access to CAM and the database?

Would this communication stand up in court? She doubted it. Especially because she’d have to delete it from her phone the moment they were done. But still.

Curt: Yes, yes. And yes. Don’t endanger yourself. Your safety comes first. But yes, we want you to cooperate. Confirmed with the Pentagon and DIA. State Department is monitoring your situation.

She couldn’t believe this wouldn’t somehow bite her in the ass when this was all over. She decided to come clean now, because it would only get uglier later.

Ivy: For the record, I had sex with him. Last night. Before I knew who and what he was.

Another pause in the conversation. She hoped to hell it was because the satellite signal was interrupted, not because he was planning to file a federal case against her.

Curt: Did you in any way compromise CAM and the security surrounding the system because you had sexual relations?

Ivy: No.

Curt: I can’t promise it won’t be a problem. But Ivy, you’re human. You’d been through an ordeal. He’d helped you and offered refuge. I ran a preliminary background check when you gave Mara the name Jack Keaton last night. He checked out. These factors will be taken into consideration. You might lose your security clearance, but I doubt you’d face charges.

She swiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek before it could land on her phone. Was she really going to survive this? She might not face legal consequences, but the press was a different matter. They would flay her. Again.

Ivy: Are you saying this as attorney general or as a friend?

It was presumptuous to call him a friend. She didn’t know him well, but he was in her cousin’s inner circle and they’d met socially several times over the years, long before she began working for his wife. And right now, she wanted to believe Curt saw her as something other than a pawn.

Curt: Both.

Ivy: I should go. Dimitri could come looking for me.

Curt: Protect yourself first and at all costs. Text again when it’s safe.

Ivy: Will do.

She cleared the message history and unlinked the phone from the satellite feed, then tucked it back into her purse. Task completed, she returned to the head of the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. Part of her wanted to sob—and she didn’t know if it was from relief or fear. She’d been given orders to cooperate with Dimitri by no less than the man who was seventh in line for the presidency.

Dimitri had presented himself as a reluctant spy, and she wanted to believe him. She even felt sorry for him but didn’t know if her feelings were influenced by the fact that she’d slept with him.

She didn’t have to fight Dimitri—not unless he threatened her. She couldn’t be obvious in her reversal. It had to happen slowly, or he’d wonder at her sudden about-face.

His claims he wouldn’t hurt her had been convincing. And then there was his erection when she straddled him on the deck. She had pathetic little power here, but she’d use every tool in her arsenal, including her body if she had to. But that interrogation method had backfired, and she’d been shamefully aroused when she had him pinned. There had to be a way she could use his attraction to her without risking herself.

She glanced at the ladder to the front deck, and an idea took form. While they were underway, he expected her to assemble the drone for this afternoon’s survey. She hadn’t responded to his command because she wanted to try to contact Mara.

Now it was time to show some rebellion.

Dimitri nearly swallowed his tongue when Ivy emerged through the front hatch onto the sunbathing deck above the galley and dropped the beach towel that covered the tiniest of bikinis.

Tall with lush curves, she had a beautiful body he could stare at all day. And given that she set her towel on the padded bench directly in his line of sight, it appeared she was inviting him to enjoy the view for a while.

He smiled. This battle of wills with Ivy was going to be fun.

The sunbathing deck was a rectangular inset in the foredeck, tucked down to provide protection from the wind, should a group wish to relax in the sun while the boat was underway. A low, tilted windscreen ensured the inset didn’t mar the sleek lines and therefore slow down the high-speed yacht.

The well boasted four benches and a low wet bar, but the noise and wind would be too much for conversation, so there were four noise-cancelling headsets that connected to each other and the bridge.

Ivy might think she’d escaped talking to him by choosing the foredeck, but no such luck on her part. He donned a pair of headphones and flipped the switch for the intercom system, triggering a green light on the bar to flash. She paused in mixing her drink and stared at the light, then looked up toward the bridge.

Between the tinted windshield and the glare of the sun, she wouldn’t be able to see him. She was probably just realizing her mistake. He chuckled when she flipped him off. Maybe it was weird, but her spirit turned him on, plain and simple.

As did her brain and body.

There was a speaker, but it had to be irritatingly loud to be heard over the whirr of the engine and rush of wind. He turned the volume to maximum and said, “Put on the headphones, Ivy. Or I’ll play K-pop over the speakers.”

