Her arm ached and bled, but it looked like a through and through. The white surface of the yacht’s hull was in front of her, the only thing marring it a large cake of C-4 that had been attached by one of Nelson’s hired goons.
She forced herself to swim between the boats. So tight. The space seemed too small, but she turned her face upward and breathed in. She could do this.
She’d thought to send it to the bottom of the ocean, but a much better plan occurred to her.
The cake pried off in her hand. She turned to the pirate boat. It was a simple thing to toss the explosive up and over the side. There was a little
thunk
as it hit the deck. She prayed no one was watching, that everyone was on board the yacht.
Suddenly, the pirate ship shifted as a wave hit them. Charlie was caught between the two and sent headfirst into the yacht’s hull.
Pain bloomed in her skull and then she could see the water all around her. It was quiet again and she was floating. The pain seemed to be gone. She knew her lungs were trying to work, but it seemed far off and darkness was just on the outer edge of her consciousness.
The first time she’d died, all she could think about was what she would miss, all the things she hadn’t done. Regret had blanketed her. Death had been a cold, dark place.
It was different now. As the world started to go dark, all she could see was him. Her Master. All she could feel was the way he’d cared for her, how vibrant and beautiful the world had been in the end.
This time when she died, she realized another truth. At the end, there was love. Love for him. Love for her.
Death was so much easier the second time around.
* * * *
Ian cursed as Charlie went over the side of the yacht, but there was very little he could do about it because he was pinned down on the main deck. He’d managed to jump down from the bridge and take up a tactical position, but Nelson still had him caught and he’d called for reinforcements.
And he had the fucking laptop. Ian had lied about the security. There hadn’t been time to do anything beyond getting the king and his cousin to the garage. Jiang Kun was fitting them with scuba gear to get them the fuck off this coffin.
Luckily all the furniture on the boat was nailed down. Ian was behind a large chaise where the king probably did his little harem on a regular basis. It was sturdy enough for two and provided decent cover.
Anxiety knotted his gut as he popped up and laid out another round of fire. It was immediately met, and he took a slug across his shoulder. It burned but the bullet hadn’t done more than broken the skin. The bullet in his thigh was another matter. It was buried deep and bleeding like a motherfucker.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to swim very far.
“Cease fire.” The command came over the loud speaker. “Get to the boat. Follow the plan. We have what we need and you will be paid.”
Fuck.
What had happened?
He touched his earpiece. He’d been silent for a long time and had to hope Knight was still in position. “What’s going on?”
“The Coast Guard,” Knight said. “I just caught sight of them. They’re probably ten minutes away.”
“Do you see my wife?”
“That’s a negative, Tag. I don’t have a visual on her, but your brother and Simon are making their way along the port side, heading for you.”
His brother’s voice came over the device. “I’ll be there in 60, brother.”
One minute. He wasn’t sure Charlie had a minute. If Nelson got on his boat and saw her in the water, he would shoot her out of sheer spite.
He stood up, firing toward the stairs that led to the main deck.
Unfortunately, there was no one left to kill.
“I left you a present, Tag.” This time the sound was coming from the starboard side of the ship. Ian moved his ass, trying to get to the fucker before he got away. “Sorry to leave so very quickly, but I think our little game is over now. It would have been nice to have the tech, but in the end as long as I’ve destroyed it, it doesn’t matter. I’ve rigged the ship to explode so you won’t be able to play anymore. It’s okay since your little whore is floating. You’ll join her as soon as I get enough distance between us.”
“Tag!”
He heard his brother shout as the boat Nelson was on began to pull away.
He pulled the trigger in frustration, trying to spray the boat. He’d already lost sight of Nelson.
And then he saw something that made his heart stop.
A body floating in the water, face down, her hair around her like a halo.
“Ian, we have to go,” his brother said as he ran up to him. He looked out and then pulled at Ian’s shirt. “Ian, no.”
But he wasn’t listening. He tossed the gun aside and dove in, bad leg, aching shoulder and all.
