Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(221)

He jerks away from me as soon as I start to thrash and yell in his face, my hands clawing for him as he scrambles away from me; “Dios fucking mio; calm the fuck down!”

I quickly stand, squaring off against him as I snarl like some sort of puma ready to pounce.

“Look!” He points across the marina, where the men are quickly piling into another boat of their own; “Something tells me those pendejos aren't with you, right?”

I shoot him a heated look before I shake my head.

“Great. Well if we stay here, they’re going to shoot at us, comprende?”

“If you think I'm going to help you escape-”

“I'm helping you escape, princess!”

We lock eyes again; the standoff all over again.

Finally, he rolls his eyes; “Here.” He hands me the gun, butt first; “I'm going to drive, hold this if it makes you feel better.”

I glare at him, but I reach out and take the gun from him. It's heavy in my hand as he mutters something in Spanish and turns back to the wheel.

'You up for this, Archer?'

'Absolutely, sir.'

“Javier, turn off the boat.”

The gun feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as I flex my sweating hand around the grip. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that shit. I'm not going to kill him, but he can still talk to the C.I.A. with a hole in his leg.

He freezes for a second, still not turning around; “You won't.”

The boat continues on, plowing faster and faster as we cruise out of the harbor and around the lighthouse point.

I pull the hammer back and take a deep breath.

“You have three seconds, Toro. Turn off the fucking engine.”

“No can do, princess,” He says with an arrogant chuckle; “Can't go back, so we're going forward.” He lurches the boat faster, and I can feel my finger tighten around the trigger.

This asshole is seriously going to make me do it.

“Besides,” he says with a chuckle; “We both know you're not actually going to-”

I squeeze.

Click.

It's empty.

The sound of the trigger still has Javier jolting upright though, and he whirls, his face a mask of absolute shock; “You fucking shot me?!”

“I did not!” My face is pale and I'm staring at the gun in my hand like it's some kind of wild animal.

“Yeah but you tried to!”

Holy shit, I did.

I've hit the targeting range about as hard as I did with schoolbooks, but I've never pulled a trigger on an actual person before. I stare at the piece of metal in my hand like it’s a snake that might bite me. I want to throw it away, but reason takes over and I hold it firm, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

This is my op; I'm supposed to be in charge, and I'm supposed to be in control of the situation. And yet here I am on a stolen yacht, with the fugitive I'm supposed to bring in, being chased by a mob of men with guns trying to kill me.

I am very much not in control of this situation.

But I turn and look out the back of the cabin to see the men starting to untie the boat back at the docks, screaming at each other and pointing in our direction. I turn back to Javier - the devil himself staring me in the face with that hard glint in his eye and that teasing smile across those lips of his.

“It- it wasn't loaded-”

“No shit, princess.” He sighs, his shoulders deflating a little with the moment. His eyes follow my gaze to them men in the smaller boat; “You know what? Fine; you're the boss, chica. What’s the call.”

Men with guns, or the man that kidnapped my sister?

I narrow my eyes at him; “Drive the fucking boat, Toro.”

“Aye aye capitan,” he salutes with a grin on his face before turning and lurching the engines forward, roaring us out of the harbor.





5





Javier




“Where exactly are we going?”

Dios fucking mio, this girl asks a lot of fucking questions.

“Away from the men trying to kill you.”

“Us.”

“What?”

“Us,” She gives me a hard look; “They're trying to kill us.”

I laugh; “Princess, they're trying to kill you; they're only after me because I was a fucking idiot and stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.”

She says nothing and turns to look out the side window of the cabin.

“Yeah, you're welcome, by the way; again.”

“Thanks,” she mutters as her hand tightens on the gun. It's kind of hilarious to me that she's still hanging on to it like that, considering we both know it’s not loaded now. But whatever; it seems to make her feel like she’s in charge, so fine.

My eyes travel up from her clenched hand to her smooth arm, then up to her bare shoulders and across that exposed collarbone to the swell of her breasts. I mean this chick is a fucking knockout. Killer smile, bright blue eyes, tanned skin, and that white bikini and sarong which is doing everything right to show off that perfect body with curves in all the right places. I mean, damn, if i'd known the C.I.A. made spooks like her, I'd have gone looking for trouble a long time ago.