When she didn’t immediately comply, he pulled up the K-pop playlist on his iPod and hit Play. He’d done the same thing to charter clients when they were dickheads and ignored him and every rule of boat safety. He might be using the charter boat captain thing as a cover, but he was once a lieutenant in the US Coast Guard, and he’d been damn good at it. He took boating safety seriously.

Ivy’s chin jutted out as she glared up at him, but she put on the headphones, then grabbed a bottle of vodka from the bar. “What do you want?”

He turned off the music. “There’s passion fruit juice in the galley. It goes well with the peach vodka.”

“That’s why you wanted me to put on headphones? Bartending instructions?”

“No. I wanted to tell you that you are rocking the bikini.”

She tugged at the tie around her neck. Her breasts were full, the weight straining against the scant triangles that tried to contain them. There was a softness in her body that twenty-somethings didn’t have. A maturity he found irresistible.

“Thank you.”

“I’d have guessed you were more the one-piece type.”

She looked up at the glass that wrapped around the helm as she ran her hand down her side, a nervous gesture, adjusting to the feel of the suit. “Trina made me buy it.”

“Trina?”

“A coworker. The only clothes hound at NHHC. She has the shopping gene the rest of us lack.”

Trina. Dr. Trina Sorenson, Navy historian. He remembered her from one of the conference calls last November. Trina was a close friend of Undine’s.

Should he tell her about his alter ego, Parker Reeves? Would it make a difference? Probably not, considering she thought Parker was a Ukrainian terrorist. She needed time to get to know him, not be fed stories she probably wouldn’t believe anyway.

“Trina has good taste.”

“She also made me buy the stilettoes I wore last night. I’d never have been able to fight off Spiderman without those shoes.”

“That makes her my new favorite person I’ve never met.” He meant it. If Ivy hadn’t been wearing stilettoes, they could be in a very different situation right now.

“Her fiancé is a badass former SEAL who runs a mercenary organization. The kind of guy who’s protective of Trina’s friends and has a small private army—which happens to be owned by my cousin—to back him up.”

He chuckled. “Point taken.”

She settled on one of the padded seats and set her drink to the side. She relaxed into the cushion, and the sun caressed her peach orchid skin. Thoughts of the flower reminded him of last night, and that fast, he was hard. “If we capsize, it’s your fault for wearing that bikini on the front deck while we’re underway.”

She poked her head up and scanned the horizon. “I see nothing but water. No boats. No land. No reefs to snag us until we’re closer to the islands. Waves are low, no threatening storms. You mess up, it’s on you.” Her smile turned sly and a little bit wicked. “What the hell, it’s not like you haven’t see it all anyway.” She untied the strings around her neck and unhooked the back of the suit, then dropped the scrap of fabric on the deck.

Oh Jesus. She did have torture in mind.

Her heavy breasts spread and relaxed. Soft to the touch. A feast for eyes and mouth. He could close his eyes and remember her taste, the feel of her puckered nipple against his tongue, but he had a boat to drive.

“Fuck but you have beautiful breasts.” The words slipped out. But then…she was practically inviting him to comment, given that they’d slept together and now she put herself on display for him.

She covered her nipples with her hands in what appeared to be a moment of self-consciousness, then gave up and took another sip from her drink and settled back on the cushion.

The sun beat down on the deck, and lying on the bench as she was, sheltered by the well, he could imagine the breeze skipping across her skin, a soft, warm caress.

He wanted to be that breeze. To forget Jack and Dimitri and lost technologies and spies. And just be a man with a beguiling woman. The bench was the perfect height for him to kneel between her legs, to lick open her flower petals, and feel her thighs curl around him as he brought her to orgasm.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked.

“Honestly?” She let out a hard laugh. “I’m thinking sitting here topless in front of you was a stupid idea. I’m bored and tense at the same time. I’m scared the guys from the swamp will find me. That I’m going to prison. That I’ll be abducted from my abductor. And that I’ll get a sunburn and my nipples will peel.”

“That’s a lot on your mind.”

“That was just the last five seconds. Before that, I was worried CAM will malfunction, and we’ll never find what you’re looking for. I’ll rub up against a poison tree during the survey and get a rash, and then mosquitos will bite me and I’ll get dengue fever. I’ll die lost and alone in a mangrove swamp, and the world will believe I betrayed my country.”

