Deception Island. Brynn Kelly

that happiness.

      Finally—finally—the capitaine sprang to his feet, barely sweating. She might as well be showering in hers. The air was so thick you could almost grab a handful and squeeze out the water, like a sponge. So much for the seduction act. She felt as sexy as a slug.

      “After you,” he said, zipping up the bag.

      He wasn’t even having a drink? She’d sunk half a bottle. She set out on the trail, scanning the path for snakes. He was military, no doubt, but not here in an official capacity—she’d seen no gun, he wore no uniform. A mercenary? Maybe he was part of some international security company, the kind former soldiers joined to earn big money.

      There was at least one thing that might tempt a man like that to defy orders. If she enticed him to break a few rules, would his tight self-control begin to disintegrate? Sometimes, picking at a fraying end could loosen an impossible knot.

      Determined as she was to leave her old skill set behind, right now it was her only weapon. Her idea of lighting a bonfire on the beach last night had come to nothing when she’d failed to find matches or a lighter. Besides, she’d fallen into a deep sleep while waiting for him to doze off, and had woken well after dawn—her best sleep in months. She’d felt oddly secure with him on guard. How dumb was that?

      Throwing herself at him would be too obvious. The men she’d seduced on the job had either been so unaccustomed to female attention they couldn’t resist, or so arrogant they didn’t question it. Jack wasn’t arrogant or insecure. His confidence came from deep within, but he had troubles down there, too. And with troubles came weaknesses.

      The path began to climb. After a few minutes her breath became ragged. The canopy lightened up and the air temperature seemed to surge with each step. She slowed to a walk, clutching her sides.

      “I’m done.”

      “Good timing.” He gestured to a rustic park bench, just off the path.

      “You think of everything.”

      As she stumbled over the crest of the hill, the lagoon spread out below them, a pool of turquoise spilling into a mass of liquid sapphire.

      “Wow,” she breathed. “You really do think of everything.”

      “Sit,” he said. “Drink. Eat.”

      He unzipped the bag and handed her water and a nut bar. As she unwrapped it, he glugged from his bottle, then scuffed around on a patch of long grass behind the bench.

      He met her quizzical look. “Checking for snakes.”

      Evidently satisfied, he dropped, rolled onto his back and tucked into swift, noiseless stomach crunches. Oh, good grief. She pried her eyes away from his abs and gratefully flopped onto the seat, sucking in the sea view instead. The line marking the horizon was fuzzier than it used to be—her eyesight had shortened in prison. Too much time staring at cinder-block walls.

      She bit into the nut bar. Maybe she could seek out a spot like this in her new life and live on fish and freedom. People just brought problems—especially people with washboard stomachs.

      After Jack had done about a thousand sit-ups, he sat on the other end of the seat, the musky scent of dirt and exertion wafting from him. She sneakily inhaled. What was she, a cave woman?

      “You know you don’t have to impress me, right?”

      He scoffed. “I don’t want to impress you. I just want to watch you. I mean, need to watch you.” She raised her eyebrow. “Guard you.” He clenched his fists.

      Oh yeah, that armor was chinking. “Looks to me like you’re punishing yourself. Guilty conscience?”

      “I’m keeping fit.”

      “It’s more than that.” She knew that urge for physical oblivion. In prison, hard exercise was the only thing that had blotted out the anger. She’d run around the yard until she was emptied of everything—every thought, every regret—counting her steps to stop herself from thinking, like a meditation. “You’ve got issues.”

      “Only Americans talk about ‘issues.’ The rest of us just call it life.”

      “You kidnapped the daughter of one of the most powerful men in America. I’m thinking your issues are bigger than most.”

      He studied her. Flecks of caramel swam in his chocolate irises. “And you’ve been captured by a bloodthirsty pirate. Also not the kind of problem normal people face.”

      “Ever met a normal person?”

      “I married a normal person.”

      His bitter tone suggested he was no longer married. Nothing on his ring finger, and no band of pale skin. “How’d that work out for you?”

      He shrugged, and turned to the view. His profile was so finely etched she had an urge to sketch him—and she couldn’t draw a passable stick figure.

      “She have trouble dealing with the whole pirate thing? Wanted you to settle down, take a nine-to-five job, get a regular paycheck, take the kids to their ball games instead of going marauding with your wooden-legged pirate pals?”

      His jaw set in stone. He stood. “Break’s over.”

      Okay, that had struck a nerve. Was it regret that brought the hard edge to his eye, or anger? It didn’t look like heartbreak. She sipped her water. Maybe he did have kids who played sports on Saturdays. What would make a seemingly decent guy—a guy some woman had loved—do something like this? And what would trigger him to lose his nerve and let Holly go? She pushed up to standing. Press the right buttons in the right order and she might just find out.

      The path curled into the jungle and narrowed. As she ran, leaves brushed her arms, and the air filled with rustling and scratching. She hadn’t had much use for trail running in California, but she’d imagined dusty, quiet paths. Here, it felt like a million insects and other writhing creatures were hyped up and waiting for the signal to swarm her.

      Behind her, Jack’s boots pounded a rhythm that matched her footfalls. How long did she have to get to the bottom of him, before the ruse was blown? And what would he do then—kill her? She had to start with dissolving some of the tension between them—or, even better, cranking it up.

      A force wrapped around her stomach, yanking her backward. She squealed. Jack’s arms were circling her, lifting her off her feet, his hot chest hard up against her back. Her nerves buzzed, even as her heart pummeled.

      “Watch where you’re going, princess,” he growled.

      He eased her down, his hands coming to rest either side of her waist. A web hung across the path, with a fist-sized spider in the middle, its hairy legs raised to strike. Her cheeks prickled. Another step and it would have sunk into her right eye.

      “Is that dangerous?” she squeaked.

      “Wouldn’t have killed you, but its bite hurts like death. And you don’t want to risk an infection out here.”

      She exhaled, trying to force her body to relax. Between the sudden stop, the spider and the body contact, little explosions were spreading through her nerves. They skirted around the tree the web was strung from, Jack keeping a hand on her side until they were clear.

      “Drink,” he ordered, handing her a fresh bottle.

      She took it blindly.

      “Come on, princess. You can fight off two six-foot pirates, but a little spider scares you?”

      Oh, she’d pretty well forgotten the spider—not so much the shock of Jack’s body smacking into hers. That body was the far bigger danger, in all sorts of ways. She forced down a mouthful of water and handed back the bottle.

      “You go first,” he said. “And concentrate. It might be a snake next time, and I’d rather not be sucking venom out of you.”

      Whoa. Lucky her face was already about as pink as it got, because