Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(51)

“You don’t really believe—”

“So what’s the deal?” He spoke over her as if she hadn’t said a word. “Are you two just hot and heavy for one another, or is it something more?”

And damn him, she felt herself answering with the truth. Not because she was scared she would be standing at the Pearly Gates and explaining herself to St. Peter anytime soon, but more because…well…it seemed disrespectful to Leo—to his bravery and honor and…and…everything he stood for—to lie.

“I don’t know about him,” she admitted. “But for me it’s…more. I like him, Bran. I really do.”

Okay, and she could not believe she’d just said that. Out loud. To another person. She’d never been very good at being vulnerable. Didn’t know why she’d decided to give it a try now.

He stared at her for a moment, then two. Finally he muttered, “I wish you didn’t.”

Her chin jerked back. “Why?”

“Because there’s no future for the two of you.”

“Why do you say that?” I mean, she knew why. It was because she could never tell Leo the truth about Syria. And even though she didn’t know a lot about personal relationships, having never had many of her own, she knew enough to know that a stable one couldn’t be built on a foundation of lies, but—

“You’re a spy and he’s a civilian,” Bran said simply. “Anyone with an ounce of brains knows those two things are oil and water.”

“I’m not banking on forever here,” she admitted, as much to herself as to him.

He bobbed his head. “Well, that’s good to hear. Now let’s—”

He didn’t have time to say more because the dinghy slid to a stop beside them. The next thing she knew, strong hands gripped her armpits and she was being hauled over the side of the rubber boat and straight into Leo’s warm, muscular arms.

And it didn’t matter that there was no future for them. It didn’t matter that their luck could very well take a turn for the worse—I mean, given its current trajectory—because she’d learned early in life to appreciate the little things, to luxuriate in the moment since by its very definition, it was fleeing. And for this second, for this one crystalline heartbeat of time, he was safe and whole. And he was hugging her to him as if he never wanted to let her go, as if he cared. And she’d take it. What little there was, she’d take it.

She squeezed him back with all she had before searching his face. “You okay?” she asked, wiping a smudge of soot from his furrowed brow with her thumb. She had to catch her bottom lip between her teeth. For some mortifying reason, tears were pricking behind her eyes.

What the hell? She wasn’t a crier.

Luckily, Leo didn’t see the mutinous wetness. His wonderful multihued eyes ran over her from head to toe, checking for injury. “Fine. You? Did I hurt you when I tossed you overboard?”

“No,” she assured him. “No, I—” She adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on his lap. Something was poking her. Then she realized that something was Leo. He was so hard a cat couldn’t scratch him. And that was just what she needed to keep herself from becoming a watering pot. “Really, Leo,” she tsked, shaking her head, “now isn’t the time to—”

Despite the gravity of their situation, he grinned. “Normally,” he told her, “that would all be for you. But right now I suspect it has more to do with the adrenaline. We call ’em battlefield boners. And why the good Lord saw fit to hamper a man with a hard-on during life-or-death situations, I’ll never know.” He turned to Wolf before she could come up with a witty reply. “Get us the hell out of here.”

The nose of the dinghy plowed over the top of a wave when Wolf laid on the throttle. Then Leo pulled her close again and stuck his nose in the crook of her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, like maybe he was trying to suck her scent all the way down to his toes. And then, right there in front of his men, with his ship sinking behind them, he kissed her.

*

2:24 p.m.…

Leo didn’t care that his friends were watching. He didn’t care that now was not the time or the place. All that mattered was that Olivia was safe and unharmed. Dripping wet and shivering despite the hot sun beating down on them, but safe and unharmed. And kissing him back as openly and passionately as any man could wish for…

“Leo,” she breathed against his mouth. His own name had never sounded so good.

Salt clung to her lips, and she might be a pickled form of Olivia, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want to eat her up. In fact, he wanted to go on kissing her forever. And he might have given it his best shot had not the fire burning in Wayfarer-I’s big belly hit her fuel tanks. KABOOM! A ball of flames exploded from her aft section to belch into the sky like dragon’s breath.

“Jeez!” Olivia hissed as Wolf cut the throttle. The rubber dinghy glided to a slow stop as the heat of the blast rolled over them. It wicked the water from their skin, leaving nothing but salty residue behind and filling the air with the scents of melting metal and burning paint.

“Son. Of. A. Bitch,” Bran breathed.

Four sets of eyes quickly turned to Leo. And it was no wonder. His father’s legacy, his birthright was burning and sinking. But, more importantly, it was all of their futures.