"Looks like I was right," Claire said.
"Seems that way." I peered out at the clouds. There hadn't been any lightning yet, which was good.
"Think we should go back?"
"We'll be fine so long as you don't mind getting wet."
"Oh, I don't mind."
"I figured that out already."
We motored along, making idle small talk, until eventually we made it to the same spot as yesterday. It was far enough that we could barely see the land, but close enough that I didn't feel like we were in any real danger from the storm.
The boat was rocking from side to side, the water a bit more aggressive than I had expected, but it wasn't too bad. I was used to being out on a ship in stormy seas, though I was worried Claire might get seasick and upchuck or some shit. I didn't want to have to deal with that at all.
"Ready to do this?" I asked her, dropping the anchor.
"Ready as ever."
We stood up and looked out at the wet deck. "Be careful and don't slip."
"What if I fall overboard?"
"I'll get you. Don't you worry."
We stepped out into the rain and Claire laughed. We were drenched immediately, and fortunately it was a hot day. The rain was comfortable and cool against my skin as we moved out onto the main deck and started to set up our fishing rods.
I couldn't help but stare at Claire's sweet ass in her soaked shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a soaking ponytail, and her white shirt was totally see-through, revealing a navy blue bikini top that barely concealed her amazing tits. My cock was hard almost as soon as we were out there, and I wanted her more than ever. She was soaked and practically begging for it.
"What are you looking at?" she asked.
"Your perfect fucking tits," I said.
She blushed. "Don't be so crude."
"Just stating the truth. You look fucking incredible all dripping wet."
"Let's just start fishing."
I helped her cast out, not at all hiding the fact that my dick was rock hard, but she didn't seem to mind at all. Once she was set up, I cast my own rod.
"I like the way you handle that thing," I said to her.
"I'm still new at this."
"I know. You're practically untouched. But you handle a rod like you were born to do it."
She looked at me, making a face. "Thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome. A girl like you should know that she's good with her hands, especially soaking wet."
"Okay, you're definitely not talking about fishing."
"Nope. I never was."
"Do you ever think about anything else?"
"Not when you're around."
"Must get exhausting."
"Only because you pretend like you don't want it."
"Not pretending."
"I don't have time to fuck around, Claire. I live on the razor's edge all the time. It's my job and my fucking pleasure to risk my life day in and day out so people can be safe."
"I know that."
I stood back away from the deck and slipped off my soaking pants. She gaped for a second before realizing I was wearing a bathing suit underneath and quickly looked away.
"A little warning next time," she said.
"I'd rather you watched. I know you like to look."
She peeked back over at me as I stripped my shirt off.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"You think I don't notice you staring? You're like a starving animal."
"What's that?" she asked suddenly, pointing at the scar on my leg.
"That's a scar, babe. I have a lot of them."
"But it looks fresh."
I was silent for a second. "I was wounded on my last mission. That's why I'm even home, actually. Command mandated that I take some R&R, and so I did."
She reached out but pulled her hand back. I laughed at her. "Go ahead," I said, "touch it."
She reached out again and her fingers gently touched the rough flesh of the scar. "Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes. Not as much anymore."
She looked at me quietly for a second, and then her eyes narrowed. "What's that?"
I followed her gaze and saw it immediately: a boat, gray against the gray ocean, slowly coming toward us. It was small and fast, the kind of boat that was built for taking other ships by surprise. I wasn't sure I would have spotted it if she hadn't noticed it first, which was impressive in itself, but I didn't have time to think much about her eyesight.
"That's a boat," I said softly, mostly to myself.
"What's it doing out here?"
"I'm not totally sure."
She moved away, watching the boat coming slowly closer. Suddenly, a bad feeling hit me right in the gut; it was the same feeling I used to get before combat missions. I knew what it meant.
Danger was coming.
"I think you should get below deck," I said to her.
"Why?" she asked, still watching.
"It's not safe up here."
She laughed. "What are you talking about? Because of that boat?" She looked at me like I was crazy.
"Yes," I said softly, coming up behind her. "We don't know who they are."
"This is the Outer Banks, not Somalia. They're not pirates."
"They might be. The coast guard can't patrol every inch of water all the time. Plus, we're sitting ducks."
She looked at me, her surprised good humor turning into worry. "You're serious."
"I am. Go below deck until they're gone."
The boat was coming up faster now, and I got a better look at them. The two men were nondescript but young looking. I couldn't see if they were carrying any weapons, but they'd keep them hidden as long as possible. Their clothes suggested they were prepared to move quickly, but they weren't wearing ski masks and camo gear, either.
"No. You're just being overprotective."
"Claire," I growled at her, "get below deck or I'll throw you down there."
"Come on, cut it out-"
I didn't let her finish. I grabbed her and tossed her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing.
"Nate, what the hell!"
I walked over toward the stairs leading below deck. "For your own good," I said as she began to smack my arms and back.
"Put me down, you asshole!"
"Nope."
I carried her down the steps, grinning softly to myself. I stopped in front of the storage room and placed her down on her feet. She huffed and blew the hair from her face.
"Go in and stay there."
"No way."
I gave her a long look. "Do it or I'll make you."
She sighed and opened the door. "Five minutes."
"Until I get you."
"Ten. See you soon." She shut the door behind her.
Relieved, I moved fast. I didn't have a gun, but I did have my knife strapped to my pants. I went back on deck and noticed how much closer the men were. I quickly grabbed my jeans and slipped the knife from the sheath. Then I gripped it against my thigh, crouching down next to the railing.
The boat was coming fast, and the closer they got, the more positive I was that they were definitely pirates. They were headed right for our boat, and neither of them were talking into the radio or trying to signal us at all. They had grim looks on their faces, as if they were about to do something horrible. Those were looks I knew very, very well.
But there were only two of them, which was good.
I waited until they got within shouting distance. My heart went calm in my chest as my battle instincts took over.
"What do you want?" I yelled out.
"We're lost," one man yelled back. "We need help."
"Land is due west."
"We need help. Can we board?"
"Negative. Do not board."
They didn't slow down. They were headed right for us.
"Do not board," I yelled again.
Suddenly, the man I had been talking to pulled out a rifle from beneath his bench and aimed it at me. My training kicked in as I dove away from the bullet spray, the scream of the weapon cutting through over the rain and the engines.
I rolled off and quickly moved toward the stairs, getting under cover behind the metal door. I didn't have a gun to return fire, or else this would be much easier. Instead, I needed to let them board. I needed them to get close, nice and personal.
And so I waited. After a few minutes, their engine cut out, and I saw ropes get thrown up onto the deck. They caught on the railing and went taut.
The two men climbed over. They were both wearing masks now, and both carried the same AK-47 rifle. They moved with some practice, though I couldn't tell if they were professionals or not.
I cursed under my breath and then yelled indistinctly. They heard my voice and came hustling toward me. I was moving on autopilot, following my instincts and my training, letting the cool, deadly calm of a trained warrior take over me.
I went down the steps and quickly hid beneath them. Claire was poking her head out of the door, and I signaled for her to get back inside. She listened right away, for once in her life. She must have heard the shots and guessed correctly what they were.
I heard the men's footsteps coming down the stairs. Time felt like it slowed down.
I acted fast. I whipped around the side, bringing my knife up. My aim was true as I dragged the blade along the Achilles tendon of the man in the front, severing it cleanly.