Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 (21 page)

The sound of the two-toned police or emergency vehicle pierced the sunny late morning. Roberto rubbed his palms on his designer jeans and sneered at Mark, who still stood in the flowerbed. Sophia was distraught.

The shopkeeper ran to meet the little blue and white car, and entered into a heated discussion. The two police got out slowly and sauntered over to Roberto, who didn’t appear to notice them, his glare was so focused on Mark.

Although Mark wasn’t sure, it appeared the shopkeeper had told them Mark had come to Sophia’s aid. He decided it was safe to walk over to her, but she met him halfway and flew into his arms.

The signs of a budding love and a third wheel were probably obvious to the police, who took Roberto away in the car without handcuffing him. The diabolical laser look he shot from the rear window as he was being driven off would have been exciting, if it didn’t mean more problems for them all aboard the cruise ship.

“What was he so pissed off about?” Mark asked her.

“I was supposed to help him this afternoon. But the tour won’t get back in time. I left him a message, because I knew he wouldn’t let me go.”

“He can’t do that, baby. He doesn’t own you.”

She wept into his chest. “He scares me, Mark. He really scares me now.”

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but maybe it’s about time you called your fiancé and told him what is going on.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why? Sweetheart, maybe he could help.”

“He’ll know. Matheus will know. He’ll dig it out of me.”

And there he was. He was fucked in so many ways. He knew this was the woman who could rock his world, not a replacement for Sophie, but her Italian twin, the fun-loving woman who would bring him back alive.

Although it was confusing, he loved the being totally at the mercy of this little woman. The urge to protect, keep safe, and claim her for himself alone was clouding his judgment. Yet he willingly went there. He’d fallen for her so easily it made him dizzy. Some common sense drained into him as his little head settled down for a nice nap.

So, even though it wasn’t wise, he had to ask her. “Just when were you going to tell Matheus? Or is that not in your plan, Sophia?”

Her confused look broke his heart.

Just great. She hasn’t gotten to that part yet.

So was it going to be like this? She hadn’t made up her mind. She needed him, but was it in the right kind of way? And, once again, had he jumped in and fallen for a woman he couldn’t have? One he’d met too late and she’d died on him. And this one, with her whole life deliciously ahead of her, achingly alive and so full of the spirit of life itself, a life that was something he wanted to be a part of in some way, this one had made a different choice. Who was he to question that choice? Make her come to a decision for him, when she hadn’t convinced herself?

The sad look she gave him was just as hard as watching her die in front of him like Sophie.

“Ah, I get it. You’re going to use the cruise to make up your mind. I mean, why tell him about us if you might still want to marry him when we get to Rio, that what you’re saying?”

“No, Mark. That isn’t it.”

“Then what is it, Sophia? ’Cause I gotta know.” He held her delicate pointed chin with his thumb and two forefingers. Her warm brown eyes were moist with the early signs of some serious tears. She was filled with the lust for him, he could see that. Hell, he could almost smell it. But she was on overwhelm, confused.

And that wasn’t any good for him. Not that it stopped his heart from wanting to reach out from his chest and pull her to him. Not that it was going to soothe the ache he felt, once again, not being able to have something he so desperately believed was right on so many levels.

“I need a little time to think. This has all happened so fast for me, Mark.”

“Me too, baby.” Anything else he would say would be just bullshit. Like, “Oh it’s okay, take as much time as you want. I don’t want you until you can commit a hundred percent. No sense getting involved if it isn’t going to go anywhere.”

Those were the lies he would have said, if he’d not cared so much for her, and for himself. If he couldn’t be honest, he’d say nothing. She was going to have to come to him, because he didn’t like the man he’d be to take her away from someone else. He’d told himself she’d made the choice already.

You fuckin’ miscalculated.

He realized how his timing sucked. Finally free from having to worry about Roberto, so they could spend the entire night together, anywhere they wanted, not just on the little boat, now he couldn’t do that because it would be wrong.

He thought about her all the way back to town as he rode in Roberto’s taxi, even having to bear the humiliation of paying for the Brazilian’s ride up the mountain, as well as his ride down.

Yeah. Your timing sucked big time. And now you’re going to go back to the ship and gamble too much, ogle someone’s ugly daughter or be the fantasy come true for some older woman sitting at the bar.

There was nothing honorable about the way heartache felt.

Or about the way it could be medicated.

But he was going to give it the college try.

At port, he
found the Moroccans lined up in front the glass picture windows of a port agent set up to handle requests from the crew. A bank of phones was on one wall, occupied two and three deep with people of every nationality. Bundles were being shipped home, mail retrieved. The Moroccans carried a box so heavy that required two of them to manage, and after they went out the doors without seeing him, they headed for the belly of the ship.

Mark wanted to know what was in that box and why it was so heavy. He knew it wasn’t costumes or an instrument.

One of them tripped on the gangway’s bottom rung and the box landed on one corner. The tall one was shouting so much he drew lots of attention. When he saw Mark watching them, he shut up and bent his shoulder and all his attention to the task at hand. The three of them worked as one crab-like unit, doing something in unison they all clearly felt was important.

That worried Mark the most. He would have to tell Kyle about it and see if Moshe could take a look inside that package. Just in case something was about to go down. He had that sixth sense.

Maybe it was good Sophia wouldn’t be wrapping her thighs around his waist tonight. Maybe he needed to think, too.

‡

M
aksym was restless
and didn’t like the news he’d received today, delivered in clipped Russian, even though the Moroccan knew how much he hated it and could speak almost perfect English.