Suck it up, Taggart. She’s alive. She’s fucking alive because she can’t be dead.
Pain flared through his system but he swam to her, forcing her body over, her face up to the sun.
“Come on, baby.” He started to swim back, trying not to think about the fact that she wasn’t breathing. Her chest wasn’t moving up and down. Her body was dead weight in his arms.
Not fucking dead. Not dead.
It became his mantra as he swam back, the rhythm that kept his limbs moving, his heart pumping.
Not fucking dead.
Charlie wasn’t dead. Charlie couldn’t be dead. He’d just found her again and he’d wasted time being mad at her. He should have just laid down in front of her and thanked the fucking universe for a second chance. Because the anger he’d felt was nothing compared to the love. He loved her. She was his in that stupid Hollywood way that made a man think dumbass things about the future.
“Give her to me.” Sean leaned over, reaching for her and hauling her up.
Simon pulled Ian on to the deck.
Sean held her, but there was no strength in her body, just useless limbs hanging down. Everything that was Charlie seemed gone. “We need to go. It won’t be long before he detonates that bomb. They left the second boat. Not enough men left to crew it. Let’s go.”
Charlie wouldn’t last long enough to get to the boat.
“Lay her down,” he commanded.
Sean laid her on the deck. “I’m so sorry, brother.”
“Go. Both of you.” Dropping to his knees, he ignored the pain that was screaming along his nerves. It was easy since the panic in his head was shouting down everything else. He was sure his face was passive, a trick from years of training, but he was fighting for control. Fighting the need to scream.
He moved to her mouth, tilting her head back. A kiss. It was like a kiss. He could trick his brain into believing it was just another kiss with his wife. He should have kissed her more. All the time.
One breath in and then another.
Methodically, he found her xiphoid process. It was there at the base of her breastbone. He moved the flat of his palm to her chest and pumped. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
His brother was still here. If his brother died, Grace would feel this ache. She would feel the blinding pain of having half her fucking soul ripped away from her. She would understand what it meant to sit up at night and wonder where the hell her husband had gone. She’d already been through it once. She couldn’t again. Not while Ian could stop it. “Get him out, Simon. That’s an order. If you have any loyalty to me at all, do it.”
He bent over and breathed into Charlie’s sweet mouth again as Sean started to argue. There was a thud and when he moved back to chest compressions, Simon was picking up Sean’s unconscious body and hauling it over his shoulder.
His deep blue eyes found Ian’s. “Good luck, boss. And thank you.”
“Take care of my crew.” One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
His body was on autopilot. He couldn’t seem to stop. Part of him said to just give up, hold her in his arms and wait for the world to explode because wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. He’d meant it. He didn’t want to live in a world where he lost her twice.
Fuck.
His vision was blurry. Something splashed and hit Charlie’s cheek.
He was crying. He didn’t fucking cry.
“You don’t get to leave me!” A violent anger raged inside him. She didn’t get to die. Not twice. Not now. If he was going out, then he wanted her looking into his eyes when it happened, he wanted them connected so he could hold on to her. So he didn’t lose her.
He struck her chest, a deep thud causing her body to jerk. “Wake up. You wake up, bitch, because I’m not doing this without you.”
There was no going back to a half-life of Scotch and songs no one else wanted to listen to and pretending he wasn’t dead inside.
He struck again and her eyes flared, her mouth opening as water bubbled out of her lungs.
“Oh, shit.” Ian thrust his good arm under her neck, turning her to the side as she vomited up what had to be a gallon of pure Arabian Sea.
“What did you do to me?” Charlie asked, her voice raw and so gorgeous to him. “I think a Mack truck hit my chest.”
He didn’t have time to argue about his CPR methods. Now that she was back, all he wanted to do was live. With a low groan, he got to his feet. They needed to get in the water, swim as far as they could. Just a chance. He would carry her as far as he could and then take whatever fate she suffered.
Live or die, he would do it with her.
He hauled her up even as she protested. “Ian, put me down. It hurts.”
