Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries #5)(124)

Simon pulled Ian on to the deck.

Sean held her, but there was no strength in her body, just useless limbs hanging down. Everything that was Charlie seemed gone. “We need to go. It won’t be long before he detonates that bomb. They left the second boat. Not enough men left to crew it. Let’s go.”

Charlie wouldn’t last long enough to get to the boat.

“Lay her down,” he commanded.

Sean laid her on the deck. “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“Go. Both of you.” Dropping to his knees, he ignored the pain that was screaming along his nerves. It was easy since the panic in his head was shouting down everything else. He was sure his face was passive, a trick from years of training, but he was fighting for control. Fighting the need to scream.

He moved to her mouth, tilting her head back. A kiss. It was like a kiss. He could trick his brain into believing it was just another kiss with his wife. He should have kissed her more. All the time.

One breath in and then another.

Methodically, he found her xiphoid process. It was there at the base of her breastbone. He moved the flat of his palm to her chest and pumped. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His brother was still here. If his brother died, Grace would feel this ache. She would feel the blinding pain of having half her f*cking soul ripped away from her. She would understand what it meant to sit up at night and wonder where the hell her husband had gone. She’d already been through it once. She couldn’t again. Not while Ian could stop it. “Get him out, Simon. That’s an order. If you have any loyalty to me at all, do it.”

He bent over and breathed into Charlie’s sweet mouth again as Sean started to argue. There was a thud and when he moved back to chest compressions, Simon was picking up Sean’s unconscious body and hauling it over his shoulder.

His deep blue eyes found Ian’s. “Good luck, boss. And thank you.”

“Take care of my crew.” One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His body was on autopilot. He couldn’t seem to stop. Part of him said to just give up, hold her in his arms and wait for the world to explode because wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. He’d meant it. He didn’t want to live in a world where he lost her twice.

Fuck. His vision was blurry. Something splashed and hit Charlie’s cheek.

He was crying. He didn’t f*cking cry.

“You don’t get to leave me!” A violent anger raged inside him. She didn’t get to die. Not twice. Not now. If he was going out, then he wanted her looking into his eyes when it happened, he wanted them connected so he could hold on to her. So he didn’t lose her.

He struck her chest, a deep thud causing her body to jerk. “Wake up. You wake up, bitch, because I’m not doing this without you.”

There was no going back to a half-life of Scotch and songs no one else wanted to listen to and pretending he wasn’t dead inside.

He struck again and her eyes flared, her mouth opening as water bubbled out of her lungs.

“Oh, shit.” Ian thrust his good arm under her neck, turning her to the side as she vomited up what had to be a gallon of pure Arabian Sea.

“What did you do to me?” Charlie asked, her voice raw and so gorgeous to him. “I think a Mack truck hit my chest.”

He didn’t have time to argue about his CPR methods. Now that she was back, all he wanted to do was live. With a low groan, he got to his feet. They needed to get in the water, swim as far as they could. Just a chance. He would carry her as far as he could and then take whatever fate she suffered.

Live or die, he would do it with her.

He hauled her up even as she protested. “Ian, put me down. It hurts.”

Limping, he started for the port side. He would do whatever it took. Getting her out of here was the most important thing in the world. “Can’t, baby. We have to get out of here. Nelson is going to blow the ship.”

She shook her head. “No. Not ours.”

“Maybe he’s lying, but I can’t take the chance.” God, he hoped the bastard was lying because their time had to be up.

“Ian, we’re fine. Watch his boat. Watch his. Got into the water to do it.”

Her words hit him with a flash of hope. His wife was smart and kind of really f*cking mean, and it would totally occur to her to hand Nelson back his surprise. He turned to the boat that was speeding away from the yacht. He could have sworn he saw Nelson standing at the bow, watching. He seemed to be holding something in his hand. Nelson waved. The *.

And then Nelson’s motherf*cking boat exploded.

Ian stood strong as the concussive wave hit the yacht and made it list back and forth. His arms tightened around his wife and despite all the pain, he threw back his head and laughed.

Eli Nelson had just gotten taken down by a girl. A woman. Ian Taggart’s woman. It was surprisingly better than taking the f*cker down himself.

The yacht continued to move, and Ian stumbled to the chaise. He laid his wife down, her gorgeous body barely covered. She had a wound on her arm, but it didn’t look serious. Dropping to his knee, he could hear the sound of Nelson’s boat hitting the water again after flying apart through the air. He would bet there were a whole lot of body parts flying around, like the best fireworks ever.

Charlie was still pale, her hand on her chest, rubbing it like it pained her. He hoped he hadn’t broken anything. “So it was a good wedding present? I didn’t get you one the first time.”