The Wolf had delivered a package to the shipping station at Tenerife, and Maksym was told to arrange that the dancers, or whatever the hell they were, be allowed off ship to claim it.

He’d had conversations with the Wolf back in Genoa, and then again in Savona. But since the ship had left port, not a word from him, except through the Moroccan mob. He wondered where the guy had found these yo-yos. He didn’t doubt that they could fight and fight hard. But did they fight smart?

The answer to that question was a resounding
no.

So why, then, would the Wolf put his trust and faith in them, and not in him, an experienced Ukrainian naval officer. Who was now third or fourth in line to run a cruise ship, of course. But no matter, he still was plenty busy being responsible for more people than these skinny terrorists would meet in a whole lifetime. He’d been a war hero, for chrissakes. He had medals, even though he couldn’t show them off now. He’d given them to his girls as a parting gift, the only thing, other than his DNA, that he could leave them. Before they left his left forever.

Helena had come into his life at just the right moment. He’d been morose and spending time at bars in Prague, where he enjoyed the flow of the city, where he could get drunk every night and not be hated. He liked to take his medicine down at little dives by the river, since being close to any waterway was soothing for him, and so he wouldn’t make a spectacle of himself at some expensive restaurant in the old town square. He liked the city before they painted all the buildings yellow and bright rose. The Russian period. And, of course, the waterfront girls were more grateful. A little bit of money went a long way for a weary seaman away from home and family, such as himself.

That had been a mistake. He’d fallen in love with a dancer, Eniko. Her long, shapely form was a thing of beauty. He watched her and, for a bit, didn’t worry about what his wife was doing late at night, working for the Russian Embassy. The girls were safe. He was making good money. And he needed a little release.

Eniko had first fucked him in a farmer’s field after one of her gigs. He drove her there, and she didn’t ask. She gave the best head he’d ever experienced, but her hot, lithe body made him hard again almost instantly and they fucked like rabbits so hard, his knees had bloodied.

She was a fun girl with simple needs. He must have looked to her like a knight in shining armor. He’d forgotten to tell her about the wife and kids, and when he came home one day and found her sitting in his living room, across from his wife, he knew he’d seriously messed his life, or what was left of it. He suspected it would cost him his family, and it did.

Of course, what he didn’t know at the time was that his wife was already banging the diplomat and making her exit plans. He’d lost his wife that day, he’d thought, because of his own stupidity. Truth was, he’d lost her nearly six months earlier. All he managed to do that day was break Eniko’s heart, too. The sweet little dancer who naively thought she would surprise him. She deserved way more than she got. Way more.

Afterwards, he’d tried to call her, to make things right, but each time she rebuffed him. And who could blame her? She was a beautiful girl, a good girl, and he was a dog of the first order.

So when Helena came into his life, he already considered himself a flawed man with needs all the women in the world couldn’t satisfy. What he’d really been looking for was someone who could command
him.
He didn’t care if it wasn’t love. He just liked that she enjoyed pushing him around and surprising him to death and back. The sex was like glue that held them together until maybe something else could show up.

No, life with Helena was what he deserved now. He’d played by some rules and gotten caught breaking some others. She was a perfect match for his appetites, and he made her feel like she wasn’t with someone too dangerous. Underneath all her bravado, was a scared little girl with daddy issues. She knew how to take care of herself by riding men to the top of their careers and getting out just before the fall, switching ponies so she never had to worry about being dragged into some despicable lot in life. Maksym thought of her as smart.

Smart women made him hard.

He had an hour’s leave from the bridge since they were still in port, and he needed to check with his chief of engineering. The bowels of the ship were usually hot and sweaty. Didn’t make it easier that the laundry was also nearby and fresh soap and moist air mixed with the smells of the huge diesel engines made it almost feel like home to a seaman. He knew many engineers who would rather stay all day with their equipment and didn’t care a fuck for where the ship was headed or where it docked. His guy was like that.

Anton Boiko had served under him in the Navy and had been the best chief engineer he’d ever had. He didn’t know much about the man, except for his all-consuming hatred of the Russians, which was one of Maksym’s top requirements for Maksym. Only thing better than hijacking an American vessel would have been to hijack a Russian vessel. But the Russians placed no value on the passenger’s lives, like the Americans did. And the American companies had insurance, something that was problematic in Russia. It did keep the lawsuits down, however.

Boiko was cleaning a metal part with a dirty, oil-stained rag. He’d taken to wearing red bandanas around his neck like a pirate. His little act of defiance, if anyone had looked too closely. Though it was forbidden, Boiko also smoked like a chimney. One look from the ruddy red-faced hulk of a man, who easily outweighed Maksym by more than thirty-five kilos, nearly eighty pounds, and whoever was going to ask him not to smoke quickly changed their minds. Boiko didn’t allow anyone else to smoke, though.

“I trust myself not to blow us all up. I have no such trust for anyone else,” he’d told Maksym one day when he questioned it. He liked that his engineer didn’t smoke while the ship was fully powered up, something he found rare on the crews. Anton kept his mouth shut and was loyal, keeping to himself. But Maksym could always count on him to let him know if trouble was brewing.

His engineer knew what their plans were: to stop the ship, allow pirates to take over, and hold the entire contingent of passengers hostage until ransom was paid. When they received verification the funds had been deposited in the Maltese bank accounts they opened before they set sail, they’d be transported to the coast of Brazil and left to find their own to find their way to the Caribbean. Boiko was the only person Maksym would allow to travel with him and Helena.