“Now I think I need a drink.” He couldn’t promise her the world wouldn’t believe she’d betrayed her country. Many already thought exactly that.

“Tell me who you’re working for, Dimitri. Make me understand why you’re doing this.”

He’d been expecting that question again and remained sorry he’d disappoint her. “I can’t tell you for your own protection.”

“But I can’t trust you unless I know what’s going on.”

“Trust is irrelevant. Just know that I’ll protect you from the others. No one will be able to come at you while you’re with me.”

She rolled to her stomach and hugged the bench pillow to her chest. “Maybe…maybe I can help you. I know people. I can talk to the attorney general. Maybe you can cut a deal. Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way.”

He could practically smell her, wanted to touch her sun-warmed skin. “Here’s one more truth for you: I’m going to die before this game ends. There is no future for me. No deal could ever save my ass.”

She tucked her head down. Her breathing was ragged through the microphone. “If you have nothing left to lose, then maybe a deal would—”

“Oh, sweetheart, therein lies the problem. I have something left to lose. People I hold more precious than my own life.”

Her gaze zinged in his direction, seeking him behind the glass, but all she would see was a dark, reflective surface. “Are you married? Do you have kids?” she asked.

“No children, and I’m not married. No girlfriend. Not even a friend with benefits in the wings. You’re the closest thing I have to being involved with someone.”

Her body stiffened. “We are not involved.”

He would argue that her decision to sunbathe topless before him belied that point, but she gathered the towel to her chest in a way that said she didn’t need the reminder.

She let out a deep breath; the puff of air hit the microphone and blasted his ears. “Who is it, then? Your parents?”

“I won’t tell you, Ivy. Don’t think I don’t know that you’ll hang me out to dry at the first opportunity. There will be no deal, and I’m not about to hand the FBI the weapon that will hang me and endanger all that I hold dear.”

Sophia and Yulian had been used against him enough.

Ivy grabbed her bikini top from the floor and hooked it behind her back. Good. Hopefully she’d go inside.

He grimaced, realizing her interrogation technique might not have gained her the answers she’d wanted, but he’d revealed more than he’d intended.

She was trying to figure out how to get the upper hand. If she only knew, she already had it. He’d given it to her when he admitted he’d never hurt her. Hell, he’d had to take her a hundred nautical miles out to sea because it was the only way he knew to scare her without actually touching her.

He was supposed to be a badass spy, but he’d frozen at the idea of physically intimidating her.

He wanted to tell her. Everything. He wanted to make love to her on the sundeck. He wanted to turn the boat around and head to Malaysia, to flee this life and start a new one.

Dammit. She needed to get inside before he did something stupid, like tell her about Sophia. “Go below. Build your drone. We’re going to start searching once we reach the Rock Islands.”

She glared at the reflective glass. “You don’t get to boss me around.”

“Fine. Then stay on the deck and I’ll whisper in your ears how much I want to fuck you. How amazing your body felt wrapped around mine. How much my cock wants to be deep inside your wet heat right this minute. How hard I am for you. How it felt to hold you against the shower wall and slide home. You were so slick—”

She yanked off the headphones and tossed them in the corner. She finished tying the bikini bra around her neck and refilled her drink. She went light on the vodka, heavy on the juice. Telling him she wanted him to believe she was getting wasted, but proving she was too smart for that.

Too smart for him.

Ivy MacLeod was the type of woman he’d always been fascinated by. Brave. Forthright. Quick. And that amazing brain. Relationships had never been in the cards for him, but if it had been possible, she was the type he’d have gone for.

She lay back on the bench and closed her eyes. Her body was stiff. She was probably cursing herself. Cursing him.

Much as he wanted to deny it, he had abducted her. He just hadn’t used physical force or coercion. He was a regular fucking saint, just like Ivy had said.

He deserved her hate. Her revulsion.

Yet…he knew an irrational part of her was turned on by him, even now. He didn’t deserve that, but he’d take it. As he’d take any other breadcrumb she tossed his way. But Ivy MacLeod was too good for a lowlife spy like him.

She deserved someone like Luke Sevick. Much as he liked Luke as a person, he also hated the golden boy. Or at least resented him. Watching Luke fall ass over teakettle for Undine Gray had been a sharp, painful reminder of everything Dimitri couldn’t have.