Deception Island. Brynn Kelly

sparkling cove nestled between steep bluffs. A boat was moored in it, close enough to make out the faces of the three Asian men aboard. One looked up, straight at her. Holy shit, this was her chance. She inhaled, ready to scream.

Chapter 7

      Jack spun Holly and captured her in a bruising kiss, his hands pinning her neck. Laughter floated up from the boat. He was making them look like the honeymooners they were supposed to be.

      She scratched at his back and kicked out, but he drove her backward. Her spine hit a tree, the shock spinning out through her torso. He flattened her, one arm pinning her right elbow to her side and enclosing her left wrist, immobilizing her upper body, while his other huge hand held her head in place like a neck brace. His eyes were focused on the boat below them, scoping out the men.

      If he could play dirty, so could she. She drove her knee toward his groin but he turned his hip, deflecting it. He hooked a foot around her calf and captured it, leaving her balanced on one leg. She tried to wriggle, but she was stuck to him like glue. Her lungs stung. With her one free hand she clawed his waist, regretting her stubby fingernails. His skin flinched but he held firm.

      She bit his lip, hard. He grunted. Warm metallic liquid seeped into her mouth. He pushed against her lips until she could do nothing but concentrate on inhaling desperately through her nose. His eyes were so close to hers, so fierce, that she shut her own. The spicy, sweaty scent of him mixed with the ripe aroma of the jungle and the fresh hit of sea air. She felt woozy, like she would pass out.

      An outboard motor spat and blatted into life. Damn. The sound crescendoed, then faded, and still Jack kept her pinned. As disappointment coursed through her, her muscles relaxed. She became aware of his strength and heat, his hips driven into her, his arm flattening her breasts, his hand cradling her throat. She couldn’t move, but he wasn’t hurting her. Fight me, and I will win. No shit.

      Okay, Capitaine, you win this battle. But I’ll win the war. She inhaled deeply through her nose, softened her lips against his, sinking into him, returning the kiss as she flattened her palm onto his hip, her fingers splayed over thick, tight muscles. Time she seized some control.

      The rattle of the boat became hard to discern. Abruptly, he stumbled back, wiping blood from his lip. She slid down the tree trunk to the ground, panting.

      His dark eyes were on fire. “Not the kind of men you want to attract, princess.”

      “And you are?” She could barely spit out the words.

      “Remember how I threatened to hurt you? I might show mercy. These men? They wouldn’t.”

      “Who were they?”

      “Pirates. The real thing.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “You see any fishing rods? Around here, the locals don’t go boating for pleasure. Especially not with an AK-47. My guess is they were scoping us out.”

      Her eyes widened. A gun? “Can they get onto the island?”

      “If they’ve got this close in a boat that small, they’re familiar with the currents and reefs. But the only place to land anything bigger than a surfboard is the lagoon right on high tide, and the entrance to it is dangerous. And they’ve lost the element of surprise.”

      “I thought you said this was a honeymoon island? Being kidnapped by pirates isn’t my idea of romance. No offense.”

      “Usually they post armed guards here. We waived it.”

      “We? Who’s ‘we’?”

      He pressed his lips together. They were flushed dark red, with a crack of scarlet where she’d bitten him. She licked her own lips, tangy with his blood. So now she was a vampire cavewoman?

      “We need to be vigilant. If they’ve figured out we have no security guards, they may come back.” Parallel lines stamped into the skin between his eyes. “Let’s keep running. I want to get around the island to check they’re gone, before it gets too hot.”

      Sweat trickled down her cleavage. The air got hotter than this? He strode up and swung a hand at her. She flinched, shielding her head, her pulse racing.

      Silence. The blow didn’t come.

      She shut her eyes tight. Idiot. Of course it didn’t.

      “I’m not going to hit you, princess, just help you up.”

      “Oh, right.” She swallowed as she uncurled and took his outstretched hand, willing hers not to shake. The kiss had thrown her off balance, that was all. He lifted her, so effortlessly she felt weightless.

      “For the record, I wouldn’t strike a woman, or force myself on one.” He didn’t release her hand right away, just held her there, her face inches from his collarbone, his breath grazing her hair. “That was a unique situation.”

      She lifted her chin. Seize some control. It brought their faces awkwardly close, but she squared her focus on his eyes. His expression was so serious she was at risk of melting. She smiled, slyly, ignoring the dart of guilt over milking his concern. “I thought you couldn’t care less about returning me in one piece.”

      He lowered his brow, glowering. “Depends how well you behave.”

      And if she was playing him, why did that look make her heart skip like a stone across a pond?

      * * *

      They ran for another half hour, far enough around the island to satisfy Rafe that the pirates were gone, for now. He concentrated on following Laura’s stride, holding himself back as the track descended to their drop zone then looped toward the lagoon. You’re punishing yourself, she’d said. Maybe so. All he knew for sure was that he could lose himself in physical exertion, the same way he used to lose himself in sex.

      Sex. Holding Laura against that tree, his body had begged to mutiny and seek that escape again. If the perfume she hawked in those ads was anything near as intoxicating as her own scent, the men of America were in trouble. What did she call it? Laura Hyland—Spark, or something.

      “Pick up the pace, princess,” he said. This was the price of easy running—thoughts found a way in.

      Laura stumbled on a root. He shot out a hand and grabbed her arm. She shook it off and kept running. He’d expected a far more fragile woman than this. She was way out of her comfort zone, with her life in danger, and yet strength radiated from her. It fed into every word she spoke, her every gesture—as if she expected the worst from life and knew how to twist it to her advantage. How did her breeding prepare her for that?

      But she’d flinched when he’d gone to pull her up. He knew that instinct—as did everyone who’d known violence too well as a child.

      His gaze wandered up her body, lithe and relaxed, the muscles in her legs clenching rhythmically with her easy stride. She’d known fear. At whose hands—Logan’s, her father’s or Jasper’s, whoever he was? Fear had created the tough shell around her. And what was underneath? Whenever she met his gaze, it was unflinching. Until that moment, she hadn’t let down her guard, her wit hadn’t wavered. A sharp brain inside a goddess’s body.

      He forced his eyes away, focusing over her head onto the path in front. Too much time and energy to think, that was his problem. And his lack of backup was eating him up. For now, he had no choice but to go along with Gabriel’s plan. In the meantime, he’d figure out just what Laura’s game was, and what kind of threat it posed. Recon and surveillance. Not his preferred mission, but if it kept him out of a flag-draped box...

      He sprinted the last fifty meters to the villa, passing Laura as she jogged to a halt. He brought them each a can of cola from the fridge.

      Her cheeks were crimson and she clutched her side. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced someone who wasn’t used to hard running to go that far, in the heat. He could go again, twice.

      She