The Espionage Effect(41)
“Look up,” he whispered.
Lost in a freefall of sensation, I obeyed, tilting my face skyward.
An explosion of color radiated overhead. Wispy clouds I hadn’t noticed earlier sprang to dazzling life, bright pink vapor forming heavenly shapes, like angels.
A cramp burned at the base of my throat and the threat of tears stung my eyes.
Raw beauty had snuck past my solid defenses. I’d relegated myself to cold darkness for so long, yet now I felt myself drawn toward the light—its attraction: undeniable. Without warning, thoughts of my sister flooded in as my gaze drifted off toward the faraway horizon. Was Geneva out there somewhere in the ether? Would she squeal with joy at the sight?
Unaware of the action, my hands had encircled the muscular forearm that Alec had wrapped around my waist to steady me. I tightened my grip, wanting more of his grounding effect than to merely hold me upright. I needed the man who’d awakened me to keep me firmly planted in reality.
He had no idea that he’d been instrumental in reintroducing me to a world that I’d shunned out of necessity. Purposefully lost, cocooned in the safety of sensory deprivation, I’d hardened my defenses for years, convincing myself the sheltered action had been necessary to prepare for some future battle.
More than a decade of sharpening mental skills like everyone had expected of me, accompanied by years of physical training that I’d reasoned would balance my mental-acuity trials, had led me to this pivotal moment: when a man I hadn’t expected slowly removed all of my carefully placed armor, allowed me to ease the pain incrementally, helping me heal.
I sucked in a shaky breath as he brought the protective strength of his arms further around me, shielding me from the whipping wind. I leaned back into his hold, letting him take over and support us both.
All too fast, the cloud-angels turned orange, then grayed, fading into the backdrop of a darkening twilight sky. The catamaran changed course, and its giant sails billowed with captured wind, speeding us away from the fragment of beauty we’d been privileged to witness.
The choppy waves turned a steely blackish blue as nightfall descended. And with the transformation from day to night, my spirit gained in strength, fueled by the comforting familiarity of darkness.
Nature had its balance. Hot and cold. Bright and dark. Life and death. And in a momentary glimpse, on a cruise only meant to prolong my exposure to a spy to gain training and access to a clandestine organization, I’d gained more perspective, found greater equilibrium.
Left to my surreal thoughts, letting them take root into the integral, vulnerable part of me that I’d kept hidden from the world—from myself—for so long, the features of land grew in size and clarity. Soon we sailed past the reef again, angling toward shore in full view of Escobar’s impressive white marble house.
With quick purpose, we commandeered a private section of railing. Alec stepped to my left, but kept an arm draped behind me, hand resting on the backside of my hip. He stared intently at the shoreline again, expression hardened to granite.
If he glared with enough intensity, would lasers erupt through those dark sunglasses and scorch his evil target from the earth? “How can you even see with those things on?”
The hint of a smile played on his face. He dropped his head until his lips brushed the top of my ear. “I see infinitely better with them.”
They were the same sunglasses he’d worn when we’d snorkeled. In fact, he’d only removed them to put his mask on. “Are they prescription?” I’d noticed him squinting when not wearing the sunglasses, but maybe he needed them for distance.
“In a way.” He pulled them off, then slowly positioned them over my face. I closed my eyes while he carefully tucked the thin rubber-coated arms over my ears.
When I opened my eyes, I gasped. An entire computer array flashed across the lenses. Data streamed to the left: coordinates. And as I moved my head, scanning down the beach, the feedback altered, providing longitude, latitude, and altitude. On the right, additional information appeared: air temperature and targeted surface temperatures.
Facing back toward Escobar’s house, I focused on it. All of a sudden, the structure grew in size. And the more I focused, the larger it appeared, until my enhanced view allowed me to spy right through the large plate glass dining room window, revealing a chef in a white hat serving four guests at a long teak table. I assumed the man at the head of the table was Escobar. Experimenting, I concentrated harder, sharpening further. The sunglasses zoomed in on his dinner plate: rack of lamb, baby carrots, and tiny wild mushrooms.
“Oh. My. God,” I whispered under my breath, easing back the focus to observe the house as a whole again. “These are astounding.”
“Now you know what I used to occupy myself with while snorkeling—when trying to distract my thoughts away from you.”
I fought a smile. “I’m never giving these back, then.” When he chuckled and reached for them, I turned my head, leaning away. I grasped his free hand and threaded our fingers together to keep him from stealing them off my face before I was ready. Then I shrugged. “Shouldn’t we test your willpower without the glasses? We wouldn’t want basic instinct to win out over clear reason.”
He bent down again until his hot breath danced down my neck. “Is that all you think it is? Basic instinct? Carnal drive? Primal urges…” His voice lowered, cadence slowing as he laced each successive word with heavier erotic undertones.