Get your head in the game, Javier, I mutter to myself, shaking my head and dragging my eyes away from the temptation sitting at the helm next to me. Not the girl I should be thinking about like that, or looking at like that. She may be sexy as sin, but fuck, she's the enemy here. This is the C.I.A., for fuck’s sake; not to mention her fucking family and all their little helpers are the ones that got me stuck in that hellhole of a prison in the first place. She might be tempting as all hell, but I'd be a Goddamn idiot to let my guard down around her.
“So what did those banditos want with you back there.”
“What? I have no idea.” she spits out, frowning at me.
Nice fuckin attitude.
“No idea?” I laugh; “The 'I' does stand for 'intelligence', doesn't it?”
“Cute,” She sneers at me; “Seriously though, where are we going.”
“I know a place.”
“A place?”
“Maybe you just gotta trust me, honey.” I say with a grin.
She barks out a sharp laugh this time, though she doesn't say anything afterwords, which pisses me off.
“I used to smuggle through here, way back. Aruba's got all sorts of hidden little spots on the coast where we can dodge the heat.”
“Fine, and once we're there, we're getting a phone and I'm calling this in.”
Yeah, whatever you say, baby.
Because I know the patch insignia on the flak jackets of the guys at the marina. I know that logo, because I used to wear it myself.
And what the fuck Blackriver Mercenary Group wants with Chelsea Archer, I haven't the slightest fucking idea.
“We're going to need to lie low for at least the night.”
I've gotten the boat to a stop near the mouth of the all but hidden cove I remember from my smuggling days. Really, “smuggling days” sounds way more badass than it actually was; cigarettes and American copies of Playboy Magazine for off-duty U.S. Navy guys isn't exactly narco-trafficking; not like my father.
Chelsea looks up at me sharply. She's still holding that stupid unloaded gun, which is becoming more and more comical by the moment; “We're not staying the night anywhere, Toro. We're getting to the airport, I'm calling Langley, and we're taking you in.” She narrows her eyes at me; “But nice try.”
“Yeah, that’s a no-can-do.” When she flashes those eyes at me again and starts to open her mouth, it suddenly occurs to me that she doesn't have any idea who was just after her; “You know I’m not the bad guy here, babe.”
She laughs; “You don't seriously believe that, do you?”
There's something about the way she thinks this is all a joke that gets right under my skin; “I'm not the-”
“You kidnapped my sister and you-”
“She stabbed me in the neck.”
“You kidnapped. My. Sister.” Her voice is level at me, her jaw tight and that wild, dangerously sexy look writ large across her face. I hate to admit that she brings up a fair point, but my scar still throbs under the ink on my neck. That was another lifetime ago, another cycle in the ever evolving, swirling, constantly chaotic bullshit life of Javier Toro.
I don't say a word though, outside of grumbling, as I turn back to the drive console.
Chelsea sighs behind me; “Look, thank you, ok?”
“For?”
“For intervening back there at the pool. I- I wasn't paying attention at all.”
I turn back to her, a big shit-eating grin on my face; “See? Now was that so hard, princess?”
She rolls her eyes and looks away; “Just take the fucking gratitude, Toro.”
“Look can you not call me that?”
“What, your name?” Chelsea frowns at me again; “Oh, what, are we on a first-name basis now?”
Keep up that attitude, honey.
“People who call me that are usually people like jail guards or police or whatever. It rubs me the wrong way.”
“Well, I am the police.”
I shrug; “I mean, sort of. Look, just stick with Javier and we’ll be fine.”
Her eyes roll; “Fine, Javier,” She says dramatically.
Satisfied, I turn back to the steering column and start reaching underneath for the wiring; “So what were you reading?”
“Huh?” I can hear her pacing the cabin behind me. She's fidgety, usually the mark of impatience. I can tell she's someone used to having a plan; someone used to sticking to a schedule. That she has no idea what’s coming next, or that I'm making this up as I go probably has her panties in such a twist.
I grin to myself; I probably shouldn't be thinking about this chick’s panties in any capacity, but damn is it fun.
“Back at the pool, you were reading something.”
She stops pacing behind me; “You saw that?”