Limping, he started for the port side. He would do whatever it took. Getting her out of here was the most important thing in the world. “Can’t, baby. We have to get out of here. Nelson is going to blow the ship.”
She shook her head. “No. Not ours.”
“Maybe he’s lying, but I can’t take the chance.” God, he hoped the bastard was lying because their time had to be up.
“Ian, we’re fine. Watch his boat. Watch his. Got into the water to do it.”
Her words hit him with a flash of hope. His wife was smart and kind of really fucking mean, and it would totally occur to her to hand Nelson back his surprise. He turned to the boat that was speeding away from the yacht. He could have sworn he saw Nelson standing at the bow, watching. He seemed to be holding something in his hand. Nelson waved. The asshole.
And then Nelson’s motherfucking boat exploded.
Ian stood strong as the concussive wave hit the yacht and made it list back and forth. His arms tightened around his wife and despite all the pain, he threw back his head and laughed.
Eli Nelson had just gotten taken down by a girl. A woman. Ian Taggart’s woman. It was surprisingly better than taking the fucker down himself.
The yacht continued to move, and Ian stumbled to the chaise. He laid his wife down, her gorgeous body barely covered. She had a wound on her arm, but it didn’t look serious. Dropping to his knee, he could hear the sound of Nelson’s boat hitting the water again after flying apart through the air. He would bet there were a whole lot of body parts flying around, like the best fireworks ever.
Charlie was still pale, her hand on her chest, rubbing it like it pained her. He hoped he hadn’t broken anything. “So it was a good wedding present? I didn’t get you one the first time.”
She was alive. He breathed her in. She was alive. His wife was still with him, his future right in his arms. “Best present ever.”
He kissed her as the Coast Guard started shouting in Hindi and the world was complete chaos around them.
“Tag?” Knight’s voice came over the line again. “Tag? Do you want to explain what the bloody hell just happened?”
Ian took out the earpiece and tossed it over the side of the boat.
And got back to kissing his wife.
Saint Petersburg, Russia
Two Weeks Later
Ian moved alongside the tourists, blending in as they crowded into the packed Peter and Paul Fortress. It was a rare sunny day in Saint Petersburg, and it looked like the citizens were out in droves. It seemed to him that the minute the sun came out in Russia, all its citizens dropped whatever they were doing and found a patch of grass to lie on.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t be lazy today. Today was the day he gave his wife her life back.
After today, everyone got to go home. Even his brother, who was back in the States at the safe house with his small family and Adam and Jake’s. Avery was staying with them while the rest of the team took care of business. Chelsea had chosen to return to the States with Sean. Damn, but he hoped she was there when he and Charlie got back.
His brother had only punched him once. Sean even waited until after the doctors had pulled the slug out of Ian’s leg to do it. Simon had taken a worse thrashing, but seemed to have given as well as he got. Sean had been pissed as hell that Ian had ordered him out, but they were already back on speaking terms.
All in all, it had been a damn fine op.
He walked through the bricked archway that led to the fortress as the tour guide spoke in her heavily Russian-accented English.
“The Peter and Paul Fortress was built in 1703 by Peter the Great. He feared attacks from Sweden so he decided that this island at the delta of the Neva River would be the best defense. The fortress was founded on May 27th and this is now considered the birthdate of the city of Saint Petersburg. If you will all follow me, we will go to the cathedral.”
That was Ian’s cue to break from the herd.
He walked toward the right hand side of the fortress, cobblestones at his feet. Damn cobblestones were all over the city. He had no idea how a person was supposed to run on the things. At times like this he was happy to be an American where the streets were usually even. If he had to run down his prey here, he might break a leg.
And since his thigh still ached from the bullet he’d taken, he wanted to avoid it if he could. He wanted his prey nice and contained.
Above his head the sky was a brilliant blue with puffy white clouds. To his right, the Peter and Paul Cathedral rose from the cobblestoned ground around it, an angel and a gold cross at the very top of its spire.