Unfaded Glory. Sara Arden

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СКАЧАТЬ saw the captain of the ship—his contact Miklos Sanna speaking with one of the boarders.

      “Ah, Grisha! You should have told me you were coming. There was no need for the display of firepower,” Miklos said as he clasped the man’s shoulders.

      The man he’d called Grisha, a hulking beast with narrow eyes, grinned. “I need to let my dogs run free now and then. Or they will get soft.” He shrugged. “But I don’t have time for pleasantries. Do you have the Jewel?”

      Miklos nodded to the stairs that led to the hold—where they would’ve been hiding had the deck been clear when they’d boarded. “They should be below.”

      That bastard, Byron thought, even though he wasn’t surprised.

      “They?” Grisha arched a simian brow.

      “You didn’t think the princess escaped Tunisia alone, did you? A hardcase mercenary helped her. American.”

      “A cowboy?” Grisha said the word as if his mouth were full of marbles, as if his tongue couldn’t wrap around the syllables.

      “A real John Wayne motherfucker,” Miklos agreed genially. “He won’t be bought. You’ll have to kill him.”

      Again, Byron wasn’t surprised at the betrayal—that’s what people did. The only person that could be counted on was oneself. And even that was sometimes sketchy. He thought about their options again.

      Damara was right. He couldn’t kill them all—at least not while he still had to keep her safe, and that was his number one priority. It would be a dangerous game of cat and mouse to hide until they made port. It was possible Miklos would weigh anchor until they were found.

      The Russians had several smaller boats that were unmanned while the crew was aboard the Circe’s Storm.

      He had enough C-4 he could create a diversion and disable the cargo ship, but that wouldn’t stop the other boats from pursuit. From the position of the stars, Byron judged that they were about ten hours away from Marseille.

      There was one other option.

      He could let Grisha take Damara.

      As soon as the thought entered his head, everything in him screamed in protest—except for his logic.

      Grisha wanted her to control Castallegna. She was a princess schooled in diplomacy. She could keep herself safe for however long it was until they made port and they could escape. Byron didn’t see any other way that didn’t put her life at risk. Grisha wouldn’t kill her.

      That’s not to say it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for Damara. But they were outgunned and outnumbered here. A firefight on open water could lead to her injury or her death. It was like when an animal had locked its jaws on you, you didn’t pull away because the animal would just bite harder. You pushed yourself into its mouth to force its jaws wider until you could break them.

      He didn’t like his options, but they were all they had.

      Byron had to make decisions with his head, not his feelings. His rage had gotten his men killed in Uganda, and he hoped that this would save her.

      If not, he’d die trying.

      Byron crept back to the lifeboat and found Damara gone.

      A string of profanity hovered on his tongue, but he didn’t dare speak for fear of raising alarm and alerting them to his presence.

      Where was she? Had they caught her already?

      What if she was afraid?

      But what he really meant was what if he had to add the sounds of her screams to the loop in his head.

      “You don’t have to kill anyone,” he heard her say. Pride and anger swept through him. He was so proud of her for being strong and brave, but he was angry that she’d revealed herself to protect him.

      Byron knew he was completely at odds with himself. That it was okay somehow for her to face Grisha only if he told her to, but the fact that she’d done it on her own made it foolhardy.

      He watched her. Even in dirty fatigues, she had a regal bearing.

      “I think I do. You belong to me, you see.” Grisha grinned.

      She flashed him a look that made the temperature around them drop several degrees. “No, I don’t. You haven’t paid my brother for the privilege. Until you do, anything that you do to me could be considered an act of war on Castallegna.”

      “A tiny country with no allies.” Grisha shrugged.

      She smiled. “Perhaps. Or perhaps my brother has had other offers for my hand from stronger, more powerful men than you. There are sheiks and princes who would marry me for Castallegna’s diamond mines.”

      Grisha was still smug. “Then why are you not with them?”

      “Don’t underestimate what I will do if you make me angry.” Damara may have been small, but she’d positioned herself in such a way that she appeared to be squaring off with the big Russian.

      “Where is your guard dog? The American?” Grisha demanded.

      “How should I know? I paid him to get me passage out of Tunisia. I don’t need a keeper.”

      “If he comes for you, I’ll kill him.”

      Miklos scanned the area. He seemed to sense Byron’s presence. “I think you should stay aboard the Circe until Marseille.”

      “Why is that?” Grisha asked.

      “I know the American is still on board. I feel it in my bones. Here, we control the situation. There would be a lot of, shall we say, opportunities for him between here and Italy on a smaller craft.”

      “I see your wisdom. If the princess is dead, I can’t very well marry her. We’ll take your cabin, Miklos.”

      * * *

      DAMARA HADN’T SEEN any possible way out of the situation that didn’t involve revealing herself. Maybe it was naive of her to trust Hawkins as she did, but she knew in her gut that he’d come for her.

      She could stand a few hours of Grisha’s company—she’d had to endure it at home all the time. Of course, she’d always had her bodyguards and her brother and it had always been in a formal environment. But she was sure she could maneuver him to treat her gently at least until Hawkins could get to her.

      Damara followed behind Grisha, wondering exactly how hard she’d have to hit him in the back of the head and with what to slow him down—if such action became necessary. She was thankful she’d asked her bodyguards to train her and even more thankful they’d agreed.

      Abele would’ve had them put to death if he’d known. He’d thought it unfeminine and a sin for a woman to know such things. Of course, it had suited his purposes when hiring a contingent of female bodyguards to keep her secluded from men.

      The captain’s berth was small, but it had been outfitted with СКАЧАТЬ