I smirk up at her over my shoulder; “Yeah I was checking you out from my balcony for like half an hour before those assholes showed up.”
She blushes, and looks away, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. She might be the law, and she might still be holding a gun - however unloaded it may be - but damn is she sexy as fuck standing there in her white bikini hugging every curve of that hot little body. Her sarong is even half-transparent, especially with the light from cabin door coming in behind her. It takes me a second longer than it should to realize I'm letting my eyes wander freely over her body in a pretty obvious way. I glance up, just in time for her eyes to lock with mine, and that blush creeps back into her face.
“Um, do you have a shirt or something?” She crosses her arms over the swell of her tits, biting her lip.
I smirk and look down at my own bare chest; “Nope.”
Get your fucking head in the game, amigo.
I turn my head quickly, shaking the thoughts of Chelsea Archer's perfect bikini out of my head as I start to rip out the panel under the steering column.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I shrug as I start to yank wiring out; “They're going to track the boat, you know. We need to ditch it.” I turn back to her, unable to resist a little probing dig; “I mean, you did know that, right super-spy?” She frowns at me again, and in spite of how childish it is to needle her like this, it's pretty fucking fun too.
“I'm deactivating the cruise-control lock. We’re going to send this baby off on it’s own as bait.”
“How do you even know how to do that?”
I turn back to her, flashing my most charming smile as I look up into her face; “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
And really, there’s a lot about me that agent blondie probably doesn't want to know, even if she thinks she does. I rev the outboard engine of the dingy, motoring us to through the rocks to the hidden cove as the yacht plows off behind us under autopilot into the horizon.
She may think she's curious about me - a lot of people are at first. But the reality isn't a movie. I’m not a fucking character in some script, and my life does not have a pleasant little story arc with a happy fucking ending. It's just broken, shattered, and littered with the bones of those who've tried to “know me” before.
Yeah princess, there’s nothing you want to know about me; trust me.
6
Chelsea
I hate this.
I do plans. I do thinking ahead, sticking to the rules, and coloring inside the lines, and right now, we are everything but any of those things. OK, sure, we have a “plan” in that Javier thinks our best bet is to lie low here on the beach tonight to let the heat of the men looking for us cool off a little. But see, that’s the problem; it’s Javier’s plan, and I’m not sure I want anything to do with anything that comes out of that man’s head.
I’m pretty sure I don’t want anything to do with any part of that man, actually.
But here I am camping on the beach with him, and trying to keep my cool and my head focused, which is getting harder by the moment. Javier’s playing a game here; I know it, and I can’t let my guard down. Part of me is shocked he’s even still here to be honest. I’d spent most of the dingy ride to the beach wondering what on Earth I was going to do to stop him when he inevitably bolted the second we hit the shore.
But here we are a few hours later, and he’s still here; bewildering as it may be.
“Dinner is served.” I look up and jerk my hands up suddenly to catch the piece of fruit Javier tosses my way; “Mangos,” He grins at me; “Sorry, looks like I forgot the china plates and serving wenches you’re probably used to, princess.”
“Will you quit calling me that?” I frown at him, peeling at the skin of the mango with my fingernails.
“Hey, if the shoe fits, right?” He smirks at me, flashing that cocky, toothy smile my way. I can’t tell if that grin annoys me because it gets right under my skin, or if it’s because part of me is OK with it being there.
“You don’t know a thing about me, actually.”
He snorts; “Please, I can see the silver spoon stuck up that cute little ass of yours from over here.” I frown as I take an angry bite of my mango, not even sure how to respond to that.
We sit without talking for a few minutes, just staring out over what is honestly a gorgeous sunset over the ocean. It’s beautiful, even if I can’t quite enjoy it as much as I’d like to considering our current situation and who I’m watching it with. I still can’t believe I’m here; here literally on this beach with Javier and my original plan in tatters around me, as well as “here” generally speaking as in the mission itself. Clearly, I’m not qualified for this, and I’m positive now that Koufax’s only motivation for volunteering me for it was to humiliate me and wreck my career before I could even get anywhere.